you are not my typewriter

2007-12-18T17:39:00.001-06:00

i got my iPod speakers out and am listening to all the radiohead albums i just illegally acquired. i set up my speakers and my computer and everything in the bathroom because the rest of the house is unbearably cold. my mom may have come home from work hours ago and i wouldn't know because i am holed up in the bathroom like a crazy person.

when i was little i used to procrastinate all evening and be forced to do my homework at night and for some reason i would get up in the middle of the night and go do my homework in the bathroom. i also kept a diary for the entirety of eighth grade and would do most of my diary writing in the bathroom. i'm sure it was partly because of the warmth. it's probably also because i find small spaces comforting and our bathroom is fucking tiny as hell.

i tend to not do so well with large amounts of unstructured time, especially when it's spent alone.

the only thing i've really done today was go to east high to hear the illinois wind symphony play the concert at orchestra hall that i'm too broke and lazy to go see in chicago. there were 43598735 kids there, mostly junior high kids, and i somehow managed to sit like two feet away from the people i wanted to see the least and not even realize it until like the second piece in. so then afterwards i slunk (word?) out of there to drink coffee and eat too much and waste time.

i feel bad for not playing with my dogs whenever i'm home. maybe i should bring them into the bathroom with me like my mom used to do with our old airedale when there were tornado warnings. they prolly get cold too.

new year

2007-01-02T22:08:00.000-06:00

Happy New Year!

In my younger years, I used to keep a "New Year's Eve journal" where I would all at once write a summary of everything that had happened in the past year. I won't do that now.

In case you haven't noticed (but if you are still checking this blog, you probably have), I don't really care about blogging anymore. Just doesn't do it for me. But I won't dramatically delete my blog, because maybe I'll want to come back and write something and maybe I'll want to look back on my old posts at some point. Whatever. Consider this a tentative blogging goodbye.

little cousin

2006-10-29T21:39:00.000-06:00

I went home for the weekend. It was my mom's 57th birthday, so we had lunch at my grandparents' house with two uncles, an aunt, and a cousin.

My cousin is nine years old, and due to the complete incompetence of his parents, he is the most horrible spoiled brat I have ever met in my whole entire life.

Probably the worst thing he does is hit his parents when they don't do what he wants. He will also shush everyone in the room so that he can tell some stupid little kid story. He also tells our grandmother that whatever she is serving us is dusgusting (because he thinks it's funny to say something different from what everybody else says). His parents don't say anything about any of this.

What disgusts me the most is his sense of entitlement. Our grandmother asked him what he wanted for his birthday, and he rolled his eyes and started rattling off his wish list, which was not short and had some pretty pricey items on it. It was as if he were annoyed that he even had to ask for all these things. His parents should just write it all down and pass out a copy of the list to everyone in the family, so he doesn't have to be troubled with telling everyone what he wants.

My mom sometimes has him spend the night at her house so that they can have "heart-to-hearts." And although he loves staying with my mom, I can only assume that it's because of the dogs. God knows he rarely takes my mother's advice, at least around his parents.

But maybe he really does enjoy his talks with my mother. Maybe being such an ungodly brat all the time is tiring, and he enjoys the break. Or maybe he realizes how horrible he is most of the time, and his talks with my mother give him hope that he can change.

God, I hope he can change.

sick

2006-10-23T13:04:00.000-05:00

I haven't been this sick since I was a little kid.

It's cold and I drank too much Friday night, so my body has now succumbed to just about every virus that exists. I called my mom last night way past her bedtime because my whole body ached and I couldn't sleep. She told me to take some ibuprofen. I skipped percussion and theory this morning but went to conducting because I had a test, where I was told that if I lay down and listen to Yanni, I would feel better. I'm listening to Sufjan Stevens instead.

Despite my debilitating illness, I bundled up and grabbed a hot thermos of Airborne and went to the Berstein Mass at Krannert yesterday afternoon. It was pretty cool. It probably would have been much more compelling if we had good string players.

i'm back...i think

2006-10-22T10:42:00.000-05:00

The first 9 weeks of this semester were unbelievably busy for me, but now, especially with the football season winding down, I have a lot more free time.

I am also making a concerted effort to say "no" to things more often, and to accept less responsibility. Because if I don't, I will definitely go crazy.

Moral of the story, I will start posting more often. Seriously. Get on my case if I don't.

2006-09-11T13:56:00.000-05:00

The corn stalks turned yellow this week, which is exciting. That means fall is almost here, and soon the fields will be bare and clean. Screw New England autumns. I think one of the most beautiful things in the world is miles and miles of gray empty corn fields.

Today is a gray day, but it hasn't started raining yet. I like early mornings when the clouds are hanging down almost to your head and the streets are empty because only music majors have class at eight in the morning. It feels like the whole world is my own private couch cushion fort.

...

Well, crap. Now it's raining. Rain is not cool when you have to walk to class through it.

heavy metal drummer

2006-08-28T14:25:00.000-05:00

I am taking percussion methods.

Unit One: snare

Unit Two: bass drum

Unit Three: cymbals

Unit Four: mallets

Unit Five: trap

Unit Six: drum set

rawk

back at school

2006-08-27T15:59:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I've been back at school for about a week and a half now, and I still haven't updated. Whatevs.

To be fair (to me), I have been recockulously busy.

I am taking 18 hours of real classes. No more music theory with Linda Antas, who took two months to teach the concept of secondary dominance. No, now I have serious classes with nightly reading and regular assignments and lots of papers and really REALLY strict attendance policies.

Sigh.

Also, Campus Vegetarian Socety is going to be a real club now, so I have a lot to do in that way, too.

So I apologize if I don't update so regularly anymore.

FINISH HIM! FLAWLESS VICTORY!!!

2006-08-14T21:02:00.000-05:00

The Saturday night before I left for school, for whatever reason, I felt like I simply HAD to watch Mortal Kombat and Mortal Kombat II: Annihilation.

Luckily, Ethan is indulgent. So we went to Toby's and rented it on VHS, since it apparently only exists on VHS and Toby's is about the only place that still rents out VHS tapes.

I have to admit that I was a little disappointed. It wasn't quite as awesome as it seemed when I was eight.

We also rented a DVD of From Hell, which we watched on my laptop out on the patio. And as sensitive as I usually am to horror movies, I was much more scared by the possum (or "opossum") that wandered onto the patio. It could eat my doggies!

lalalalala

2006-08-09T19:27:00.000-05:00

Wilco is my new favorite thing. Their performance at Lolla was fan-tass-teek.

I am in love with how fucking crazy Mel Gibson is. I cannot wait for Southpark to do "Passion of the Jew : Part 2."

The women in my family have a strange habit of buying trashy tabloids, reading them, and then gifting the other women in the family with them. Two days ago, my grandma swung by to drop off some garden-fresh tomatoes, and with them she brought two issues of People magazine.

I of course read the one about how crazy Mel Gibson is, because I don't give a shit how gay Lance Bass is.

The tabloid didn't tell me anything I didn't already arrogantly assume, but I did discover this fantastic article in a group of articles about unusual themes for kids' birthday parties:

Jim Lehrer?
It could be worse: Every night Henry Schally, 3, begs his parents to watch PBS's The Newshour With Jim Lehrer. When he misses it, he asks to hear the podcast. "That's all we listen to in the car, over and over," says his mom, Jennifer, 35, an office manager in St. Paul, Minn. Henry's dad, Troy, 35, a computer programmer, likes to watch the show but never expected his son to become a hard-core fan. "You don't get to choose what your little 3-year-old becomes obsessed with," says Mom. When asked if he'd like to include the show in his party, Henry said, "Oh yeah, Mommy, I want Jim on the cake!"
Gwen Ifill, Too!: Jennifer asked Newshour for permission to use an image of the cast as cake frosting. The show agreed and sent cast photos as birthday presents-including an autographed shot of Lehrer.
Extras: Guests wore hats featuring all four stars. After present time, Henry acted like a regular kid and blew bubbles.

(The caption of a picture of little Henry smiling at his Jim Lehrer cake is, "'Why are those gentlemen on Henry's cake?' asked one young guest.")

posting under the influence

2006-08-05T01:08:00.000-05:00

Today was the first day of Lollapalooza. It was good. And this is why.

-mates of State are cute.
- Death cab I s good.
- Iron + wine was too quiet and we couldn't hear so we went to get smoothies.
- i saw a segway
- Jack White's new band is cute, which is good because they sound like Led Zeppelin whom i HATE!1!!!!

that was the first time I ever accidentally put a 1 instead of an !. I will keep it that way. For posterity.

Chicago is pretty.

Why do the police officers at Lolla all ride horses? Isn't that a little impractical? They'll poop everywhere. If they need to catch a bad guy they wiould have to ride those big ass horses through all the people just to get where they wanted to go. They should just walk.

i am a lazy piece of shit

2006-08-03T14:12:00.000-05:00

Two nights ago, Molly puked on my bed, so I have been sleeping on a bare matress the past two nights.

This is how lazy I am.

When my mom is home, I usually feel obligated to be at least moderately productive. But since she is away for the week, I've pretty much just been eating chocolate and watching reruns of Law & Order: Criminal Intent.

And sleeping. Let's not forget about sleeping.

there is Gold in the Eye of the Morning

2006-08-02T19:08:00.000-05:00

Michigan is fucking beautiful.

Ethan, the boyf, has been at the Interlochen Fine Arts Camp for the past month and a half, kicking ass and taking names, and last weekend I drove up in my NEW CAR (or my mom's old car, depending on how you look at it) to visit him.

The trip up was a little rough, because A) I hate travelling B) I was PMSing like crazy and C) I listened to Death Cab's most recent album, "Plans," which sent me into fits of hysterical crying. Which is no good when you're driving 70 MPH.

But everything was pretty much cool once I got up there. It's a really great place. It's totally the sort of thing I would have done in high school, if I were a good musician and if I weren't unhealthily, obsessively attatched to my home.

The night I arrived, Van Cliburn played Tchaikovsky's 1st piano concerto with the World Youth Symphony Orchestra. The second night, the Interlochen Philharmonic played Shostakovich Symphony #5, featuring Ethan Young on principal cello. I was so proud.

Mostly, though, I just sat around. Interlochen is situated between two lakes (inter-loch-en), so there was a lot of time spent sitting on the beach reading Chuck Klosterman's "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs," which I would describe as a pretty cool, moderately amusing book. Ethan showed me the secret, outdoor practice rooms down near the non-Interlochen part of the beach, and we practiced together. Que romantico.

I stayed for three days, then drove home with my feet in a puddle of coolant. My coolant hose has a leak, which I got clamped when I got home, but it remains to be seen how well that will hold. I'm lucky I don't have cancer yet.

My mom is spending the week at various special ed conferences, so it's just me and the dogs. That, combined with a wierd experience I had over the weekend, has me sort of bummed. So if you're reading out there and you think I would feel comfortable letting you in my house, drop on by. The dogs and I would love to have you.

I am mega psyched for Lollapalooza this weekend. Here is what I hope to see, so if you will be there, keep an eye out for me at these shows:

Friday.
2:30-3:30 Panic! At The Disco (maybe-they're not great, but I paid for the ticket, right?)
5-6 Mates of State
5:30-6:30 Iron & Wine
6:30-7:30 The Raconteurs (maybe-I haven't heard them yet, but I effing love Jack White)
8:30-10 Death Cab for Cutie

Saturday.
1:30-2:30 Feist
3:30-4:30 Calexico
4:30-5:30 Gnarls Barkley
6:30-7:30 The Flaming Lips
7:30-8:30 The New Pornographers

Sunday
2:15-3:00 Hot Chip (maybe)
2:30-3:30 Ben Kweller (maybe)
3:30-4:30 Andrew Bird
4:30-5:30 The Shins
5-6 Of Montreal
^ Here we have a problem, because two of my favorite bands are playing at overlapping times. I will most likely just arrive at the Of Montreal concert half an hour late, but I encourage you to voice you opinion in the comments.
6:30-7:30 Wilco

IT'S AN UPDATE!!!

2006-07-15T13:07:00.000-05:00

Hey.

So, I spent the last month working for the special ed co-op summer school program, which was way fun and payed a lot better than pretty much any other job would.

My sister had a baby on June 13th, so after I was done with summer school, I went to visit her and the baby.

I am currently halfway through a two-week stint as an instructor at a drum major camp at Eastern Illinois University. I have totally had time to update, but I haven't.

So there you go.

pappas finale

2006-05-29T21:41:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was Mrs. Pappas' last concert before retirement.

About one thousand people flocked to the Oswego High School gym yesterday afternoon for her last concert. 90 people aged 19 to 70-ish played in the OHS alumni band. The concert featured the current Wind Symphony and the alumni band in a concert that lasted three and a half hours.

Margene Pappas spend about thirty or so years as a band director in the Oswego school district. She started out teaching fifth grade band (before a failed referendum did in the fifth grade band program), then moved up to the junior highs, and she has been the director of bands at Oswego High school for about the past dozen years.

She's a fantastic conductor, and she is extremely well-respected. She was the first woman ever to serve on the board of the National Band Association, which I think is pretty cool. And while she is certainly not perfect, she has a remarkable ability to admit her mistakes and to learn from them, which may be preferable to perfection.

So I am wishing a long and happy retirement to the woman who inspired me to become a band director. Not that she's reading this. Because she's probably too old to know what a blog is.

2006-05-22T08:10:00.000-05:00

I am officially home!

I actually got home on Monday. I never update nearly as much when I'm at home. I'm always at work or cooking or watching tv with my mom or over at Ethan's and I just sort of forget that the blog exists.

I've been working everday this week as a substitute teacher's aide in Kendall County special ed classrooms. Subs are not supposed to work every day, but I do work every day, and sometimes I get to choose what kind of classroom I want to work at. And even though I'm supposed to be covering the whole county, I have the luxury of only subbing in Oswego schools because I like to ride my bike to work. And almost every classroom I go to, I'm told that usually no one fills the spots that absent aides leave. So I'm guessing there are probably about five of us total who are available to sub.

Today I'm going to Oswego East High School to sub in a preschool class, but I don't have to go until 11. I had the choice of working in a classroom where I was needed all day and doing just the half day, and I took the half day even though it means less money. I wanted to sleep in a little and update my blog and fold laundry.

I was going to throw a party this coming Friday night, but it seems that for various reasons no one can come. So the party is cancelled.

THE PARTY IS CANCELLED. DON'T COME TO MY HOUSE!

blog design

2006-05-14T07:10:00.000-05:00

I screwed around with the html for a while, and after some trial and error I figure out how to add that --> picture. I put it in the side bar, since it couldn't coexist well with my title at the top. But it cut out some of the text that is usually in the sidebar.

merrrrrr

google

2006-05-13T19:18:00.000-05:00

I googled my own name, and a vast majority of the results are from Britain/Ireland. There were especially a lot of results regarding Alison Maguire, captain of a Dublin girls-under-16 camogie team, who won the all-Ireland championships this year.

2006-05-13T18:23:00.000-05:00

I changed the colors again. Do you think the right hand border looks wierd with the maroon background and blue/purple links?

2006-05-13T18:13:00.000-05:00

ANNOYING NEW BLOG COLORS!!!

I wish I knew how to put a banner up so that this blog would stop looking so much like a Xanga.

2006-05-13T17:48:00.000-05:00

TONIGHT IS MY LAST NIGHT IN THIS ROOM!!!!!!

The dorm closed offcially at noon today, but I am staying because I have to play at graduation tomorrow. Then I'm spending tomorrow night at someone's apartment because I have to stay until Monday and the dorm Nazis won't let me just stay in my room a MEASLY twelve extra hours.

There is a party at my house on Friday, May 26th at 7:30PM.

EVERYONE HAS TO COME OR ELSE I WILL CRY!!!!!

I MEAN IT!!!!!

allen hall

2006-05-12T19:51:00.000-05:00

I am officially an Allen Hall resident.

Oddly enough, I had never been in an Allen Hall room until today.

They're shitholes.

I had to break into this tuba player's room to get some music that was due back at the library. While I was in there I poked around and looked in his CD player and he had the Standard of Excellence Book 1 accompaniment CD in there.

Don't tell him I looked in his CD player.

And the room was even smaller than the one I'm in now with cinder block walls and linoleum floors.

The people in Allen had better be the coolest people in the universe, or I am sure as fuck not living in a room with cinder block walls.

blog dreams

2006-05-10T11:34:00.000-05:00

Monday night I had a dream that I was having an affair with Raymi's brother. I don't think she really has a brother.

Her family was hosting some kind of Oswego High School dance in the ballroom of their enormous mansion, and I was invited even though I don't go there anymore and no one I knew was in the dream (Ethan didn't exist in the dream, so it wasn't a cheating dream). I got bored and started wandering around the mansion. I saw Raymi's thin blonde leathery-skinned mom doing something on a computer on the landing of a staircase. She didn't see me. I poked my head into Raymi's room. She was sitting at a computer, too. She didn't see me either. I wandered up to the toppermost floor where I met Raymi's elusive older brother. He was skinny and had short dark hair and a short beard and a very slightly receding hairline. He was a loser, but he was funny, and we had a great time until I had to leave the dance like Cinderella. I felt extremely guilty after I left because even though Ethan didn't exist in my dream I think I kind of sort of remembered about him at the end.

Then last night I had a dream where Diana died. We've been friends for a long time, but in my dream I hadn't seen her in for ever. I don't remember how I found out that she died, but it was a heart attack or something quick like that. She wasn't sick and she didn't get killed. For some reason, in the dream Blogger had this policy where you couldn't just blog from any computer, you had to use their computers, and they had a huge building on Wright Street where you could rent out little rooms with a computer in them. Brian had a room in the same building, and I went to visit him. Diana had written a ton of posts right before she died, and he was reading them and crying. Most people decorated their little rooms, and when he came over to mine he was really bothered by the fact that I hadn't decorated it, so he brought over some of Diana's old posters and stuff and put them up and tried not to cry.

pack up

2006-05-07T07:47:00.000-05:00

Even though I can't wait to get home, I've put off packing until the very last moment. I've got to meet with my accompanist for my jury in five hours, and after my jury I've got about an hour until I leave for home.

I don't have to pack everything today. This particular trip home is only lasting until Friday. On Friday I'll come back to Urbana, take a final and go to a band rehearsal. Then I have all day Saturday to pack. Then I play at commencement all day Sunday. Then I have to be out of the dorms because officially they close at noon on Thursday but I got special permission to stay until 7 on Sunday. Then I spend the night at the apartment of someone who will be out of town that night. Then Monday I have a doctor's appointment at McKinley. Then I come home. For good. Except for when I drive down for doctor appointments. And meetings with the chancellor about the sweat-free campus thing. And maybe sometimes concerts. And baritone mini-camp.

I am both excited and apprehensive about the summer. It's not always nice when you've been waiting a really long time for something, and then it actually comes. What if it's not all that great? I've gotten my hopes up. I also don't do well without structure. I've got a couple of short-term jobs lined up for the summer, and I'm debating whether or not I should get some kind of part-time job that would last the whole summer. It might be good to keep myself busy, but I don't want to waste all my time at home working.

I told someone recently that I'm looking forward to everything being "back to normal," but I know that's not how it will be. I'm different now. My relationship with Ethan is different now. My friends all have new friends. And I feel like I've wasted an entire year of my life.

banana

2006-05-05T20:57:00.000-05:00

I have developed this bizarre obsession with keeping my teeth 100% tartar-free. Like, if I can feel even the tiniest trace of tartar with my tongue, I freak out. I went for about a month flossing constantly and trying to pick at it with my fingernails before I figured out that you can get dental picks at Walgreens. So I got a twin pack of "travel-sized" dental picks, one of which I keep in my purse and one of which I keep next to my computer. I don't use the purse one so much because it would be wierd to use a dental pick in public, but I am constantly scraping my teeth while I use the computer.

Yesterday was the annual low brass picnic at my professor's house. I kind of wanted a beer, but I felt wierd drinking with two of my band directors present. I told that to one of the tuba players. His response was that my only concern about drinking in front of them should be that they would make me chug it. Sure enough, about five minutes later, this exchange happened:

Pete(band director): Hey Curtis, you're drinking that beer pretty slowly there.
Curtis (who is definitely not 21): Oh, yeah?!?!?!?!?!

(Curtis then proceeds to take five minutes to chug the beer while Pete laughs hysterically.)

immigration

2006-05-02T19:28:00.000-05:00

I never really thought of this before, but not only am I descended from immigrants, but I am descended from ILLEGAL immigrants.

My great-grandmother was from Lithuania. I've always loved her immigration story. She was four years old when her family decided to flee Lithuania on the eve of the Bolshevic revolution. They escaped the country in a wagon with a false bottom and entered the U.S. with papers from a dead Polish soldier. They lived in the U.S. for ever and ever with the name Nowodzelski. I can't remember what their Lithuanian name was.

It was easy to fool the government before they had computers.

weekend

2006-04-27T15:16:00.000-05:00

I am coming home tomorrow, even though I only have four days of classes left. I "have to take the Basic Skills Test in Wheaton," and that will take me two full days.

I haven't been home this semester as much as I thought I would be. It's been two weeks since the last time I was home, and before that I was at school for three solid weeks. Despite only taking 14 hours and not having marching band, I've been really busy.

I guess I've been busy with extra-curriculars. Campus Veg Society and Studens for Economic Justice, mostly, both of which are YMCA programs. I'm on the student board of the YMCA now, I guess because they thought that since I was already spending so much time there it would be appropriate to spend even more time there.

I'm not even sure how much time I'll be able to devote to that stuff next semester. I'll be taking 18 hours, four hours of which is an English class which promises to have lots of reading, and one hour of which is Marching Illini (which is actually more like 9hrs/week plus gamedays). I'm worried I'll go a little crazy.

I'll have a car on campus next year, which will be nice. I won't have to waste so much time waiting for buses or trains. And I can go home more frequently, even if I won't be able to stay for entire weekends.

And I guess I can go to Savoy if the mood ever strikes me.

summertime

2006-04-26T08:19:00.000-05:00

It seems like a lot of people are freaked out about summer coming, myself among them.

I've only got six days of classes left before finals, and I'm coming home for finals week and then coming back for commencement because my band is playing a bunch of British marches and Pomp+Circumstance.

My "facilitator" at the counceling center finally returned my e-mail, but all she said was that whatever concerns I have I should bring them up in group. So I went over her head and made an appointment at the University mental health clinic. "The group" doesn't have the authority to write prescriptions, unfortunately.

But my appointment isn't until a week from today, which is my last day of classes. I'm worried that if we don't work anything out, I'll be SOL for the summer, and I know that will be rough.

I'm really grateful that these things are so cheap and easily available through the University. If I weren't here, I don't think I would know where to go or who to talk to.

allen

2006-04-24T12:36:00.000-05:00

I want to try to blog everyday again, like I did at the beginning of the school year.

I'm very frustrated over my living arrangements for next year.

I don't want to live in Busey-Evans again next year. I've lived here for a year already and I pretty much don't know anybody but my own roommate. I know that a lot of this is my own fault, but I think it'll be easier for me to meet people if I can live in Allen . The idea behind this place is that they're trying to create the feeling of a liberal arts college within the larger University. They have a really strong sense of community there. I really want that.

But I didn't decide that I wanted to move there until after the deadline for that sort of thing had passed, and now I'm wrangling with the Housing Dept. to get them to consider my application for this thing. I had been waiting for the past two months for housing to get back to me, only to discover that they gave me bad information and if I had talked to someone else instead of waiting for them I might have had a much better chance of getting in.

Oh, beurocracy.

I'm hopeful, though. I've finally gotten in touch with the head honcho at Allen and while he doesn't sound too excited about accepting a late application, I think he might do it anyway.

We'll see.

circus protest

2006-04-23T15:13:00.000-05:00

I spend the weekend protesting the circus that came to Assembly Hall.

I've decided I don't care much for protesting.

You get verbally abused, for one thing.

And you waste your energy trying to win over people who will never agree with you anyway. You don't actually get any real information across - just slogans that are short enough to write on a sign. It's generally pretty pointless.

Next semester, I want to do a vegetarian forum at Allen Hall. We can have speakers, and there can be a real exchange of practical information and substantial ideas. And if we do it in Allen Hall (the liberal dorm), we can reach people who might actually be affected by it and care, instead of people who will flip us off as they rev the engines of their F150s.

Magic Flute

2006-04-21T16:08:00.000-05:00

A little boy in lederhosen sings "The Magic Flute."

And is actually pretty good at it!

vitalic dogs

2006-04-11T17:07:00.000-05:00

This is mezmerizing.

I am on a cute animal kick right now. Can you tell?

PRAISE BE TO ALLAH!

2006-04-07T10:39:00.000-05:00

A parrot recites the Qur'an.

2006-04-06T15:29:00.000-05:00

Isn't this the cutest fucking thing you have ever seen?

summer party

2006-04-03T16:50:00.000-05:00

I was recently filled with love for all mankind, and it made me want to throw a party for all the Oswegoans coming home (the cool ones).

If you are coming home this summer, and you are from Oswego, tell me when your summer break starts. I will take that into account when planning my party.

spring has sprung

2006-03-30T19:25:00.000-06:00

It is 60 degrees outside, and the world feels new!

I've been back from spring break for about a week now.

It went really well.

I went to Farm Sanctuary in upstate New York. I cleaned barns. I fed cows. I petted pigs. I cleaned up after the chicken that lived in the kitchen.

It was really cool. I think I was too busy/exhausted to get depressed. I learned a ton - not just about animal rights, but about animals in general. Did you know that when sows pee, it squirts out the back of them like a super soaker? Fascinating.

So I guess I didn't have anything to worry about. I don't think I really made any friends (surprise surprise), but I was sociable. I didn't lock myself in the cabin and cry. I didn't write in my real diary about how I hated everyone. I actually felt very comfortable there.

I rented a documentary called Peaceable Kingdom - about Farm Sanctuary - for all of us to watch on the trip. After we got back, I didn't have time to return it before I left again to go home, so I just brought it back with me. On Sunday, Ethan and I were bored, and I suggested we watch the documentary. My mom sat down and watched it with us. And now she wants to try to be a vegetarian.

I think that is the coolest thing ever.

the last supper

2006-03-17T19:39:00.000-06:00

the one who ate my food has raised his heel against me

spring break

2006-03-13T12:32:00.000-06:00

I am dilly-dallying right now.

My money for Alternative Spring Break was due about a week ago, and even though I should be over at the YMCA turning it in, I am here blogging about how I am not turning it in.

Alternative Spring Break is a registered student organization of the Uniersity of Illinois - it's also a student program of the University YMCA. Every year, during fall, winter, spring, and summer breaks, they send hundreds of UofI students off to the far corners of the US to do volunteer work.

I signed up to go to Watkins Glen, NY - home of the famous-to-vegetarians Farm Sactuary. They save animals from factory farms and take care of them, and then people come to visit the farm to pet the animals and learn about animal rights and veganism.

I about swallowed my tongue when I heard that there was an Alternative Spring Break trip going there. It sounded so unbearably exciting. And I signed up immediately.

But now, with less than a week left before I leave, I can't make myself get up off my ass to go turn in the money.

My intial concern about the trip was that I would be giving up my spring break. I absolutely hate missing any opportunity to come home. I've been home about 2/3rds of all of my weekends this semester already, and I'm becoming so dependent upon it that the other 1/3rd of the weekends I'm not at home I spend the whole time curled up in my bed crying.

Now I'm really starting to panic. I'm going to be spending an entire week working intimately with people I barely know. I HATE PEOPLE I BARELY KNOW. I hate most people I know well. I'm going to be in a strange place. I'm going to be doing eight hours a day of manual labor. I AM GOING TO FREAK OUT.

I can't take me anywhere.

it's unofficial

2006-03-03T08:53:00.000-06:00

This is one of those moments when I question my own judgment about attending a public university.

Today is Unofficial St. Patricks Day here at the University of Illinois. The holiday was invented ten years ago by (I shit you not) a local bar mogul, because real St. Patricks day usually falls during Spring Break. It is a bold-faced opportunity for the bars to make more money at the expense of the well-being of the students.

Apparently, there were 34 arrests last year for underaged drinking alone. That's ARRESTS, mind you. That's not including people who got tickets or warnings. That's just the people who were being so outrageous and impudent that the police felt obligated to arrest them.

Carle hospital north of campus has expressed concerns that they may not have the resources to deal with the number of alcohol-related emergencies on Unofficial.

The dorms are all on lock-down until tomorrow. There are COPS guarding all the University buildings.

The city of Champaign passed an ordinance saying that bars couldn't open until 11AM, because 'traditionally' the drinking starts at 8AM.

People at breakfast this morning (7:30) were acting like fucktards and screaming at each other from across the cafeteria.

I read an article in the Daily Illini calling Unofficial "a twist on the traditional Irish drinking holiday."

St. Patrick's day isn't a 'traditional drinking holiday.' It's for a fucking Catholic saint.

This is so stupid.

car ride conversions

2006-02-28T15:11:00.000-06:00

I am a pedophile, and my boyfriend is in driver's ed.

My boyfriend is Jewish/atheist.

His driver's ed instructor is a Christian minister.

So when this instructor has Ethan trapped in a car for relatively long periods of time, he takes the opportunity to oh-so-subtly suggest that he should become a Christian.

Here's a sample of a conversation:

DEI: So, what church does your family go to?

BF: Actually, my family is Jewish; we go to Temple Beth Israel.

DEI: Oh, wow. Jewish. That's really great, you know? I mean, there were so many great Jews. Like Moses. He was really great. And Abraham, and Issac. Man, they were great people. You know ... Jesus was a Jew.

Fast forward.

DEI: Jesus was such a great guy. You know why he was such a great guy?

BF: Why was he such a great guy?

DEI: Because he never lied. Jesus sais, "I am what I am." And that wasn't a lie.

Fast forward.

DEI: Jesus really backed up his claims. He had a really legitimate claim to be the son of God. Now, Ethan, if I said to you that I am the son of God, you would know I was lying. Right?

he shot a man

2006-02-16T17:53:00.000-06:00

Did anyone else laugh hysterically when they found out about Cheney shooting a guy?

I think that Cheney was trying to intimidate his opponents: See? This is what happens when you cross Dick Cheney.

tardy tardy

2006-02-15T15:40:00.000-06:00

I have this wierd thing where I am actually INCAPABLE of being on time for anything. If I've got ten minutes until I have to be at class, for example, instead of just heading out and being a couple minutes early, I'll check my e-mail instead and make myself two minutes late. This is getting me into trouble with my piano TA, who actually counts tardies and is going to start taking off points from my final grade every time I am tardy in the future.

I have to be at the student center, which is all the way across campus, twenty minutes from RIGHT this second, and yet I am choosing RIGHT NOW to update my blog.

This morning, I didn't do my hair or makeup and I didn't eat breakfast, so I had ample opportunity to be on time for my 8:00 class. Instead, I went a little out of my way to pick up some tea from a coffee shop that is a block away from both my dorm and the building where my piano class is. I wound up about THIRTY SECONDS late.

Luckily, she wasn't counting tardies. Yet.

I don't know what is wrong with me. It's like a compulsion. Deep down, I live in mortal fear of being on time for anything.

I gotta go.

impulsive

2006-02-12T21:39:00.001-06:00

I made an impulsive decision on Friday night.

This weekend was supposed to be the first weekend I've spent at school without any obligations. After about one evening of that, I had had more than enough.

So late on Friday night, I called up Diana and asked what she was doing.

Since I made my train reservations at the ABSOLUTE last minute, it wound up being $66 round-trip for a trip to Chicago, but it was well worth it. Best time ever.

See the buzznet for pics.

I'll update more often and interestingly. I promise.

happy birthday to me

2006-02-07T09:56:00.000-06:00

It's everybody's birthday these days.

So this is my post about how 19 is a wierd age and nothing exiting and new happens when you're 19, except for here in Chapaign you can get into bars when you're 19. That's moderately exiting, but I don't think I'll be going to any bars anytime soon.

I went home over the weekend and ate at the Chicago Diner with my mom and watched Amelie with Ethan and had birthday lunch with my grandparents and uncle and cousin. My mom is coming to visit me at school today, even though I said she didn't have to. She wants to have something to do.

I'm staying at school this weekend. Or, well, trying to. This will be the first weekend I've stayed at school even though I didn't have to. We'll see if my will breaks and I buy a train ticket at the last minute.

My mom got me freaking sweet new earphones for my iPod. They're the outside-of-the-ear kind, but they're really small, and the two ear things aren't connected by anything but a cord - which is retractable. And they sound way better than the cheap iPod earphones. I was using those for about two weeks before something went wrong with them and the left channel became significantly louder than the right. Plus, I had to listen to them so quietly that I could barely hear anything, because if I turned them up to a normal volume they would go all fuzzy. Fuck that.

My roommate tells me that last night in my sleep I gasped and said, "Oh, my God. Oh, my God." I can't remember what I was dreaming about.

I used to have all kinds of sleep issues. When I was little, I could never sleep because I never did anything so I was never tired, and I could never stop thinking. I would lie in bed for two or three hours before I finally went to sleep. When I did go to sleep, I would toss and turn all night, and sometimes I would sleepwalk. Once I woke up with no covers or pillows because I had moved them all to the bathroom in my sleep. Once I gave my mother a gift of a pillow when I was sleepwalking. Once I went to sleep on the top bunk and woke up on the bottom one. That was the last time I slept on the top bunk.

I hate Tuesdays and Thursdays because I have class during lunch, and I never have the foresight to pack something. I have tons of cooking stuff and nothing to cook.

Feh. Maybe I'll buy a train ticket home this weekend.

i don't care for computer science people

2006-02-01T15:06:00.000-06:00

During my computer science lecture today (which is physically painful to sit through, btw), my professor drew some analogy between the method of writing a program and the method of writing a term paper, something about sketching out the basic gist of it, them going in and fleshing it out, etc.

Then he said, in a somewhat ambiguous tone, "I'm sure we would ALL much rather write a program than a term paper." So I laughed. I laughed at the idea that someone would rather type a bunch of gibberish into a computer than communicate their own, human ideas in the King's English.

EVERYBODY STARED AT ME. And I realized that, actually, most of these people seriously would prefer writing a program over writing a paper. The prof hadn't been joking.

It was like being in the twilight zone.

poor piano TA

2006-01-30T08:39:00.000-06:00

After waiting for our TA for THREE MINUTES past when class was supposed to start, my whole piano class just got up and left.

God bless college.

IMEA

2006-01-29T14:25:00.000-06:00

Since Tony Pierce just linked to me, I suppose I should start writing again.

I just got back from the Illinois Music Educator's Association All-State Conference, because I am a very serious professional. I found this game at a general music booth at the convention. It made me wish I was a general music major.

Actually, I was behaving like anything but a serious professional. As soon as I got to the conference, I saw Alex and promptly ditched the people from U of I and ran off to hang with him and the DePaul music people. I barely even managed to learn the names of half the people who were there from my own school; the fact is, I think, that DePaul people are just more fun than U of I people. I went to - I swear to God - TWO of the twenty or so clinics I could have gone to, because I was dicking around with Alex and Jessi or chilling with my high school band director. The bf was there playing cello in the honor orchestra, so I spent a good deal of my time with him, and very little time actually learning anything about music education.

I have decided that when I am an old band director, ready to be put out to pasture, I'm going to host an IMEA clinic entitled, "Band: The One True Way into the Kingdom of Heaven."

WHATEVER, I say! I had a much better time catching up with people I don't see often enough than I would have had going to clinics and workshops. And I've got a good three or four years before I even have to THINK about applying any of that stuff in the classroom.

As soon as I got back to Champaign, I collapsed into a coma, only to be awoken by my bff back home drunk dialing me. Apparently, she was in the middle of some wild activity which she couldn't quite articulate to me, when she suddenly thought of me. Well, she suddenly thought about the fact that I was probably asleep even though it was 10:00 on a Saturday night, and she felt obligated to wake me up. Thanks, Em.

I'm Going to the Sixth Level of Hell!

2006-01-24T10:34:00.000-06:00

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	High

Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test

i want to go home

2006-01-22T17:01:00.000-06:00

I had a small breakdown when I left home at the end of winter break, but then I was okay. My new roommie is fun, and she talks to me, so I finally have human contact here. My first week back at school went okay. I only cried, like ... twice.

But then I went home for the weekend, and now that I'm back, I desparately don't want to be here.

Ethan is pretty much the only person I know with whom I have a comfortable, normal, healthy relationship. Being at school and away from any fellow humans has destroyed my social skills. I was too scared to actually go see any of my old friends from high school over break because I didn't have any clue what I would say to them. I've pretty much lost the ability to have a casual conversation with anybody, new acquaintance or old friend. Everything is awkward all the time.

And now I can't even write a normal blog entry anymore.

Fuck.

2006-01-18T18:04:00.000-06:00

I'm in a computer science class. Intro to Computer Science. It's a programming course. I might drown.

Believe it or not, I know ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about computers. I took it because it's called INTRO to computer science. It doesn't seem very introductory to me.

It fulfills my science requirement. Which is why I really took it. I figured, "Why not take something I may actually use? I'll never use chemistry or bio."

When I found out it was a programming course, I asked, "Will I learn HTML?" (for blogging purposes) and was told I would. Apparently, though, I'm only going to learn JavaScript. I'm not even sure what JavaScript IS exactly. Obviously, a programming language. But what kinds of things do you program with it? Anything I might want to use?

Bah to computers! BAH!

And, apparently, mine has a virus. Awesome.

religious symbolism

2006-01-17T14:16:00.000-06:00

I know the last post was kind of a downer, and now I'm about to write an even worse one. You can stop reading if you like.

I had the worst nightmare of my life a few nights ago. But first, let me say this:

When I was in first grade, I went to Kid's Connection at East View. As an activity, they had us make these little dream catchers out of plastic rings, colored yarn, and triangular plastic beads, telling us that if we hung them near our beds, we wouldn't have nightmares. My two little dream catchers have been hanging from the top bunk of my bed for the past twelve years. They've survived a room change. They've survived two redecoratings. I'm sure it's just the power of suggestion - I genuinely believed in the dream catchers' power when I was a kid - but I have never had a nightmare sleeping under those dream catchers. When I went away to school and left them behind, I started having some unsettling and disturbing dreams, but never full-out nightmares. My first true nightmare in years happened a few nights ago, sleeping in my own bed, under my dream catchers. I guess I finally stopped believing in them.

In my dream, I was sort of involved in a situation that was real, but scripted. We werent' making a movie or anything, but I knew exactly what would happen. It was a prophecy that was being fulfilled in front of me. My three best friends from elementary school - Kyle Roggenbuck (a girl), Michelle Cook, Jill Haisch - and I were in a big, dark house around midnight. Kyle and Michelle had become demons. They weren't possessed, mind you - they were still themselves, just evil. Jill and I remained good. Kyle seemed to be the leader of all the evil stuff. We were standing in the huge living room around a fountain, where Kyle had just beaten a boy, about ten years old, within inches of his life. He was sprawled out on the floor next to the fountain, arms outstretched, feet together, and bleeding from the hands and feet. Jill was trying to protect him. As the script/prophecy went, Kyle was supposed to attempt to finish him off by driving a wooden shim into the boy's throat, but at the last minute, he was supposed to wake up and drive the shim into HER throat, breaking whatever spell she and Michelle were under and returning everything to normal. I felt relatively confident that's how it would work out, but I didn't want to watch it happen, so I closed my eyes and ran upstairs to the attic.

The attic was dark, but full of lamps and televisions. I frantically ran around the room turning all the lamps and televisions on, trying to hold my dread at bay while I waited for everything to be okay again. I sat down in front of the biggest tv in the middle of the room. I was watching a channel that actually exists, but I don't remember the name of it. In my dream, it was called the Advocate Network - the gay channel.

I saw Jill come up the stairs and breathed a sigh of relief, but she was followed by Kyle and Michelle, still with the evil glint in their eyes. I realized immediately that something had gone wrong. The boy was dead, and I was the only one of my friends who wasn't a demon.

They went around the room turning off all the televisions and all the lamps but one. I stood against a wall, and they all encircled me - not as if they were going to attack. They were trying to intimidate me. Again, they weren't possessed by some outside force. I got the distinct feeling that I was being ganged up on by my childhood friends.

Kyle was the only one who talked. She talked for a while, trying to intimidate me. I asked her if she was going to kill me. She smiled.

"Maybe."

I knew that meant yes.

"What will happen to me when I die?"

Kyle laughed ironically, knowing I am an atheist, and said, "Nothing. You just stop being. It's like going to sleep without dreaming."

I knew she was lying. I knew I was going to Hell. And for the first time ever, I actually preferred the idea of there NOT being an afterlife.

A thought crossed my mind. Maybe, I thought, if I really truly believe in God, and if I accept Jesus into my heart, maybe I can be saved at the last minute. So I closed my eyes and thought to myself, "I DO beleive in God." But sort of involuntarily, I kept tacking a little 'maybe' onto the end. Even with three demons standing right in front of me - even when faced with absolute certainty that I was going to Hell - I couldn't bring myself to really, truly believe in God. "I'm going to Hell," I thought.

They started closing in, but in doing so they left a gap in the circle. I dashed through it, down the stairs, and out the front door, with Kyle hot on my heels.

The house was in a cul-de-sac of new, expensive homes. I started shreiking for help, but I had the feeling that no one would hear me. Then I saw a peach-colored van parked on the curb in front of the house, with a strange woman driving. The passenger side window was open. I dove in, and rolled it up behind me.

As Kyle clawed at the window, I shouted to the woman to GO! DRIVE! "Who is she?" I thought. "Was she sent from God to help me?" Unlikely. Why would God help someone who didn't even wholeheartedly believe in him? I thought, "Where in the world can I possibly go to get away from a demon? She will find me wherever I go."

The van just kept sitting there. This woman was not helping me escape. I realized that she was a demon, too.

And then I woke up.

television is the blues

2005-12-31T17:26:00.000-06:00

During my first semester at University, I spent hours every day concentrating as hard as I could on the task of IGNORING the television, so I don't really feel like I've been watching tv at all. Now that I'm home, I watch it way more than is healthy.

It's all my mother's fault. She watches tv all the time, so I sort of end up sitting down next to her whether I intend to or not.

We use the television in a strange sort of way. We don't watch movies. We don't watch sitcoms. We don't usually watch the news. Instead of watching things that we enjoy - things that entertain us - we watch things that we can judge.

In the morning, we watch shows about small claims court (which I actually still haven't developed a taste for) where we can play judge. I think he's lying. I think she's stupid. God, what white trash. Etc.

We watch HGTV a lot, so that we can pass judgment on the taste of the interior decorators, the homeowners, the hosts.

We watch E! news and The Soup so that we can make fun of celebrities and criticize what they are wearing.

We watch Gastineau Girls, America's Next Top Model, and Being Bobby Brown so that we can gawk at how spoiled/shallow/stupid the rich and beautiful can be.

We watch Dr. Phil, Nanny 911/Supernanny, and Wife Swap/Trading Spouses so that we can criticize the way people handle their relationships with others.

This is beginning to sound like a self-condemnation, but I really enjoy doing all those things. And I'm not sure that there's necessarily anything wrong with it. The people I'm criticizing can't hear me. What do they care?

However, it's kind of a chicken/egg thing. I'm getting very judgmental, snarky, antisocial, etc. lately. And while I'm faily certain that these new television viewing habits are just one more symptom of that, it's not impossible that they're feeding my unfair judgments of people I know in real life.

I haven't been seeing very many of my old friends from high school, mostly because I'm afraid I'll get pissed off at them. Everything pisses me off these days.

Fucking television!

merry christmas

2005-12-24T17:37:00.000-06:00

Am I really supposed to give a shit about my relatives?

Like, seriously?

Am I actually supposed to feel some sort of kindship with my second cousin once removed whom I see once a year at best?

Am I a bad person for not caring about my aunts and uncles?

Would you hate me if I said that I probably wouldn't even cry if some of them died, even though almost anything can make me cry?

I forgot to go grocery shopping before the stores closed on Christmas eve, so my mom grudgingly drove me past both Jewel and Dominick's, just in case they were open. When I discovered that everything was closed, I cried. And I wanted to kill myself for being such a child.

And yet, when I try to imagine, say, going to my mom's cousin's funeral, I can't muster an ounce of sadness.

I do feel guilty about that. Or, well, I feel guilty for not feeling guilty about that? I wish I could think of some legitimate reason why I should care about any of those people, but I just can't think of any reason

Okay. I care about a few people.

I care about my grandma and grandpa. I care about my aunt and uncle and two cousins + cousin's children, all of whom live in Wyoming, even though I hardly ever speak to or see them. I care about my half sister in Mass whom I also hardly ever see. I care about my great aunt - my grandmother's sister. I obviously care about my mother.

And that's about it.

I feel absolutely zero connection to most of my aunts and uncles and to most of my cousins.

And it made me a little mad that Ethan, who means far more to me than pretty much any of those people, was NOT invited to Christmas even though no one could even pull the "well, he probably wants to be with his family today" card because his family is Jewish and isn't celebrating Channukah until late evening.

But then I felt guilty for being mad. These people share genes with me, and that arbitrary connection means that they should be more important to me than someone I love.

And then I felt guilty for making a snarky comment about my guilt.

I feel like I am four years old again. When I was little, my mother and I lived in a little prefab house in the woodlands of central North Carolina, where there was no door-to-door mail delivery. We had to go to the post office to get our mail. The room where we got our mail was long and narrow and completely empty except for the keyed mailboxes all along the walls. I used to run from one end of the narrow corridor to the other, pretending I was a zebra. One day, my mom took me with her to the post office, and when we arrived she asked me whether or not I wanted to go in. I said no, but I immediately regretted it. As she walked from the car to the post office door, I screamed at the top of my lungs for her to come back and get me. I can't remember if I was too young to know how to unbuckle my safety seat, or if I just didn't think that I could get out of the car without her, but I felt as if I were trapped and suffocating in that car. I screamed until my throat burned. I wanted to run back and forth in the post office more than anything else in the world. I can't remember ever crying so hard.

I know that seems like just a cute kid story, but I was actually crying when I typed it out. I still can't think about that day without crying.

Even then, I knew it was stupid. And that just intensified the pain. Knowing that I was just being childish. That's how I felt all day.

I had wanted an iPod for Christmas, but I didn't want to explicitly ask for one, since they are expensive, and I felt guilty. I had subtly mentioned to my mother about a month ago that used 40 gig iPods could be had for about $200. But my mother got me a brand new 2 gig iPod, saying that "that should be all I need." I decided the second I opened it that I would keep it in it's original packaging, sell it (for $190, less than they retail for) and use the money to buy a used 40 gig. But I felt so horribly guilty about my plan that I went into my room and sobbed for a good ten minutes after opening my presents. I consoled myself with the thought that if my mother had just taken a look at what's on eBay, she could have spent the exact same amount of money and gotten me what I wanted, but I still feel sick to my stomach.

I get sick to my stomach when I am anxious or guilty.

I felt sick to my stomach after I cried about not having anything to eat at Christmas brunch. I was guilty about crying, not anxious about not having anything to eat.

And I thought to myself, "Why didn't my mother just get something for ME when she went grocery shopping for the rest of the family?"

But then I realized that I am always telling her not to buy food for me, because she always either forgets to read the ingredients or gets me something I don't like.

And I felt sick to my stomach again.

ex mas party

2005-12-23T12:31:00.000-06:00

I AM MARTHA EFFING STUART.

Every time I come home I cook up a storm and piss my mother off by making a mess in the kitchen. I think she's full of crap, though, because in all honesty I usually leave the kitchen cleaner by the time I'm done than it was to begin with.

I made Christmas cookies for Alex's Christmas party on Wednesday. It was a good time.

I am less depressed this break than I was over Thanksgiving break, for a couple of reasons. First, this break is longer, so the prospect of going back to school is not looming over my head like a guillotine. Second, I am actually less depressed about going back to school, in large part because of the roommate change.

I feel like no time has passed since I went away to school. I wasn't ready to leave home, and at the risk of sounding melodramatic, it was very traumatic for me. So I just kind of shut down. I didn't talk to anyone. I didn't do much of anything. And I feel as if nothing has happened to me since I started college. It's kind of ironic that a time in my life which should be full of change and growth has been one of the most stagnant periods I've ever experienced.

But the way I'm looking at it now, I just needed a buffer semester. I needed a semester to adjust and deal with the shock of leaving home, without having to worry about making new friends and maintaining a social life and keeping my grades up all at the same time. Now, though, I feel ready to do those things. With my new roommate, I may actually have someone to talk to at school, and maybe that will warm me up to the idea of meeting people. I am hopeful!

Still, though, conversations with high school friends can be awkward. They all have stories about new friends and fun times and adventures. The socially appropriate thing to do would be to counter with my own stories about similar things, but I don't have any, so the choice is between making some flippant and self-deprecating joke about the fact that I don't have any friends at school, or just smiling and nodding and saying, "Wow, that sounds like fun." Neither is a very good choice, although the latter makes me sound slightly less pitiful.

I think the real issue is just that most people are less picky than I am. Most people CAN be placed with a random roommate and make friends with that person. I hate 90% of the people I meet, so I can't just go around meeting everyone on my floor and making friends with all of them. I hate meeting random people when the odds are so great that I'll dislike them, so I prefer to just not meet people. However, I essentially hand-picked my new roommate, so the odds are much better, and maybe I'll meet people through her who don't piss me off.

NOTE: This post was supposed to be full of pictures, but I CANNOT upload pictures with dial-up. It takes about an hour per photo, and it doesn't even work the majority of the time. I had a bunch of really fun pictures of cookies and people at Alex's party. And you can't even go to my buzznet to see them, because I have the same issue with that. DARN YOU, DIAL-UP!

home at last, home at last. thank god almighty, i'm home at last.

2005-12-20T15:11:00.000-06:00

I got home on Saturday afternoon. Yes, I've been home for three days without blogging.

I actually blog much less when I'm home. You may have noticed that I sometimes don't blog on weekends. If I go a few days without updating, you can probably guess that I'm at home.

I blog less when I am home (A) because we have dial-up and going online is like Chinese water torture and (B) because I actually tend to be busier at home, with seeing people and all.

Sarah of Indeed There Will Be Time posted this today:

"Do you ever have those songs that make you so blindingly happy or sad you can only listen to them VERY sporadically?

Mine is "You Can't Always Get What You Want" by the Rolling Stones. I want this played at my funeral. And my wedding. And I want everyone to get up and twirl around and dance.

What's yours?"

To which I replied:

"The Magnetic Fields - 'It's Only Time.'

The Beatles - 'Two of Us.'

Belle and Sebastian - 'We Rule the School.'

Coldplay - 'Yellow.'

Bob Marley - 'Redemption Song.'

Nico - 'These Days.'

'The Flesh Failures' from Hair.

The Postal Service - 'Such Great Heights.'

Oasis - 'Champagne Supernova.'

Ricky Lee Jones - 'Company.'

The Smiths - 'Cemetery Gates.'

Tom Waits - 'The Heart of Saturday Night.'

Van Morrison - 'Into the Mystic,' also 'Dweller on the Threshold,' also 'Straight to Your Heart Like a Cannonball.'

Here's the ones that are kind of cheezy/reveal what a nerd I am.

Frank Ticheli - 'American Elegy.'

The U of I alma mater.

'By the Rivers Gently Flowing, Illinois,' which is NOT a U of I song - it's the official state anthem of Illinois, but Revised Entrance #3 is based on it.

Of course, almost none of these songs would go on any kind of "favorite songs" list. They're just songs that make me get all sentimental. That doesn't necessarily mean that they are super high quality (although some of them are.)"

So what are yours?

going home

2005-12-15T21:26:00.000-06:00

I can't fucking wait to go home for Christmas break.

I go home Saturday. Day after tomorrow. Roughly forty hours.

"Oh, after a month of being at home, you'll want to go back to school."

No I won't.

Well, maybe it won't be quite so bad to come back. I just finished moving the bulk of my stuff to my new room, so I won't be coming back to incessant rap videos.

And if I never hear Mariah Carey's voice again, it will be too soon.

I like my new roommate a lot. She's very friendly, but not in a pretentious, "OMG I WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND SOOOOO BAD LOLZZZ" kind of way. She's funny. And Lithuanian. And about six feet tall, which should make for some good comedy (I'm about 5'1").

She and some dude named Mike (maybe a man friend? maybe just a friend friend?) helped me move all my crap. I have to have all my stuff out of my current room by the time I leave on Saturday, but the new roomie is leaving tomorrow, and I can't get a key until I come back next semester. Pain in the ass. So I basically have to be packed and ready to go home a day before I actually go home.

That was a really boring post. But it's been a boring day.

2005-12-14T19:02:00.000-06:00

You know how some people get hat hair? Well, I have headphone hair right now.

This is my fifth post of the day.

BAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

2005-12-14T17:38:00.000-06:00

HOLY SHIT I am TRYING to listen to music on my headphones, and my roommate is using her phone as a walkie-talkie and SCREAMING INTO IT and I am TRYING my DAMNEDEST to drown her and her (boyfriend?) out but she is SCREAMING and I want to SMACK HER.

I don't know how she keeps friends. She is the single rudest and meannest person I have ever met. I've never heard her have a polite conversation over the phone. She's always yelling at someone or complaining about something or saying "DAMN why you so IGNANT and why you TRIPPIN." EVERYONE IS ALWAYS TRIPPIN and she seems shocked and appalled at any question anyone asks her. "Where you at?" "I be in my ROOM. GAWH." "Whatchu doin'?" "NOTHIN! Why you TRIPPIN?" She talks like Napoleon Dynamite would if he were a black girl.

bush

2005-12-14T17:14:00.000-06:00

Bush admitted today that much of the intelligence that led us to invade Iraq was wrong.

I felt a tiny temptation to be snarky and cynical and say something to the effect of, "too little, too late," but I can't help but feel like this is a really big step in the right direction.

Bush has never really made a move like this. Maybe he's mellowing out in his old age. Maybe he'll start giving up his self-righteous bullshit and actually start considering what his critics are saying and why.

I'm not being sarcastic. I think this is a very important move. And I really do think that this could be heralding the formation of a serious, comprehensive exit plan for Iraq.

At least I REALLY hope that's what it means. It certainly could!

rogue taxidermy

2005-12-14T14:45:00.000-06:00

I want one of these for Christmas.

And the way I see it, it's cruelty free and therefore vegan. I mean, it was already dead when they found it.

Edit: Crap. You can't access that unless you're on UIUCnet. Here's the text of the article:

New York Times, The (NY) Edition: Late Edition - Final
Section: The Arts/Cultural Desk
Page: 1
Author: JOEL TOPCIK

JOEL TOPCIK. "Head of Goat, Tail of Fish, More Than a Touch of Weirdness" New York Times, The (NY)2005-01-03: 1.NewsFile Collection By NewsbankOnline. Infoweb by Newsbank, Inc. December 14, 2005. Three artists in Minneapolis are trying to breathe new life into the art of preserving the dead. Dead animals , that is.

The three, Scott Bibus, Sarina Brewer and Robert Marbury, are passionate about taxidermy, a practice they consider an art form and one that they say has suffered from the bigotry of the art world and the provincialism of professional taxidermists. The artists call themselves the Minnesota Association of Rogue Taxidermists, and they are dedicated to exploring the artistic possibilities of stuffing and mounting animal remains -- and not without a certain sly humor.

While some traditional taxidermists have applauded their efforts, the group has been criticized by the world's largest taxidermy organization.

In a recent four-way phone interview, the Rogue Taxidermists, speaking from Minneapolis, acknowledged a certain spirit of mischief in their work. "I think the point of the association should be to get as many people doing weird taxidermy as possible," said Mr. Bibus, with a prankster's glee.

Indeed, the absurdly gory, sometimes campy nature of the work is aggressively weird. But the three are earnest about their art and the ideas they are trying to highlight through taxidermy. All are animal lovers, with a number of pet dogs, cats, birds and fish among them; they use only roadkill, donations from veterinarians and unused animal remains from museums. A strict waste-not-want-not policy accounts for Ms. Brewer's mummified squirrel heads and pickled internal organs, what she calls "carcass art," which is not technically taxidermy.

To be sure, the Rogue Taxidermists do not claim to be the first to suspend animal remains in formaldehyde and call it art. But they hope that through their exhibitions they can inspire people to recognize the natural world around them and to reconsider their position in it -- whether, as Mr. Marbury said, the reaction is "revulsion or love or distrust."

In Mr. Marbury's estimation, taxidermy has a unique capacity to evoke the mystery of death. "When you deal with a dead object and then you are imbuing it with life and giving it characteristics," he said, "people become uncomfortable."

Taxidermy, literally "arrangement of skin," flourished in the 18th century, when seagoing voyages of exploration inspired in the public a fascination with natural science through the exhibition of the exotic animals and strange specimens brought home. At the turn of the 20th century, Carl E. Akeley, the acknowledged father of modern taxidermy, transformed into a form of sculpture the practice of crudely stuffing preserved animal skins. The lifelike animals in his dioramas at the American Museum of Natural History in New York and at the Field Museum in Chicago set the standard.

Though they admire the tradition of modern wildlife taxidermy, the Rogue Taxidermists are particularly drawn to the early history. "Prior to zoos, prior to museums, prior to galleries, we had these cabinets of wonder, these collections of art, trinkets, oddities," Mr. Marbury said. Then, with the rise of natural history museums, "they all sort of broke apart."

Now, the Minnesota Association of Rogue Taxidermists is hoping to honor that early tradition and celebrate the "showmanship of oddities," as the group's Web site (www.roguetaxidermy.com) puts it.

Mr. Bibus, 25, is the only formally trained taxidermist of the three. After graduating from Augsburg College in Minneapolis, he enrolled in a one-year certification program. His mounts might be mistaken for traditional wildlife taxidermy were it not for the conspicuous presence of blood and the unsettling depictions of consumption. Two pieces in particular show animals in the act of eating -- in one, a beaver is hunched over a bloody human thumb; in the other, a muskrat lolls on its back, gorging on the bloody hind legs it has torn from itself.

Ms. Brewer, 34, is the group's sideshow artist. A graduate of the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, she taught herself to stuff and mount animals , picking up techniques from books and video. ("It was a lot of trial and error," she said.) She combines parts from different animals to create mutant creatures and mythological beasts, like her half-cat, half-raven "Goth Griffin." She and Mr. Bibus met through the Internet, where her Franken-Squirrels (prices begin at $250) and signature two-headed hatchlings ($125) have sold briskly on eBay and at her Web site (www.customcreaturetaxidermy.com).

For his part, Mr. Marbury is not an actual taxidermist. "I'm the vegan taxidermist of the group," he said. He uses stuffed toy animals exclusively. Mr. Bibus and Mr. Marbury met last spring while exhibiting their work at Art-A-Whirl, a local arts festival. A native of Baltimore, Mr. Marbury, 33, lived for a time in New York, where he became fascinated with the way garbage collectors sometimes decorate the grills of their trucks with stuffed toy animals .

He conceived the "Urban Beast Project," a collection of imaginary city-dwelling creatures fashioned from plush toy animals and embellished with comically vicious fangs and other prostheses. He places them in urban dioramas and gives each a proper Latin designation ("Canis Boriqua," or "Boricua Dog," for example) and an elaborate biography.

The three held their inaugural show as the Minnesota Association of Rogue Taxidermists (a name Mr. Bibus had been saving for the right moment) in October at Creative Electric Studios, a gallery in the alternative arts enclave of northeast Minneapolis. Dave Salmela, an owner of the gallery, said he had been apprehensive about a show exhibiting dead animals , if somewhat intrigued by the prospect of controversy.

"Because of my own feelings about animals ," said Mr. Salmela, who is a vegetarian, "I even felt like I might be one of the people who was offended by the show."

The group braced itself for reactions of outrage and disgust. But the response was quite positive. "People who came to the show generally enjoyed and understood it," Mr. Salmela said. "I saw some people who looked a little sick, but I don't know of anyone being offended."

The pieces, displayed on the gallery's Web site (www.creativeelectricstudios.com), include Mr. Marbury's "Lesser Yeti," a chowlike canine figure in its own diorama ($600), and Ms. Brewer's "Capricorn," a goat with wings and a fish tail ($6,000).

Though the show was not reviewed, it turned some taxidermists into art critics. Letters from traditional taxidermists commended the artists, Ms. Brewer said, for "expanding the limits of the art form." The most gratifying response, she added, came in the form of an invitation to tour the dioramas at the Bell Museum of Natural History in Minneapolis.

Bill Haynes, however, was not impressed. He is the vice president and one of the founders of the National Taxidermists Association, which he said is an organization with 35,000 members that represents commercial and hobbyist taxidermists in the Americas, Europe, Asia and the Middle East. After viewing images of the Rogue Taxidermists' work that Mr. Salmela had posted at an online taxidermy forum to generate buzz for the show, Mr. Haynes responded by e-mail message with a withering critique.

"If you are looking for approval for this so called 'art,'" he wrote to Mr. Salmela, mistaking him for one of the artists, "I am afraid you have come to the wrong place."

"Most, if not all" taxidermists "abhor your displays," he continued, closing with a terse rebuke: "You can surely be called a Rogue taxidermist."

Reached by phone at his home in Sharpsburg, Ga., Mr. Haynes said: "The very fact that they're using the word 'taxidermists' is offensive. The National Taxidermists Association is an organization devoted to wildlife art -- i.e., we reproduce nature to exact standards that represent the good Lord's work. From what I've seen of the rogue taxidermy association, that's not wildlife art. It may be art of some sort, but it's not in my estimation taxidermy art."

Ms. Brewer was not bothered by Mr. Haynes's comments and interpreted his disapproval as resistance to change. "We're using the same medium they're using," she said. "We're just doing something different with it."

As they prepare for their next show at Art-A-Whirl in May, Ms. Brewer and Mr. Bibus have been trolling the highways for animal remains. "This is a good time of year to do it," Ms. Brewer said, because the cold helps preserve the carcasses.

"It's not a limited resource -- roadkill," Mr. Bibus said. After the Creative Electric show, the group actually received more donations than it could handle, forcing it to post a plea on its Web site asking well-meaning donors to refrain from leaving dead animals at the gallery door.

But the artists are gratified that their message of recycling and reuse has resonated. "I wish that more people thought about it that way," Ms. Brewer said about those donating roadkill. "Why not do something with it and put it to good use instead of leaving it on the side of the road?"

Caption:
Photos: At left, "Goth Griffin" by Sarina Brewer of the Minnesota Association of Rogue Taxidermists; at right , her fellow Rogue, Scott Bibus, in his studio in Minneapolis. (Photo by Sarina Brewer); (Photo by Allen Brisson-Smith for The New York Times)(pg. E1); Scott Bibus working some fish into a new piece of taxidermy art. (Photo by Allen Brisson-Smith for The New York Times); Sarina Brewer keeps the components of "Feejee Mermaid" a secret. (Photo by Robert Marbury); "Fighting Snow Skunk" by Robert Marbury, who uses toy animals . (Photo by Sarina Brewer)(pg. E8)

Copyright 2005, The New York Times Company

and then a call came through on my CELL PHONE...

2005-12-14T13:48:00.000-06:00

The other day, I got a call from my mom. I tried to answer, but nothing happened.

At two forty-nine Monday afternoon, my cell phone FROZE. Nothing happened when I pressed buttons. I dialed numbers and pressed send, but nothing happened.

I got really freaked out.

It's stupid, I know. Human beings lived for thousands and thousands of years without cell phones, and there's nothing particularly dangerous or even significantly inconvenient about not having one for a little while. But something about not being able to call my mom and let her know my train was FINALLY on time made me feel really claustrophobic.

I guess I've just become really dependant on my cell phone. I don't use it nearly as often as I would guess most people do, but there's something very comforting about the idea that it's always THERE when I NEED it.

2005-12-13T15:50:00.000-06:00

A lot (meaning two) of the blogs I read have made really heavy/depressing/philosophical posts today. I thought I'd go ahead and make it a fad.

A few years ago, I dated this guy. He had a sort of bloggish website with a web board. It might still exist. I don't care to check. You are free to.

He had this thread about the nature of love. We had just broken up. Rather messily.

So while everyone else gushed that love was divine and sacred and magical, I explained (in retrospect, with really inappropriate venom) that I think love is nothing more than a set of biological imperatives, just like pretty much everything else in life. That didn't make anyone happy.

Well, it was probably my venom that made them the most unhappy, but I'm sure the fact that I was tearing down their ideas about something they deemed "sacred" didn't help.

And now, even though that mess is long behind me and I am now IN love, my thoughts on the subject haven't really changed much.

I still think that love can be reduced to some fairly primitive needs and desires, and I still think that there is nothing sacred or transcedent or whateverthefuck about it. Love is what our bodies and brains and hormones do to tell us "this person can do what you want. Stick with him/her."

Of course, what people want can be very complex. Ethan is smart and driven, which means he is likely to find success, which on a very primitive level is something that is desirable. He's also an extremely devoted partner, which is sensible for the same reason. He's funny and shares my opinions and values, and one of the most basic needs of any human is to seek out other people like us so we have a sense of community.

But other people have other needs. The same instinct that drew me to Ethan's intelligence and ambition may draw someone else to a partner with money. After all, one of the primary factors in why many people choose their partner is "security"; almost every girl EVER has uttered the words "I feel safe with him." Wouldn't having money make you feel safe? So then, is money a legitimate reason for loving someone? Why shouldn't it be?

And there is, of course, the matter of physical attraction. Sex is an enormous factor is who we choose as a partner - it is a very large part of romantic love. It is almost impossible to see the line where lust ends and love begins - and there often is no line. I sincerely doubt that even the most un-shallow people would be willing to commit to a long-term relationship with someone who was hideously disfigured, because your primitive instinct of "this person would not produce healthy offspring" (which, I think, exists even in homosexuals, on a subconscious level) takes over.

Love involves all kinds of primitive instincts, and, in my opinion, little else. I think that's why it's so often misidentified as being divine or otherworldly; it is so engrained in our subconscious, so visceral, and such a deep-seated part of who we are AS ANIMALS that it seems like some "divine" outside force that we have no conscious control over. Which, I guess, we don't, really.

That is not to say I don't think love is a wonderful thing. Love makes us happy because it satisfies our basic, subconscious needs like the need to feel a part of something and the need to ... well ... fuck. And there's nothing wrong with that! I say, the primitive joys are some of the best. We relish the simple pleasures of eating and masturbating. What's wrong with relishing love the same way?

P.S. I have purple hair now.

Asian people will say anything to sell you something. I went into this Korean salon and pointed to the color I wanted - a dark brown with just a hint of red - and the chick comes back with a swatch of purple hair saying, "We don't have that color, but we have this one." Isn't that kind of ... purple? "No. It will turn out brown. I will mix it with brown to make sure." She of, course, didn't, and now I have purple hair.

Sigh.

But she was really nice, aside from lying to me. And I liked looking at her Korean magazines. Maybe I'll go back later and ask if she has the color I originally wanted yet.

bloggy shout-out

2005-12-12T21:21:00.000-06:00

I want everyone to go and read Invade the City! by my real-life friend Eric.

It's only about a week old, and it is a re-incarnation of his Xanga site, The Idiot King, which was apparently about a year old, but he only recently started updating daily.

It's really a fascinating read. It's one of those that I just can't WAIT to check when I read my blogroll.

He just writes about his own life and thoughts. It's stream of consciousness, in a very Raymi-esque sort of way. But before you go accusing him of ripping her off, I assure you that he's probably never read her, although you should, Eric, if you're reading this. And his voice, while sharing a lot in common with hers, is definitely his own, definitely very personal, and definitely very attention-catching.

I took in a drifter.

2005-12-09T13:19:00.000-06:00

Well, not a drifter. A traveller.

His name is Will. He has been planning to go to Manchester England England to go to a vegetarian culinary school. However, he is from Kentucky, and the nearest British consulate is in Chicago. He had an appointment at the consulate on Thursday, so on Wednesday night, he set out on the long journey from Kentucky to Chicago.

His car broke down just north of Champaign.

And then it snowed like hell.

So he was stranded.

He spend all day Thursday just bumming around campus. He saw an ad for a Campus Vegetarian Society event, and as he is a vegetarian chef himself, he thought it sounded like a good idea. I was, of course there. I gave him my number in case he found himself homeless for the night. He did.

So he slept on my floor.

We had great fun conversations about music and we played Set. He used my computer to try and make another appointment at the consulate:

But they were all booked up. His flight to England is on Sunday, and he doesn't have his visa yet. Ahhh!

So this morning he had dorm breakfast courtesy of my iCard:

And then went out into the snowy town. He'll be catching a bus to Chicago sometime today to try and sort out the visa stuff before he leaves for Manchester.

Good luck to you, Will! I really hope things work out for you, given the crazy circumstances. Have fun in England (or NY, wherever you end up).

the war on yuletide

2005-12-07T22:35:00.000-06:00

As a liberal, my most recent evil plot is apparently the destruction of Christmas .

This should come as no surprise. Every few hundred years, some group of progressives wages war on a December holiday.

For example, back in the sixth century A.D, the pagans of northern Europe were finding that their holiday traditions were under attack from the Catholic church. Instead of their traditional Yuletide activities like sacrificing pigs to the god of fertility and conjuring the spirits of the dead, they were forced by the damn papist PC police to observe the birth of Jesus.

Look, Rome. Christianity's popularity in Italy didn't mean that it had to be adopted everywhere. Paganism didn't need to be put to some kind of "global test."

catch-all post

2005-12-06T15:34:00.000-06:00

This post is dedicated to all the other bloggers out there who secretly just want to write all the details of your life, but think better of it every time you go to write something. You gotta let it out once in a while.

Here is a laundry list of a bunch of stuff that you may or may not know about me.

- I am a freshman in music education at the University of Illinois.
- I am having trouble adjusting to college life. I haven't really made any friends yet, and I go home every chance I get.
- I completely failed to practice for my clarinet playing final, but I managed an A, with a reed that I had never played on before.
- I don't like my roommate. I think that she and all of the people she talks to on the phone are deaf, because she has to repeat everything she says twice, and every time the person she is talking to says something, she says "Heh?" really loudly and it sounds like a goose honking.
- I will soon be the treasurer of the Campus Vegetarian Society.
- I don't like drinking. It's not a moral thing. I don't think there is anything wrong with drinking (within reason). It's just that when I drink I get very uncomfortable and anxious and feel like I need to MOVE I need to GO SOMEWHERE I need to RETREAT.
- I also don't like caffeine, and I don't drink pop or coffee. It makes me feel like my chest will explode.
- I have to go to bed before midnight, or I will begin having suicidal thoughts.
- In one hour, I have to go turn in my marching band uniform.
- I am madly in love with my boyfriend, but I don't talk about it much on the blog. This is because I am 18 and he is 15, and I don't feel like defending us.
- I was only recently able to have normal, platonic friendships with boys. I read in Dr. Spock that when a girl is about 10 or so, she begins to be vaguely aware of her sexuality, and her first sexual feelings are for her father, and it is in repressing these feelings that she learns how to deal with and control her sexuality. I grew up without a father. So it took me a little longer.
- I grew up without a father. He left when I was four, and he died when I was nine.
- I don't believe in the concept of being "genuine" or "pretentious." Everything is pretense. What we call "sincerity" is really just very skilled pretense. All behaviors are learned, so there is no such thing as "acting natural."
- I call myself an agnostic, but I only say that so that I seem more open-minded to religious people. I am really an atheist. I mean, I can't profess to know enough about science to really explain where we DID come from, but logic dictates that it wasn't from God. When I figured this out, I got really scared and decided that I was just agnostic, because who knows? Maybe there is a God? But I'm not scared by that anymore.
- I have two dogs, and they are the cutest things in the universe.
- I am really glad that Bunny posted two proper entries recently. Since she has been getting closer to matrimony, she has been neglecting her audience.
- I am doing really well in my aural skills class.
- I am coming home this weekend even though I only have two weeks until the end of class. I will be judging the speech meet at Naperville Central.
- I am completely lacking in work ethic. I spend more time blogging than I spend practicing and studying combined.
- I was very angry when I discovered that the cable provider here in Urbana doesn't have the Travel Channel. My two favorite shows are Stranded with Cash Peters and No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain.
- Last weekend I was very excited that I might get to go to a party. It would have been the first party I've been to since I got to school, aside from Marching Illini parties which I am only invited to because I am in MI, but the person throwing the party forgot to call me. I felt really stupid for being upset about it, which is why I didn't write about it at first.
- I will hopefully be switching roommates at the end of the semester, but the girl who will be my new roommate isn't answering my e-mails. I'm getting really pissed off about it, because I need to file for a room change and stuff, but I can't do that until she lets me know what's going on.

site problems

2005-12-05T20:58:00.000-06:00

So I can't view my site. I don't know if it's a problem with the UIUC network or blogger. If you are reading this, comment so I can know if others can read it. Although, if I can't access the site, I don't know how I'll view comments...

I got a new poster.

Also, have you ever heard of tornadoes being so powerful that they put blades of grass through trees? Well, I just had a similar experience. I had a pain in my foot that felt like a little shard of glass, and I look down, and there is a HAIR stuck in my foot.

A hair.

The hard shell that is the skin on the bottom of my foot was PUNCTURED by a PIECE OF HAIR.

Isn't that extremely bizarre?

fuck joyce

2005-12-04T17:50:00.000-06:00

After considering number1gq's position for a while, I think I've changed my mind. I think I agree with you after all.

I mean, really. Who wants to read about other people complaining about their mundane, everyday problems? It really is dull as hell.

Take, for example, one of the worst writers of all time, James Joyce.

I've read A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man cover to cover, and I gatta say, I'm not impressed. All he ever does is complain! Like, a solid third of the book is dedicated to him just agonizing and bitching and moaning over his sins. Just be proactive and go to confession, for Christ's sake! Him wallowing in his guilt just does not make for interesting literature. Since nobody else in the world has ever experienced the emotional turmoil of adolescence, to be honest, nobody else is really interested. Nobody can relate to his problems, so he should really find something else to write about.

Moving on.

Friday night was Marching Illini Formal!

It really wasn't that much fun.

But check out that makeup! Jessi taught me everything I know.

Ethan came down, but we left as soon as awards were over. Neither of us really knew that many people there, so it was sort of awkward.

We cut out early and went to the Taco Bell across the street so that we would have someplace warm to be until he had to go back to Oswego. Some dude who I'm pretty sure was high offered to take this picture of us in front of a picture of a crocodile.

Whee!

the number one gee qeueueueue

2005-12-01T19:25:00.000-06:00

So I was reading the b-log of my good and dear friend the Starved Artist and I happened to check the comments on her most recent post. Some jag left this comment:

"I've been reading your blog for a bit now, and I gatta say...not impressed. I know you're pissed about thangs but hey life's a bitch and then you die. All you do is rant on here. Complaning isn't gonna solve anything therefore be proactive and persue other things. If you meet a barrier in your way, find away around it. Cussing, swearing and ranting is unproductive but it does help to get that bad karma out so get a nice stiff drink, relax and enjoy yourself then re-evaluate your life and where you're heading. Nothing is ever easy as it seems and everyone is faced with adversary therefore your true strength lies in how you deal with it."
-number1gq

Apparently something, some incredible life experience or some magical epiphany has left Mr. GQ with authority to go around dispensing unsolicited advice to his fellow bloggers about their personal lives.

If Mr. GQ really has been reading Starved Artist's blog as much as he claims he has, then he would be aware of the fact that Starved is a PHENOMENAL blogger with more skill in her little finger than he has in his supposedly very skilled penis .

Because according to Mr. GQ, while passionate and interesting arguments against injustice are "unimpressive," didactic posts with terrible spelling that are actually just thinly-veiled brags about one's own sexual prowess are super interesting and way cool.

american girl = eternity in hellfire

2005-12-01T16:44:00.000-06:00

I love the religious right. They are just so damned ABSURD that they pretty much make the best entertainment around.

These days, instead of worrying about issues that actually affect people's lives and, you know, MATTER, they have decided that the big crusade is to get the American Girl corporation (makers of American Girl dolls and clothes and accessories and books and movies and all sorts of other things that you would never think to associate with dolls) to stop associating with Girls Inc.

Apparently, American Girl has been selling these "I Can" wristbands which support female empowerment (which is supposedly not what the AFA people are against, but that's up for debate), and 75% of the proceeds go to this group called Girls Inc. Girls Inc. is the modern incarnation of the very old and well-established Girls Clubs, which were akin to the Girl Scouts. They encourage teenaged girls to get involved in protecting their rights, and/or what will be their rights when they get older. They have worked to pass legislation protecting battered women, title IX, and things along those lines. They also support a woman's right to an abortion. They provide information about and support easy access to contraceptives. And they actually condone lesbianism.

They must be stopped.

And so groups like the American Family Association have decided to boycott American Girl dolls until they stop supporting Girls Inc. They've already done the same to Bath and Body Works, who used to sell the "I Can" wristbands until they decided that making good with the religious right was more important than supporting a worthy cause.

chief

2005-11-29T11:31:00.000-06:00

Every now and again, I go back to recently past posts and check to see if any new comments have showed up. A few posts ago, Di asked me what my opinion on The Chief was. Her question was probably prompted by this picture:

For those of you who don't know, Chief Illiniwek is the "symbol" (if you call him a mascot, the x-treme pro-chief people will jump down your throat) of the University of Illinois, which I attend. As a member of the Marching Illini, I know way more than I should about him.

He was created sometime in the late twenties or early thirties (I can't remember exactly) in a collaborative effort between the football coach at the time, the marching band director at the time, and some boyscout. I guess this boyscout knew a lot about Native Americans, and he spent his summers on reservations and crap, so the football coach and the band director charged him with creating a costume and dance to perform at halftime of home football games.

As time went along, The Chief's dance became solidified and he began to perform it to the Three in One, which the marching band plays, so named because it is three songs - the Alma Mater, Pride of the Illini, and one I can't remember - in one.

Some of the controversy comes from the fact that nothing the Chief does has to do with the Illini tribe. The Illini tribe was wiped out a hella long time ago, so the dance that he performs is based on a Sioux fancy dance used to entertain white visitors. Most traditional Native American dance is ceremonial/religious, so it's not really meant to be entertainment. Also, his costume was a gift from a past Chief of the Sioux tribe. So one might accuse pro-chiefers of lumping all Native American tribes together by calling Sioux things Illini. Also, the music is completely un-authentic: the Pride of the Illini is a sort of stereotyped and totally inaccurate white representation of Native American music.

My personal opinion is that it really doesn't matter. Native Americans have MUCH larger problems than a college mascot, especially one that is represented in what I believe to be a truly good faith effort at being respectful. On the other hand, I think the pro-chief side is absurd. Who the hell cares if the damn mascot goes away? I, for one, did not select the University of Illinois because of its "symbol."

I won't lie. As a member of the Marching Illini, I pretty much can't avoid loving the Chief. I get little chills playing the Three in One, and I even cried a little when we played the Alma Mater at the last game. But I would have cause to worry if I were SO DEEPLY attached to the Chief that I were willing to attend rallies and protest to keep him. Yeah, he's cool. Yeah, I get all full of pride when he performs, too. But that's honestly not that important.

Since Chief Illiniwek will soon be retired as the U of I "symbol" anyway, I propose that we make The Chief from "Where in the World is Carmen San Diego?" our new mascot. To quote the profile of the Facebook group "Students for The Chief,":

"The Chief embodies the attributes valued by alumni, students, and gumshoes of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. The legacy of The Chief is a link to our great academic achievements, a tangible symbol of an intangible spirit, filled with qualities to which a person of any background can aspire: goodness, analytical thinking, crime-fighting, truthfulness, diversity, courage, dignity, and justice. Besides playing a role on Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego, Lynne Thigpen, born in Joliet, Illinois, is a character more honorable and suitable than any high-kicking, leather-touting, half-time-entertaining “Chief Illiniwek.” Lynne majored in dance and theater at the U of I, and even has a school named after her in Joliet. With her achievements in theater and film, we should remember to honor the correct Chief!"

my blog

2005-11-28T22:18:00.000-06:00

My blog is extremely self-conscious.

It started off as a Xanga, which you can still find at www.xanga.com/SunniMuffin87. It was late spring of 2004, right at the end of my junior year of high school.

I started it because of the inspiration of Diana (then TooFrumpyForTheTeenagePopulation, now GiveMeANickelAndI'llTellYouTheStory) and Sarah(the starvedartist), both of whom were friends from high school. Sarah inspired me because she was just such a damn witty story teller. Diana inspired me not because of her writing (which was, at the time, just about as uninteresting as mine) but mostly because I idolized her.

She seemed mysterious and inaccessible. She seemed urbane and sophistocated. And since the Xanga craze had yet to hit our high school, blogging was still relatively new and cutting edge. So even though I had no clue what to write about, no idea how to make a template, and no digital camera, I signed up for Xanga. And I wrote about what I had for breakfast.

Right at the beginning of 2005, I decided to get a proper blog, and The Fencepost as you know it was born. I believe I also got a buzznet account around the same time, but until recently, I never took that very seriously. And it may seem to some that I only intermittently took this seriously. After all, at the beginning of this summer, I decided once and for all that I would never blog again, and for a solid three or four months, I didn't write a single post. It seemed that The Fencepost would go to the termites.

Then I got bored. And I came back.

And now The Fencepost is in a state of transition. I am full of desire to become a real blogger, but I lack direction. I definitely can't make this a news blog - I wouldn't be able to do much besides recount the latest from the AP wire in my own words. I could make it something along the lines of a Raymi/TonyPierce sort of blog, where I write about my own life, but in an abstract and pseudo-artistic way that makes it more interesting than it (probably) really is. But I'm just too self-conscious to be that kind of blogger. At least on a regular basis. I've written posts in that style, and the next day I feel sort of silly about them, and I feel obligated to chase them with something down-to-earth and much more boring.

Maybe The Fencepost should be a sort of variety blog. A venue for me to imitate all the different kinds of blogs I enjoy. A venue for my narcissism, which is all any blog is anyway.

Maybe if I can just relax and accept The Fencepost for what it is, I will start getting a thousand readers. Because readers can sense lack of confidence just as surely as a live audience can, and I think that's why my blog just isn't that interesting to most people. It's too self-conscious.

new b&s album

2005-11-28T14:22:00.000-06:00

The new B&S album will be coming out on my 19th birthday. Now THAT'S something.

So I'm back at school, after a blissful and lazy break. I believe I practiced about a grand total of an hour and a half, and I didn't crack open a book once. Except, of course, my cookbooks.

I cooked up a storm. My Thanksgiving dinner lasted for three days - tofurkey, corn, green beans, soy mashed potatoes, ho-made cranberry sauce from scratch, and even a tofu/pumpkin pie. For my first attempt at a pie, it wasn't too shabby. Except for having enough clove in it to burn your tongue right out of your mouth, it turned out great.

And I of course saw people. It was AWESOME having human contact.

And now I'm back here.

But only for three more weeks! Then I'm home for a month at Christmas.

signs, signs, everywhere signs

2005-11-15T17:39:00.000-06:00

These are photos of signs that I saw walking around Champaign-Urbana last week.

This is the sorority across the street from my dorm. When I first saw it, I thought it was a cleverly named restaurant.

This was on the lawn outside the Korean Methodist Church.

The girl across the hall from me is a horse enthusiast.

Apparently, Marines really like children.

Muscleman? Muslim? What statement are you trying to make?

Of course it does.

Racial Steriotypes Dehumanize

Morrissey = Jesus

Hail to the orange,
Hail to the blue.
Hail Alma Mater,
Ever so true.
We love no other,
so let our motto be
VICTORY.
Illinois
Varsity.

wierd uncomfortable encounter

2005-11-10T21:14:00.000-06:00

I had a bizzare and uncomfortable experience just now.

Over the weekend, I was stuck on this six hour bus ride from Dayton, Ohio to Champaign, Illinois, and I was right in the middle of all the damn tuba players. I was sitting next to one of them (a cool one), and somehow, the conversation turned to religion. I honestly don't remember how. The guy that I was sitting next to was "questioning," but the guys in front of and behind us were die-hard Jesus freaks.

I don't know what possesed me to ask them this, but I posed the question: If you believe that belief in Jesus Christ is the only way to get to Heaven, don't you think it's your responsibility to show me the way?

The one in front of me hemmed and hawed and gave me some bullshit answer, but the guy behind me decided to step up and rephrase the bullshit answer in a more confident way. He said that belief in Jesus was the only was FOR HIM to get to Heaven (why the rules are different for each person, I'm not sure), but that God is just, and when I die, he will judge me justly. However, God would not allow one of his children to go astray, so if I am meant for it, He will show me the way.

So I guess the implication was that, yes, if I continue to refuse to believe in God and Jesus, I will go to hell, but since it is God's responsibility to show me the way, the dude I was talking to could wash his hands and not have to feel guilty for not doing his part to save my immortal soul. Of course, since God is the one who will either choose or not choose to have me be born again, He therefore is just kind of deciding on my behalf whether or not I will go to hell. But I didn't say that.

Anyway, just now, JUST now, I was eating dinner in this little cafe. It was kind of crowded and loud, and there was a large group of twenty-ish white boys sitting around a table talking. As the crowd thinned out, I was able to hear what they were saying. They were having a Bible study. And one of the guys was the guy I talked to last weekend.

I could tell he was looking at me, but I refused to make eye contact with him. I just looked out the window and strained my ear to listen in on their discussion.

They were talking about the Holy Ghost coming to Jesus on the cross. They were talking about the nature of the Holy Ghost, and how they had "experienced" Him/It in their own lives.

It absolutely blows my mind. Here's a group of intelligent, partially-college educated young men; they can look at Roman mythology, at Egytian mythology, at Indian mythology, and take it all in a historical perspective; but when they look at Christian mythology, for some reason they say, "This mythology is DIFFERENT. This mythology is REAL."

It's absurd, to borrow Brian's word of the day.

Of course, I understand why they want to believe that way.

I was sitting alone in a restaraunt (and, in fact, it has been weeks since I've had a meal in the company of anyone but myself), and I was staring out the window into darkness while vicariously participating in a conversation I was definitely not a part of. And I thought,

God. It would be really great to be able to believe that I'm not alone right now.

That I'm never alone.

That there's always some kind of ambiguous parental figure right there to protect me from the harsh realities of life and warm the lonely autumn nights.

But of course, God isn't real.

french riots

2005-11-08T21:39:00.000-06:00

I don't know what to think about the riots in France, but they're pretty mind-blowing.

First off, the way Chirac and Sarkozy are dealing with them is disgusting and shameful. Calling poor people rabble and scum will only anger more people and convince more poor youths that rioting is a good idea. One can almost picture Sarkozy turning to the Prime Minister with a flippant sneer saying, "Let them eat cake."

Now, I'm not saying that I condone violence. And I'm not saying that I think it's wise or that it will help accomplish anything.

All I'm saying is that if I were living in the ghettos outside of Paris, and I had been denied a decent education and therefore lacked skills like negotiation and reasoning, and if I were filled with a blinding rage against my government that defied all rhyme and reason ...

well, I might be pouring gasoline into bottles right now.

sorority girls

2005-11-03T16:06:00.000-06:00

This post in dedicated to the sorority girls on campus.

Your skin is darker than your hair.

I can see your ass crack when you are standing upright.

It is too cold to be wearing flip flops.

You joined a sorority to gain "leadership experience."

Experience in organizing inane social events

and in faking a smile while adressing groups of your peers.

Once in a while you put on your $70 jeans from the mall

and a wife beater

and a cutsy little short flannel shirt

and a cowboy hat

and you go to the bar to dance to country music.

Because you really like country music.

Because you are a down-home country girl

and you really have a genuine understanding of what it is to be Southern and poor.

You used to listen to Kenny Chesney all the time in high school,

sitting in your fuzzy pink bedroom

in your daddy's half million dollar suburban estate.

Jay Leno

2005-11-02T12:25:00.000-06:00

Tony Kidonakis played with The Redwalls on Leno last night!

See that bari sax player in the background? Yeah, I think that's him.

For those of you who weren't in the OHS band program in the fall of 2001 (and I know there must be at least one of you out there), Tony Kidonakis was the best student teacher ever to complete his bachelor of music education at Oswego High School. He is an awesome guy, and awesome sax player, and an awesome teacher.

He still hangs around Oswego a lot. I hear that since the OHS marching band was doing a Beatles field show this year, Tony had them come to a show with his Beatles cover band. He's kind of one of those people who does everything and crops up everywhere.

Last night, he cropped up on the Tonight Show.

So congratulations to you, Tony! May you continue to do awesome and unexpected/random things!

I'm going to be pretentious for a minute.

2005-11-01T18:37:00.000-06:00

I just thought of something that I think is kind of interesting. It will probably make me sound like a pretentious ponce to write it here, but I don't have any one else to tell it to.

So I was listening to some CDs that a friend burned for me, and I was reflecting on the fact that this friend really doesn't like classical music and kind of makes fun of me for appreciating it. I thought it was kind of ironic, since the CD he burned for me (Boards of Canada) sounded a lot more like twentieth century art music than like rock.

And that's pretty interesting.

All music can pretty much be put into two categories: folk music (of which popular/rock music is a subcategory) and art music (e.g. classical music). Folk music came first. Cavemen beat sticks together rhythmically, and that was folk music. Then, when societies started getting more advanced, the advent of aristocracy create art music, because rich people can afford to pay people to be professional musicians. In Japan, this was Gagaku - in Indonesia, gamelan - in India, khyal and what became modern Indian classical music. In Europe, it was what we now know as classical music.

Classical music in Europe started out in the church, since that was the primary source of money for pretty much anybody. It then moved toward aristocratic patronage - Mozart didn't make money by selling CDs to the public; he worked as a court musician. Eventually, art music evolved into what it is today, with composers thinking more about expressionistic effect than listenability.

Popular music evolved out of folk music. Naturally, most people would rather listen to folk music than art music, because it is simpler and easier to understand. But folk musicians were not professionals (by definition), so their music couldn't really reach outside the sphere of their small communities. But with the advent of recording technology, folk musicians (in America - mainly blues singers) could sell recordings of their folk music and become professionals. This gave way to rock as we know it.

Until recently, rock music has stayed pretty close to its folk origins. It has been more about having something fun and easy to listen to than about artistry. But lately, bands like Radiohead, Sigur Ros, and Boards of Canada - bands that are, ostensibly, in the rock category - have been making music that is not fun or easy to listen to at all. They have really been making art music.

Most people kind of assume that art (classical) music came first and that everything else evolved out of that, but that's not true. Folk (and therefore rock) music has always been completely independent of classical music, and I find the fact that rock bands are now looking to create art music from a genre that is essentially the very opposite of art music very interesting.

That's about the nerdiest post I've ever written.

happy halloweeeeeeen

2005-11-01T16:59:00.000-06:00

I am a party pooper.

Everyone here is super into Halloween. Everyone dresses up. They have trick or treating in the dorms. Even my roommate, who never speaks to me, questioned why I wasn't doing anything for Halloween.

It's because I hate the world.

But I happened across a few cute kids in Halloween costumes.

This little girl came to the faculty brass quartet concert at Krannert and got second place in the costume contest.

Then I saw Snow White in the mall.

But she started to run away!

Someone stop her!

Oh, thank God.

2005-10-31T20:14:00.000-06:00

I want a pair of cottony athletic pants with SLUT written across the ass.

If anyone finds/makes them for me, I will give you dolla dolla billzzzzzz.

happy dream

2005-10-31T16:38:00.000-06:00

I had a really happy dream the other night.

I was looking around Champaign for a new place to live, and I discovered that there was a house with an empty room just across the street from my current dorm. I went to check it out, and when I walked in the front door I was greeted by a dog and a sloth, both very friendly. The sloth tried to jump up on me affectionately, like dogs do, but it had those big long talons that sloths have, so I kind of grabbed its forearms and kept it at arm's distance.

As I was given a tour of the house, I saw that it was kind of a dump. But I could tell that people were cleaning up and preparing to renovate, and they invited me to help them when I moved in (I enjoy decorating and like activities). The house was a huge old Victorian with hardwood floors and beautiful architectural elements. They showed me the vacant room that I could stay in. It was enormous, with an entire 20' wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. The whole house was enormous. There were five floors, and all the rooms were as big as mine. There were about fifteen people living there, and as I walked through I could see them laughing and covorting and cooking vegan food in the kitchen. I wanted to live there so badly.

But then I woke up to my own room, with my zero floor space and my tv addicted roommate and my general discontentment.

I will get out of here ASAP.

daily illini

2005-10-30T20:26:00.000-06:00

First off, I like the Daily Illini.

I read it almost everyday, mostly because it's being handed out on every street corner and I can't avoid it, but partly because it's actually kinda good.

But on Friday they ran an editorial that I wasn't crazy about.

Since I'm computer retarded and don't really know how to post links, just copy and paste:

http://www.dailyillini.com/media/paper736/news/2005/10/28/Opinions/Column.Broken.Promise-1037813.shtml

Okay. Like any large, government-associated organization, they've got their pitfalls. Maybe a lot of them. But this dude said a few things that just plain don't make sense.

E.G.

"If the United States invaded another Arab country (meaning Sudan), anti-war protesters would take time out from whining about the "international Zionist conspiracy" to rail against the Christian crusade against the Arab world."

WTF? International Zionist Conspiracy? Now I hang out with a lot of pretty hardcore liberals - way harder core than myself, as I am sort of undecided about whether I'm pro- or anti-War In Iraq - and I have never once heard anybody use the phrase "international zionist conspiracy." Is he trying to imply that liberals are anti-semetic? Because that's just retarded. However, one of the many things that I often hear anti-war people say is, "If we are so interested in freeing other countries from tyrannical rule, why don't we do something about the situation in Sudan?" Now, by "do something," they probably don't mean invade, but I would just take a wild guess and say that, in general, liberals are hardly against taking action against the genocide in Sudan. Pretty much the opposite.

"Many attack conservative criticism of the United Nations calling it ridiculous, because the United States created the United Nations. This is not true when you take a look at the facts. The head of the San Francisco Conference and drafter of the U.N. Charter was Alger Hiss of the U.S. State Department. Alger Hiss, some will remember, was found guilty in law of perjury, but in fact of being a communist spy and traitor on behalf of the Soviet Union. This shows that Richard Nixon, and for that matter, Joseph McCarthy, were right in their anti-communist concerns."

What?!?!?! Of course there were spies from communist countries. This is a fact. But McCarthy, in particular, wasn't just trying to protect the country from foreign spies. He was trying to erradicate non-mainstream ideologies.

"During the investigation of Alger Hiss, he said that if he was a communist spy many of the advances made by his help (the New Deal, the United Nations, etc.) would have to be reexamined. Unfortunately, this reexamination never happened. Maybe the reason the United Nations is indifferent, if not implicated in the face of so many genocides, is because it was formed under the influence of an agent of a genocidal power who killed about 25 million people."

That's just terrible logic. There is a lot of evidence to say that the UN is fairly incompetent, which the columnist mentioned earlier in the article. That's true. But to say that they are murderers because sixty years ago someone of questionable morals had a hand in the organization is ridiculous.

On a lighter note.

I lost a nut from the front wheel of my bicycle. It's been gone for about a week, and I've been late for a few classes because my poor bike is an invalid. So today I went searching all over Champaign for a 5/16" hex nut. I found three different types, but ALL of them had threads that were too large for the bolt.

So if anybody finds a 5/16" hex nut with very small threads, could you mail it to me or something? My bike is getting lonely and bored with no one riding it.

Concert

2005-10-28T23:27:00.000-05:00

I went to a Spoon concert tonight!!!!

Go to my Buzznet to see pictures.

2005-10-28T10:38:00.000-05:00

Last night I walked out of the music building with a sore throat and after listening to some brass quintets and the air smelled just like the apple sheesha at my favorite "coffee house." It reminded me of last winter, sitting at a table with the StarvedArtist just eating hummus and not smoking because I wasn't eighteen yet.

Yesterday in one of my classes, a girl that I think is fun and cool sat down in front of me, and she's kind of fat and she was wearing these big flesh-colored granny panties that stuck out like a mile above her pants and I kind of chuckled to myself because she's funny and can get away with that sort of thing. But this chick next to me made this awful face and was like, "Oh my Gaaaaaawwwwwwd, do you see that?" And I wanted to tell her that it's not a crime to be ugly, but instead I just looked at her blankly.

I think I might have drunk a lot of milk.

2005-10-23T17:48:00.000-05:00

First off, let me say that as a rule I try to avoid going to Espresso Royale. Espresso Royale is a chain of coffee houses that (I think? maybe?) only exists in Champaign-Urbana, but down here in Chambana (as the hipsters like to call it), there is an Espresso Royale on every damn corner. They serve mediocre food at ridiculously high prices; the service is awful; and they are always out of whatever you ask for.

But this morning, when I got up at 7:00 for an MI rehearsal, it occurred to me that this was the first Sunday morning where I had needed to eat breakfast here in Chambana. I peek at the University Dining schedule.

They don't open until 11:30.

So I go down to the local convenience store to get some cereal.

It's not open yet.

So I'm forced to go into that AWFUL Espresso Royale.

I get some fruit and a turnover, and as about the only decent things they serve are their hot beverages, I get a LARGE yerba mate latte with SOY MILK.

SOY MILK

SOY MILK

SOY MILK.

So the freaking college kid behind the counter hands me my tea. And I taste it. And it's very much lacking in that distinct, soy-ish taste. You know, that nutty, grainy soy milk taste.

So I say, "This is soy milk, right?"

"Right."

So I trust him, because maybe my sense of taste was obscured by the temperature of the tea or something.

So I chug the whole LARGE yerba mate latte, supposedly with soy milk.

And now I feel like someone is taking a weed whacker to my innards.

Thanksgiving

2005-10-23T01:03:00.000-05:00

When Thanksgiving comes, I will be really thankful.

I like fall weather, but fall weather is only fun when you can bundle up and snuggle and drink soy hot cholocate.

It's no fun when you're wearing a surprisingly thin woolen uniform that reveals your neck, when you're hungry and tired, when you've played Oskee-Wow-Wow about a thousand times and you're rewarded with a final score of Illini-10, Penn State-63.

It's no fun when you're riding your bike down Armory in your marching band uniform, and everybody's staring at you, and you're debating whether or not you should go to the homecoming party at the trombone house, and you come to the conclusion that you shouldn't because you either don't know or don't like 99.9% of the people who will be there.

I can't wait for Thanksgiving.

I will have a whole week of sleeping in my own bed.

Of hanging out with my mom.

Of having someone to talk to.

Of sleeping in and then cooking myself a real breakfast.

Of snuggling with Ethan.

I used to think of Thanksgiving as kind of a pointless holiday. It was never fun or interesting. It was just sitting awkardly with distant family members I barely know and watching them eat a dead animal.

But I've gained a new appreciation for it.

blue balls for Bicyclemark

2005-10-21T15:23:00.000-05:00

All this rap music is giving me an ulcer.

I walked into my room just now, and my rommate was out, but the tv was still on. BET rap videos.

Whatever. OK. I can turn it off.

So I turn the tv off and turn the computer on, with the intention of listening to Bicyclemark's podcast while folding laundry.

But then my roommate comes in.

"Please don't turn on the tv. Please don't turn on the tv. Please don't turn on the tv."

She turned on the tv.

And I almost had an aneurism.

This consant noise is seriously leaving me shell shocked. I jump a little every time the tv goes on. It's a real source of stress for me.

But now she's gone. She was in here for about three minutes or so. She just came in to grab something. But she felt she had to have the tv on, even though she only came in to grab something.

Does this seem like a serious problem to anyone else?

conversion

2005-10-20T17:20:00.000-05:00

I used to get really hornery when people talked about religion in front of me.

I used to get even hornerier when people tried to convert me.

But I've kind of rethought things.

If I were a Christian, then I would believe in God. I would believe that Jesus died on the cross for my sins, and that by accepting Him as my personal Lord and Savior, my soul would be washed clean, and I would float up to Heaven like a bubble in a 7Up bottle.

I would also believe that not to believe in Jesus Christ, to go against his teachings and deny the fact that He is our God and Savior, is a sin punishable by an eternity in Hell.

That is not to say I would be angry at nonbelievers. They're not hurting anybody but themselves.

But they're hurting themselves. And if I knew that the only way I could save them from an eternity of misery and suffering was to get them to accept Jesus Christ as the Messiah, then, by God, I would do everything I could to convert them.

But only two or three times in my life has anyone tried to get me to believe in Christ, and those people didn't even really know me. They were speaking generally, to crowds.

I know a lot of Christians. Don't any of them care about my immortal soul?

Of course they do. But for 99% of people, no religious faith, no matter how strong, could make them do something that is socially unacceptable.

Humans are almost completely ruled by society and culture. Hardly anyone is willing to go against society, no matter how strongly they believe they should.

So young Christians have a dilemma. They belong to two societies with conflicting rules. Firstly, they have their Christian society. The parish of their church. Their family. This society tells them that they have to believe in God and Jesus. So they do. Because almost no one can go against society.

But they also belong to their generation. To America. To the University of Illinois. Or whatever. All of which are pretty much secular. And in all of these societies, it is considered socially unacceptable to try and change the beliefs of other people. So they don't. Because almost no one can go against society.

If there are any Christians reading, please tell me:

How do you reconcile these things?

food aid

2005-10-18T01:01:00.000-05:00

If you're looking for a good way to help out with the crisis in Pakistani Kashmir - and pretty much anywhere else, for that matter - here's a good website:

www.wfp.org

It's the United Nation's World Food Programme. They make donating really simple, and 90% of all donations go directly to those who need it.

I donated to the School Food program, which encourages families in impoverished areas to send their children to school by giving the children a free meal every day, and in some schools families can even earn take-home rations in exchange for sending their children to school regularly. It's meant to soften the blow of losing the children as sources of additional income. I think it's fabulous.

oooooh

2005-10-17T15:18:00.000-05:00

I just had one of those realization moments.

So, for those of you who are new to the blog, I have been a vegetarian for about seven years and a vegan for six. Most people who have known me for any amount of time have had the "why" conversation with me: "Why don't you eat animal products?"

So I explain why. And people nod their heads.

And then they come back at me with questions like, "Well, what if the animal lives well and dies painlessly?" or, "What about people who for some reason have to eat meat?" or "What about people who have to be cruel to animals, as part of their religion?" or "If you were stranded on a desert island, and the only food were a cheeseburger, would you eat it?"

And I always respond to these questions with things like, "Well, of course, there are always exceptions..." and then wonder silently why the person would even bother to ask such an impractical question.

And it just occurred to me that it is because they don't really consider in real terms what I have just said to them.

I talk hypothetically about how animals usually suffer, and how people in general should not eat them for this reason. I don't get too specific because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable, and I don't want my friends to feel like I am blaming them. Because I like them.

But what I am really saying, in veiled terms, is that YOU - the middle class Americans to whom I usually speak, who don't experience any of these exceptional circumstances - the animals that produced the food YOU are eating suffered, and that YOU personally don't have any reason to eat animal products.

But people don't really think about their direct involvement in what I'm talking about. They think about it in broad, hypothetical terms. But it isn't a hypothetical issue.

So to all the people who have had that conversation with me, rethink the conversation and replace every "people" I said with "you."

Does that change things?

P.S.

Today is the StarvedArtist's 18th birthday!!!! Go tell her to have a happy one.

Memorial Stadium

2005-10-15T15:17:00.000-05:00

This morning, about dawn, I snuck in to Memorial Stadium and took a bunch of pictures.

Click on the "My Pictures" below to view them.

CHA

2005-10-13T22:47:00.000-05:00

If you are in need of public housing in the City of Chicago, you are shit out of luck. The Chicago Housing Authority is not accepting applications for housing, and won't be for a while. Eat that, poor people.

World Farm Animals Day

2005-10-12T04:05:00.000-05:00

Happy World Farm Animals Day!!!

Actually, as I just discovered, World Farm Animals Day was sometime last week, but the Campus Vegetarian Society and Students Improving the Lives of Animals decided that they would celebrate it today.

So we gave away free vegan food on the quad, and we were met with a great response. It seems that every where I look down here, I find a vegetarian or two. And there were tons of "borderliners" - people who are thinking about going veggie, but haven't quite taken the leap yet - who were amazed at how good vegan food can be. It just warms the cockles of my heart.

I will start cooking again. Over Thanksgiving break, after I have moved into my new room, I will gather up all the cooking acoutrements from my home and bring them to school with me. Then I will cook up a storm. The basement of Busey/Evans will be positively smothered with the odor of my delicious vegan goodness!!!!

the end times

2005-10-11T16:37:00.000-05:00

Is it just me, or are there an awful lot of catastrophic natural disasters lately?

The Tsunami this past December, the earthquake in Pakistan.

And although it's not really on par with the others, the Hurricane in the gulf coast was huge by American standards.

It this unusual? Or does it just seem like a lot of natural disasters in a short period of time because I'm so young, and because I can't remember other times like this?

If the former is true, then clearly the end times are near. It will be any day before the skies open up and rain fire and brimstone down on us sinners.

I suppose we deserve it. Especially we Americans. With our "free-thinking." We are definitely NOT surrenduring our souls to Christ with all this bullshit about making your own decisions.

gay guys

2005-10-10T23:44:00.000-05:00

I find gay guys strangely comforting.

I don't know why. Most people seem to find their presence disturbing. But I feel exactly the opposite.

Perhaps it's that you've got the size and strength of a regular male, but without the intimidation factor that comes with the possibility that they are/aren't attracted to you (since both, depending upon the situation, can be worrying). So when they squeeze your arm or smile at you, it's just like having a big brother.

Or a big sister with facial hair.

Laguna Beach

2005-10-07T16:50:00.000-05:00

The other day, I was sitting at my computer, checking my e-mail, while my roommate watched Laguna Beach.

I was like, "Fuck this shit. I'm leaving."

So I went over to ISR to get a snack.

It was empty, and there was a tv there, so I think, "Finally! Maybe I can watch something decent!"

Of course, it was three o'clock in the afternoon, so nothing was on. Since I'm only a pseudo-intellectual, I only watch the news when nothing else is on. Hey, at least I watch the news.

So I turn on CNN.

Then this CHICK comes and plops her fat, tan ass down on the couch next to me and goes, "Are you watching this?"

Yes. Yes I am fucking watching this. But maybe she has good taste, I think. Maybe she'll magically find good television programming where I couldn't. I have faith in humankind!

"No," I say. "You can watch what you like."

And of course, the fat, tan chick in the Hollister hoodie turns on

EMFUCKINGTEEVEE.

And Laguna Beach is on.

My mom really likes shows like that. I don't think she watches Laguna Beach per se, but she's always really liked watching The Real World, which is essentially exactly the same as Laguna Beach. She thinks it's funny. She likes to watch those shows and chuckle to herself and say, "Oh, how ridiculous. No one could be that stupid."

But people ARE that stupid. And those people are my brethren.

It really makes me sad. I wish I could believe that everybody watched Laguna Beach in the same spirit in which my mother watches The Real World, but I don't think they do. I think they genuinely enjoy hearing girls with mild mental retardation pontificate about "relationships." I think they identify with it.

I feel so lonely.

But perhaps, as the rap video my roommate is currently watching says, I should, "Save the hatin', 'cuz you don't know."

emergency

2005-10-06T16:39:00.000-05:00

I made my first trip to the emergency room Tuesday morning.

I woke up with cramps, and it was probably less than an hour since my period had come, which I was expecting and wasn't too worried. I took a couple of ibuprofen and went down to breakfast. Halfway through my bowl of Kix, though, they started getting a lot worse, and I started feeling really sick. So I went up to my hallway and straight into the bathroom without even going back to my room. Then they became EXCRUCIATINGLY painful, and I lay on the bathroom floor for half an hour, wretching and shaking and sweating, while girls stood outside the door of my stall doing their makeup and not seeming to notice that I was DYING. Finally, I just opened the door and asked the nearest girl to get me some water and analgesics. She did, but when she got back I was feeling like I was going to pass out, so I told her to get the RA. Anne came and asked me what I wanted to do. I didn't know. I felt ridiculous even talking to her about it. They're cramps. What more can you do about them? She asked me if I wanted her to walk me over to McKinley. I couldn't walk that far. She said we had to do something. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

And so she called the ambulance. And the paramedics came and ambulanced me right over to Carle. And I got my own little bed in the emergency room. For cramps.

In my defense, it could have been something more. Starved Artist has cramps like that, and she has ovarian cysts. What if I had ovarian cysts? I couldn't take the chance.

But of course, they were just cramps. They came when my cramps usually come, and they felt like cramps usually feel, just ten times more intense. It was something like I imagine childbirth must feel like. I even found myself involuntarily doing that heavy breathing lamas thing they have women do for natural childbirth, to flood their brains with oxygen and make them too high to be bothered by the pain. That's probably what made me feel like I was going to pass out. I was kind of hyperventilating, and my whole body (with the exception of my uterus, unfortunatly) felt numb. And it was really scary.

So I had my RA call an ambulance.

I missed all my classes that day, and now I have to find an alternative time to take my musicology midterm.

But better safe than sorry, I say. Because I'd hate to think that I was just being a crazy hypochondriac.

At Long Last!!!!

2005-10-05T13:38:00.000-05:00

I had quit. I was done. I am an adult now with adult things to do which don't involve updating this fucking blog. But I can't go eat lunch until my computer is done installing its HP updates. So here I am.

I've been here at the U of I for about a month and a half now. To be completely honest, I am having kind of a rough time. I'm extraordinarily homesick, I miss Ethan desperately, and I really haven't made a single friend.

But in some ways, this is a good environment for me. It's very veggie-friendly; there's a vegetarian cafeteria just a quick jog away, and I've become quite active in the Campus Vegetarian Society, which has provided me with the closest thing to social contact I've had since I arrived.

I love my classes. I'm not getting sick of just doing music all the time - I'm really digging it. I thought it might make me sad to forfeit all those other humanities I loved so much, but I can get those outside of classes. I've been reading a lot - for my own enjoyment - which I could never do in high school, and I guess that has taken the place of the English classes I used to love so much.

I would say that I am enjoying the freedom, but I really don't feel like I have any more freedom now than I did my senior year in high school. I guess I do in the sense that I don't have to be called in if I'm going to miss class, but that's really a small thing. But in regards to my personal coming-and-going habits, it's pretty much the same. I have more free time, since I only have class an average of 4.5 hours per day (plus ensemble rehearsals, study time, and practice time).

I have failed to bond with my roommate. This is mostly because she watches rap videos on BET and fucking Laguna Beach twenty-four hours a day. She doesn't seem to have any thoughts or opinions, or interest in anything in particular. When I announced that I was speaking with the RD about finding a new roommate, her response was, "OK." She wasn't curious why. She didn't want to know the details. She just kept watching TV. Good fucking riddance.

I think that over the course of my four years in high school, I managed to weed out all the dull/annoying people and surround myself primarily with interesting and fun people, but now I'm floating around in a giant sea of dull and annoying people. I'm sure some of them are awesome, but it's just such an overwhelming task to locate these people. So I'm just holding off on the whole making friends thing. Maybe the stork will drop a group of cool and funny and smart people right *plop* in my lap. Maybe.

Anywho, maybe if I start updating again, I'll start getting better at it. That's my oblique way of saying that I think I'm going to start blogging again. Even if it does eat up lots of valuable time.

I'm back, bitches!

I'm Official

2005-06-23T17:23:00.000-05:00

I'm an official U of I student.

Tuesday was my orientation/registration. I got a student ID and a class schedule and a meningitis shot.

I really wanted to take Japanese, but there wasn't enough time in my schedule. Freshmen are restricted to 18 credit hours per semester, which seemed like plenty, but I didn't take into account that activities which used to be extra-curricular, like private lessons and rehearsals, now count for hours. I suppose it's a good thing, though, because if someone weren't holding me back I would make myself crazy with activities.

I only had enough room for one non-music class, which made me a little sad. I had all kinds of plans for foreign languages and writing classes and other things that I just find cool, but I don't even have enough room in my schedule for my required music classes and gen eds. I'm taking:

Supplemental Clarinet (for people who don't already play the instrument)
Euphonium as a major instrument
Music Theory (maybe - if I test out of it, I can take another gen ed)
Aural Skills
An Introduction to Art Music
Band
Choir
Marching Band
And Speech 101 because it's part of my teacher certification.

And I've been trying mega hard to try and find some way I can take yoga as a course (since I don't have to pay tuition - it would be free), but I can't seem to find it.

Apparently, I am embarking on THE SINGLE MOST EXCITING PERIOD OF MY LIFE (according to my freshman orientation packet). Apparently, I will never be happy again after I graduate from college. This seems like a theme, lately.