| Wir Sind Helden, "Bist du Nicht Muede" |
[ | |
Jul 20 2006
| | ] |
Bist du nicht müde, nach so vielen Stunden
Du wankst und taumelst, deine Füße zerschunden
Drehst dich im Kreis, bis der Tag verschwimmt
Und hoffst am Ende, dass die Nacht dich noch nimmt
Ich find dich am Boden, den Rücken zur Wand
Den Blick zur Tür, zwei Steine in jeder Hand
Gib mir das, ich kann es halten
Gib mir das, ich kann es halten
Gib mir das, ich kann es halten
Wenn du es später noch willst
Kriegst du es wieder
Dann ist alles beim Alten
Bist du nicht müde, nach so vielen Tagen
Dich noch im Dunkeln mit den Schatten zu schlagen
Spuckst heißes Blut aus, du tobst unter Schmerzen
Drehst dich im Kreis, bis die Wände sich schwärzen
Ich find dich am Boden, deine Finger verbrannt
Die heißen Kohlen immer noch in der Hand
Gib mir das, ich kann es halten
Gib mir das, ich kann es halten
Gib mir das, ich kann es halten
Wenn du es später noch willst
Kriegst du es wieder
Dann ist alles beim Alten
Bist du nicht müde, nach so vielen Jahren
Weißt deine Fragen nicht mehr
Kriegst keinen klaren
Satz zusammen, redest wirres Zeug
Erstickst an den Worten
Setzt deine Träume aus an trostlosen Orten
Und ich find dich am Boden, du lässt Tontauben fliegen
Allein dein Gewehr muss doch zehn Tonnen wiegen
Gib mir das, ich kann es halten
Gib mir das, ich kann es halten
Gib mir das, ich kann es halten
Wenn du es später noch willst
Kriegst du es wieder
Dann ist alles beim Alten
Gib mir das, ich kann es halten
Gib mir das, ich kann es halten
Gib mir das, ich kann es halten
Wenn du es später noch willst
Kriegst du es wieder
Dann ist alles beim Alten
|
|
|
|
[ | |
Jun 11 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 content |
] |
I think that finishing my independent study was the best feeling I've ever had.
I just melted. There isn't any other way to express it. I didn't dance or scream or fall apart, I just kind of oozed into this other form of existence that doesn't rotate around the South African diamond mining industry. Everything just was gone all at once and it was so very, very appropriate.
I'm afraid that eventually I'll have to start considering the fact that high school is over and thus my "real life" is beginning, but I don't really want to. I wish I could pretend to be cool and all like, "oh, it's fine, who cares, I hated BCHS anyway..." Except that I've spent three of the most pivotal years of my life there, so it's kind of hard to just write it off. I don't believe people who say, "I'm just glad it's over." Even though that's kind of how I feel right now. I think it's just denial and the collapse of a world of stress.
My priorities for the summer are as follows:
a) learn as much Chinese as humanly possible in preparation for leaving,
b) spend time with my sister, because she really is my favorite person ever,
c) work (aka, find a new/second job)
d) practice social skills (aka, "hang out with my friends")
And I guess that's it, strangely. I don't feel very alive right now, just kind of hollow, but happy-hollow, like a chocolate easter bunny, not sad-hollow, like a clay pot. I don't know if clay pots are sad... Like one of those old clay pots at the museum that are from 5000 B.C. and cracked and lonely. Those are sad. I'm one of those chocolate easter bunnies with blue eyes. Except that my eyes aren't blue.
Speaking of which, (and not to offend) but are any of you other brown-eyed people kind of scared of people with blue eyes? I look at them and their eyes glow in this very strange manner and they look like ghosts. Like if you poked their eyes, they might explode. Well, wait, not exactly "explode," but they're just so bright. Like the eyes of rabbits.
This is going downhill. I'll quit while I'm ahead. Gotta work as it is.
|
|
|
| "Desert Rose"/Vincennes/Taste |
[ | |
May 22 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
calm |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
none |
] |
I like the color "desert rose." I don't think it exists as anything besides makeup, and I don't wear makeup, except for mascara, which does not come in "desert rose." But I wish it did exist in other contexts. Besides makeup, and not including mascara.
I got an iPod for my birthday and it agitated me a great deal because now I might have to decide what kind of music I like. I still kind of feel like I'm eight and wandering around without a proper conception of what a CD is. I don't have any taste in music. No jokes, zero. I don't have preferences, I like whatever, when someone gives me some, I eat it up and smile. I've never really heard anything I blatantly didn't like.
So if you want to help develop my taste, leave a comment telling me what you like and I'll download it. You'll save me a lot of stress and I know that other people feel kind of territorial/evangelical about music.
Oh, and to rub it in that my life is better than everyone else's, even if I don't understand music: I'm reenacting the Revolutionary War this weekend! In Vincennes, Indiana! I'm super-pumped, because I get to dress up and sleep on straw and act and have crazy fun. I still can't believe my mother agreed to this, but it's going to be awesome. Plus, I'm going to get my APUSH video done there.
Kind of like how I'm going to get ind. study done... NOW!
|
|
|
| Yeah |
[ | |
May 10 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 drained |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
silence |
] |
I want quiet so badly.
I made tea as soon as I got home from work and sat down in the kitchen with "Never Let Me Go." And my mom came in with the vacuum cleaner. At nine o'clock. I wanted to throttle her.
Every chance she gets she bitches and moans about how hard her thesis is and how she can't juggle school and her job and her family, which I would be so sympathetic of if I weren't doing the same thing: school, work, independent study (aka thesis), family. Why is it that having things in common doesn't make you appreciate the suffering of others more... it just makes you wonder why they can't suck it up? I wish I were a more compassionate person. I'll work on that. (Self-improvement!)
I had a really scary customer today who was wearing a pink business suit (she was a woman) and had one of those phones that has the earpiece in your ear, so you always think they're talking to themselves. She was like Germany, all frighteningly sleek and efficient and she seemed really domineering. If my grandmother had been there, she would have been all "This is how feminism has ruined the world! I bet she can't cook! I bet she eats her own children!"
Although I hate to admit it, she did sort of seem like the child-eating type.
And I stapled her bouquet and the stapler got stuck and I was tugging incessantly and she smirked and my hands were shaking while I tied up the raffia and I felt ridiculously incompetent. I hate that a woman in a pink suit with a headphone telephone can make me feel silly and useless.
I was talking to this new friend of mine from work on our break. I'm pretty sure she's from Milwaukee (insofar as she is black and has a culturally black name and an alternative vocabulary/syntax). Anyways, I told her that I had lived in Germany last year as a foreign exchange student and she totally didn't understand what I was talking about. I was like, "I was a foreign exchange student" and she was like, "what's that?" (She's at least twenty.) So I tried to explain it and she was like, "whoa... you wanted to do that, or your parents made you?" I was like, "I wanted to." And she laughed hysterically and was like, "oh my god. Oh, my god. I've seen stuff like that on TV before, but I never thought that real-life people did it."
This is why it's nice/surreal to live in Brookfield. Here, nobody cares that I was gone for a year and I might as well have moved to Illinois. But she didn't know that "real-life people did" that. It was such a novelty.
|
|
|
| Lilacs |
[ | |
May 5 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
optimistic |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Taking Back Sunday |
] |
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
That was a long, self-satisfied sigh. In case you were wondering. My life is pretty damn sparkly right now, and I'm going to soak in it for a moment. Like a bubble bath. God, I really, really want a bubble bath. I should go upstairs and take one, what a fantastic way to start the weekend. I could read a book, too- GOD, AP TESTING IS ALMOST OVER EXCEPT FOR ECON, WHICH I AM NOT STUDYING FOR YET, IN OTHER WORDS, I AM VERY NEARLY FREE EXCEPT FOR IND STUDY AND PAD!
That was supposed to sound triumphant, but all the qualifiers just made it seem kind of silly.
If I want to get in at any of the places I was waitlisted, I should send in the letter I wrote. But I don't think I want to go anywhere else anymore. Except maybe U. Chicago. I really sort of did fall in love with it, although the longer I reflect, it's possible that my life was just so fantastic at that point that I would have loved anything and everything.
That's the problem with this year. Once I got past the initial "I hate everyone" phase, I realized how great it is to be alive and I can't get distracted from that. These bad things keep happening and everything is so awkward and I can't focus on anything except the fact that I'm alive and in America. In the long term I don't want a suburban house and a minivan, but right now it's so nice to be here. Everything is so shiny here, it all glistens and it's silky and so so so fake. I guess I don't really understand people who say they hate Brookfield anymore. I mean, sure, everything is surreal and we're terribly sheltered and nobody knows what reality is, but isn't that kind of a good thing? I mean, wouldn't you rather have grown up here than in Rwanda? The reason that our grandparents or parents or whoever worked so hard and walked uphill both ways to school was so that we could grow up to be spoiled and naive. Eventually it will be a good thing when everyone here falls off of a few cliffs and realizes that the rest of the world isn't this simple, but until then... I want to wrap a lot of really arrogant people here in bubble wrap so that they'll never break and realize what everything else is like.
This is to a certain extent an aftermath-of-spring-break realization. Being there made me realize how quickly I would fall into the same old patterns again and how unhappy I was a lot of the time. So even if this isn't real- and it may not be- I like living on a shady suburban street that smells like lilacs where everybody knows my name and reacts to everything based on an American cultural standard. It's not what the rest of my life will be like, so I might as well appreciate it while it's here. There is utterly no use in appreciating things once they're over. You can't have retrospective happiness.
I didn't really mean to tangent into all of that. What I wanted to say was that I love my job and I love working and I love it that people come in and buy flowers from me for people because they're all happy and love each other. God, that sounded vapid, but you know what I mean. A guy came in today and was like, "I just started dating this really sweet girl and she's had a terrible week and I really just wanted to get her flowers to perk her up. But I don't know what and could you help me pick something? Pick what you like, I trust your judgement." So I took the ones I really like- that I want for myself- and put together a little arrangement with them, and he kept grinning and saying how much he liked it, and he seemed really genuine and really happy. And I was too, because I was doing something that I'm getting good at, and because it meant so much to him and because I know that ultimately it'll mean a lot to her, too. And because I loved doing it and it's so insanely rewarding to be appreciated for something you're good at and like doing. And to get paid for it. God. I know it's a supermarket and I'm not supposed to be this head-over-heels in love with a job, but I feel productive and meaningful and good at what I do.
Humility is my strong point.
|
|
|
| New Year's Resolutions |
[ | |
Apr 29 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 bouncy |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
German stuff |
] |
1. I'm going to St. John's at Annapolis. Resolved. No more dumb waitlist-fantasizing, or bitter resentment crap. I think it's entirely likely that St. John's provides the kind of education I've always wanted. And I know I have a tendency to freak out whenever I'm really close to something I want, and to then do everything in my power to make sure I don't actually get it. I'm not entirely sure why I do this, but it's a terrible urge and I need to work through it instead of succumbing to it. I want to read hundreds of books and translate them into ancient Greek.
2. I'm going to cancel exams for AP Language, AP Gov, and potentially AP Econ. I'm still going to do APUSH because it'll drive me to reread the whole textbook, and history is important. I'm doing Lit because I have nothing to lose and it won't require studying. Ditto German. But the rest are a waste of my life since St. John's doesn't accept them anyways.
3. I'm going to work incessantly (the new Pick N' Save, floral dept.) and earn enough money for China. Day and night, basically, as much as I need to, will be the best worker they've ever had because it matters. Because I'm really sick of not making an effort and it isn't getting me anywhere.
4. Will finish my independent study and do a really excellent job on it. History matters, as stated above, and learning does as well. (More than grades, incidentally, in case I haven't told you that yet.)
5. I'm going to practice being socially ept for once. That means that I can no longer just turn away from people I don't want to talk to and close my eyes. Not a valid reaction, and conversations must consist of more than my talking about South Africa.
Right. The End.
|
|
|
| Endlich mal |
[ | |
Apr 12 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 crazy |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
3 AM (Matchbox 20) |
] |
Confusing, stress-filled day from hell. At least it's all semi-resolved now, in terms of my being in posession of enough euros to buy a train ticket and knowing when my train leaves. I have to switch trains about six times, though, which is kind of unnerving. My father gave me his famed "travel safety" speech over the phone, which made me giggle.
(I'm going to Germany tomorrow to visit.)
I think I have presents now for most everyone. Sophie gets Build-A-Bear clothes and some macaroni and a CD, I got Karl a pack of cigarettes and a book and some chocolate, and then Dagmar and Volker get a blanket and coffee and chocolate and a candle-esque thingy. I'm going to try and hunt something down for Franzi tomorrow. I got Martina a mug, and if I were nice I'd get Michael something as well.
I'm very much mentally in Germany right now. I've been thinking in German all day and rehearsing conversational crap in my mind. I don't want to have a nauseating American accent as soon as I arrive. It's kind of funny how long it's been since I really sat down and rehashed Germany mentally. At first that was all I did, now I don't do it at all.
I was thinking today about how you can't get a cup of coffee in Germany, insofar as they don't come in standardized sizes and flavors and things like that. I've finally perfected ordering from Starbucks, and it made me anxious to think that Starbucks doesn't exist there. I normally don't concentrate on how different America and Germany are, they're kind of blended in my mind, but when I pull the pieces apart even these little things seem monumental. They're not, clearly. But it freaks me out that there's no distinction in my mind between the two countries. People keep being surprised that I'm going to Germany over break- "oh, you're so lucky!"- but I guess I sort of regarded it as a given. I can't believe I've lasted as long as I have here. I've got this whole other life that's tucked away there waiting for me.
Can't believe it. Day after tomorrow. Finally.
|
|
|
| Kodak Moment |
[ | |
Apr 10 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
ecstatic |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
the free stuff that came on the computer |
] |
I'm going to China. Like, seriously actually going. Both of my parents are cool with it. I have legitimate arrangements. Financial means.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
|
|
|
| I had "a" Hanukkah song stuck in my head today. Aka, "the" Hanukkah song. |
[ | |
Apr 9 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 cranky |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
"Deine Schuld" (Die Aertzte) |
] |
"There's something in the way/
in the way that we're constantly moving/
reminds you of home." (Catalyst, Anna Nalick)
(That wasn't the Hanukkah song, as a reference point. The Hanukkah song was the one that goes, "Hanukkah, Hanukkah, festival of lights... Whatever, whatever, whatever.")
I'm really exhausted/frustrated tonight. I wasn't until a few minutes ago, but all of a sudden it's just kind of too much. School is crushing and I'll never get my independent study done or start/finish studying for APs. I visited Marlboro this weekend and I didn't really like it that much. Everyone seems really bizarre and homeschooled and I just can't see myself moving from Wisconsin to Vermont under any circumstances. Not that it isn't nice, on the contrary, it was. It's just that I can see my mother there, not me.
Which leaves me in essentially the position I thought I'd be in with colleges. In terms of being in love with nothing, frustrated that I didn't get in at most of the places I actually wanted to go, and choosing between the lesser of evils. What a terrible way to look at that. I think I have a latent sense of pessimism that rears its ugly head under dire circumstances.
I am going to Germany on Thursday. Dagmar left a screechy message on my answering machine telling me that if I don't call soon and tell them when I'm arriving on Friday, I'll have to hitchhike. She addressed me as a term that translates roughly to "homeless person." In relation to my laziness in not calling, I presume. Either that or they burnt the house down.
Everyone seems really stunned when I tell them that I'm going to Germany over break. I guess I forget that it has the whole foreign-country aspect... I just kind of feel like I'm flying to Ohio to visit relatives or something mundane like that. I mean, I'm really excited, but it's the family/friends angle as opposed to the exotic locale angle that gets me all happy inside. I'm frustrated that I have no money to buy presents for them, though. And I actually wanted to have money for shopping there, plus I need to buy something slutty (*snort*) before I leave so that when we go to the discotheque I can point out that I've lost 27 lbs. I always used to borrow Sophie's clothes for going to the disco.
I'm aware that clubbing seems really incongruous with my character, but screw that. Seriously, it's probably the best feeling ever. Everything is just light and sound and you move until you forget you exist. There's this crazy mind-body separation that happens, it's kind of the way I imagine drugs. Not that I spend much time imagining drugs, but still. It feels so good and so intense and it doesn't involve any illegal substances (on my part) and I haven't done it in so long and all my old friends will be there.
It's occured to me recently how much I've changed since I came back. I wonder what they'll think of me now. I have curly hair and I'm quieter, happier. All in all, I'd say I'm a much better person now than I was then, depression didn't do a whole lot for me. I still think it's funny that at the time in my life when I was the least desirable, I was also the most popular. Maybe that had more to do with the American factor than anything else. But everyone seemed to like me and I was such a whiny, self-pitying jerk. It's infathomable to me that they didn't slap me silly. They probably should have. Promise me that if that side of me ever comes back out, you'll stop talking to me.
Enough re-hashing post-Germany. I need to find former foreign exchange student friends.
|
|
|
| Caffeine/College |
[ | |
Apr 6 2006
| | ] |
|
I don't ever really remember being more wired than I've been this week. Last night I was trying to do homework and I just sat on my bed and rocked back and forth for a while- of course, tragically ineffective as an academic pursuit- so I got up and went running and ran a mile and came home and was just as jittery. I don't know what's wrong with me. John poked me the other day in physics and I kicked the desk in front of me and jumped about a mile. It made this huge noise. I laughed with my head on the desk for the rest of the hour.
I might need to kick the caffeine habit.
I'm so unfocused. I'm a second-semester senior and I know it's supposed to be justified, but seeing as I didn't get into any of the colleges I want to go to, I don't really think it is. I can't become apathetic and I can't relax, but I can't focus, either. I'm manic.
The college thing is bad. At first I was all heartbroken about it and whatnot, until I realized that it was kind of dumb to take something like that personally. I'm not going to be the kind of person that cries over a college rejection.
It's not that it made me feel stupid or inferior or anything, although maybe it should have. I'm too vain and too secure to start thinking things like that at this point in the game. I just feel like I've worked so hard for so long and I have utterly nothing to show for it. We've all been groomed with competitive college admissions as the prize, and it's really disappointing to look back on thirteen years of academia and think that I missed out on what was to be the end result. That was how I justified doing this to myself. It's not really learning, it's just multiple-choice testing. On principle, I hate the concept of it. But it was supposed to get me to a point at which actual learning would be possible. And it hasn't.
The more I experience of life, the more I've come to the conclusion that the most important skill to have is being able to roll with the punches. And that's what keeps me from being able to focus on the college thing too much, the knowledge that eventually I'll work something out because I have to.
That wasn't really glowingly optimistic. But it's a pretty good philosophy for the moment.
|
|
|
| How to Break News |
[ | |
Apr 4 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 curious |
] |
I just emailed my dad. Told him about China.
|
|
|
| Subtleties |
[ | |
Mar 31 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
giddy |
] |
I promised myself I'd never write anything really personal in here. Nothing that couldn't be said out loud.
So I'll settle for this:
I spent a lot of time thinking about things and it turns out that I thought wrong. I ought to be staggered by my own disillusionment at this point, but I'm really numb and I don't feel much of anything unless I focus very consciously. Which leads me to another thing I love about life: that everything can be quite ****ed up by relative standards and I am still so swept away by the sensation of things not going as I had planned that I hardly notice the actual events themselves. What I remember of the last week and a half is relatively little, I haven't absorbed much of anything. I just keep being stunned at how suddenly things change and how very wrong I've been.
I just can't shake the feeling that it should be something besides merely novel. I don't really feel anything lately besides the giddy happiness resulting from the fact that I am alive, and when something happens all I think is, "wow."
Not "damn" or "ah" or "yay!"- just "wow."
|
|
|
| A Thing with Feathers |
[ | |
Mar 30 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
trying hard not to have one |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
R.E.M. "Leaving New York" |
] |
Waitlisted at U. Chicago, Wellesley, and Grinnell. Rejected at Carleton.
I guess there isn't anything I want to say that I want anyone else to hear.
|
|
| Why Not to Talk to People on Trains |
[ | |
Mar 30 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
amused |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Anna Nalick |
] |
Oy vey.
He had been watching me for a long time on the train, in the observation car, so I at least recognized that he was checking me out. (That's right, send my already obscene vanity up a notch. Really beneficial for me.) Then he came over at sat down next to my mom and started talking to her. Worked me into the conversation by asking, "Is she yours?"
Snort. Drag out the shackles. "Yes."
"So, what're you reading?" He comes over and sits down next to me. Smiles. Looks vaguely like David Spitz.
"Emma. For a book discussion at a college I'm visiting."
"Oh. Sounds boring. What kinds of books do you like?"
Long, uninteresting tangent. Now, to be fair, he seemed really nice at first. Quirky, in a good, Wolfgang-esque way. Then we start talking about tattoos, don't know why, and he asks if he can draw. On my arms.
Since I have no backbone, I said yes, and as he's in the process, he keeps telling me how much he loves pale skin. I said, "yeah, so do I. At least, I like having it." I probably should have said "I love it on all of my multiple, AIDS-infested sex partners, too." Might have driven him off.
He keeps talking... On about how connected he feels to nature and how much he likes Greenpeace and how humanity is ruining the world. I told him that I supported oil drilling in the arctic, because by now he was starting to freak me out and I had enough. I figured if I could, you know, talk about my personal experience seal hunting, that it might have helped. Since I don't hunt seals, though, I stuck to oil drilling. And how awesome it is. I should have said, "I hope my grandchildren never have to see a tree."
As it turns out, he also doesn't believe in prison.
He thought I seemed kind of stressed out and uptight (huh, funny, isn't it?), so he suggested that we tell wild-and-crazy stories. My best wild-and-crazy story for this month was buying clothes at a store that was not Goodwill. He, on the other hand, told me stories about cross-dressing with his friends and how they then go through the drive-thru at McDonald's in drag. This was, like, the light at the end of the tunnel! He's gay! Except I asked, and his response was, "ew, no." Then he put his ARM around me and started talking about how he can see the interconnectedness of the universe in a grain of sand. He told me that I should read Siddhartha, and I told him that I think Buddhism is a very unhealthy mentality and that I'm an atheist.
STILL DIDN'T LEAVE. I've just knocked his religion, his personal conviction/environmentalism, and enquired as to his sexual orientation, and he didn't get it! At this point he started making sex jokes, and so I told him "I'm extremely repressed and socially inept, and I don't know how to deal with this, so could you please stop?" And HE GIGGLED. GIGGLED. Like I was being cute and FLIRTATIOUS. NO! This was the only truly honest portion of the conversation. I am repressed. Socially inept. I was ****ing sweating bullets, and he just kept giggling and then he told me "don't worry, I'm a virgin." What?! Oh yes, of course, I was worried. Because we were going to have sex together in the observation car in front of 50 other people at 8:00 AM, and I was worried about STDs. Why would he SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT?! I must have smiled awkwardly, and then he started whispering in French. Did not ask for a translation.
He started telling me about how he's going backpacking on horseback alone in the Painted Desert. Has never been to the desert before. Has never been horseback riding before. Has never been backpacking before. Only food source: homemade hard tack. And jam. And trail mix, but he gave it to me and I ate it. I said, "You're going to die, and I'm going to see your dehydrated dead body lying next to the train tracks on my way home." And HE SMILED. AGH. That was supposed to be my mother's cue to chime in with, "Elizabeth, honey, it's time for your medication."
But she DIDN'T. Keep in mind that she's been about two seats away from us the whole time.
To make a long story (3-hour conversation) short, I ended up feigning sleep because I couldn't think of a not-rude way to escape. Then when it was time for me to leave, he gave me his cell phone number, squeeze-hugged me, and followed me down to the detraining platform and told me that he hoped we'd see each other again and that I should "take care of myself."
I don't really want him to die in the desert, I'm not that malevolent, but... that was a FROTHING PIT OF AWKWARD. And he isn't stupid, I mean, he's in all kinds of AP classes, but he just didn't seem to be getting the not-remotely-subtle hints I kept dropping. I was manically nervous throughout the whole conversation and I continually said ridiculous/vaguely insulting things, and he seemed to think I was interested in him.
I must develop backbone.
|
|
|
| Maybe You Had to Be There |
[ | |
Mar 20 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
chipper |
] |
I was sitting in Panera after school today when this woman and a man sat down at the booth in front of me. I was vaguely irritated because the woman had this obnoxiously penetrating voice and I was trying to study, but I gave that effort up in about ten seconds and finally just focused on the conversation.
You need the visuals too... The woman was wearing tight black jeans, a baggy magenta shirt, and had permed black hair that came down to her waist. She was about forty. The man I didn't see much, but he seemed about the same age.
"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. I'm taken aback, I really am. God. Who would have thought. They told me at the office and I said, 'what?' And I thought they were kidding. I just can't get over it. I'm so angry, you know, it's not my business but I'm angry. Really. And stunned." The woman continued on in this litany of surprise for about the next ten minutes. Man remains completely silent.
"Do you remember that song 'Smooth Operator?' That's what I think of when I think of Janine. Really. She's just a smooth operator. She's so slick and you can tell she's always taking advantage of somebody. She really is a very evil person." With complete, heartfelt sincerity. Man initially offers no commentary.
Finally, he launches in. "She's trying to convince the kids to side with her. You know, she doesn't say it, but I can tell she's trying to win them over."
"You know, that reminds me of people I know in my life. People that are just so jealous. There are so many people I know like that. People in my family are like that. My grandmother was like that, whenever I got a call about a job, she gave me hell because she didn't want me to have it. Just jealous people. And my sister is like that too, she can never accept that I have a man in my life and she doesn't. I wish she would soften up that hard heart of hers a little- soften up and let Jesus in."
Then back to the tirade on the evils of Janine, who is cold and heartless and "evil." And then back to how little she can believe the situation. Finally, she just stands up. "Let's go." The man puts her coat on for her, and they leave. Just like that.
I was laughing out loud for most of the conversation. I hope they didn't hear me. But it was priceless, god, I loved it, maybe you had to be there but she just seemed so real. Everything she said had this viciously self-righteous tone to it, she was dripping in it and she was so unconscious of it. It was a delight to witness.
|
|
|
| Good morning. |
[ | |
Mar 19 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
calm |
] |
Nothing is better than going to bed late and stumbling out of bed early and eating Wheaties and going for a walk outside to buy coffee at Speedway while listening to music and the sky being this insanely blue.
I love being alive.
The other day something significantly distressing happened, not significant enough that I remember what it was, but significant enough that I felt this sudden urge to start screaming. I went running instead, it made me feel better, but what kind of overwhelmed me at the time was the realization that I spent the vast majority of the last year and a half feeling that way. Like I was about an inch and a half away from falling apart and so disoriented and unhappy. I had almost forgotten what that felt like, isn't that awesome? I love this aspect of living: That I can be depressed for that long and then in the scope of about three months forget what it ever felt like to be unhappy. Life is so good.
A few months ago I was trying to come up with a list of character attributes. I don't remember why, I think I was trying to figure out why I didn't like myself, and then I looked down at the list and it was like, wait, this is the kind of person I want to be. Why am I so negative and anti-everything if this really is who I want to be? The next thought that followed was, "the hell with everyone and everything else, then, my life is good." Which probably factors into the obscene arrogance I've been cultivating ever since.
I've decided, though, that arrogance is infinitely preferrable to low self-esteem.
Just thought an explanation might be in order... Since I do kind of remember writing long, ranty, morose entries on here about how much I hated life and everyone in it. What I meant was that I thought I didn't like myself, and so by default I had to hate everyone else for putting me in that position. I never thought it would be as simple as just deciding that they're wrong and that I'm right, by nature of it being my life that we're talking about. And I am and it is.
Look out the window. Doesn't it scare you when the sky is that blue and there are no clouds and it's windy and there's pavement? Why is sky so much scarier when there's pavement? Maybe it's just the contrast. Although I do remember being scared witless for about my first four months in Germany because the sky was always blue and cloudless and there were no trees, so you could see the horizon from 360 degrees when you were standing outside. I felt so exposed. It's kind of ironic that I felt that way there when the likelihood of anything actually happening to me, measured on a numeric scale, would have been negative. I don't think Germans ever kill each other or die or commit crimes.
Whoops. Forgot about Hitler. Teehee.
|
|
|
| I would've shot Hitler. |
[ | |
Mar 15 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
bouncy |
] |
My "Sabre Travel Consultant" emailed me with my itinerary just now. My initial question is, of course, why I upon buying an airline ticket am now saddled with a "travel consultant." And why said travel consultant has a sabre. (*cough* airport security *cough*)
This is why I should not be allowed to stay up later than 9:00, even if I did go running at 8:00.
In other news, I bought a ticket to Germany. (Or my mother forwarded me 680 dollars to buy the ticket, if you want to get technical.) I couldn't believe it. For some reason I was starting to think that it would never happen and I wouldn't be able to go visit. The beauty of life working out awes me sometimes. This is a break in your scheduled programming for an awe of appreciation.
So today in English we chatted about the death penalty the whole hour... It was a waste of life, frankly. (Prepare for a full-blown round of Elizabethan arrogance here, I'm warning you. Stop reading now if you don't like me as much as I like myself.) Nobody seems to have ever thought about it before, which cannot possibly be true, but all anyone said were things like, "I don't think it's right for people to play God," or, "You should want to see killers suffer as much as their victims did." At least nobody said, "Jesus doesn't believe in the death penalty..." Or I might have died.
What nobody seemed to consider is that we were talking about two entirely separate issues, in terms of protective justice vs. sadistic justice. And everybody seemed to think that it's the job of the government to mete out suffering to balance the universal karma scales somehow, rather than to protect the citizens. Frankly, I don't care if you get what's coming to you or not as long as you're somewhere where you can't hurt me. Should the government try to make you feel bad about what you did... punish you to attempt moral rehabilitation... deal out justice for the sake of dealing out justice? I guess if someone goes to prison and finds God and decides never to murder someone again that's great, but is that the point of the justice system? To make you think about what you've done?
Maybe this is just my ego speaking, but I don't care if you're morally rehabilitated or not. I prefer people alive to dead, and I prefer killers behind bars and away from me. Beyond that, I don't really give a damn. I don't know if the death penalty is morally-speaking "wrong" or not- instinctively I'd say it is, but that doesn't seem like the issue- it's just unnecessary. It's justice for the sake of pounding a gavel.
Now if this were true AP Lit and Comp style I'd finish it off with, "but I don't know... Maybe not. I'm sorry." Because we all have to be afraid to have an opinion, now. I may not ever offer one in class, but I almost think that's preferrable to offering one and then apologizing for it as soon as I give it. Why would you believe something you feel inclined to apologize for?
Of course, nothing is more pathetic than rehashing class discussions on LJ at 9:30 at night when I have APUSH homework waiting upstairs.
|
|
|
|
[ | |
Mar 14 2006
| | ] |
|
I hate having nothing to say. This is the problem with life being all hunky-dory, what is there to do when there's nothing to whine about?
Actually, that was pointless. I have plenty of things to do, like an English paper. And I went shopping and jogging today. When I was shopping, I was all keyed up to buy real clothes with colors and patterns (as opposed to button-down blouses) but then I knuckled under and bought a black camisole and a white camisole with the last of my gift certificate. They really are nice camisoles, they just aren't all that exciting. I'm not used to shopping in regular stores anymore... I couldn't believe how expensive it all was. I picked up a shirt that was, like, ten dollars, and it wasn't even that nice of a shirt! Ten dollars! Egitt. 6 for a camisole, when you can get a fricking pair of jeans for that much money at Goodwill. You could get, like, three shirts for that much money. Although there is kind of a novelty to, when something doesn't fit, just getting it in another size. Or in another color, for that matter. The color selection was mind-boggling. I stood in front of the camisole rack for literally a half-hour trying to decide whether to get blue, or pink, or red, or black... Scintillating. I also found this funny little sweater-esque thing that I was insanely tempted to buy because it was THREE DOLLARS and NEW, but my sister nixed it and claimed that it didn't matter how cheap it was, because it was UGLY. This is why I bring my sister everywhere I go. She's so good at practical things, like life.
Anyway. The jogging was fun too, but not nearly as stressful. The one thing I love about running is that I'm so bad at it that there's so much improvement left for me to make, I feel like I'm continually getting better and so my success level is through the roof.
|
|
|
|
[ | |
Mar 7 2006
| | ] |
|
So tired. Good god.
|
|
|
| As Tori would say... |
[ | |
Mar 3 2006
| | ] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
aggravated |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
none |
] |
SHOOT ME IN THE FACE.
I hate it when people say they have good news, and then tell you something that's actually not only not good news, but is in fact overtly bad news. This just happened with my sister, and the ultimate outcome of it would have pleased me except that the wording was so awkward that I'm afraid the situation might catch up with me eventually.
I'll just have to run faster. Sorry that my wording there was awkward and oblique, but I can't go into the whole thing without significant background information that would be a waste of my time to type and your life to read.
I am drowning.
I was going to start working on the first ten pages of my Independent Study paper, and so I saved all my documents on a disk and was going to open them here, but whoops! The files are corrupted! Screw technology. God. I was all prepped for it too. It's like being ready to dive into a cold lake once you're mentally psyched up for it, and then being told you can't dive, because there are sharks in the lake. Actually, that's a completely ridiculous situation, so it's not entirely applicable after all. Oh, well.
I also have three days of Precalc homework, have to study for physics, take notes for APUSH, and do my rough draft for AP Lit/Comp. God. To reiterate, shoot me in the face.
Aghhh. Awkwardness of above situation just keeps flooding through me and permeating my life. Actually, today has been ridiculously awkward, but it wasn't hard to deal with until about five minutes ago. I've realized what a novel experience "awkward" is and have come to almost relish it. And whenever I'm not relishing it, I just try to focus on how much Ann would be relishing it if she were there. And then I feel better. Actually, I just thought about that, and now I do feel better. Somewhat.
Okay. Time to stop writing about how unproductive I am and go be productive.
|
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
zigeunerig's journal