|
|
|
February 17th, 2005
10:37 am
I've been going to bed at reasonable times the past week or so. It's been nice; I naturally woke up at 9a, and even after dicking around on the computer and eating breakfast, it's only 10.30a. I have all day to do anything I want! Which consists of:
1. Dropping off some envelopes at my old high school so teachers can recommend me.
2. Going to Trader Joe's and getting goodies for Kris.
3. Checking out a Whole Foods Market--one just opened in my town last week, and they're really expensive, but really good.
4. Showering. A long one.
5. Homework (in theory).
And that's it. It's actually really pretty outside, too. If I were the active type, I would go for a walk. Unfortunately, I'm not. Maybe I'll go find a highway instead and release some inner asshole.
Current Mood: awake
Current Music: Sigur Ros
|
February 14th, 2005
04:05 pm
Oh my god, I love driving like an asshole.
I know there's no way I'm a good enough driver for it to be safe in the least bit, but driving home from school today, I just...I just completely embraced how wonderful it was! 55 mph in school-zones, speeding to get through yellow lights, passing people on the left, blaring the Rapture (complete with the obnoxious bass), and I even peeled out on a couple corners! It was WONDERFUL.
Now I'm going to change into pajamas and drink tea, because that's what all asshole drivers do as soon as they get to their asshole destination.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/classic/angry.gif) rushed
|
10:25 am
I don't even mind that it's Valentine's Day. I don't like it, either, but I've gotten over holidays. None of them seem interesting anymore; I don't even want to buy a box of conversation hearts and read them all before throwing them away because they taste like shit.
I'm way more concerned that I really want to get Japanese food today and that I'll probably have to do it for lunch instead of dinner, because everywhere is going to be packed. Unless I want Stop'n'Shop market sushi (no thanks).
I'm so tempted to skip History and go back to bed.
|
February 9th, 2005
11:23 pm
US Weekly is complete garbage. I can't believe I just wasted forty-five minutes reading that shit, and even worse, that I enjoyed it. I don't understand what the fascination with celebrities and other assorted beautiful people is, but when I get sucked in to a magazine like that, I can feel it as well. Granted, most of the faces hold no appeal to me--I can honestly say that as soon as I saw 'Jessica Simpson', I flipped forward five pages. What greeted me were "professional" analyses of Jen and Brad's possible recuperation, and I read the entire thing. Brad Pitt sure as hell appeals to me (particularly when he's sweaty, but alas, no good pictures).
And who the hell are all these fucking people from The O.C. and Desperate Housewives? Shit, I've never even seen a full episode of Friends, nevermind memorized the cast of ocgilmoresurvivoridol wives.
The entire time, I was inwardly chastising myself for so fervently involving myself in this superficial, bullshit magazine. I suppose, though, that pretending I'm too intelligent for these things, including to myself, is way worse than admitting to my mediocrity and reading all the trash rags I want. Maybe I'll even read one in public someday.
|
February 7th, 2005
12:15 am
All You Ever Wanted to Know about ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) blacksheep00
Actually, it was kind of interesting. They're even bigger losers than bloggers.
My favored computer is MIA for a couple days. I can use my Mac but I prefer not to, so I won't be around so much (I'm at a neighbor's right now, taking care of her kitties). BYE
|
February 5th, 2005
07:19 pm - quizzes = AWESOME journal entries
Jesus thinks you're a sanctimonious prick. He's
tired of your shit. Nobody thinks you're
different, or interesting, or cool. Certainly
not the Saviour of all Men. Jesus wants you to
quit being such a tool.
What does Jesus think of you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Work was okay, but I spent more money afterwards on a dress and shoes for the Santiago trip than I've probably earned in the last three weeks. Christ, even when I go to Marshalls instead of gayly prancing about Newbury Street like the upper-middle class tramp that I am, I always end up finding the one designer prettyshinything in the goddamn store and falling in love with it. ttyl $200.00
Thanks, Kris, for forcing me to have good taste, you fucking bitch.
Current Mood: cranky
Current Music: Blur
|
February 4th, 2005
November 1st, 2004
11:23 am
Although this is by no means an epiphany by any stretch of the imagination, I've been noticing more and more lately how similar the concepts of fate and physics are. The ideas of both, a certain inevitability of occurences, is crudely the same one, only fate is labeled as romantic, whereas purely analytically approaching any topic even skirting the mystic is seen as cynical, and often bordering on nihilistic. But why is realism shunned for being...well, er, realistic? Is our race not meant to face facts? Well, we can wake up and smell the coffee because we have noses. We wouldn't have noses if we weren't meant to smell, but why COFFEE? Our sense of smell was not intended for that.
Because honestly, the aroma of coffee in the morning is great those facts we should or should not be facing, after some internal fermentation, will have an effect on a person's state of mind, and as a species, happiness, or at least contentment, is a more logical goal than "seeking truth", however the hell you define it. Not only that, any reasonable enlightenment-seeker acknowledges that it is impossible to fully comprehend all of the intricacies (I use that word too much) of the universe; "if the human mind were simple enough for us to understand, we would be too simple to understand it."
The problem with fate is that it's too vague. You can call ANYTHING fate and get away with it, but then that leaves absolutely no room for coincidences, since every action fuels an infinite amount of dependent actions. In a world run purely by fate, and there is actually no way to prove otherwise so excuse my ass-talking please, there would be no consciousness, no impulses, and especially no what ifs. Physics, however, leaves room for change. It's kind of like Bush and Kerry. Science morphs itself and is changeable depending on the circumstances, and does not have any set plan. Coincidences are more flexible, whereas principles are not.
I'm so scared when I write entries like these that I'm just going to hear a big DUUURRRRH from everyone else because I'm the last to think of it. I get so irritated when any IRL friends start spouting of bullshit I figured out in seventh grade, so I'm always paranoid of that here as well. And for fuck's sake, I'm listening to the Postal Service; I must be nearing the limit on how superficially unsuperficial/hip/smart I am.
On a lighter note, I haven't showered since Thursday and am running out of outfits that go with a hat. I think I'll do one of those power-cleaning look-at-me I'm-being-productive days and throw my clothes in the laundry, take a shower, try to finish a paper, and get my car washed since I'm done with classes for the day.
Ha. Like that's gonna happen.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/classic/sad.gif) dirty
Current Music: Postal Service
|
October 28th, 2004
12:28 pm
Well, as you can imagine, last night was a bit...uh...hectic, and I wasn't even in Boston; I was in Salem. Four out of five people I saw that night seemed to have developed some bizarre strain of a combination of rabies and tourettes, complete with foaming mouths, disoriented gaits, and seemingly random bouts of hooting, affirmative cussing (the ever-popular FUCK YEAH seemed to be a favorite).
I've never been a sports fan. Always thought that they were stupid, stupid, stupid, and in a sense, I still do. Well, no, I completely do. BUT. BUTBUT of course, living in the area I do, most of my friends are die-hard Sox fans. And seeing them happier than I've ever seen them put me in a wonderful mood too; a sense of elation I haven't felt in months or years (I have such a shitty memory but I know it wasn't recently that I felt so good). The atmosphere, as crude and crass as it was, had a contagious edge to it, and while I refrained from hollerin'n'honkin', I surprised myself by not being in a sour mood the entire night. So what that I've had eight hours of sleep in the last sixty? It's like we Bostonians finally had a REASON to be the arrogant, bullheaded, defensive pricks we've been for centuries.
And dear god, I hope this is a good omen for the election.
I really wish this comment thing would get off it's ass and start working.
Current Mood: nerdy
Current Music: Bryan Ferry
|
October 27th, 2004
07:01 pm
So I'm only receiving about one of fifteen comments sent to me. That, I blame on the internets, whether it be deadjournal or AOL (who am I kidding, everything is AOL's fault). Not only that, the downstairs computer, which I usually use because it's warmer down here, is completely screwing itself up; it either freezes within ten minutes of being online, or Windows/Explorer/whatever the desktop program is closes, and all that's left is a black screen (my wallpaper, because I'm incredibly gawthically angstily omg depressed I like simplicity and black goes with everything).
I guess it's for the better, at least for a week or so. Midterms and stuff coming up, and even though I only have two classes, it would be nice to not flunk both of them.
I get achy all over when I don't sleep. And clammy and pale, with a constant tinge of a certain nauseous anxiety.
I'm so excited for November second. I can't take all this damn suspense.
Current Mood: sore
Current Music: B.R.M.C.
|
October 26th, 2004
09:08 pm
So I guess I can safely wish you a happy birthday, because I passed. Even though I shouldn't have (I didn't signal changing lanes and drove into a crosswalk but really, I'm not usually awful).
I guess that updating daily thing has been shot to hell.
One of my favorite bookstores, a store called Wordsworth, in Harvard Square, is closing. When I was a kid, I always begged my mum to go there whenever we were anywhere in Boston, but she only actually took me if we were within eyesight. It's been there for about thirty-five years, always bustling, always floor to ceiling books, and I looked in the windows to see a few books on every shelf and the lights off. Thankfully, there's already a Gap across the street, so most likely another one won't be moving in there.
In fact, this distressed me so much that I blew $150 on absolutely nothing in about twenty minutes. On three things. This is open season for flaming; please, be my guest.
I CAN DRIVE LALALLALAAAAAAA so I'm going out for a bit. Ciuaouoaaooai.
Current Mood: thirsty
Current Music: Beulah
|
October 23rd, 2004
11:33 pm
Motherfucker, is everybody watching that goddamned baseball game? It's that rare blue moon that I feel like going out and talking to my so-called peers, but I don't want to spend my night in front of the boob tube, so here I am with a precariously positioned tangle of hair fastened into place with about fourty bobby pins, heels, and somewhat crusty red lipstick I found from god-knows-when in my sock drawer. WITH NOTHING TO DO. EVEN MY MUM IS AT SOMEONE'S HOUSE WATCHING THE GAME.
Jesus. It's not like the Sox are ever going to win anyway. Since when has Boston been good for anything besides colleges and tea parties?*
Reverse the curse, my ass.
*(someone pro-Cardinals metaquote me on that, please, and make it your business to point out that I've lived in Massachusetts most of my life and STILL feel that way.)
|
October 22nd, 2004
01:28 am
fuck fuck layouts screweeeeeem and screw coherency too
|
August 14th, 2004
02:53 pm
My intention was to update both here and DJ. That hasn't worked out too well. So I'm going to try again.
|
August 2nd, 2004
July 31st, 2004
12:16 am
I got a car today.
Cough.
And then hung out with twenty members of my soon-to-be step-family. I haven't been relegated to the ranks of the kids' table since I was nine. And I was definitely the oldest one there, and I definitely wasn't too pleased with that.
Anyway.
I need an older man. And NOOO, by older I do not mean late twenties. I mean late thirties to mid-forties. He'll wear a pinstripe suit, and have an expensive leather briefcase, and be for everything I'm against (namely suits, leather, and making lots of money). And I will be his barely-legal ingenue, of whom his family will disapprove and his ex-wife despises.
I don't really know where we could go, though. Certainly couldn't hang out with MY friends, and his would be sure to be skeptical. Oh well, I guess we'll just have to have sex all of the time.
I need to stop thinking about sex so much. I don't know why I keep writing about it; it seems like one of the most distasteful activities in which I could partake right now.
On that note, why the fuck isn't anyone online? I veto all offers to go out and get OMGFUCTUP on a hopping Swampscott Friday night for a relaxing night at home (online, of course, because that's what I do when I'm home) AND NO ONE ELSE IS HERE.
|
July 29th, 2004
05:13 pm
I'm cooler over here.
|
|
|
