Uncle Jay and Debbie - A Depressing Nonfiction Love Story
Nov. 6th, 2008 | 05:15 pm
Writing my other post about my uncle and his wife made me want to write about their story, because it's really fucking sad.
My mother told it to me one night and I haven't forgotten it, because it just struck me as so tragic and strangely beautiful in that really depressing way.
So, my uncle and Debbie were really young when they got married. He had been in Vietnam for the last few years of the war (he had lied about his age to get in), and a lot of their friends and family thought he was only getting into it because he was so desperate to get some semblance of normalcy after the war that he just jumped right into marriage without thinking. But they loved each other. My mom said that they fought a lot, but they obviously loved each other. They were just two really passionate people and everyone thought that their relationship would implode within a few years.
And then one day Debbie left. She just left a note and said she wasn't coming back. They shared a duplex with her parents, who claimed that they didn't know anything. They still wanted to help my uncle out, because they cared about him and knew that he'd been through a lot, but he was convinced that they knew where she was, so, nearly 30, he moved back in with my grandparents (where he stayed until he died when he was barely 50). However, he still kept in contact with Debbie's parents. He was convinced that they knew something, and he figured that if she came back to town, being on their goodside was one way to get back into contact with her. He never stopped loving her even though she left him heartbroken.
Wow, I'm making this really dramatic, but honestly it kind of is.
Then, a few months after Debbie left, her mother called my uncle and told him that Debbie was dead.
It turned out that Debbie had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Knowing that my uncle was already messed up from Vietnam and believing that he couldn't handle watching her die like he watched so many of his friends die, she fled to California and didn't tell anyone about her condition. There, she tried to get help, but unfortunately she died soon after. She died long before my uncle heard about it. My mother still isn't sure if her parents knew anything, but my uncle Jay didn't speak to them ever again. He always figured that they had known all along and had agreed that he was too messed up to handle being with her when she died.
He never forgave himself, either, for making her think that he was too messed up to handle being there for her when she needed him most.
ISNT THAT FUCKING DEPRESSING!?
I was so sad to hear that after my uncle died, because I think I would have been more patient with him if I had known. I always just assumed he was a downer. He was constantly depressed and really didn't do anything except sit in his room in the basement and watch TV. I don't ever remember him going to work. And now I understand that basically he hated himself.
I don't know, I just feel really bad for him. And I wish I had been less of a brat when I was younger.
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The Turn of the Screw/the Innocents (not really, but inspired by, so it counts)
Nov. 6th, 2008 | 04:31 pm
Today I read the creepiest story I've ever read. The Turn of the Screw by Henry James. Getting past the massive block paragraphs and very little dialogue was tough for me, but once I actually got into the story, it freaked me the fuck out. The fact that it was written in like 1900 probably helped with the creepiness, but the ambiguity was what really did it for me. How you don't know if the ghosts are real or if it's all in the woman's head. Shit. Scary stuff. Anyway, so then in film we watched the movie based on the novella, which was renamed The Innocents. And let me just say that for a movie made in the 30s, it was pretty terrifying. Mostly just because of the creepy images of the ghosts, but still. It reminded me of Les Diaboliques, which is one of the greatest scary movies I've ever seen.
Anyway, that's not really the point.
The point was that I hate ghost stories usually. Not ghost fiction stories. I love those, they scare the shit out of me because ghosts scare me whether I'm willing to admit it or not. But I hate when people try to tell me ghost stories like they've actually experienced them. Because they always sound so fake and so stupid. I think it's because this one girl Danielle used to try to tell me a new ghost story every day, and they were always ridiculously stupid. The one I remember best had to do with two men in blue and black capes arguing in the attic of her friend's house. Yeah fucking right. She told stupid shit like that to me so often that I basically just stopped talking to her. And I stopped thinking of ghost stories as anything viable.
The thing is, I hate to admit it, but I do believe in ghosts. And watching that movie today really made me think of it.
I don't believe in God, I don't believe in aliens, but I believe in ghosts (though part of me does think that whole Roswell thing is fishy). I feel like that's kind of a ridiculous thing to believe in, but I have the evidence to back it up.
Yes, as loltastic as it is, I have my own ghost story. I used to not tell many people, but now I tell everyone. I'm not entirely sure what happened. I guess I just realized one day that more people believe in ghosts than I realized. I stopped being afraid of telling people what I know I saw.
At the risk of sounding like a crazy person, I kind of want to write it here. Mostly for myself, but also just because I like writing and right now I feel like writing about ghosts.
First off, I have to explain that I'm an imaginative person. I always have been. I see things that aren't there, I hear things that aren't there, and I think things that most people would be surprised at if they knew what I was thinking. I'm constantly thinking of things that aren't right in front of me. Daydreaming, I guess. Ever since I was a little kid I would do stuff like that and my parents just kind of took it for granted and didn't really listen to anything I was saying. But sometimes I was right about things that were really weird.
For example, sometimes I know the phone is about to ring before it does. Usually if it's an important call. A few times my dog and I have been hanging out on the couch and I'll think I heard something and we'll both sit straight up and look into the kitchen seconds before the phone rings. Sometimes I dream about things that come true, but usually not in an as direct way as they happen in the dream. And a few times I've guessed who's on the phone when there's no way in hell I could have predicted those particular people would be calling me. One of those people, I hadn't spoken to in over a year.
Just weird stuff like that. Not enough to be any real definitive proof that stuff like that can actually happen, but not infrequently enough to be considered a real coincidence. Not to me, anyway.
It all sounds kind of stupid written out like that, but whatever.
Anyway, so the ghost story. Weirdly enough, it happened when I was young. Like five years old, at the oldest.
OH, but first another story.
Not a ghost story, but still spooky as hell.
So I was like ten years old and my dad was away on a business trip as he often was when I was that young. The way my house was set up then was that there was a long hallway on our second floor. My sister and I shared a room at the end of it, and my parents' room was right across from ours. At the very end of the hallway was a closet that always frightened me a little because I could see it from my doorway and I always thought that something was going to pop out and get me.
Anyway, so on this particular night, the closet door was freaking me out, but I didn't want to close my bedroom door. There was a thunder storm going outside, so I figured I'd just crawl into bed with my mom. It was at least midnight and I figured she'd already be asleep so she wouldn't kick me out.
I snuck across the hall and got into bed with her and then I lay on my side facing the door. From that angle, I couldn't see the closet door, just a blank spot of white wall on the other side of the hall, but I was still watching to make sure that nothing came out.
Then, a flash of lightning lit up the hallway. The shadow of a man was cast on the blank spot of wall on the other side of the hall. Thinking it was my dad coming home early, I called out to him, but no one answered. When another flash of lightning came a few minutes later, the shadow was gone.
For some reason, that didn't bother me. I just figured it was nothing and I finally managed to fall asleep.
The next morning, I told my mother about it and she said that it was just my imagination. I was convinced otherwise, however, and went downstairs to check the locks on all the doors. And then I discovered that the front door was unlocked. No one had been in or out that early in the morning, so we had forgotten to lock it the night before. As we lived in a really safe area, it wasn't that big of a deal, but I've always been convinced that someone came into the house and only left when he realized that there was someone awake.
Because no one was hurt and nothing was stolen, I just locked the door and didn't say anything to my mother. I told her a few weeks ago about it and she's still convinced that it was just my imagination, though of course she doesn't even remember that night.
So, onto the ghost story. I was like five years old and I was staying at my grandmother's house. I'm not sure what had happened, because I only ever stayed there when there was a problem, but I'm sure it had something to do with my sister because she wasn't there with me. I was afraid, too, so I told my grandmother that I didn't want to sleep in my mom's old room upstairs, but I wanted to stay in her room.
Still, I was drifting in and out of sleep because I was afraid of the dark. My uncle who lived in the basement was out with his navy buddies and I was waiting for him to come home so I could go downstairs with him and watch some TV to help me fall asleep.
I woke up at one point because I heard someone slam the outer porch door. Thinking it was my uncle, I sat up and looked out the doorway. There was already someone standing there despite the fact that the porch door had closed bare seconds before. No one could have moved that impossibly fast.
It should have been dark, but I could see very well, and the woman who stood in the doorway was very clear to me. She had big, curly brown hair and was smiling at me. I was shy, so I didn't say anything. Finally, she said, "hey, sweetie. Is Jay here?"
Jay was my uncle, so I said, "No. He's with Roger."
The lady smiled again and said, "Roger? Okay, sweetie. Tell him I came back."
Then she turned and walked away.
I figured she was going to Roger's house to look for him, so I laid back down and finally fell asleep.
During breakfast that morning, I told my grandmother and uncle Jay what had happened. Uncle Jay said that he didn't know any ladies with curly brown hair, especially not one that would just walk into the house in the middle of the night. I figured that I had probably been dreaming, even though it was a really weird dream. I never fully forgot about it, though, because part of me was convinced that there had really been a lady there.
Anyway, my grandma died later that year, and my uncle died two years later when I was seven. My mom and I were in my uncle's room in the basement, cleaning out his closet. I dragged out this box that was way at the bottom and opened it, and inside were a bunch of pictures of the lady that I saw when I was at my grandmother's house. Some of them were framed, and some of them were just old polaroids of my uncle and the lady together. I grabbed the one on top, one of the lady in a wedding dress, and I ran over to my mom. I had told her about the lady, and she similarly told me that it was just a dream, so I was more than happy to prove to her that I wasn't dreaming.
So I showed her the picture and told her that it was the woman I had seen in the house that night. My mom smiled at me and said, "that's impossible. That's uncle Jay's wife Debbie. She died before you were born."
YEAH HOLY SHIT.
Talk about a frightening revelation.
The thing is, this was literally the first time I had ever heard about my uncle being married. He didn't talk about her and he kept all his pictures buried in the closet, so even if it WAS a dream, there was something unnatural about it.
My mom finally believes me about it, though, mostly because Debbie apparently called EVERYONE sweetie and that was all the proof my mom needed. sometimes I don't even believe it myself, because I honestly consider myself a skeptic, but I know what I saw and what happened, and I'm sticking to my story.
Anyway, that's not really the point.
The point was that I hate ghost stories usually. Not ghost fiction stories. I love those, they scare the shit out of me because ghosts scare me whether I'm willing to admit it or not. But I hate when people try to tell me ghost stories like they've actually experienced them. Because they always sound so fake and so stupid. I think it's because this one girl Danielle used to try to tell me a new ghost story every day, and they were always ridiculously stupid. The one I remember best had to do with two men in blue and black capes arguing in the attic of her friend's house. Yeah fucking right. She told stupid shit like that to me so often that I basically just stopped talking to her. And I stopped thinking of ghost stories as anything viable.
The thing is, I hate to admit it, but I do believe in ghosts. And watching that movie today really made me think of it.
I don't believe in God, I don't believe in aliens, but I believe in ghosts (though part of me does think that whole Roswell thing is fishy). I feel like that's kind of a ridiculous thing to believe in, but I have the evidence to back it up.
Yes, as loltastic as it is, I have my own ghost story. I used to not tell many people, but now I tell everyone. I'm not entirely sure what happened. I guess I just realized one day that more people believe in ghosts than I realized. I stopped being afraid of telling people what I know I saw.
At the risk of sounding like a crazy person, I kind of want to write it here. Mostly for myself, but also just because I like writing and right now I feel like writing about ghosts.
First off, I have to explain that I'm an imaginative person. I always have been. I see things that aren't there, I hear things that aren't there, and I think things that most people would be surprised at if they knew what I was thinking. I'm constantly thinking of things that aren't right in front of me. Daydreaming, I guess. Ever since I was a little kid I would do stuff like that and my parents just kind of took it for granted and didn't really listen to anything I was saying. But sometimes I was right about things that were really weird.
For example, sometimes I know the phone is about to ring before it does. Usually if it's an important call. A few times my dog and I have been hanging out on the couch and I'll think I heard something and we'll both sit straight up and look into the kitchen seconds before the phone rings. Sometimes I dream about things that come true, but usually not in an as direct way as they happen in the dream. And a few times I've guessed who's on the phone when there's no way in hell I could have predicted those particular people would be calling me. One of those people, I hadn't spoken to in over a year.
Just weird stuff like that. Not enough to be any real definitive proof that stuff like that can actually happen, but not infrequently enough to be considered a real coincidence. Not to me, anyway.
It all sounds kind of stupid written out like that, but whatever.
Anyway, so the ghost story. Weirdly enough, it happened when I was young. Like five years old, at the oldest.
OH, but first another story.
Not a ghost story, but still spooky as hell.
So I was like ten years old and my dad was away on a business trip as he often was when I was that young. The way my house was set up then was that there was a long hallway on our second floor. My sister and I shared a room at the end of it, and my parents' room was right across from ours. At the very end of the hallway was a closet that always frightened me a little because I could see it from my doorway and I always thought that something was going to pop out and get me.
Anyway, so on this particular night, the closet door was freaking me out, but I didn't want to close my bedroom door. There was a thunder storm going outside, so I figured I'd just crawl into bed with my mom. It was at least midnight and I figured she'd already be asleep so she wouldn't kick me out.
I snuck across the hall and got into bed with her and then I lay on my side facing the door. From that angle, I couldn't see the closet door, just a blank spot of white wall on the other side of the hall, but I was still watching to make sure that nothing came out.
Then, a flash of lightning lit up the hallway. The shadow of a man was cast on the blank spot of wall on the other side of the hall. Thinking it was my dad coming home early, I called out to him, but no one answered. When another flash of lightning came a few minutes later, the shadow was gone.
For some reason, that didn't bother me. I just figured it was nothing and I finally managed to fall asleep.
The next morning, I told my mother about it and she said that it was just my imagination. I was convinced otherwise, however, and went downstairs to check the locks on all the doors. And then I discovered that the front door was unlocked. No one had been in or out that early in the morning, so we had forgotten to lock it the night before. As we lived in a really safe area, it wasn't that big of a deal, but I've always been convinced that someone came into the house and only left when he realized that there was someone awake.
Because no one was hurt and nothing was stolen, I just locked the door and didn't say anything to my mother. I told her a few weeks ago about it and she's still convinced that it was just my imagination, though of course she doesn't even remember that night.
So, onto the ghost story. I was like five years old and I was staying at my grandmother's house. I'm not sure what had happened, because I only ever stayed there when there was a problem, but I'm sure it had something to do with my sister because she wasn't there with me. I was afraid, too, so I told my grandmother that I didn't want to sleep in my mom's old room upstairs, but I wanted to stay in her room.
Still, I was drifting in and out of sleep because I was afraid of the dark. My uncle who lived in the basement was out with his navy buddies and I was waiting for him to come home so I could go downstairs with him and watch some TV to help me fall asleep.
I woke up at one point because I heard someone slam the outer porch door. Thinking it was my uncle, I sat up and looked out the doorway. There was already someone standing there despite the fact that the porch door had closed bare seconds before. No one could have moved that impossibly fast.
It should have been dark, but I could see very well, and the woman who stood in the doorway was very clear to me. She had big, curly brown hair and was smiling at me. I was shy, so I didn't say anything. Finally, she said, "hey, sweetie. Is Jay here?"
Jay was my uncle, so I said, "No. He's with Roger."
The lady smiled again and said, "Roger? Okay, sweetie. Tell him I came back."
Then she turned and walked away.
I figured she was going to Roger's house to look for him, so I laid back down and finally fell asleep.
During breakfast that morning, I told my grandmother and uncle Jay what had happened. Uncle Jay said that he didn't know any ladies with curly brown hair, especially not one that would just walk into the house in the middle of the night. I figured that I had probably been dreaming, even though it was a really weird dream. I never fully forgot about it, though, because part of me was convinced that there had really been a lady there.
Anyway, my grandma died later that year, and my uncle died two years later when I was seven. My mom and I were in my uncle's room in the basement, cleaning out his closet. I dragged out this box that was way at the bottom and opened it, and inside were a bunch of pictures of the lady that I saw when I was at my grandmother's house. Some of them were framed, and some of them were just old polaroids of my uncle and the lady together. I grabbed the one on top, one of the lady in a wedding dress, and I ran over to my mom. I had told her about the lady, and she similarly told me that it was just a dream, so I was more than happy to prove to her that I wasn't dreaming.
So I showed her the picture and told her that it was the woman I had seen in the house that night. My mom smiled at me and said, "that's impossible. That's uncle Jay's wife Debbie. She died before you were born."
YEAH HOLY SHIT.
Talk about a frightening revelation.
The thing is, this was literally the first time I had ever heard about my uncle being married. He didn't talk about her and he kept all his pictures buried in the closet, so even if it WAS a dream, there was something unnatural about it.
My mom finally believes me about it, though, mostly because Debbie apparently called EVERYONE sweetie and that was all the proof my mom needed. sometimes I don't even believe it myself, because I honestly consider myself a skeptic, but I know what I saw and what happened, and I'm sticking to my story.
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Liberal California?
Nov. 5th, 2008 | 12:38 am
music: Hannah: Robert Downey Jr.
I consider myself a moderate. I pride myself on being able to look at both sides of the situation and being able to justify them and see where the opposing side is coming from.
In most cases.
Today, I was pretty content. I told myself that if McCain won, I would be happy. If Obama won, I would be off the walls with joy. Neither spelled a death sentence for me or for this country, in my opinion, and I was just happy to cast my vote for Obama in what was my first voting experience ever.
I'm not normally a patriotic person, but filling out that absentee ballot and sliding it into the mail box made me feel pretty fucking awesome about myself and about my country.
My only real concern was Proposition 8. I may live in Massachusetts and I may be a girl with a thing for dudes (although I'm open to the possibility of finding love in my own gender, but that's another story), but gay marriage is a big fucking deal for me. I've never believed in something so strongly as I believe in equal rights for every living human being. And that includes the kind that some of these bigoted assholes believe to be 'abominations.'
In the spirit of the election, it's interesting to note the similarities between the struggles of black Americans and the struggles faced by the homosexual community. At least in the sense that it's a clear-cut case of BIGOTRY.
I don't care WHAT someone has to say to justify it. It will not make a difference to me.
Marriage is a religious institution? Yeah? Well then, kind fuckhead, please explain to me why I can be legally MARRIED to a man if we are both atheists? I believe in no God, yet no one will challenge my claim to a lawful marriage just because I have a vag and the guy has a penis. Marriage is NOT a religious institution. Try again.
The bible says it's wrong? Well then, it looks like you can't do it. Because the bible is the representation of YOUR beliefs. Mine is my DVD copy of Brokeback Mountain. Deal with it. There's something called a separation of church and state. I thought we covered this, you know, a while back. Just because YOUR religion says it's bad, it doesn't mean that mine does. My religion, in fact, says that it's fucking rad. So I don't understand why a bunch of people with a religious belief should be able to determine the fate of an entirely separate group of people. Why should it be their say? It doesn't make any sense. So, again, try again.
It's Unnatural? There's a hole on your ass. A dick can fit into that hole. That seems perfectly natural to me. And if this is the argument where you try to tell me that gay sex is unnatural because it doesn't produce offspring, then I'll just bring up the fact that masturbation doesn't create babies either, but it's a form of sexual pleasure that many men and women take part in. So I guess we shouldn't allow for masturbation, then? Should that be on the ballot next?
Anyway, it's getting late so I'll stop that foolishness.
My point here was that I thought for sure that liberal old Cali with her gays and her movie stars and her Ellen and Portia wouldn't let me or the entire country down. I figured, well shit, why would gay marriage be banned in California, of all places. It didn't make any sense.
And now I'm looking at the polls, and the fuckheads who voted yes are winning.
Really? REALLY? REALLY?
The part of this that is really so fucking hysterical is that Obama is winning the state.
So let me get this straight.
You voted for the first black president of the United States. You willingly cast your vote for a minority figure in order to become a part of one of the most gloriously proactive moments in the history of the country. You sat on your bed or your couch or in your armchair with your family or alone and you watched his speech and you clapped and cheered or maybe just smiled. You thought, hell yes, our country is going to change. And you thought, wow, I'm glad I voted for this guy.
Now, I realize that Obama doesn't publicly support gay marriage. I think that saying you're for gay marriage isn't exactly kosher yet on the campaign trail, so I understand. But still, deep down I hope he really does support my friends the gays and I hope he realizes that equal rights for everyone is the next step along the road of life for America.
And you people who voted for him and for Prop 8 are the biggest fucking hypocrites of them all. At least the ones who voted for McCain, I can understand. Based on their republican vote and the fact that they don't want gay marriage to be allowed, it seems pretty clear that a good amount of them are delusional enough to think that all the problems can be solved by holding onto the past and by asserting WHITE POWER over minorities. So white, man, power. Maybe women too, but fuck it if they're not hypocritical, too.
Okay, so I'm pissed and not making any sense.
But basically, to anyone who voted on Prop 8 and decided that the best move for the state was to repress the rights of its citizens, FUCK YOU. It does not make you a pure person. It does not ensure the continued safety of your state. It does not mean you are doing God's work. It means you are selfish. It means you are oblivious to the changes occurring everywhere. It means you are a fucking douchebag, and it means I hate you.
So that's basically it I guess.
In most cases.
Today, I was pretty content. I told myself that if McCain won, I would be happy. If Obama won, I would be off the walls with joy. Neither spelled a death sentence for me or for this country, in my opinion, and I was just happy to cast my vote for Obama in what was my first voting experience ever.
I'm not normally a patriotic person, but filling out that absentee ballot and sliding it into the mail box made me feel pretty fucking awesome about myself and about my country.
My only real concern was Proposition 8. I may live in Massachusetts and I may be a girl with a thing for dudes (although I'm open to the possibility of finding love in my own gender, but that's another story), but gay marriage is a big fucking deal for me. I've never believed in something so strongly as I believe in equal rights for every living human being. And that includes the kind that some of these bigoted assholes believe to be 'abominations.'
In the spirit of the election, it's interesting to note the similarities between the struggles of black Americans and the struggles faced by the homosexual community. At least in the sense that it's a clear-cut case of BIGOTRY.
I don't care WHAT someone has to say to justify it. It will not make a difference to me.
Marriage is a religious institution? Yeah? Well then, kind fuckhead, please explain to me why I can be legally MARRIED to a man if we are both atheists? I believe in no God, yet no one will challenge my claim to a lawful marriage just because I have a vag and the guy has a penis. Marriage is NOT a religious institution. Try again.
The bible says it's wrong? Well then, it looks like you can't do it. Because the bible is the representation of YOUR beliefs. Mine is my DVD copy of Brokeback Mountain. Deal with it. There's something called a separation of church and state. I thought we covered this, you know, a while back. Just because YOUR religion says it's bad, it doesn't mean that mine does. My religion, in fact, says that it's fucking rad. So I don't understand why a bunch of people with a religious belief should be able to determine the fate of an entirely separate group of people. Why should it be their say? It doesn't make any sense. So, again, try again.
It's Unnatural? There's a hole on your ass. A dick can fit into that hole. That seems perfectly natural to me. And if this is the argument where you try to tell me that gay sex is unnatural because it doesn't produce offspring, then I'll just bring up the fact that masturbation doesn't create babies either, but it's a form of sexual pleasure that many men and women take part in. So I guess we shouldn't allow for masturbation, then? Should that be on the ballot next?
Anyway, it's getting late so I'll stop that foolishness.
My point here was that I thought for sure that liberal old Cali with her gays and her movie stars and her Ellen and Portia wouldn't let me or the entire country down. I figured, well shit, why would gay marriage be banned in California, of all places. It didn't make any sense.
And now I'm looking at the polls, and the fuckheads who voted yes are winning.
Really? REALLY? REALLY?
The part of this that is really so fucking hysterical is that Obama is winning the state.
So let me get this straight.
You voted for the first black president of the United States. You willingly cast your vote for a minority figure in order to become a part of one of the most gloriously proactive moments in the history of the country. You sat on your bed or your couch or in your armchair with your family or alone and you watched his speech and you clapped and cheered or maybe just smiled. You thought, hell yes, our country is going to change. And you thought, wow, I'm glad I voted for this guy.
Now, I realize that Obama doesn't publicly support gay marriage. I think that saying you're for gay marriage isn't exactly kosher yet on the campaign trail, so I understand. But still, deep down I hope he really does support my friends the gays and I hope he realizes that equal rights for everyone is the next step along the road of life for America.
And you people who voted for him and for Prop 8 are the biggest fucking hypocrites of them all. At least the ones who voted for McCain, I can understand. Based on their republican vote and the fact that they don't want gay marriage to be allowed, it seems pretty clear that a good amount of them are delusional enough to think that all the problems can be solved by holding onto the past and by asserting WHITE POWER over minorities. So white, man, power. Maybe women too, but fuck it if they're not hypocritical, too.
Okay, so I'm pissed and not making any sense.
But basically, to anyone who voted on Prop 8 and decided that the best move for the state was to repress the rights of its citizens, FUCK YOU. It does not make you a pure person. It does not ensure the continued safety of your state. It does not mean you are doing God's work. It means you are selfish. It means you are oblivious to the changes occurring everywhere. It means you are a fucking douchebag, and it means I hate you.
So that's basically it I guess.
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John Mayer, The Dark Knight, and I Really Need To Get A Life
Jul. 12th, 2008 | 12:53 am
So tomorrow is the John Mayer concert. I'm working at 5 which isn't bad at all and hopefully it's not sold out so maybe I'll get home before 1 or maybe just a little after this time. I'm working with my ex-bestie, though, which is going to be ~hideously~ awkward because we haven't spoken for a while and the wounds are still fresh (as proven by the fact that 90 percent of my entries are she-related).
Plus, there's no one else in my crew that I can really talk to (well besides this one kid who looks + walks like Jason Bateman, but he's the crew chief so I can't really spend a whole lot of time talking to him because he actually has to do work) and she has someone who she's kind of friends with.
It's like that episode of HIMYM when Robin wants to ~win~ the breakup when meeting up with her ex by being better at life in general than he is. I want her to see that I have a ton of work friends. which I do. Just not on this particular day which sucks so much ass.
Yesterday I got advance screening tickets to The Dark Knight, so I'm pretty stoked about that. Though I hate, hate, hate route 9 with all my life. I go to Framingham State and my window last year faced right out onto Route 9 and it scares the hell out of me tbh. Driving there is going to be a chore but hopefully it'll be worth it.
Oh, and this addiction to Arrested Development really needs to go. I'm rewatching all my DVDs for the second time this month with a friend who hasn't seen them yet. A few weeks ago I rewatched them with my sister who had never seen it. And a few months before that I watched it for the first time. Epic.
there's this type racer game which I am completely in love with but unfortunately it's sucking the hours out of the day.
I woke up at 8 am today but I'm not tired for some reason and its 1 am.
I would like to go to bed before 3 but it's doubtful.
Plus, there's no one else in my crew that I can really talk to (well besides this one kid who looks + walks like Jason Bateman, but he's the crew chief so I can't really spend a whole lot of time talking to him because he actually has to do work) and she has someone who she's kind of friends with.
It's like that episode of HIMYM when Robin wants to ~win~ the breakup when meeting up with her ex by being better at life in general than he is. I want her to see that I have a ton of work friends. which I do. Just not on this particular day which sucks so much ass.
Yesterday I got advance screening tickets to The Dark Knight, so I'm pretty stoked about that. Though I hate, hate, hate route 9 with all my life. I go to Framingham State and my window last year faced right out onto Route 9 and it scares the hell out of me tbh. Driving there is going to be a chore but hopefully it'll be worth it.
Oh, and this addiction to Arrested Development really needs to go. I'm rewatching all my DVDs for the second time this month with a friend who hasn't seen them yet. A few weeks ago I rewatched them with my sister who had never seen it. And a few months before that I watched it for the first time. Epic.
there's this type racer game which I am completely in love with but unfortunately it's sucking the hours out of the day.
I woke up at 8 am today but I'm not tired for some reason and its 1 am.
I would like to go to bed before 3 but it's doubtful.
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(no subject)
Jul. 7th, 2008 | 01:53 am
I thought I spent too much time on the internet.
But then I discovered Ljflamecup today.
And I realized that I don't.
It made me feel pretty good.
But then I discovered Ljflamecup today.
And I realized that I don't.
It made me feel pretty good.
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My Name Is Cassidy!
Jul. 2nd, 2008 | 03:41 am
mood: 
calm
music: Existentialism On Prom Night, Straylight Run
I'm having a love affair with 'I Kissed A Girl' right now. I don't care how lame and unoriginal that is atm, since it seems like everyone and their mother is ~in love~ with that song. Trust me, they might love the song, but the song loves me back.
I actually didn't really realize how great the song was until I was at work and this intense party bus drove by with it playing and I realized it was pretty catchy and I should download it.
So I did.
Other than that, I also really love Look At You by Screaming Trees. It was in that really hot love scene between Sam and WerewolfGirl/Madison in that one episode of Supernatural. It's such a pretty song.
Also, my love for Veronica Mars is resurfacing and I'm kind of obsessed with making a video of it using Requiem For A Tower, otherwise known as the badass version of Lux Aeterna.
And I kind of really want to end it with Beav and his famous - to me, anyway - pre-suicide line.
Though tbh I still refuse to acknowledge the fact that he's dead.
I actually didn't really realize how great the song was until I was at work and this intense party bus drove by with it playing and I realized it was pretty catchy and I should download it.
So I did.
Other than that, I also really love Look At You by Screaming Trees. It was in that really hot love scene between Sam and WerewolfGirl/Madison in that one episode of Supernatural. It's such a pretty song.
Also, my love for Veronica Mars is resurfacing and I'm kind of obsessed with making a video of it using Requiem For A Tower, otherwise known as the badass version of Lux Aeterna.
And I kind of really want to end it with Beav and his famous - to me, anyway - pre-suicide line.
Though tbh I still refuse to acknowledge the fact that he's dead.
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WTF George Carlin. Who said you were allowed to die?
Jun. 23rd, 2008 | 02:23 am
mood: 
sad
Note to everyone I like (personal friends or unattainable celebrities alike).
You need to stop dying.
Immediately.
Thanks for your time,![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
bates_is_sex
You need to stop dying.
Immediately.
Thanks for your time,
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I don't know if this is funny or not.
Jun. 17th, 2008 | 11:18 pm
mood: 
aggravated
music: Sam Sparro, Black and Gold
I really, really wish that you knew my livejournal name, because I would love for you to read this. I would absolutely LOVE it. But, unlike you, I'm not an attention whore and I don't post a link to my private journal on facebook because I don't want my real life friends reading this. Except you. But you're not a friend, not anymore.
Which is the sad part. To say that we used to be 'close' would be kind of a disservice to our friendship. We were sisters, the three of us, and even though only two of us were biologically related, you were every bit a part of our family as the other three kids. But you ruined it; you threw it away for a closet case who thinks she's passing as hetero despite the fact that everyone knew she had a girlfriend and was fucking around behind her back. So you got in line and I guess you fucked around behind her back, too, though I don't know because we never got that far. I started watching the L Word and you ditched me and left me with an addiction to a lesbian soap and a lot of bad, bad memories. Good ones, too, but it's easier to think about the bad ones because then you're more of a bitch and less of a pathetic newbie to girl world who I sometimes feel a little bad for.
I don't know, I guess sometimes I don't hate you, but right now is SO not one of those times. Reading your livejournal brought back all the animosity i was trying to fight off.
Karma, you say. You think that that's what 'this' is. I don't know what 'this' stands for, but I'm pretty sure that your precious 'girlfriend' (still closeted, still fucking around, isn't even PRETENDING to care a fuck's worth about what you do so I don't know why you're even trying you pathetic asshole) isn't as exclusive as you thought she was. (Oh and a little birdie, or maybe a big birdie, you would know who if you could read this, told me that your cunt of a girl replied "she wishes" when someone asked if you two were dating).
Yeah, yeah, this whole rant isn't very cohesive, but i don't care.
The whole thing that got this rant started was the "I tried so hard to make up for it" line.
Tried so hard to make up for it?
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?
You lied to us, ditched us, treated us like the fucking idiot you eventually became (and hell, if that isn't Karma then i don't know what is), and the only time you ever said a fucking WORD about it was when i called you out on it. And, God, did that feel good. It did. It really did. I know that I was supposed to feel bad the second i hung up the phone and I was supposed to call you back and apologize, but fuck that. No. It felt fucking FANTASTIC to not be walked all over.
Remember that guy? Oh, what was his name? Who remembers. He just stole three years of my teenaged life and is the reason I'm such a fucking bitch to anyone with a penis now (especially cute kid from work. I feel so bad, but I'd feel worse if I thought he gave a shit).
Anyway, this guy. Right. Remember him, you stuck up bitch? Remember how you spent hours, no, DAYS, telling me that I was too good for that shit and that I should get over him (like it was that easy), and i just laughed and i said 'oh, man, just wait. Just wait until you feel something like this. It won't be so black and white, so easy". I'm sure that was close to exact.
And guess what? You did find out. But instead of moving on or getting over it, you ditched us, and you ditched all our friends, and you acted like you were too fucking great for any of us.
And then you have the gall to tell everyone that we're not friends anymore because we didn't like the fact that you're gay? Honey, I knew you were gay long before you told me. And i thought it was great. But what I didn't like was that you felt the need to base your entire personality off being gay. You decided that you needed to change everything about you. And a lot of people tell me, they wonder, maybe you were hiding your real personality all along. But I knew you better than that. More than ten years of friendship in a nineteen year old life and I think I knew you pretty goddamn well. But I was eighteen then, so even better.
You hurt me more than he did. Even with his 'abusive father' and his 'suicide attempts' and his 'electroshock therapy' (it's embarrassing to admit that I believed that even anonymously). I mean, I had just gone through that and gotten over it and I was starting to trust people again and then you go and turn it all around.
Well, fuck you. Fuck you and your self-righteous bullshit and your claims that you're happy with who you're becoming. I hope you wake up one day and realize that you're a fucking miserable cunt. And I know that resorting to 'curse words' supposedly takes away the edge of the insult, but I don't fucking care because I'm so mad right now I could rip your fucking head off and I probably wouldn't feel guilty.
but the worst part is that I still miss you.
Which is the sad part. To say that we used to be 'close' would be kind of a disservice to our friendship. We were sisters, the three of us, and even though only two of us were biologically related, you were every bit a part of our family as the other three kids. But you ruined it; you threw it away for a closet case who thinks she's passing as hetero despite the fact that everyone knew she had a girlfriend and was fucking around behind her back. So you got in line and I guess you fucked around behind her back, too, though I don't know because we never got that far. I started watching the L Word and you ditched me and left me with an addiction to a lesbian soap and a lot of bad, bad memories. Good ones, too, but it's easier to think about the bad ones because then you're more of a bitch and less of a pathetic newbie to girl world who I sometimes feel a little bad for.
I don't know, I guess sometimes I don't hate you, but right now is SO not one of those times. Reading your livejournal brought back all the animosity i was trying to fight off.
Karma, you say. You think that that's what 'this' is. I don't know what 'this' stands for, but I'm pretty sure that your precious 'girlfriend' (still closeted, still fucking around, isn't even PRETENDING to care a fuck's worth about what you do so I don't know why you're even trying you pathetic asshole) isn't as exclusive as you thought she was. (Oh and a little birdie, or maybe a big birdie, you would know who if you could read this, told me that your cunt of a girl replied "she wishes" when someone asked if you two were dating).
Yeah, yeah, this whole rant isn't very cohesive, but i don't care.
The whole thing that got this rant started was the "I tried so hard to make up for it" line.
Tried so hard to make up for it?
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?
You lied to us, ditched us, treated us like the fucking idiot you eventually became (and hell, if that isn't Karma then i don't know what is), and the only time you ever said a fucking WORD about it was when i called you out on it. And, God, did that feel good. It did. It really did. I know that I was supposed to feel bad the second i hung up the phone and I was supposed to call you back and apologize, but fuck that. No. It felt fucking FANTASTIC to not be walked all over.
Remember that guy? Oh, what was his name? Who remembers. He just stole three years of my teenaged life and is the reason I'm such a fucking bitch to anyone with a penis now (especially cute kid from work. I feel so bad, but I'd feel worse if I thought he gave a shit).
Anyway, this guy. Right. Remember him, you stuck up bitch? Remember how you spent hours, no, DAYS, telling me that I was too good for that shit and that I should get over him (like it was that easy), and i just laughed and i said 'oh, man, just wait. Just wait until you feel something like this. It won't be so black and white, so easy". I'm sure that was close to exact.
And guess what? You did find out. But instead of moving on or getting over it, you ditched us, and you ditched all our friends, and you acted like you were too fucking great for any of us.
And then you have the gall to tell everyone that we're not friends anymore because we didn't like the fact that you're gay? Honey, I knew you were gay long before you told me. And i thought it was great. But what I didn't like was that you felt the need to base your entire personality off being gay. You decided that you needed to change everything about you. And a lot of people tell me, they wonder, maybe you were hiding your real personality all along. But I knew you better than that. More than ten years of friendship in a nineteen year old life and I think I knew you pretty goddamn well. But I was eighteen then, so even better.
You hurt me more than he did. Even with his 'abusive father' and his 'suicide attempts' and his 'electroshock therapy' (it's embarrassing to admit that I believed that even anonymously). I mean, I had just gone through that and gotten over it and I was starting to trust people again and then you go and turn it all around.
Well, fuck you. Fuck you and your self-righteous bullshit and your claims that you're happy with who you're becoming. I hope you wake up one day and realize that you're a fucking miserable cunt. And I know that resorting to 'curse words' supposedly takes away the edge of the insult, but I don't fucking care because I'm so mad right now I could rip your fucking head off and I probably wouldn't feel guilty.
but the worst part is that I still miss you.
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DVD time!
Jun. 12th, 2008 | 12:20 pm
I bought all three seasons of Arrested development on DVD yesterday. I'm so excited. I don't know when they're getting here, but when they do I fully intend to watch them all in a row again, just because.
I think I might buy season 1 of Ugly Betty today too, because my 40% off DVD boxset coupon from Borders is too tempting to NOT use.
And plus, I need a little cheering up before the weekend of hell.
I think I might buy season 1 of Ugly Betty today too, because my 40% off DVD boxset coupon from Borders is too tempting to NOT use.
And plus, I need a little cheering up before the weekend of hell.
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Girls Aloud/work/the badassness of Ian Somerhalder
Jun. 8th, 2008 | 02:10 pm
music: The Soho Dolls, Stripper
Oh No They Didn't has really gotten me into Girls Aloud. I downloaded all the available songs to my Ruckus player and at work yesterday The Sound Of The Underground was basically on repeat in my head.
Which was good because work yesterday was the worst it's ever been.
First of all, I was in the Split, which sucks, because the Split is where everything happens, and my crew chief was the one person who I don't really care for. Which blew, because with a good crew chief the split can actually be an okay place to work because it's not like a regular lot where you just wave your hand repeatedly and watch a line of cars go by.
Well, that's probably being optimistic. I'd probably still hate it. I hate the fact that there's so much to do and there are so many opportunities to mess up. If you send a car to the wrong place once, it's like the end of the world (maybe just with this crew chief. Idk).
Plus, it was more than 90 degrees yesterday (but it felt like 98 according to the weather channel website which my sister checked during her break). And I was standing in the sun all day (okay, so I sniped a shady spot, but that only lasted about an hour before the shadow moved around the tree and i was stuck completely in the sun). my face is pretty badly burnt (but not nearly as bad as the back of my sister's legs; which is why I wore pants other than my crippling self-esteem about my legs), and my neck stings like hell because for some reason no matter how much sunscreen I rub on me, I never manage to stay uncrisped.
Anyway, so that sucked. And then, to make matters worse, my crew chief scheduled everyone on second break for some reason except for ME. Now, granted, a lot of people didn't show up to work yesterday (smart move, guys), so we were pretty understaffed, but he still should have made sure that there were some people in my crew that were on first break. But, he didn't. So when i got back from first break, the only two people running the split (which, mind you, has 10 people scheduled for it every day), were myself and this other kid from my grade who I never used to like but who's gotten a lot nicer since graduation (which everyone said would happen but i never believed them until now).
the lights went out, too, which made it a little scary for a while. It was so dark. the only thing you could see was our pretty glowy flashlights.
Anyway, when they FINALLY came back (after the outflow had started to get pretty heavy thus forcing us to do a ridiculous amount of work), my crew chief came over and basically told me to do three jobs, plus the only other person on my side of the split was a new kid who had never worked the split before, so I was in charge, essentially, of that whole half since if my crew chief ever tried to tell me anything, I basically wouldn't be able to hear him.
So I had to block the cars coming from lot 6 and the ones coming up the road from VIP and Limo lot. Which sucked because the second I moved out of the way of one lot to block the other, the ones from that lot would go. And there were times that I had to stop both lanes so New Kid could let his lines go.
Basically, it sucked. Though it was funny to hear the 'witty' insults that people hurled at me when they thought they were going to be leaving only to find two seconds later that I wasn't the source of their misery at all and that the traffic was backed up all down the main road and they had to wait an awkward ten minutes directly in front of me while I looked at them smugly.
One lady actually yelled that I sucked at my job, and then was stopped like three feet away and I said, "yeah, sorry about that. that's probably my fault too and not the fault of the 20,000 other people trying to leave at the same time."
Of course, she didn't say anything.
I think i actually want someone to say something, just because it's never happened before.
Like last year, this one girl walked in the middle of the traffic like a fucking idiot with her friends, and just when the traffic was starting to move, too. and when the car had to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting her, she got all pissy and yelled "oh my god, I'm walking here, don't hit me."
So, it being 11 at night with a good two hours left of standing on my already-throbbing feet/knees, naturally I replied, "Well, jeez, maybe if you didn't walk in the traffic like I asked you not to, you could avoid that."
So she turned around and gave me this look like I had just threatened death or something and she said "EXCUSE ME?"
Thrilled, I did my best "bitch, my man ain't your baby's daddy' look (ah, Jay and Silent Bob, how i love you), and said, "You heard me."
And she scampered away :[
Disappointing.
That's the closest I've ever gotten to a real fight at work, except that insane one at the 311 concert which ended up on Youtube, but I wasn't involved in that one. I was just in the general vicinity (standing up on my car to watch while everyone else tried to break it up. fuck that. I'm not suicidal, and entertainment like that is included in my meager pay).
Speaking of fights and general badassery, I really want to see that movie The Tournament with Ian Somerhalder. It/he looks so badass. I can't handle it. Especially since he's normally this cute but clueless little puppy dog type. Badass is exactly the career move he needs to make.
I don't know, maybe i need to find a new TV show to watch.
I'm working three days in a row next week, including TWO in the split.
Maybe I should fuck up on purpose so they'll stop sticking me there, because as flattering as it is that they consider me good enough to be at the split on a near-constant basis, I'd really rather suck at my job.
Which was good because work yesterday was the worst it's ever been.
First of all, I was in the Split, which sucks, because the Split is where everything happens, and my crew chief was the one person who I don't really care for. Which blew, because with a good crew chief the split can actually be an okay place to work because it's not like a regular lot where you just wave your hand repeatedly and watch a line of cars go by.
Well, that's probably being optimistic. I'd probably still hate it. I hate the fact that there's so much to do and there are so many opportunities to mess up. If you send a car to the wrong place once, it's like the end of the world (maybe just with this crew chief. Idk).
Plus, it was more than 90 degrees yesterday (but it felt like 98 according to the weather channel website which my sister checked during her break). And I was standing in the sun all day (okay, so I sniped a shady spot, but that only lasted about an hour before the shadow moved around the tree and i was stuck completely in the sun). my face is pretty badly burnt (but not nearly as bad as the back of my sister's legs; which is why I wore pants other than my crippling self-esteem about my legs), and my neck stings like hell because for some reason no matter how much sunscreen I rub on me, I never manage to stay uncrisped.
Anyway, so that sucked. And then, to make matters worse, my crew chief scheduled everyone on second break for some reason except for ME. Now, granted, a lot of people didn't show up to work yesterday (smart move, guys), so we were pretty understaffed, but he still should have made sure that there were some people in my crew that were on first break. But, he didn't. So when i got back from first break, the only two people running the split (which, mind you, has 10 people scheduled for it every day), were myself and this other kid from my grade who I never used to like but who's gotten a lot nicer since graduation (which everyone said would happen but i never believed them until now).
the lights went out, too, which made it a little scary for a while. It was so dark. the only thing you could see was our pretty glowy flashlights.
Anyway, when they FINALLY came back (after the outflow had started to get pretty heavy thus forcing us to do a ridiculous amount of work), my crew chief came over and basically told me to do three jobs, plus the only other person on my side of the split was a new kid who had never worked the split before, so I was in charge, essentially, of that whole half since if my crew chief ever tried to tell me anything, I basically wouldn't be able to hear him.
So I had to block the cars coming from lot 6 and the ones coming up the road from VIP and Limo lot. Which sucked because the second I moved out of the way of one lot to block the other, the ones from that lot would go. And there were times that I had to stop both lanes so New Kid could let his lines go.
Basically, it sucked. Though it was funny to hear the 'witty' insults that people hurled at me when they thought they were going to be leaving only to find two seconds later that I wasn't the source of their misery at all and that the traffic was backed up all down the main road and they had to wait an awkward ten minutes directly in front of me while I looked at them smugly.
One lady actually yelled that I sucked at my job, and then was stopped like three feet away and I said, "yeah, sorry about that. that's probably my fault too and not the fault of the 20,000 other people trying to leave at the same time."
Of course, she didn't say anything.
I think i actually want someone to say something, just because it's never happened before.
Like last year, this one girl walked in the middle of the traffic like a fucking idiot with her friends, and just when the traffic was starting to move, too. and when the car had to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting her, she got all pissy and yelled "oh my god, I'm walking here, don't hit me."
So, it being 11 at night with a good two hours left of standing on my already-throbbing feet/knees, naturally I replied, "Well, jeez, maybe if you didn't walk in the traffic like I asked you not to, you could avoid that."
So she turned around and gave me this look like I had just threatened death or something and she said "EXCUSE ME?"
Thrilled, I did my best "bitch, my man ain't your baby's daddy' look (ah, Jay and Silent Bob, how i love you), and said, "You heard me."
And she scampered away :[
Disappointing.
That's the closest I've ever gotten to a real fight at work, except that insane one at the 311 concert which ended up on Youtube, but I wasn't involved in that one. I was just in the general vicinity (standing up on my car to watch while everyone else tried to break it up. fuck that. I'm not suicidal, and entertainment like that is included in my meager pay).
Speaking of fights and general badassery, I really want to see that movie The Tournament with Ian Somerhalder. It/he looks so badass. I can't handle it. Especially since he's normally this cute but clueless little puppy dog type. Badass is exactly the career move he needs to make.
I don't know, maybe i need to find a new TV show to watch.
I'm working three days in a row next week, including TWO in the split.
Maybe I should fuck up on purpose so they'll stop sticking me there, because as flattering as it is that they consider me good enough to be at the split on a near-constant basis, I'd really rather suck at my job.
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Ugly Betty
Jun. 3rd, 2008 | 07:02 pm
The most recent show I watched was Ugly Betty. Love. It.
It's so fun and light, but at the same time there are some seriously serious moments.
I admit, I cried when I found out that Santos was really dead. He was starting to redeem himself.
I really hope that eventually, they explore the Daniel/Betty relationship to its full potentials. I've read about what happens in the original and though I don't think it would occur exactly like that (I don't think the writers could ever justify Daniel trying to make Betty fall in love with him), I really hope they get together eventually.
But it would have to be Daniel who felt it first. Otherwise it would be too typical.
For now, though, my choice is Gio.
Partially because he was in Planet Terror
But partially because he really is kind of amazing.
It's so fun and light, but at the same time there are some seriously serious moments.
I admit, I cried when I found out that Santos was really dead. He was starting to redeem himself.
I really hope that eventually, they explore the Daniel/Betty relationship to its full potentials. I've read about what happens in the original and though I don't think it would occur exactly like that (I don't think the writers could ever justify Daniel trying to make Betty fall in love with him), I really hope they get together eventually.
But it would have to be Daniel who felt it first. Otherwise it would be too typical.
For now, though, my choice is Gio.
Partially because he was in Planet Terror
But partially because he really is kind of amazing.
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TV
May. 29th, 2008 | 07:56 pm
Can it technically be described as "too much tv" if I don't think it's too much?
Not that it matters because I'm completely going to continue to watch as much TV as I damn well please.
I do love movies, but TV is just so much better. There's only so much attachment you can gain to the characters in an hour and a half - three hours. Now 22 hours - or more, depending on how many seasons the show is running - allows for a lot more.
Lost finale is on tonight.
If they kill Sawyer, I'll be pissed.
I went through enough when they cut Boone, thanks.
Not that it matters because I'm completely going to continue to watch as much TV as I damn well please.
I do love movies, but TV is just so much better. There's only so much attachment you can gain to the characters in an hour and a half - three hours. Now 22 hours - or more, depending on how many seasons the show is running - allows for a lot more.
Lost finale is on tonight.
If they kill Sawyer, I'll be pissed.
I went through enough when they cut Boone, thanks.
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Not Enough Money
May. 22nd, 2008 | 12:42 pm
I can't keep a lid on my spending. Every time I convince myself that I don't need something, I go blow my money on something else.
I need a new job but I'm too epically lazy to get one.
Waving a plastic cone around in a parking lot is enough for me.
I want to work in an office. Being a receptionist would be cool. Answering phones and typing things. It's like my attainable dream job. Sadly.
I need a new job but I'm too epically lazy to get one.
Waving a plastic cone around in a parking lot is enough for me.
I want to work in an office. Being a receptionist would be cool. Answering phones and typing things. It's like my attainable dream job. Sadly.
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(no subject)
May. 3rd, 2008 | 08:21 am
I'm home alone right now and I watched too much Supernatural over these past few weeks.
I have a feeling that that's kind of an epically bad combination.
I have a feeling that that's kind of an epically bad combination.
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Oh no...
Apr. 8th, 2008 | 07:09 pm
I told myself that I wouldn't talk to him ever again, but I'm talking to him right now. And it's because of you, I think. I'm missing you right now because you were my platonic other half, and now that you're gone I need someone to fill the void. And the pickings here are pretty slim so I don't know who else to turn to.
fuck. i can't let myself start this again.
He's nothing except attractive. And i think I'm shallow enough to overlook everything else he's done.
fuck. i can't let myself start this again.
He's nothing except attractive. And i think I'm shallow enough to overlook everything else he's done.
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Chace Crawford Is Gay, and I'm Not Perez Hilton
Mar. 27th, 2008 | 12:10 am
I'm going to New York on Sunday and I'm so excited.
I'm eighteen years old, I live in Massachusetts, and I've never been to New York.
How lame.
As previously mentioned, I've also never been in a hospital before. When the sibs have their multiple hospital trips I'm the one staying at home and watching the rest of the brood + the new puppy.
Talk about sheltered.
Anyway, New York. We're going to see the Lion King on Broadway, which is so fucking exciting, with some of my mom's friends, which should be fun times a million.
I had this dream that I was walking through New York and I got lost and ended up randomly meeting Chace Crawford and trying to get him to hold an ONTD sign but he said he couldn't because ONTD hated him because he's gay.
So I was like "I KNEW IT" but told him I'd keep his secret because I'm not Perez Hilton and I'm not lame enough to Lance someone.
Overall it was a lovely dream.
I'm eighteen years old, I live in Massachusetts, and I've never been to New York.
How lame.
As previously mentioned, I've also never been in a hospital before. When the sibs have their multiple hospital trips I'm the one staying at home and watching the rest of the brood + the new puppy.
Talk about sheltered.
Anyway, New York. We're going to see the Lion King on Broadway, which is so fucking exciting, with some of my mom's friends, which should be fun times a million.
I had this dream that I was walking through New York and I got lost and ended up randomly meeting Chace Crawford and trying to get him to hold an ONTD sign but he said he couldn't because ONTD hated him because he's gay.
So I was like "I KNEW IT" but told him I'd keep his secret because I'm not Perez Hilton and I'm not lame enough to Lance someone.
Overall it was a lovely dream.
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Anything I Guess
Mar. 24th, 2008 | 11:54 pm
mood: worried
music: That's How You Know - Enchanted
So I decided today that I have the inability to take anything seriously. I had this presentation I was supposed to do and I completely treated it like it was no big deal over vacation and then last night I couldn't finish it so I had to push it off to Wednesday. And I'm a little disappointed in myself because now I have to be nervous for another two days because I'm unable to function in front of a class, even when I know that said class isn't going to be paying attention.
Also, my friend skipped class today and even though I'm sure I'm wrong I have this feeling that he skipped because he knew my presentation was going to be today, and he was pissed that I slept in when he gave his.
A shitty thing to do maybe but we're not THAT close.
I really hope my dad takes the neck/back surgery that he's supposed to get. And yeah, I hope so because he really needs it and to put it off any further would be stupid considering it's not going to get any better, but I also hope so because I've never been to a real hospital before and a family friend is going to be doing the surgery so maybe he'll let me watch a video or something.
I'm obsessed with all things medical. I kind of want to be a surgeon, but I'm not good under intense pressure and I lack the motivation. I can't even complete a stupid powerpoint presentation on China in like three weeks. I wouldn't trust me to sew someone back together.
And I really want to play the sims
but I guess I should concentrate on my schoolwork first.
oh, and I have absolutely no romantic interest in any of the guys I know
so I'm clinging to this old crush from high school who is so bad for me (or for any girl with half a brain) that it's crazy. It's like my head decides that it needs someone to fixate on and it's fallen back on him because there's no one else remotely attractive to me. Meaning emotionally. Though I'm pretty shallow too I guess.
Also, my friend skipped class today and even though I'm sure I'm wrong I have this feeling that he skipped because he knew my presentation was going to be today, and he was pissed that I slept in when he gave his.
A shitty thing to do maybe but we're not THAT close.
I really hope my dad takes the neck/back surgery that he's supposed to get. And yeah, I hope so because he really needs it and to put it off any further would be stupid considering it's not going to get any better, but I also hope so because I've never been to a real hospital before and a family friend is going to be doing the surgery so maybe he'll let me watch a video or something.
I'm obsessed with all things medical. I kind of want to be a surgeon, but I'm not good under intense pressure and I lack the motivation. I can't even complete a stupid powerpoint presentation on China in like three weeks. I wouldn't trust me to sew someone back together.
And I really want to play the sims
but I guess I should concentrate on my schoolwork first.
oh, and I have absolutely no romantic interest in any of the guys I know
so I'm clinging to this old crush from high school who is so bad for me (or for any girl with half a brain) that it's crazy. It's like my head decides that it needs someone to fixate on and it's fallen back on him because there's no one else remotely attractive to me. Meaning emotionally. Though I'm pretty shallow too I guess.
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Cunty Lesbian Ex Best Friend. The Lesbian Isn't Really Necessary. It Just Fits.
Mar. 9th, 2008 | 03:00 am
I really, really, really, really hate hypocrites.
this bitch, her last livejournal entry was basically a rant against herself. if she had actually taken the time to read it, she would have realized that she was basically doing a shit poor job of rationalizing her actions.
and, okay, what she wrote was basically something i would have written about her a few months ago when she first decided that being a lesbian entitled her to being a bitch.
the worst part is that she doesn't realize it.
god, i want to make her feel as inferior as she should.
this bitch, her last livejournal entry was basically a rant against herself. if she had actually taken the time to read it, she would have realized that she was basically doing a shit poor job of rationalizing her actions.
and, okay, what she wrote was basically something i would have written about her a few months ago when she first decided that being a lesbian entitled her to being a bitch.
the worst part is that she doesn't realize it.
god, i want to make her feel as inferior as she should.
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I Have No Talent, By The Way
Jan. 10th, 2008 | 03:06 pm
I wish I was good at something.
I wish I was good at writing.
Or focusing on something long enough to actually write it.
I wish I was good at writing.
Or focusing on something long enough to actually write it.
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Villains Are Sexy, Or I'm Just Crazy
Jan. 10th, 2008 | 02:52 pm
mood: depressed
music: Open Your Eyes, Snow Patrol
My first crush was actually an animated lion. I'm not kidding. I don't feel like figuring out how old I was, but I was pretty young. Fortunately. I mean, it's kind of embarrassing to admit that I had a crush on a lion when I was like five. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if I was older?
Anyway, a lot of my friends actually admit to having crushes on Simba too.
But, sadly, my crush was NOT on Simba. That's almost normal. But no, my crush was on Scar. Yeah, Scar. The evil, twisted psychopathic lion who killed his own brother and tried desperately to kill his nephew. It was SO not normal.
And yeah, since then, it's just gone downhill. In nearly every movie I watch with some kind of evil psychopath who is in the least bit charismatic, I'm attracted to them. Fortunately, I'm generally not attracted to the really messed up ones, like Leatherface or that fat guy from Hostel. That might be a little too much for me to handle.
But Norman Bates (Psycho), Julian Sark (Alias), Takezo Kensai(Heroes. Granted, they're the same person, but whatever), Jackson Rippner (Red Eye), Sylar (Heroes), Darth Vader (yeah, seriously), Lauren Reed (Also Alias), Harvey Two-Face (The one played by Tommy Lee Jones, who I found sexy when I was younger for some warped reason), Sean Bean in Goldeneye, and I know I'm forgetting some that I'll beat myself up for later, but those are the ones I can think of right now.
I mean, is that a problem? Does that say something about my future dating record? Granted, I spent most of my high school career hung up on some guy who turned to be so not worth it (he was a psychopathic liar who told me over the phone that he was dying of a rare blood disease. I was fifteen. Go figure), so I don't have much of a dating record to go by, but it's not exactly promising.
Are these evil men with tiny consciences that usually show themselves eons after they've tortured and/or killed a few people really what I'm attracted to?
Heroes rarely do it for me. Nice guys just piss me off. Luke Skywalker made me want to strangle babies when I was four years old. I thought Darth Vader and Han Solo were the shit. And Han Solo isn't exactly out of the morally gray area, either.
And take Veronica Mars, for example. Veronica had a clear choice between Duncan and Logan (I'm not counting Piz. Piz can suck Logan's dick as far as I'm concerned, and so can the entire third season, which I refuse to actually watch). If I was her, I wouldn't even look twice at Duncan. Duncan has one of the weirdest storylines in the first season with his little fits of rage, but he still manages to be boring! That's a talent, and not necessarily one I'd go flaunting around if I was him. And in season 2, with Duncan and Veronica together, it was PAINFUL to watch. Seriously! Rob Thomas should have at least let Logan and Veronica have the entire third season to make up for that. I mean, Jesus, everyone knows Logan was her true love.
Anyway, point being, even when there are no psychopaths to be had, I'm attracted to the baddest off the bunch.
Okay, well, I guess you could count Beaver as a psychopath, and guess what? I was totally attracted to him, too. Yeah, little, scrawny, shifty-eyed Beaver who I'm STILL not convinced could actually pull off murdering his classmates and blowing up a plane because he's too cute. And Sheriff Lamb wasn't exactly an angel, either, and I still liked him better than Duncan.
I don't know, I just needed to get that off my chest.
Hopefully it doesn't carry over into real life. I mean, I like funny, class-clown guys, too. Just not as much as the evildoers. I mean, come on, is there anything sexier than David Anders? Anthony Perkins?
I think it's honestly because the types of villains I've listed are all three-dimensional characters. They're conflicted, good and evil. They're usually little more deep than just pure evil, and they're usually pretty tortured. Look at Beaver from VM! He was a little, sixteen year old kid whose father ignored him and whose mother didn't want him. He was a virgin (well, okay, not really, but everyone thought he was), and his older brother treated him like shit. Tortured.
I don't know, I've ranted too long about this.
Basically, I'm fucked with relationships.
The end.
Anyway, a lot of my friends actually admit to having crushes on Simba too.
But, sadly, my crush was NOT on Simba. That's almost normal. But no, my crush was on Scar. Yeah, Scar. The evil, twisted psychopathic lion who killed his own brother and tried desperately to kill his nephew. It was SO not normal.
And yeah, since then, it's just gone downhill. In nearly every movie I watch with some kind of evil psychopath who is in the least bit charismatic, I'm attracted to them. Fortunately, I'm generally not attracted to the really messed up ones, like Leatherface or that fat guy from Hostel. That might be a little too much for me to handle.
But Norman Bates (Psycho), Julian Sark (Alias), Takezo Kensai(Heroes. Granted, they're the same person, but whatever), Jackson Rippner (Red Eye), Sylar (Heroes), Darth Vader (yeah, seriously), Lauren Reed (Also Alias), Harvey Two-Face (The one played by Tommy Lee Jones, who I found sexy when I was younger for some warped reason), Sean Bean in Goldeneye, and I know I'm forgetting some that I'll beat myself up for later, but those are the ones I can think of right now.
I mean, is that a problem? Does that say something about my future dating record? Granted, I spent most of my high school career hung up on some guy who turned to be so not worth it (he was a psychopathic liar who told me over the phone that he was dying of a rare blood disease. I was fifteen. Go figure), so I don't have much of a dating record to go by, but it's not exactly promising.
Are these evil men with tiny consciences that usually show themselves eons after they've tortured and/or killed a few people really what I'm attracted to?
Heroes rarely do it for me. Nice guys just piss me off. Luke Skywalker made me want to strangle babies when I was four years old. I thought Darth Vader and Han Solo were the shit. And Han Solo isn't exactly out of the morally gray area, either.
And take Veronica Mars, for example. Veronica had a clear choice between Duncan and Logan (I'm not counting Piz. Piz can suck Logan's dick as far as I'm concerned, and so can the entire third season, which I refuse to actually watch). If I was her, I wouldn't even look twice at Duncan. Duncan has one of the weirdest storylines in the first season with his little fits of rage, but he still manages to be boring! That's a talent, and not necessarily one I'd go flaunting around if I was him. And in season 2, with Duncan and Veronica together, it was PAINFUL to watch. Seriously! Rob Thomas should have at least let Logan and Veronica have the entire third season to make up for that. I mean, Jesus, everyone knows Logan was her true love.
Anyway, point being, even when there are no psychopaths to be had, I'm attracted to the baddest off the bunch.
Okay, well, I guess you could count Beaver as a psychopath, and guess what? I was totally attracted to him, too. Yeah, little, scrawny, shifty-eyed Beaver who I'm STILL not convinced could actually pull off murdering his classmates and blowing up a plane because he's too cute. And Sheriff Lamb wasn't exactly an angel, either, and I still liked him better than Duncan.
I don't know, I just needed to get that off my chest.
Hopefully it doesn't carry over into real life. I mean, I like funny, class-clown guys, too. Just not as much as the evildoers. I mean, come on, is there anything sexier than David Anders? Anthony Perkins?
I think it's honestly because the types of villains I've listed are all three-dimensional characters. They're conflicted, good and evil. They're usually little more deep than just pure evil, and they're usually pretty tortured. Look at Beaver from VM! He was a little, sixteen year old kid whose father ignored him and whose mother didn't want him. He was a virgin (well, okay, not really, but everyone thought he was), and his older brother treated him like shit. Tortured.
I don't know, I've ranted too long about this.
Basically, I'm fucked with relationships.
The end.
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College friends.
Oct. 23rd, 2007 | 06:23 pm
so far at college, i haven't been lied to.
I've met some nice people.
I have two gay friends.
And neither think they are exempt to the basic rules of friendship.
No one has lied to me yet. Or ditched me. Or made me feel like anything less than a great person.
It's actually nice.
there are decent people here who are actually grown up enough to be good people.
I've met some nice people.
I have two gay friends.
And neither think they are exempt to the basic rules of friendship.
No one has lied to me yet. Or ditched me. Or made me feel like anything less than a great person.
It's actually nice.
there are decent people here who are actually grown up enough to be good people.
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(no subject)
Sep. 17th, 2007 | 08:10 am
college math blows. i have to leave in 3 minutes. :[
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fuck you and your self-righteous attitude.
Sep. 16th, 2007 | 09:57 pm
ditching your friends for a girl
is the same thing as ditching your friends for a guy.
you're not exempt from common courtesy because you're a lesbian.
is the same thing as ditching your friends for a guy.
you're not exempt from common courtesy because you're a lesbian.
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Britney Spears
Sep. 1st, 2007 | 11:04 am
Am I the only person in the world who feels bad for her and DOESN'T make fun of her?
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The Happening
Aug. 31st, 2007 | 11:10 pm
Today, I read the script for M. Night whatever-the-fuck's new movie, The Happening.
The Happening stars two of my favorite delicious-even-though-they're-aging stars; the beautiful and talented John Leguizamo and the admittedly attractive but not as talented Mark Whalburg.
The script = shit. In my opinion, anyway. It seemed silly, contrived, and overly-patronizing.
"If you don't start taking care of the planet, this is what's going to happen to you!!"
Seriously.
That said, it does look to be deliciously graphic, if M. Night sticks with his R rating and lets the blood flow. Some scenes made me wince just reading the choppy description.
However, in the script I didn't see a character who could be played by Spencer Breslin, but IMDB says he's going to be there. There were two teenaged boys, aged seventeen and eighteen, I think. The Kid seems to be growing up faster than should be natural, but he's not growing up THAT fast.
I'm hoping that M. Night has made some serious revisions since the one I read.
Being the sucker I am, I'll probably still see the movie and hope for a better one.
I'm still looking for set pictures involving Mr. Leguizamo.
I'll be bummed until I find them.
The Happening stars two of my favorite delicious-even-though-they're-aging stars; the beautiful and talented John Leguizamo and the admittedly attractive but not as talented Mark Whalburg.
The script = shit. In my opinion, anyway. It seemed silly, contrived, and overly-patronizing.
"If you don't start taking care of the planet, this is what's going to happen to you!!"
Seriously.
That said, it does look to be deliciously graphic, if M. Night sticks with his R rating and lets the blood flow. Some scenes made me wince just reading the choppy description.
However, in the script I didn't see a character who could be played by Spencer Breslin, but IMDB says he's going to be there. There were two teenaged boys, aged seventeen and eighteen, I think. The Kid seems to be growing up faster than should be natural, but he's not growing up THAT fast.
I'm hoping that M. Night has made some serious revisions since the one I read.
Being the sucker I am, I'll probably still see the movie and hope for a better one.
I'm still looking for set pictures involving Mr. Leguizamo.
I'll be bummed until I find them.