Listening to - ELO - Evil Woman
Two big things:
1. I have been granted financial autonomy. I now get to control my nest-egg (the money my parents have saved up for college and subsequent years; I have been living on it for a while), pay my car insurance (yes, it's expensive, but it makes my car officially "mine" now), and basically be a grown up. This is something most people my age have already been doing, but for me, it's an enormous accomplishment/big deal. What it means is that my parents think that I'm mentally stable enough, as well as mature enough, to be responsible for looking after myself. I know that I have been well-taken care of, financially, for a very long time, and given that I actually have a nest-egg at my age, I am still in this situation; I'm just really happy that I have the opportunity to be a big girl now and remove my training wheels.
2. I am going to effing Maui in August.
MAUI.
I love love love Hawaii. I have deep personal attachments to our island-state; I think I've been there, consciously or not, 5 times, which is a lot for a 23-year-old. Hawaii is my DisneyWorld. It is the happiest damn place on earth, and when I am a big girl with a real job, it will be the place I go when I save up enough money to travel.
(My parents have also been kind/unkind enough to let me know I was conceived in Maui. Eeeeeeew.)
Only downside? Must find a relatively modest tankini, or something to cover most of my torso, as I have a number of tattoos my parents STILL don't know about (they've seen several, but there are several which they have not seen). Still, I'll bring my bikini for the days when mom, dad, and Charlotte are off playing golf, so that I can get a proper tan. WOO!
The week has been up and down, but it's certainly leaning up right now.
And Steve's coming for the weekend, which is the absolute icing on the cake.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
The reason I get sad.
Listening to: The Doobie Brothers - Real Love
People fucking suck, and I will be so thrilled to get out of this English program. Apparently, if you're not really into the whole "we shall discuss nothing but politics (for which I often play Devil's Advocate) and books and how awful anything remotely not high-culture is" thing, you may as well not exist.
The injury - I didn't graduate with many of my colleagues. This is due to some of my insecurities, and also to the fact that I hate combing through literature as though it is a frog dissections. Literary criticism BORES me. I couldn't handle being in a couple graduate-level lit classes; I think it had a lot to do with the fact that I can't and won't use the lexicon of "smart discourse." I talk like a person who likes to be understood by everyone. Unfortunately, this is not par for the course in graduate level courses. I felt like an idiot, and I dropped out of the two classes.
I know I'm not an idiot.
The issue is, I needed those classes to get my diploma, and I still haven't taken them; this will be remedied in the fall - and I'll be in the classes with some friends from the first-years (I'm technically a second-year - or rather, was. Now I'm up to 2.5).
There is absolutely nothing wrong with graduating a little late. I know that, and I accept that. It just comes in direct contrast with all of the successes of my earlier years. No problems in high school, no problems in college, and then, BAMF. Still, it's annoying to be the one "left behind."
The insult -One of my colleagues, who I had always been friendly with (we were quite tight my first year, even though she's a poet and I'm a fiction writer), who I had helped to move into her apartment, threw a happy graduation party. That's totally fine, and it makes a lot of sense. The part that I don't understand is that it seems a whole number of people, not just graduates, attended.
I was not invited. I had a free week, wherein people could call me, ask me what was up. I call them, and they tell me they're busy, which they very well could be.
I had to find out I had been slighted via Facebook.
Maybe I'm being irrational, or hypersensitive, or some shit like that, but I'm really hurting from this. It's not the first time this has happened in some form, and maybe I should have prepared myself.
I feel really, really lonely right now. And I've been crying about this a little while.
::sigh::
I hope I'm never thoughtless again. Now I know how it feels when I hurt someone accidentally.
People fucking suck, and I will be so thrilled to get out of this English program. Apparently, if you're not really into the whole "we shall discuss nothing but politics (for which I often play Devil's Advocate) and books and how awful anything remotely not high-culture is" thing, you may as well not exist.
The injury - I didn't graduate with many of my colleagues. This is due to some of my insecurities, and also to the fact that I hate combing through literature as though it is a frog dissections. Literary criticism BORES me. I couldn't handle being in a couple graduate-level lit classes; I think it had a lot to do with the fact that I can't and won't use the lexicon of "smart discourse." I talk like a person who likes to be understood by everyone. Unfortunately, this is not par for the course in graduate level courses. I felt like an idiot, and I dropped out of the two classes.
I know I'm not an idiot.
The issue is, I needed those classes to get my diploma, and I still haven't taken them; this will be remedied in the fall - and I'll be in the classes with some friends from the first-years (I'm technically a second-year - or rather, was. Now I'm up to 2.5).
There is absolutely nothing wrong with graduating a little late. I know that, and I accept that. It just comes in direct contrast with all of the successes of my earlier years. No problems in high school, no problems in college, and then, BAMF. Still, it's annoying to be the one "left behind."
The insult -One of my colleagues, who I had always been friendly with (we were quite tight my first year, even though she's a poet and I'm a fiction writer), who I had helped to move into her apartment, threw a happy graduation party. That's totally fine, and it makes a lot of sense. The part that I don't understand is that it seems a whole number of people, not just graduates, attended.
I was not invited. I had a free week, wherein people could call me, ask me what was up. I call them, and they tell me they're busy, which they very well could be.
I had to find out I had been slighted via Facebook.
Maybe I'm being irrational, or hypersensitive, or some shit like that, but I'm really hurting from this. It's not the first time this has happened in some form, and maybe I should have prepared myself.
I feel really, really lonely right now. And I've been crying about this a little while.
::sigh::
I hope I'm never thoughtless again. Now I know how it feels when I hurt someone accidentally.
Friday, May 23, 2008
I got tagged. What what!
Tagged by Tummy
The rules:
a. Link to the person who tagged you.
b. Post the rules on your blog.
c. Write six random things about yourself.
d. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
e. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment at their blog.
f. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.
1. I got appx 4-5 hours of sleep last night, due to being in all sorts of uncomfortable positions, many of which were caused by misplaced cats.
2. There are now pretty petunias on my porch, thanks to a trip to Wholefoods, which also yielded 2 delicious (non-vegan) chocolate chip cookies. The vegan ones taste like sawdust.
3. I feel no shame for drinking a can of Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi for breakfast.
4. I'm debating a walk to Center City today just to buy a decent hamburger. I need motivation for my walks, and there is a Five Guys on Chestnut. There is also a Chick-Fil-A on Market somewhere.
5. I'm expecting a really nice piece of glass artwork in the mail today.
6. I think I may be too obsessed with Lost - I am now completely adamant about naming my first son Desmond.
I am going to try my best to tag people who have yet to be tagged. This is also known as "impossible."
Cyggie
Puffy
Breezy
Silvergirl
Nutzy
Boo
The rules:
a. Link to the person who tagged you.
b. Post the rules on your blog.
c. Write six random things about yourself.
d. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
e. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment at their blog.
f. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.
1. I got appx 4-5 hours of sleep last night, due to being in all sorts of uncomfortable positions, many of which were caused by misplaced cats.
2. There are now pretty petunias on my porch, thanks to a trip to Wholefoods, which also yielded 2 delicious (non-vegan) chocolate chip cookies. The vegan ones taste like sawdust.
3. I feel no shame for drinking a can of Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi for breakfast.
4. I'm debating a walk to Center City today just to buy a decent hamburger. I need motivation for my walks, and there is a Five Guys on Chestnut. There is also a Chick-Fil-A on Market somewhere.
5. I'm expecting a really nice piece of glass artwork in the mail today.
6. I think I may be too obsessed with Lost - I am now completely adamant about naming my first son Desmond.
I am going to try my best to tag people who have yet to be tagged. This is also known as "impossible."
Cyggie
Puffy
Breezy
Silvergirl
Nutzy
Boo
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Why I don't care about Idol
Listening to: Boz Scaggs - Lido Shuffle
This is not going to be a very long post.
I don't like American Idol. The music it produces is invariably not my thing, and with the notable exception of Taylor Hicks, I have never found anyone on that I even slightly enjoy, style-wise. Blue-eyed soul for the win!
I think my primary problem with the show is this: You basically go in as a stereotype. You know and are always cogent of the fact that you are MARKETING yourself as a specific kind of product. You can be talented as all hell (and I won't deny that there is talent present), but in the end, it is people declaring that you are "the rocker." You can't just be some guy with a shitty haircut who can sing like rock music - you have to market yourself as the "rocker product."
I'm just saying, vary it up. Don't let a pigeon hole be what makes you win.
...
But then, my favorite bands are led by people who are either artists strung out on redonkulous amounts of cocaine (David Byrne of Talking Heads), prematurely gray with a very, very distinct baritone voice (Michael McDonald of The Doobie Brothers), prematurely bald with a very, very distinct throaty voice (Phil Collins of Genesis), or ugly as sin (Donald Fagen/Walter Becker of Steely Dan; Geddy Lee of Rush).
Granted, they've all had their successes, but it wasn't for being presented as "rockers." They were just guys who played rock-music.
Oh... and I guess I'm just not that impressed by a singer who can... ::gasp:: play an instrument!
I mean, holy hell, Phil Collins sings and plays a massive 14-something-tom drumkit while doing so!
This is not going to be a very long post.
I don't like American Idol. The music it produces is invariably not my thing, and with the notable exception of Taylor Hicks, I have never found anyone on that I even slightly enjoy, style-wise. Blue-eyed soul for the win!
I think my primary problem with the show is this: You basically go in as a stereotype. You know and are always cogent of the fact that you are MARKETING yourself as a specific kind of product. You can be talented as all hell (and I won't deny that there is talent present), but in the end, it is people declaring that you are "the rocker." You can't just be some guy with a shitty haircut who can sing like rock music - you have to market yourself as the "rocker product."
I'm just saying, vary it up. Don't let a pigeon hole be what makes you win.
...
But then, my favorite bands are led by people who are either artists strung out on redonkulous amounts of cocaine (David Byrne of Talking Heads), prematurely gray with a very, very distinct baritone voice (Michael McDonald of The Doobie Brothers), prematurely bald with a very, very distinct throaty voice (Phil Collins of Genesis), or ugly as sin (Donald Fagen/Walter Becker of Steely Dan; Geddy Lee of Rush).
Granted, they've all had their successes, but it wasn't for being presented as "rockers." They were just guys who played rock-music.
Oh... and I guess I'm just not that impressed by a singer who can... ::gasp:: play an instrument!
I mean, holy hell, Phil Collins sings and plays a massive 14-something-tom drumkit while doing so!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Gawds.
Listening to: Waiting For Guffman Soundtrack - "Stool Boom"
HA! One of the funniest movies ever. I mean, a frakkin' song about footstools? What's not to love?
So, "summer" is officially upon me, in the form of an education class. It's my first not-English class since May of 2006, and I am actually very relieved. I think I was generally getting completely bogged down by having to read and dissect books until they were no longer interesting. Granted, I've got to do that hardcore in the Fall, but in the meantime, I'm going to enjoy learning about how to effectively teach. I think it might qualify as "fun." Maybe I'll actually end up with a real job by the time I'm, oh, 26.
::le sigh::
One of my poet friends had a big writer-party on Saturday which was hell of fun. Lots of writers, writer-lovers, and hangers on; many were people I've been very tight with, and many were people I had never met before. I always like meeting the significant others of my fiction buddies, and I got to do as such. I'm contemplating dragging Steve to another such writer party in the near future. I just hope he's agreeable. He felt intimidated the last time I introduced him to some friends... that seems to happen from time to time. I've certainly sold him as being a great person, and fuck, even I can't keep up with the "educated" discussion that goes on most of the time. I tend to nod, eat, drink a beer, and look at the TV to see how the baseball game's going. But then, I'm a strange egg.
In the meantime, I need to find some short-term work. Given the intensity of this class I'm taking (not to mention its rather annoying hours of 5-8 pm, Tuesday and Thursday), it's going to be tough to find something I can do for some spare change. Mom suggested waitressing, which I have never done before. I have heard good and bad things. I'm quite personable, but I have a brain like a colander, when it comes to memorizing things, and very poor balance.
On a side note, I seem to keep gaining weight, according to WiiFit. Granted, I thought it was a little off when it weighed me the first time (about 7 or 8 pounds off...), but come on, I'm workin' my butt off!
The yoga and strength-training parts are getting a lot easier now. I think that's something to be proud of. I actually feel a bit more flexible.
HA! One of the funniest movies ever. I mean, a frakkin' song about footstools? What's not to love?
So, "summer" is officially upon me, in the form of an education class. It's my first not-English class since May of 2006, and I am actually very relieved. I think I was generally getting completely bogged down by having to read and dissect books until they were no longer interesting. Granted, I've got to do that hardcore in the Fall, but in the meantime, I'm going to enjoy learning about how to effectively teach. I think it might qualify as "fun." Maybe I'll actually end up with a real job by the time I'm, oh, 26.
::le sigh::
One of my poet friends had a big writer-party on Saturday which was hell of fun. Lots of writers, writer-lovers, and hangers on; many were people I've been very tight with, and many were people I had never met before. I always like meeting the significant others of my fiction buddies, and I got to do as such. I'm contemplating dragging Steve to another such writer party in the near future. I just hope he's agreeable. He felt intimidated the last time I introduced him to some friends... that seems to happen from time to time. I've certainly sold him as being a great person, and fuck, even I can't keep up with the "educated" discussion that goes on most of the time. I tend to nod, eat, drink a beer, and look at the TV to see how the baseball game's going. But then, I'm a strange egg.
In the meantime, I need to find some short-term work. Given the intensity of this class I'm taking (not to mention its rather annoying hours of 5-8 pm, Tuesday and Thursday), it's going to be tough to find something I can do for some spare change. Mom suggested waitressing, which I have never done before. I have heard good and bad things. I'm quite personable, but I have a brain like a colander, when it comes to memorizing things, and very poor balance.
On a side note, I seem to keep gaining weight, according to WiiFit. Granted, I thought it was a little off when it weighed me the first time (about 7 or 8 pounds off...), but come on, I'm workin' my butt off!
The yoga and strength-training parts are getting a lot easier now. I think that's something to be proud of. I actually feel a bit more flexible.
Friday, May 09, 2008
I <3 TV
Listening to: The Pointer Sisters - Neutron Dance
I'm just burnin' doin' the Neutron Dance.
Woo Hoo!
Damn I love that song.
Today's post is dedicated to one of my best friends: Television.
Last night, my friend the idiot box gave me three solid, back-to-back hours of very good entertainment.
First, Survivor, which featured YET ANOTHER round of utter stupidity (gawds, I love this season - it's not "fans versus favorites," it's "people who have watched the show and learned absolutely nothing" against "people who have sort of tweaked their old game, but are otherwise the things you still love and hate about their original character." I really, REALLY wish I could be on this show. I need to save the name of fans- seriously. I want to be the Rob Cesternino, subtracting "from Long Island" and adding "from 6 miles north of Long Island." Alas, on the meds, it is impossible to have that dream.
Then, CSI. I do not usually watch this show, but then I saw the preview. Stephen Toblowski and Katey Sagal as guest stars. WOW. My all-time favorite character actor, and the voice of one of my favorite cartoon characters (Turanga Leela, of Futurama) together at last, in one awesome, hilarious, violent episode. And using a rubber chicken as a flail? C'est magnifique.
Finally, Lost, giving me what I love the most: a Locke episode that actually reveals some important stuff about who he is. I feel for Locke - a lot. He has such a sad, awful backstory, and such a profound sense of naivite and strength. He's probably one of the most complex television characters of all time, and for that, I am thoroughly impressed by the writers of this show. And the Horace time-loop thing was mindblowing. Whoa.
I respect Lost so much, as both a viewer and a writer - it is like reading an incredible novel, with very deft placement of time switches, changes in narrator, creation of the tiniest of details, while only revealing a little at a time. I'd call it a divine mystery.
And this is where I reach my complaint. Not about Lost, but about my peers in the writing department. A lot of them snub tv in general as a waste, a corporate product. I will not debate the product part, but my goodness, this is an important composition, folks. Thankfully, a couple of my fellow fiction writers watch along with me, so I at least have people I can exchange show-gossip with.
I'm just burnin' doin' the Neutron Dance.
Woo Hoo!
Damn I love that song.
Today's post is dedicated to one of my best friends: Television.
Last night, my friend the idiot box gave me three solid, back-to-back hours of very good entertainment.
First, Survivor, which featured YET ANOTHER round of utter stupidity (gawds, I love this season - it's not "fans versus favorites," it's "people who have watched the show and learned absolutely nothing" against "people who have sort of tweaked their old game, but are otherwise the things you still love and hate about their original character." I really, REALLY wish I could be on this show. I need to save the name of fans- seriously. I want to be the Rob Cesternino, subtracting "from Long Island" and adding "from 6 miles north of Long Island." Alas, on the meds, it is impossible to have that dream.
Then, CSI. I do not usually watch this show, but then I saw the preview. Stephen Toblowski and Katey Sagal as guest stars. WOW. My all-time favorite character actor, and the voice of one of my favorite cartoon characters (Turanga Leela, of Futurama) together at last, in one awesome, hilarious, violent episode. And using a rubber chicken as a flail? C'est magnifique.
Finally, Lost, giving me what I love the most: a Locke episode that actually reveals some important stuff about who he is. I feel for Locke - a lot. He has such a sad, awful backstory, and such a profound sense of naivite and strength. He's probably one of the most complex television characters of all time, and for that, I am thoroughly impressed by the writers of this show. And the Horace time-loop thing was mindblowing. Whoa.
I respect Lost so much, as both a viewer and a writer - it is like reading an incredible novel, with very deft placement of time switches, changes in narrator, creation of the tiniest of details, while only revealing a little at a time. I'd call it a divine mystery.
And this is where I reach my complaint. Not about Lost, but about my peers in the writing department. A lot of them snub tv in general as a waste, a corporate product. I will not debate the product part, but my goodness, this is an important composition, folks. Thankfully, a couple of my fellow fiction writers watch along with me, so I at least have people I can exchange show-gossip with.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Steamfresh
Listening to: 10cc - Dreadlock Holiday*
(* For the record, I do not watch the popular television program "American Idol"® and thus am not listening to this song as an homage to departed television contestant Jason Castro. This is merely a coincidence.)
It may not be hot in Philly right now, but the humidity is hovering somewhere between steamy and raunchy. It is going to be a rather grody weekend, weather-wise, which I suppose will lend itself to the writing of my final paper for the literacy class. I will have very limited motivation to leave my apartment, which means... more time to play XBOX!
No. Bad Julia.
For the life of me, I cannot remember what I was dreaming about last night - I had that thing where you wake up with the alarm, and it's as if your brain-toilet flushed and you can't think hard enough about where you just were 5 seconds ago. Perhaps I've indulged in my strange or wonderful dreams too many times - it seems like the only ones I can remember any more are scary or creepy ones which don't allow me to fall back asleep. Which reminds me, I had a really vivid dream about Locke from Lost a few weeks back.
NO, not a sexy dream. It was firmly in the creepy category, although it did provide insights into island mythology which are almost certainly not true, as they came from my brain and not the actual show.
Feh. I could write that show. But then it wouldn't be fun to watch anymore.
(* For the record, I do not watch the popular television program "American Idol"® and thus am not listening to this song as an homage to departed television contestant Jason Castro. This is merely a coincidence.)
It may not be hot in Philly right now, but the humidity is hovering somewhere between steamy and raunchy. It is going to be a rather grody weekend, weather-wise, which I suppose will lend itself to the writing of my final paper for the literacy class. I will have very limited motivation to leave my apartment, which means... more time to play XBOX!
No. Bad Julia.
For the life of me, I cannot remember what I was dreaming about last night - I had that thing where you wake up with the alarm, and it's as if your brain-toilet flushed and you can't think hard enough about where you just were 5 seconds ago. Perhaps I've indulged in my strange or wonderful dreams too many times - it seems like the only ones I can remember any more are scary or creepy ones which don't allow me to fall back asleep. Which reminds me, I had a really vivid dream about Locke from Lost a few weeks back.
NO, not a sexy dream. It was firmly in the creepy category, although it did provide insights into island mythology which are almost certainly not true, as they came from my brain and not the actual show.
Feh. I could write that show. But then it wouldn't be fun to watch anymore.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Apologies
Listening to: the fan in my room
The apologies are for not writing anything in a while. In my defense, I was in New York for the weekend (and a couple days). I had the distinct pleasure of returning to an apartment which smells suspiciously more like cat pee than when I left. I hate that. You never know where it's coming from.
Got back my manuscript (yaaaay! I passed!) with some nice comments. Both readers said that I write very clean and accurate/sharp stuff with clever observations, although one noted that it was "hardly ever extraordinary." I can deal with that. He said that some of my other work had strong social implications, as well as some very interesting surrealistic perspectives. The other, my adviser, told me that the only problem with my work was that the humor could have been more developed. At any rate, I'm glad they liked what I presented.
I really hope I can get into a pair of education classes this summer. Otherwise, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing - I don't have a job lined up. Crap.
The apologies are for not writing anything in a while. In my defense, I was in New York for the weekend (and a couple days). I had the distinct pleasure of returning to an apartment which smells suspiciously more like cat pee than when I left. I hate that. You never know where it's coming from.
Got back my manuscript (yaaaay! I passed!) with some nice comments. Both readers said that I write very clean and accurate/sharp stuff with clever observations, although one noted that it was "hardly ever extraordinary." I can deal with that. He said that some of my other work had strong social implications, as well as some very interesting surrealistic perspectives. The other, my adviser, told me that the only problem with my work was that the humor could have been more developed. At any rate, I'm glad they liked what I presented.
I really hope I can get into a pair of education classes this summer. Otherwise, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing - I don't have a job lined up. Crap.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Last day o' classes!
Listening to: Sophie Ellis Bextor - Murder on the Dance Floor
Yay! It's time for my last class of the semester - Community Literacy. It's been a really interesting class, getting me even further interested in teaching English, while at the same time, it has given me a better perspective on the work I was doing over at the learning center. I really, really love seeing people discover that they enjoy reading, or cracking the code that is English grammar, or writing something they're proud of. English as a subject always brought me joy when I was in school - it was definitely my favorite part of the day. I can only hope that I'm good enough to make my own students feel that way.
One of my classmates asked me yesterday why I wanted to teach, and I explained that English was what I loved, and I figured that staying in school would really benefit nobody but myself. She said that made sense. Then I mentioned that, ideally, I'd be teaching middle school. I got a number of weird looks.
Well, someone has to do it, right?
In the meantime, I need to hammer out a decent short story/creative piece as my final project for the Literacy class. I discussed prison tattooing as its own discourse, and the concepts of public and private discourse as they related to prison tattoos. I'm thinking I'm going to take the subject further, and assemble something of a creative "guide" on the subject, both in the messages the tattoos could theoretically send to members of four audiences (the anti-tattoo, the non-tattooed, the tattooed, and the prison-tattooed), and tips for language interpretation. I've become known in the CW department for really messing around with form, so this might be a time for me to really go crazy while trying to explain a concept that is pretty foreign to a lot of people; granted, it can only really be from my perspective, but I'm good at this ^__-
Yay! It's time for my last class of the semester - Community Literacy. It's been a really interesting class, getting me even further interested in teaching English, while at the same time, it has given me a better perspective on the work I was doing over at the learning center. I really, really love seeing people discover that they enjoy reading, or cracking the code that is English grammar, or writing something they're proud of. English as a subject always brought me joy when I was in school - it was definitely my favorite part of the day. I can only hope that I'm good enough to make my own students feel that way.
One of my classmates asked me yesterday why I wanted to teach, and I explained that English was what I loved, and I figured that staying in school would really benefit nobody but myself. She said that made sense. Then I mentioned that, ideally, I'd be teaching middle school. I got a number of weird looks.
Well, someone has to do it, right?
In the meantime, I need to hammer out a decent short story/creative piece as my final project for the Literacy class. I discussed prison tattooing as its own discourse, and the concepts of public and private discourse as they related to prison tattoos. I'm thinking I'm going to take the subject further, and assemble something of a creative "guide" on the subject, both in the messages the tattoos could theoretically send to members of four audiences (the anti-tattoo, the non-tattooed, the tattooed, and the prison-tattooed), and tips for language interpretation. I've become known in the CW department for really messing around with form, so this might be a time for me to really go crazy while trying to explain a concept that is pretty foreign to a lot of people; granted, it can only really be from my perspective, but I'm good at this ^__-
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