The Hipster Brigade
"idiots rule the world"
there are times when forms are communication become to overbearing and things are just too much. i want to cut if off. i want to have the last word and that is, "i'm done." over the past few months, i've deconstructed myself down to a T. we are entering the realm of NewDiana and i'm scared. i'm scared to show off how i'm vulnerable and i can only be "all i can be." (note: the army changed their slogan to "army on one." that's so lame.)
lying to yourself gets you nowhere. i have to keep questioning everything. i have to take that deep breath and just let it be there. let those words dangle off my tongue and vomit themselves onto other people. like last night, each second with ian was also one less second i wouldn't be with him anymore. there's something about hanging out with that kid that makes me think. think so hard and then forget. i dont' want to forget. it's like a memory you think so much about that you begin to only remember the bare bones of the situation and soon nothing at all.
i am a superhero: my power is the ability to tell time. ian is my sidekick.
...and that is the stuff we talk about. we talk about philosophy and he's much smarter than i am but he doesn't make me feel stupid. somehow i have tricked him into thinking that i am legitimate and cool enough to hang out with or perhaps i'm just the one in his pack that can boost his ego and say he's good looking. it's nice to be completely honest but than it's hard to tell what you should hold back. i contemplated saying, "i used to have a crush on you and it made me uncomfortable." now, it's not the same. the attractiveness is still there, his personality not making him uglier. sometimes i get lost because we speak in stares and smiles. accidentally, touching his leg and liking it. my arm against his, while complaining about how cold it was in there.
then wondering if i'm supposed to be thinking about someone else while i'm having fun and if i'm not, should i feel guilty? but just that thought alone prooves that i care. not every minute of the day can be consumed by thoughts of others but most of the time they are. i feel guilty though. i feel like i can trust myself but i do have thoughts. "what would this have turned out to be?"
then i reject it. i don't think about it the same way i used to. i don't think about the first kiss or put more meaning in his hug or was there something in his stare. it's just not there. instead i worry, is he getting the wrong idea? am i tease? was that flirting? i worry about how he takes things i say. i wonder.
this summer he said he would call me. i think it was just a nice gesture because he is lazy but i plan on writing him because that's what good friends do. i hope he doesn't forget me. i'm only a shadow.
cartharsis: n. a purification or purgation that brings about spiritual renewal or release from tension
and we stretched our feet and i danced to the music and he laughed and i felt so good even though there was no hug and no apologies and only lost glances and boys who were nothing i was interested in and that ball in my stomach loosened up and it was okay and for once i felt like i belonged and i didn't care about everyone else because the carbon copies aren't so addicting. and i danced in the median on the way home and they honked and i danced harder. and i felt like smiling and i said "good evening" to everyone i passed and these are the nights where things begin to make sense and where i find out who i really am. and who knew that conor oberst and ian a. could bring it all out of me and i almost want to call my mom but she went only make me upset. and i smell like cigarettes and i've got a bruise on my thigh from running into a chair and it's subtle reminder that i'm still alive and the pain keeps me alert but the purple fades and so will this feeling but for now i know that being myself wins more smiles than being false and having false friends who didn't care in the first place.
the bruise in my heart and after-the-concert-conversations:
ian (12:10:50 AM): good concert
a rusted pillow (12:11:11 AM): yeah it was
a rusted pillow (12:11:35 AM): when i came home i realized that i had that song playing on winamp
a rusted pillow (12:11:38 AM): weird.
ian (12:11:41 AM): ooooooh
ian (12:11:44 AM): eerie
a rusted pillow (12:11:48 AM): very.
a rusted pillow (12:16:20 AM): i smell like cigarette smoke.
a rusted pillow (12:16:26 AM): ...and i danced on the way home.
a rusted pillow (12:16:50 AM): and people honked at me cause i was in the median dancing.
ian (12:17:35 AM): is that a true story?
a rusted pillow (12:17:43 AM): yes.
a rusted pillow (12:17:57 AM): i was in a good mood.
a rusted pillow (12:18:06 AM): and you didnt' hug me, creep.
ian (12:18:11 AM): i guess you had some catharsis then at the show
ian (12:18:32 AM): sorry
a rusted pillow (12:18:45 AM): it's ok
a rusted pillow (12:18:57 AM): cause when i pick up my magazines i promise to hug you
ian (12:19:27 AM): well i put my schedule up in my profile
ian (12:19:39 AM): so any day thats not listed or before a day listed is a ok
ian (12:21:47 AM): im sure we'll work something out
a rusted pillow (12:21:51 AM): well give me a day
a rusted pillow (12:22:01 AM): i should wait till after friday though
ian (12:22:07 AM): ok
ian (12:22:14 AM): well then we'll decide later
a rusted pillow (12:22:18 AM): ok
ian (12:22:22 AM): i dont like this planning so far ahead
ian (12:22:25 AM): it makes me nervous
a rusted pillow (12:22:32 AM): INSECURE
a rusted pillow (12:22:48 AM): we are all insecure.
ian (12:22:51 AM): dont trap me! i live to feel free
a rusted pillow (12:22:56 AM): and it makes me nervous not to plan ahead.
ian (12:23:02 AM): just let me be
a rusted pillow (12:23:09 AM): stop forcing your ideals on me.
a rusted pillow (12:23:19 AM): you live to die.
ian (12:23:25 AM): says who?
a rusted pillow (12:23:49 AM): says me
ian (12:24:02 AM): well i guess then we have a differring in opinion
a rusted pillow (12:24:32 AM): that doesn't even matter
a rusted pillow (12:24:50 AM): cause deep down inside you know i'm right
a rusted pillow (12:25:06 AM): and i smell like cigarettes and you
ian (12:25:46 AM): you think we live to die, that completely backwards we live to live
a rusted pillow (12:26:14 AM): no -- we live to love but then we realize that will never work out so we live to die
ian (12:26:17 AM): the only purpose of life is to maintain and duplicate itself
ian (12:26:34 AM): love as you call it is only a tool for those ends
a rusted pillow (12:26:41 AM): love is false
a rusted pillow (12:26:42 AM): i know this
a rusted pillow (12:26:55 AM): everyone i've loved has been a lie to get to other means
ian (12:27:10 AM): its not false, it exists, its just that its not an ideal
a rusted pillow (12:27:30 AM): i'm bitter.
a rusted pillow (12:27:40 AM): i'd rather be alone than in love.
a rusted pillow (12:28:01 AM): and i'm addicted to this sunrise, sunset song.
ian (12:28:01 AM): psha
a rusted pillow (12:28:14 AM): this is when i start arguing things i don't really believe in
ian (12:28:52 AM): would you really rather be alone than in love?
a rusted pillow (12:31:55 AM): no.
a rusted pillow (12:32:00 AM): but that would be easier.
a rusted pillow (12:32:11 AM): cause i don't like feeling broken.
ian (12:32:16 AM): me neither
ian (12:32:38 AM): im goin to shower right now though because im all smoky
a rusted pillow (12:32:43 AM): me too
a rusted pillow (12:32:45 AM): i like it.
ian (12:32:52 AM): and you and your gender can just self destruct
a rusted pillow (12:32:58 AM): haha
a rusted pillow (12:33:03 AM): whatever -- you like us.
a rusted pillow (12:33:05 AM): kit
ian (12:33:08 AM): kit
I THINK I DISAPPROVE -- come on, he doesn't have any pockets. i bet it's Cruella De Vil's henchmen. My dad informed me that Cruella De Vil stood for Cruel Devil. Oh yeah, he's a sharp one, my father.
i finally finished my book by Jen Sincero. my books look like mini post-it sandwiches -- tabs here and there, marking good quotes that i hope to turn back to at some time in my life. i turning back to nick horny's high fidelity
as i haven't finished yet. sigh. a pad of post-its awaiting my arrival back into the land of records.
yesterday, in adv. magazine writing they asked what i wanted to be doing in ten years. i said i wanted to be living in chicago with my own record/book store. i said i didn't know why chicago. a boy in my class immediately pointed to the movie version of high fidelity, i swear my reason is much more shallow. hello? smashing pumpkins anyone.
i don't really feel like posting. i'm going to bright eyes tonight with ninja-lovin' ian. it shall be a lovely emo turnout.
-- Name: diana
-- Birthdate: 9x9=81
-- Birthplace: okinawa, japan
-- Current Location: boston, mass
-- Eye Color: dark brown
-- Hair Color: right now black normally blah blah brown
-- Height: five one
-- Righty or Lefty: right
-- Your heritage: japanese and german
-- The shoes you wore today: black converse chuck taylor low tops
-- Your weakness: good music and nice hands
-- Your fears: being alone and the man under my bed
-- Your perfect pizza: those pan ones with the nice yummy crust and lots of cheese
-- Goal you'd like to achieve: own a record store
-- Your most overused phrase on AIM: haha or sigh
-- Your thoughts first waking up: five more minutes
-- Your best physical feature: eyes and hands
-- Your bedtime: i'd like it to be 12am but it's normally around 2-4am
-- Your most missed memory: the ones with SK
-- Pepsi or coke: vanilla coke
-- McDonald's or Burger King: burger king -- onion rings
-- Adidas or Nike: adidas
-- Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: nestea
-- Chocolate or vanilla: vanilla
-- Cappuccino or coffee: coffee
-- smoke: nope
-- Cuss: all the fucking time
-- Sing: all the fucking time
-- Take a shower: especially when i'm bored/procrastinating
-- Have a crush(es): _ _ _ _ _ _
-- Do you think you've been in love: YUP (see above)
-- Want to go to college: i did before i came, i think
-- Like high school: hmm...not especially
-- Want to get married: yes...secret rendouvous.
-- Believe in yourself: more than i used to
-- Get motion sickness: yes, from reading in the car.
-- Think you're attractive: sometimes. all the time. i'm vain.
-- Think you're a health freak: not really
-- Get along with your parents: my mom more than my dad
-- Like thunderstorms: yes. i miss the texas storms.
-- Play an instrument: i wish
In the past month . . .
-- Drank alcohol: only when i'm feeling lushy like conor
-- Smoked: nope
-- Done a drug: advil?
-- Had sex: hmm.
-- Made out: haha...well yes
-- Gone on a date: one long one from april 17-21
-- Gone to the mall?: not recently
-- Eaten an entire box of Oreos: not recently
-- Eaten sushi: yes with miss nikki
-- Been on stage: nope
-- Been dumped: hmm. in junior high.
-- Gone skating: not in a long time
-- Made homemade cookies: no. mom boots me out of the kitchen.
-- Gone skinny dipping: nope
-- Dyed your hair: black hair here we came.
-- Stolen anything: uh...no way
Ever . . .
-- Played a game that required removal of clothing: no but doesn't strip uno sound amazing?
-- Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: not really
-- Been caught “doing something”: hmm...sorta
-- Been called a tease: hmm...
-- Gotten beaten up: my sister hates me. haha.
-- Shoplifted: never.
-- Changed who you were to fit in: just was less outspoken
-- Age you hope to be married: 28
-- Numbers and Names of Children: i'm keen on benjamin and lucas and jane and wendy.
-- Describe your Dream Wedding: lots of people because i want the witnesses and the warmth
-- How do you want to die: in my sleep
-- Where you want to go to college: currently at emerson, probably should have went to oberlin
-- What do you want to be when you grow up: own a record store, write young adult/children books
-- What country would you most like to visit: japan
In a guy/girl . . .
-- Best eye color? blue
-- Best hair color? dark hair
-- Short or long hair: longish
-- Height: tall. 6 foot or over.
-- Best weight: too skinny but i'm not picky
-- Best articles of clothing: sweaters
-- Best first date location: coffee shops and long walks
-- Best first kiss location: stair landing
-- Number of drugs taken illegally: none
-- Number of people I could trust with my life: 4 -- but i'm sure i'm forgetting some
-- Number of CDs that I own: 200?
-- Number of piercings: 0
-- Number of tattoos: at least two are in store for the future
-- Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper?: a few times, not including my journalism days
-- Number of scars on my body: two majors ones
-- Number of things in my past that I regret: "I do not regret the things I have done, only those I did not do" -Lucas (this isn't my answer but nikki's friend's answer and it's awesome so i'm a'keepin' it. so there.)
OH MY GOD. I LOVE MYSELF.
You are the Elitist Prick. You're so consumed with
being on top of indie trends that you've
completely forgotten how to enjoy your once-
hipster status. It may be too late for you.
What Kind of Hipster Are You? brought to you by Quizilla
as the semester ends things still seem a bit untied. i'm still aggravated at the turn out but i'm glad that things are over. i'm ready to close this chapter titled: Diana's Sucky Second Semester of Sophomore Year.
as long as you leave having learned something than that's all that matters. i think i've made friends for a life time this semester. i know who i am for once and i can be happy with what i see.
i just wish i didn't have to do it all alone sometimes.
Mean lil fellow, arn't you?
What Monty Python Character are you? brought to you by Quizilla
"Find a friend to be with and stay in that relationship, avoiding the dangers of hurting others. Stay with your friend and become mindful and joyful. If you can find no friend, then go on my yourself. Better to carry on alone than live with the foolish."
maybe i was better off alone, because friends can always hurt.
You are Fight Club.
What Chuck Palahniuk novel are you? brought to you by Quizilla
i made sabrina jealous.
of death cab for cutie and the postal service has a voice so honest that it makes me want to go find him, scoop him up and comfort him for all his years. then i saw his picture. i was surprised because i seriously cannot understand how that voice can come out of him. i don't know. i was thinking fragile little emo boy. not ben at all. well, maybe deep inside. do you ever have this happen to you? where you listen to a band for months -- one of those too cool to have a picture in the liner notes bands -- get curious and find out that they weren't what you expected at all. it can happen with most things. like when you talk to someone online and see their picture, but then in person they are completely the unexpected. that's happened to me more than once.
although, i have to admit to liking bands based based on good photo shoots or a catchy title. if it wasn't for that zero shirt
i might still be listening to top 40.
someone informed me that my layout was not sexy. he referred me to Girls in the Bag
for what mine should resemble. however, i am not going for sexy. i am going for obnoxiously hard to read small font pretentious front. i thought this one did the job. now -- if my comments would actually work -- i would love this little layout even more but i suppose, i can pout silently about this little dilemma.
it was time for a change. a change in mind. a change in workspace. simply a change of things. The Hipster Brigade started to look not deck at all, and am I the only one that thinks that Sean Dack's
last name would have been hilarious if it had been deck instead. these are the things that fill my mind. also, boys, ducks and post-its.
"in this house of cards, we are all holding hearts." some people have a natural talent to decipher lyrics -- justin -- but i lack in this area. it takes me weeks of a cd on repeat before i get anything down. sometimes even seeking help from the lyric booklet. however, i have come up with some mighty great mishearings:
Goodbye Sky Harbor --- Jimmy Eat World
what i heard: "you are smothered kitten, smothered kitten."
actual: "you are smaller, getting smaller."
Swallowed --- Bush
what i heard: "i wish everyone an eggnog. an eggnog."
actual: "i'm with everyone yet not, i'm with with everyone yet not."
i can't remember the other ones i've butchered without listening to the song. although, "Freak" by Silverchair and "Today" by Smashing Pumpkins both had strange interpretations until i figured out that i was wrong. then i couldn't remember my mistake.
Oh, Sabrina C.
Dear Andy Fox
I do not like you. You have stolen my sweet Sabrina C. You have consumed her every AIMing moment. Although, I approve as a whole on your attractiveness level -- you know, if we're going be nice hands and wrists. So, I think you should take her or leave her. Stop the fucking games because I don't want to her about her decoding anymore. She likes you dammit. Why do I feel like I'm in 6th grade? Please hang out with her.
P.S. SABRINA -- stop writing about squirrels and AF and write the fucking post about me.
Ducks Are Awesome
my hair has been wet since 1pm. who knew that a shower would lead to nature's shower? it figures, as soon as i lose my umbrella, boston rains on me. i love the rain and prefer being wet than being frozen. really, miss mother nature, i was looking for light showers not pouring rain.
mallards are notorious rapists. the things you learn. now, you ask what prompted me to look up the mating habits of ducks. well, on my walk back home from 3 hours of shopping -- where i managed to buy everything but what i was looking for. do nice dresses even exist anymore? i walked through the Gardens where i witnessed 6 male mallards chasing one female. she had an obvious male she was attached to and he kept quacking at the other ducks like:
"HEY BITCHES, she's mine." but then he would sorta let one get close to her and than quack him away. she seemed confused. i suppose when that many males i would feel the same way. seriously, do they have different personalities? how can she tell which one she wants? i wonder if she sneaks a peek at the package. ducks don't wear clothes. hmm. all these things to consider when looking for the perfect one. surely, she must have a method. they all seemed to be paired off in the Duck Pond, but i've also noticed that the females tend not to let the male too close to them. maybe us humans can take some lessons from the duck. obviously, the rape part is not one of the tactics i would suggest.
i miss my duck.
the other night i took a poll.
smashing pumpkins or nirvana? a preference poll if you will.
Smashing Pumpkins -- 9
Nirvana -- 5
On the Fence - coJUSTIN
ugh - 1
yeah, just as a figured.
WOO! new layout. i lost my comments. oh well. if you how to make them work. tell me.
sometimes i get obsessed with things that bother me and i can't stop thinking about them. than i take things too far like spamming people's comments with my feelings in return that maybe they will begin to hate me because i justcan'tgetoverit. i'm not really sorry, maybe it's a call for help.
i haven't left my room and i don't plan, too. well, except to go to the 10th floor to make ramen noodles. i'm sure glad my mom got this FINALS survival bucket or else i would have shriveled up in a ball of hunger pains. not that i eat that much but for some reason, i gotta eat or take a nap. i hate this paper. it's coming along very slowly. you gotta love the BS.
...and i do.
he really needs a pal and that pal should be me.
everyone has things they enjoy. things they obsess over. things like AF, grilled cheese, indie rock, and converse sneakers. now, things i hanker are of the office supply persuasion. i can't help it. i see a post-it and i get excited. i have post-its everywhere. i make post-it art. just ask daniel. i always said that the way to my heart was to buy me post-its. obviously, it worked.
but it's not only post-its, it's gel pens. any kind of pen. typically, not boring standard ball points but they do the job and have catchy slogans on the side like: Carl's Automotive Repair and Willy's Steak Shack. i often find the best ball point pens on the sidewalk.
sharpies, pencils, fountain pens, ink wells, stationary, envelopes, pencial cups, etc. all these things consume my desk and working areas. i have drawers full of scraps of paper for "art" projects. i have stationary and andy warhol stamps. letter writing a lost art form in itself. interested in being my pen pal? let's trade po boxes.
obsessions drive people. i've always had little obsessions fueling my interests. mostly leading me to the next one. after awhile, they seem to connect. it's like when you are taking classes and they begin to overlap with each other. it's funny how small the world can be. how we are connected to each other.
-books about music
(check out: the exes, high fidelity, namedropper, the perks of being a wallflower)
-magazines about music
(check out: copper press, skyscraper, spin, punk planet)
-children's little playsets
what's up with the bigger meanings at the end of my entries? i'm not henry rollins.
when i was 12, there was this boy...
i hate when i race for the phone only to answer hello to a dial tone.
my bonsai tree, sami (sah-me), is growing new leaves. i haven't watered it in fear that i have over watered it. i'm scared to death of my bonsai tree. also, the fruit flies only come out when i put on its little lamp. i looove me tree. i think she likes the postal service a lot. i'm glad we have similar taste in music, cause i'm sure if we didn't it'd be into death metal. AND, i don't have no death metal.
at 9:30, i ate a cadbury fruit and nut bar. yes, for breakfast.
if i wrote for comments, i would stop writing. i have no fucking friends or i'm really that uninteresting. (neither are true)
seriously, i think i have something here with the indie rock boy/girl cards. hmmm. THE HIPSTER DECK. yes, i'm clever.
fuck, coherant thoughts. RANDOM explosions in your eye. i have a thought disease.
Dan Golden is Out of Control
a retaliation needs to take place. there are some things people feel passionate about and that for me is animal rights. i'm not extremist but i do care. i'm not pushing it on anyone, but i find animal death really upsetting. i don't care if you find it funny -- go laugh it up some place else -- while i close my ears. i'm the sort of person that catches spiders and lets them out of their house. i bury all my pets in the backyard in shoeboxes and make little grave stones. i mean, yeah, i understand the humor behind it. i do. i just don't think it's funny. isn't it okay to ask for you not to tell it over here?
this is my pet story:
my senior year of high school my goldfish, D'arcy, died. she had been alive for about 3 years and she was huge. she had those beta long fins and she was one of the most beautiful goldfishes i had ever seen. my mother the humanitarian or animalitarian, in this case, was in charge of her. she treated that fish better than me. i didn't mind. D'arcy deserved it. we had gotten her free at the Texas State Fair. someone didn't want that puny light-colored goldfish. boy, were they ever stupid. she turned into something else. one of those fish you could show if they have special fish shows or something. however, D'arcy got sick. she had this bizarre case of what i like to call, Bubble Eye. it never went away but she seemed alright, but then the fin rot kicked in and we had to take action. we medicated poor Miss D'arcy with special medical salt in her aquarium. she lived a long time for a State Fair fish, but mom was still devastated when she kicked the bucket. in fact, it's still hard for her to actually look at goldfish.
now, the unfunny funny part. we buried her in the backyard. it was nice and quant with only a few hundred of our closest friends attending. ok, just three of us. shut up. and that was that. BUT, one night i didn't feel like trudging out and taking the dog on a real walk so i let him out in the backyard. well, he was taking a particularly long time so i went out to check on him. and yeah, there was D'arcy in his mouth. i stopped dead in my tracks. my dog, eddiekins, had our dead goldfish in his mouth. he wasn't eating it. he was just running around with it in his mouth. i finally got him to let it go. i was so disturbed that mom had to bury her again. by the way, this was about three days after her passing.
you know it would have been semi-funny/disturbing once but the dog did it two more times after that. we finally had to bury her under a huge rock in a big box. i'll never forget it. i suppose Eddie missed D'arcy, too.
p.s. i would direct link to dan's obviously upsetting story but it won't work for me.
p.p.s. i found the comments on the story about as upsetting as the story itself.
becareful what you wish for. example: while walking through the common last wednesday, i wished for 40 degree weather and what did we get -- cold weather over the weekend. last night, walking through the common (yet again) i wished for rain. today's results: pouring rain. mother nature and i are tight. i should listen to my prayers because they get answered. so why am i always so unprepared?
one lucky penny seems to lead to another lucky penny. i found one sunday. i found two monday. i found a quarter today. all heads-up and glittering in a puddle in the middle of boylston street.
why is my bonsai tree attracting fruit flies? too moist? hmmm.
i think i've decided on some things in my life that are solid. they are:
-seattle or london (what can i say? i enjoy rain.)
-chicago apartment at some point in my life
-NY just so i know what it's like
things fall into place right when you think everything is crumbling apart. my heart a puddle.
I AM FANCY -- la di da
"writing is your best talent. so you would waste it, if you didn't use it."
airports make me sad. i don't think of it as going somewhere new, i think of it as leaving something behind. regardless, good things come from long plane rides. distance becomes something of the past and everything is within arm's reach. just imagine: cramped seats, small meals, turbelance, crying babies, dan
, baggage claims, terminal a b c d, security check, etc.
anxious. i think i'm late but actually just in time. you appear down the stairs just how i imagined. just taller. and less nerdy. and not clumsy. and all those bad things i was imagining so things could be easier. you are there and immediately, we small hug and wait for the #22 subway shuttle. wait wait wait. small talk. i want to kiss you the moment i set eyes on you. i hold it in.
new room smell hung like a fake paper pine tree. just for you. patience your virtue. that kiss on the stairs. in the elevator. all those better than could have been imagined. REALITY. knock knock knock. i want to knock you over and be consumed but i play dumb or maybe smart. newbury street and bitter winds. warming -- hugs. kisses. hands on my thighs, on my stomach -- "i'm finding all your cold spots." i like it.
"the sleeping together is better." and the reading. and the walking. and the trips to the dining hall. and naps inbetween class. and mornings. and staying in. listening to The Postal Service and singing "Sleeping In" together. the ultimate uno challenge -- one day, i will come back. x-tra long twin size mattress our couch, our table, our bed. sharing has never been nicer. ssshhhh...
movie theater hand holding. stolen glances -- over and over, trying to soak it in before it was gone. the last night was the hardest or maybe it was the second. a realization in the Public Garden -- only two more nights? my room feels so big now, when before it was cramped. all the things in boston that were old, you made new again. you brought the tape and there's something i like about music on repeat. over and over and over. i don't get sick of you. i could go on forever.
Blue Line -- Maverick, State, Aquarium, Government Center -- I try and concentrate on everything else. i stiffle cries into my cordoroy sleeve.
Green Line -- Government Center, Park, Boylston -- breakfast at 11 and cinnamon poptarts.
i miss you already but that started after the last kiss.
Keep on Your Mean Side -- The Kills
music. the only way out.
my lips taste like home.
not like lipglass.
note: that is no typo
Sabrina - Sex Goddess - Now Available
i have found my twin. i'm the nice girl verson of Sabrina C. and through her i would find the meaning of life after i decide to "let shit go."
there was a time when best girl pals were just a thing of the past. something that i left behind with childhood. there was no "best" for my "friend." just me. no necklaces making me feel like i had a partner in crime. an ethel to my lucy.
enter sabrina. the adventures of a long distance side kick.
sabrina is my opposite. sabrina is the diana that always wanted to get out but is still hidden in her shell. sabrina is my life counselor. sabrina is the female SK.
there's something quirky about her. extroverted proud of her nerdiness. not afraid but silently i know she is. she's someone that cares a lot but plays it off like she doesn't give a fuck. i love the fact that we can make un-PC jokes together, and that absolutely nothing i can say surprises her. she is the sunshine in my wasteland. welcome to sabrina's bohemia. things will never be the same.
Letter Never Sent
i found this the other day.
It's funny to think from day one of class i knew i would be interested in what you would be writing. and i was right. i have develped a writer's crush on you. i have tried all year to approach you and start the general music talk. i loved your articles and i learned from them. i looked forward to reading all fo them. my roommate even let me read your review [because you were in the other workshop group] and i almost went out and bought the cd (sigur ros's ( )) -- i stilll need to. but now you have done it...huge peaked interest. this personal essay of yours has semtn me over the top...i read the title and there it was...a ryan adams reference. i hungerily flipped the page and there it was on the page -- ryan adams. i ignored daniel's workshop in order to wirte this (and i have tried many times before to write you) and i've lost all direction now. i guess if i wasn't so shy, i would have just told you in person but i guess this feeling is hard to explain -- my writer's crush has develped beyond the writer and is now just crush.
i guess what i'm getting at is -- let's go to a show sometime.
p.s. call it irony, but you've been looking very adams-esque recently.
ugh...no wonder i never gave it to him. bleh.
Nice Day for a Stroll
when i start thinking about someone i haven't seen a long while and i've finally given up hope, they reappear. what does it mean?
today, miss nikki
and i went for sushi and shopping. in newbury comics, where i spent too much on cds (elephant by white stripes and faithless street by whiskeytown), i picked up a copy of Skyscraper Magazine
because someone i know writes for them. i contemplated purchase but decided to wait for next weekend. i hadn't seen this mr. magazine writing kid for awhile. surely, he had disappeared. people like him don't just work at Urban Outfitters (though there was a rumor circulating that he did at one time work there) and when nikki asked me to accompany her as fashion advisor in the dressing room, i didn't think twice. imagine my fright and (mind dance) when there behind that wall was...mr. magazine kid...brian.
he's growing his hair out. and all i like it...a lot. while nikki tried on her capris, i observed brian in action. there's no way i could work there. too many people. and the more i eyed him up, the more i imagined what our dates would be like...sunday mornings with the velvet undergound and relaxing on the couch while i played with his hair. he has the best taste in music. maybe that's a poor reason to like someone. there are other reasons - sense of humor, fashion, honesty.
if i was allowed to choose one boy to share the rest of my life with, it would be someone like him.
so yes...nikki and i say a big fat no to capris. forever. short people and capris were never meant to be. sigh. my day has been improved. ah yes, best girly pals and brian. what more could a girl ask for?
well, blaze stein
but that's a whole other story.
diana's observation of the day:
some people are lame but you are nice to them because they are so nice to you that being mean to them wouldn't work because they wouldn't get it.
written October 24, 2001
Staring at a world gone mad. I sit and stare looking for meaning in everything. The jar of peanut butter offers no solution, other than life is sticky so deal with it. Yeah, let's deal drugs on the corner of life, tips of our brains handed out to new strangers and adventures. We are hidden within others and soon cannot distinguish what is them and what is us. Turned up nose, disgusted chin ~ everchanging tune from pop, to ska, to hip hop, to jazz, to punk. Lost within a world of emo hipsters and wingless scenesters -- each wanting to fly higher than the next. We cannot distinguish each "fact" from "fiction" -- we make the facts and slide them into jelly jars adn play phone tag then spit tham out again in rhythm to what they want to hear. Cowering behind colored drawers -- the first one open revealing our hearts. Missing, bleeding, useless suckle that dribbles down teh chins of wasted high school pop stars. We lose ourselves in the memories of movies, fall in love with Brad Pitt
and Jennifer Aniston, only to wake up and find out it's not us but them. We try to move on and find ourselves tripping again to rock geek style. Pitiful allusions of days gone past and new acceptions to the word T-R-E-N-D. Makes me sick and I vomit my punctuations out on these blue lines hoping to discover some new insight that I have overlooked in my twenty years of being alive. I close my eyes and it turns dark, blood crusty on slit wrists and I dream and dream and dream of newness and light and I fade above into nothing.
i like to think i have made some progress since then.
License Plate Lookout
today i saw a license plate with this on it, LoonPHD.
Squirrels: Special Dan Edition
today, i bought a new book, Don't Sleep with Your Drummer
by Jen Sincero, and i decided to enjoy it in the Common. then, on my right, a squirrel came by with an inquiry. i knew i had a sugar cookie in my jacket pocket. did squirrel know? hmmm. it wiggled its nose at me for a few minutes before giving up. i felt like maybe i knew this squirrel from the Public Gardens, Bob, who i had named and had a "moment" with. he was nice enough but there was something about today that i just didn't feel like sharing my sugary delights with him. they were MINE. all mine. i teased the napkin in my pocket with my ring finger. still secure. i thought at any moment that Bob would pouce on my face and eat my eyes out. (blame it on Pet Semetary) but luckily, he knew it wasn't his day and he left to frollick with his other friends.
verdict: squirrels are a lot like homeless people, just without a starbucks cup and the alcohol dependecy.
i feel bad for them. i want to crochet them little booties to keep their feet warm. i sometimes throw spare change at them and they roll it into their tree trunks. yeah, the simlarities are endless.
note to self: everyone loves sugar cookies, even squirrels.
rainy days and pet semetary. what was i thinking? this morning while taking a shower, i pulled open the curtain because i heard a noise and than i started to think about it -- what if there was a zombie right there? surely, i wouldn't feel safer knowing that i was right. that there was a zombie staring at me in the shower. it's not like he would suddenly see me in such a vulnerable position and forget about it.
zombie: "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll come back at a more convenient time."
me: "Oh, thanks. I really appreciate it."
no, he would attack me on the spot and make my brains breakfast.
then, i happen to look up in the shower. there's a loose tile. shit. i was doomed. zombies from above and from the side. though you'll be happy to know that my encounters with zombies today were pleasant. i invited them (Shawnsy and Ned) out for tea and they promised to pay the next time we met. quite nice.
today's lesson: not all zombies are bad
Bringing Dance Back to the Pit
Seriously, the Axis isn't that big unless you are looking for someone.
I got there at 6:45 hoping my partner in crime would be coming at any second. I waited on the left next to that thing with rails where I kept thinking go go dancers should be. It wasn't long till I felt like Amelie. 7:15 and I was full of fear. Surely, he was lost on the T gone to Wonderland where he was having adventures with the White Rabbit and the Cheshire Cat. Or worse, he didn't have enough cash and couldn't make it inside, if only I had waited outside for him. The more crowded it got the more I feared he wouldn't even bother to look for me at all. So, instead of standing by a bunch of rowdy kids I recognized from school, I moved. As I moved from the left side to the right, someone said, "Hey." It wasn't my accomplice but a guy named Nick
who I had met off of MakeOutClub
a few weeks ago. He bleached his hair and looked rather nice today. Of course, no one said anything about my hair. Sigh. It was black, afterall. So, he asked me if I was there by myself and I told him that I was looking for my friend and his advice, "My experience has been that if you are looking for someone that you are never going to find them, but once the band starts you find everyone. Even people you don't want to find." I decided to chill out but I knew Ian had been kidnapped and was now half-way to Iran by now.
The Sun. What can I say? One song into their set, Ian shows up. The Sun definately knew how to rock out. Imagine the White Stripes on speed. They had a song about our lovely President, it ended with him screaming bastard 42 times into the microphone. They lyrics could have been a little well thought out but I agreed with the statement.
After The Sun finish, Ian drags me up to the front. Actually, no...I just follow. Same thing. We are stuck between two groups of rowdy girls. This way an all-ages show afterall. Ian wanted to start the Hot Hot Heat show off with a headbutt to myside. I just shrugged. I wasn't so into the idea of the Pit of Destruction as he was. The Heat came on at 8:45 and started with Talk to Me, Dance with Me
, my favorite song, and then they played Le Le Low
(my second favorite). I haven't had that much fun dancing in a long time. Boys are funny to watch dance. He did start his mini pit with some people next to us. I got into the action a little but what can I say? I'm the devil of the dance and I can't sing along and look like Raine Maida
, if I'm moshing. I brought dance back to the Pit. I danced so much I thought I was going to fall over with exhausition. Luckily, no ambulances were called. I did get a lot of some mystery girls hair stuck in my mouth. Mmm.
One encore: This Town
, do I even need to say that's my third favorite Hot Hot Heat song. The band loves me. <3<3<3 They didn't sing Ian's favorite song. HA!
Side note: nothing like room temperature Ben and Jerry's for breakfast.
i've been avoiding a proper update for a long time. i just haven't been in the mood. I've been looking back at old memories. papers long forgotten -- did i really used to get As? old poetry that reminded me of high school years, where i was so shy i wouldn't talk in class and was friends with more teachers than students. and as i get older i withdraw more into myself. i become more like those years. where the only person that was reliable to turn to existed in shadow and music form. why is it that i find reality so hard to deal with?
i've found a new love -- the first meal of the day, breakfast. i don't believe in a complete breakfast, but maybe that's what i was missing. there's something about cheese omelettes, hashbrowns, and lucky charms that makes the day a bit more bearable.
...and the best bit of the day, i got the classes i wanted. yes, finally. emerson has decided not to screw me over. for once.
i could pass as Jack White's uglier twin today.
things i miss:
jack white's old hair style
the smashing pumpkins
biscuits and gravy
this week has been too long. i'm ready for retirement or the comfortable crevice under my bed.
We All Knew It Was True
You are DECK!
What Hipster's Handbook slang term are you? brought to you by Quizilla
Pulitzer Prize winning author, Diana Kristin R. Wildash, 93, died on March 2, 2075 in a fruit accident at her vacation home in Helsinki, Finland. D.K. Wildash was discovered by her husband, Peter Wildash, at 1:33am on Thursday.
"I needed to go to the lavatory, and there she was...her head in the bowl," said Mr. Wildash. The coroner's report established her death to be an accidental drowning.
"Mrs. Wildash seemed to have slipped on a fruit of some sort. Maybe a kumquat or plum. We are currently looking in the matter," said Inspector Numminen of the Helsinki police precinct.
D. Wildash was a well-known conservationist, editor, journalist, writer of fiction, and nonfiction. Her first and most well-known book, Fear and Loathing in the Forest: The Selling of National Parks
, is written in what Wildash calls, "Piggy Journalism." In this book, she takes a look at the US economy, and its needs to sell national parks to pay off the national debt. Her other works include: Me, Myself and I: A Collection of Short Stories and Poems
, The Guide to Watching Monty Python
; her Pulitzer Prize winning, The House
, The Repair and Restoration of Antique Toilets: A Collaborative Effort with Bob Vila
,How to Make a Cookie Round
, co-authored by Martha Stewart; and Freaks: My High School Years
"She was the most beloved author we ever had," said Rupert Crabb, historian and editor-in-chief of Penguin Press. "Diana had a calming effect on us all."
Diana Kristin R. Wildash, was born in Japan to Josh and Eve Lyn R. of Dublin, Ireland, on September 9, 1981. She began her schooling at Peggy Wood's Finishing School for Girls, and graduated from The Alexander School in Richardson, Texas. She earned a BA in Journalism in 2005 from the University of Dallas at Washington State. She continued her education at Oxford University, where she met Peter Wildash of Chessington Zoo, Chessington. He was an actor who starred in the BBC's, The New MP's Flying Circus
. They were married in the fall of 2020 at Burnt Stub Mansion, Wildash's ancestral home.
Mrs. Wildash is survived by her grandmother, Ineko Ishimori, founder and leader of The Fountain of Youth Cult; sister, Sarah Anne Van Der Beek, film star; her husband, Peter Nicholas; and her son, Harris James of South West London, a fancier of parrots and a purveyor of fine cheese.
"She won't be missed by any of us!" said an anonymous family member.
Funeral services are private, but a memorial is being planned for October at the Sacred Heart Parish Hall in South West London.
Memorials may be made to Raitalinna Oy, Tiivista Lammounsaastoa, Pu Ittiitie 15 00810 Helsinki 81, Vaihde.
The family aks that donations be made to Jessica's Fruit Bowl, 1669 Marbles Wy, Tadworth, London.
He held the gun firmly to my skull. I could feel my chest moving up and down with each breath. His face was so close to mine that I could look directly into his bloodshot eyes, and see the sadness welling up inside of him.
"Erik, honey. What's wrong?" I stroked his hair. He moved the gun closer. "Tell me, baby. We can try to work things out."
"Shut up, bitch. I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth," Erik said, his lips so close to mine that I could feel the words vibrate my eardrums.
There was nothing to do but sit here and wait it out. I couldn't do anything when he was like this. This was his second fit in two weeks. The gun wasn't loaded. So I wasn't worried about it. It couldn't be loaded. It was a water pistol. A little orange plastic handgun.
I shook my leg with the anticipation of Erik's next move. He was so predictable. I looked at the comforter on the bed. It needed to be washed. Its flowerd design looked faded from all the years of use. Maybe I would just buy a new one. I wasn't sure.
"Did you say something bitch?" he asked looking into my eyes. I didn't say anything. "I said, did you say something?"
"No, I didn't. You know that, so I don't know why you asked." I crossed my arms. "Honey, I still love you."
"What?" He blinked but cletched the gun tighter. "Do you want to go to McDoanld's?"
I nodded my head. "Sure, why not?"
Erik put down the gun, and grabbed for my hand. He smiled at me and looked into my eyes. "I love you too."
We walked to the car holding hands.
What Dreams Are Made Of
a rusted pillow (2:29:20 AM): i want my own record store
a rusted pillow (2:29:21 AM): of course
tonight i awake (2:29:57 AM): me too
tonight i awake (2:30:04 AM): but then i wouldnt want anyone buying my cds
a rusted pillow (2:30:05 AM): we should open one.
tonight i awake (2:30:09 AM): id just steal them all
a rusted pillow (2:30:10 AM): haha
tonight i awake (2:30:15 AM): or give them to cute boys
a rusted pillow (2:30:18 AM): yeah
tonight i awake (2:30:23 AM): we could have shows and only book good looking bands haha
tonight i awake (2:30:51 AM): and be like um sorry boys but we cant play unless you kiss us. its the rules. hehe
iamhipperthanu (2:21:33 AM): just pretend you're in a big stadium
iamhipperthanu (2:21:41 AM): all to yourself
a rusted pillow (2:21:56 AM): why are there 42 ryan adams lookalikes with me then?
iamhipperthanu (2:22:07 AM): this isn't a porn!
old aim profile:
all night chopper fiend. please pass the coffee.
the first rule of girls is that they always want gangsters.
and don't you forget it.
me: well, gangsters don't steal me away, they shoot me.
sleep. it's something that i'm fond of but don't actually like to do. i wish that i could rest without actually being asleep. the inactivity bothers me. i don't want a recharge.
some nights i sit in front of the monitor with my headphones on and i don't want that feeling to stop. i just see myself -- red eyes -- sore throat from singing along. i just want to listen all the time. voices are distracting. let's sing to each other. communicate through lyrics and piercing stares. i can last for days with Ted Leo, Ryan Adams and Justin's playlist. I see a promising future of record store owner in the future. i've decided. there's nothing else i can do. i'm hopeless.
[bliss] i'm so glam (rock)!
Why Didn't I Write That?
stolen from tommy
I am in love with a rock star. Ryan Adams will you please be mine. I am going to sit here and listen to your music and stare at your picture until you say yes. If I could live just one more hour I would want to spend it with you.
obviously, i changed the name!
#1 i apologize to Carlos who i don't know and who didn't piss me off at all and if you read my last entry it's only because i am insanely jealous of popular people and i am not one of them. (yet) i adore Parker House and Theory. really.
#2 sorry, eric...who i don't know...but think is really hot and who's floor i got wrong and it just happened to be a coincidence. so, i apologize to any 12th floor eric who just happens to read this and think i'm an awful person. sigh.
#3 not all people i talk about in here are REAL people. i am a fiction writer and tend to exaggerate for emphasis. I AM SORRY.
I SUCK! *shoots self*
My Scarf Could Kick Your Scarf's Ass
um, yeah...no pictures. forget that.
woo for photobooths and scarves and scanners that work!!
I'll Be the Judge of That
Do you ever hate someone for no reason at all? Something small like they have sideburns or wear pointy shoes, and that there is no way that Little Miss Pointy Shoe can be cool enough to talk to you, so you just glare when you walk by. It happens to me a lot at Emerson. My self analysis has brought it down to this conclusion: jealousy. I want to be like that person so badly that the only reason I can explain for why they are so much cooler than me is that they aren't really that cool at all and I'm the epitome of "deck." It's like those times when no one will hit on you at a club and you explain it to yourself as being way "too hot" for everyone there. It's not that at all. You just aren't as bangin' as you think you are. Come to accept the fact that not everyone thinks you are all that and a bag of chips. I, of course, am the epitome of cool. Seriously, look at my row blog and the thousands of people that come and leave comments. LIKE THIRTY (just 3) but i'm so cool that people are scared to approach me, yeah that's it.
There was a time when I really cared if people liked me or not. That I wanted a certain boyfriend and certain look and that would make me cool in the eyes of all those people I thought would get me somewhere. Now, I look back at the "cool crowd" in high school and yeah, they aren't in college and they are living at home drinking themselves miserable with the same friends they've had since childhood. Now, look at yourself and you are successful and have lots of cool CDs and having 7 really great super nifty friends is a lot better than having friends that you realize aren't really your friends anyways. Sometimes it takes getting so "down in it" for you to come back out of it. Oh, and one day that girl with the faux hawk and the pointy shoes comes up to you and says, "I really like your hair." And it makes your day and she invites you to Cat Power and somehow you feel really cool but you know you always had it in your anyways.
Someone hit me with a stick the other day and it felt good. And I woke up and looked around and thought, "yeah...things are good. really."
a rusted pillow (2:05:39 AM): OH MAN
a rusted pillow (2:05:42 AM): logic?!
a rusted pillow (2:05:45 AM): that's for chumps
a rusted pillow (2:06:14 AM): i amuse myself
i'm such a riot. i'm the only person that finds me funny. oh well. HAHA. i don't care.
look, i'm awake!
what do you think? i'm saving up for that beauty minus the number.
xiu xiu rox my sox. thanx, you know who you are - former chopper champion.
1. Who did you last get angry with? my mom.
2. What is your weapon of choice? words and baseball bats.
3. Would you hit a member of the opposite sex? yes.
4. How about of the same sex? if i had to.
5. Who was the last person who got really angry at you? mom.
6. What is your pet peeve? people calling me DianE, with an e.
7. Do you keep grudges, or can you let them go easily? depends.
1. What is one thing you're supposed to do daily that you haven't done in a long time? floss.
2. What is the latest you've ever woken up? 5pm
3. Name a person you've been meaning to contact, but haven't? gibby (moc)
and george (mrh
) for my article on hipsters
4. What is the last lame excuse you made? "I'll do it tomorrow."
5. Have you ever watched an infomercial all the way through (one of the long ones...)? yeah, most definitely. i like the kitchen appliances and cheesy music compilations.
6. When was the last time you got a good workout in? uh...never.
7. How many times did you hit the snooze button on your alarm clock today? no alarm clock. :-(
1. What is your overpriced yuppie beverage of choice? vanilla cremes at starbucks
2. Meat eaters: white meat or dark meat? DELETED
3. What is the greatest amount of alcohol you've had in one sitting/outing/event? um...i had four whimpy fruit flavored cooler thingys totally made me stumble.
4. Have you ever used a professional diet company? nope
5. Do you have an issue with your weight? not usually
6. Do you prefer sweets, salty foods, or spicy foods? salty
7. Have you ever looked at a small housepet or child and thought, "LUNCH!"? HUH?! no.
1. How many people have you seen naked (not counting movies/family)? 4?
2. How many people have seen YOU naked (not counting physicians/family)? uh...5
3. Have you ever caught yourself staring at the chest/crotch of a member of your gender of choice during a normal conversation? maybe once but not normally.
4. Have you "done it"? yes.
5. What is your favorite body part on a person of your gender of choice? wrists. hands.
6. Have you ever been propositioned by a prostitute? nope
7. Have you ever had to get tested for an STD or pregnancy? nope
1. How many credit cards do you own? 2!
2. What's your guilty pleasure store? Newbury Comics
3. If you had $1 million, what would you do with it? buy a nice apartment & a vespa (oh wow, this person who i stole this from has my answer)
4. Would you rather be rich, or famous? famous
5. Would you accept a boring job if it meant you would make megabucks? sure. i can get excitement after work.
6. Have you ever stolen anything? yes, but i returned it. stupid bubble lawnmower when i was 5. my parents made me give it back to my next door neighbor.
7. How many MP3s are on your hard drive? 1300
1. What one thing have you done that you're most proud of? been brave. trust in myself.
2. What one thing have you done that your parents are most proud of? get into emerson.
3. What thing would you like to accomplish in your life? learn to drive and graduate on time.
4. Do you get annoyed by coming in second place? nope.
5. Have you ever entered a contest of skill, knowing you were of much higher skill than all the other competitors? um, not that i can recall.
6. Have you ever cheated on something to get a higher score? hmm...twice but off myself not anyone else.
7. What did you do today (or in the past 24 hours) that you're proud of? i ate!
so, i made a list.
diana likes: breaking the yolks in sunny side up eggs, naps on rainy days, and collecting random objects off the sidewalk.
diana dislikes: running out of ink, that feeling of emptiness right after a really good show, and waiting in line.
it's hard to narrow it down but as i did, i pictured them being played out just like in Amelie. sometimes i'm silly.
owns the world. last night, i was walking past the store and eyed a skateboard. i knew it was the end of the world. Burberry has stamped the ridiculously brown plaid on a skateboard - two different designs. then, Sonia Rykiel, has brought back the 80s to the filthfully rich. why would a designer do such a thing? beats me. maybe she was inspired by old skool Madonna and Pretty in Pink. tattered unmatched patterns and puffy pants don't really do it for me, but maybe i'm missing out.
i never was at the forefront of the fashion scene. as a child, it was the Gap. as a teen, it was Marshalls and Ross. as a 20-something, it's thrift stores and Target. when i was little, i used to love garage sells and i would buy lots of useless junk. my favorite find - a rubix cube. but one time, i ventured into the land of used clothing, an idea that previously went beyond me. eww, used clothes. i found the best green sweater. it had a hole in one sleeve and was 3 sizes too big. it's smell - cheap perfume. but there was something comforting about it. i would put it on and just feel cozy -- a stuffed animal that i could wrap around my neck.
my mom hated most of the treasures i would bring home. she didn't like the sweater. she didn't like most of the things that i would come to love throughout my life. my grandfather's old brown blanket, an orange-peachy colored shirt, my friends, my boyfriends, my music, etc. that's the one thing that keeps me seperated from everyone else. i like the discarded.
ok, folks. i finally realized that ian's
link never worked. go look at that neat comic he made. sigh. we are a crew of two.
feuds are ridiculous.
hearts are meant to be broken.
there's a hole in mine for a missing SK.
i get picked up and rejected faster than you can say _ _ _ _ _
there's really nothing special, stop looking, quick
i like to rot at the bottom
old fillings and egg salad
it's not "Monday Night"
but i could do for a pick-up
from a alt. country singer from NC
removed to NY
i like the feeling of rejection
it makes the day really scummy
and scum always makes the grit
so much grittier
and dirt is always what we are after
road trip to chicago
castles and bunnies and cotton candy
two asian girls
running from troubles of the heart
fueled by pop tarts and laughter
a royal F you
cause we don't need ya
and it's just us
living off the land
free love and flower patch skirts
long hair and "not giving a shit"
we're not afraid of death
we're afraid of what's next
another big blow could blow us to bits
and i know i can't handle
The position of the planets encourages you to be more spontaneous in your love life, and less conditioned by and worried about what other people may be thinking. There may be someone whom you are particularly drawn to, whom you think your friends or family may not approve of, or who is perhaps not cool enough.
If your heart is telling you to go for it, why hang back?
uh yeah. i give in. i give in. i think. things are a lot harder to hide from than i thought they would be. i can see myself collapsing in your arms again and again. it's one thing or another and i'm moments away from saying yes. but to what i don't know. yes to everything and anything. do you accept?
the BLOG a more sophisticated way to communicate with your secret (and not so secret) crushes.
thanks sabrina. i love procrastination and stupid online quizzes.
What Kind of FLIRT are you? brought to you by Quizilla
today was long. i slept a lot because i decided if i wake up grumpy it's not worth staying up. i lazed around till 2 and then sat desk. then i went to my advising meeting where she couldn't answer any of my questions and told me i had some big decisions to make. also, i'm not at junior standing next year. sigh. i decided to take a walk to CVS to look for an alarm clock. out of luck, as always. then i threw myself at bookshelves. not literally. i was on a quest for a gift. you would think one little book wouldn't be so hard to find. nope. out of luck, again. i ate alone in wendy's. all these single sketchy men were sitting around me. salivating...after their BLTs, not me. i didn't mind. i was the odd one out. young college student with a stripe of green in her hair. green = luck, hmmm.
tonight, as i write this, i'm listening to ted leo and the pharmacists and all i can think of is, if i die listening to them i wouldn't mind so much. i think i want them to play at my funeral. they are so good. it in furiates me when i find an excellent band and then find out they played boston two days earlier. it happened with the white stripes too. oh well. really good bands can piss me off because of how good they are. sooo good. i hate when i get sucked in.
[brackets are the next big thing]