Not About Love- Fiona Apple

"This is not about love. Because I am not in love. In fact I can't stop falling out."

When you have a group of girlfriends, there's usually some single ones and some in a relationship. Last year, right around Valentine's day, my three closest girl friends at school all had boyfriends and all went out. And I lied in bed, watched movies, and felt sorry for myself. Today, I am at the same place as last year. My three friends all have boyfriends again, and I do not. And they all went out tonight with their boyfriends, and I did not. No, I did not go out with my boyfriend, I went out with myself.

I walked into the cafeteria, looked at all of the kids gathering around the buffet style Thanksgiving dinner and thought, fuck this. There was no way I was going to take this food and eat alone in the cafeteria or alone in my room.

I went back to the room, put on my black turtle neck sweater that makes me feel like I can't be touched. I don't know what it is about it, but I feel so confident in that thing. So I put it on, touched up my make-up, grabbed my bag and marched out the door. I drove to a little Italian restaurant down the street from my school, walked in and asked for a table for one. I sat down and had a nice little dinner. All by myself. An older woman waitress walked by and smiled, asking if I was treating myself. I smiled back and told her yes. She started nodding her head up and down, saying, "good for you, good for you". And seriously. Good for me.

I didn't have a book, or paper, or phone. I didn't need the company of anyone or anything else. For that moment, I was just happy with myself.

It's not even ten, and I think I might go to bed. I wish I had some red wine.

Oh, and this is the tattoo I want. Not the whole thing, just the girl.



I am so happy to be going home tomorrow. It will be so nice to see my friends from home. Especially Mattie, he has a new girlfriend and wants my "seal of approval".

I need a job. Desperately. I need money.

The Way I Am- Ingrid Michaelson

Okay, so I am totally procrastinating right now. It's quarter of twelve and I am just starting this paper I have due tomorrow. Nothing majorly serious, just your average comparison paper. But damn. It is really something I am not looking forward to doing. I really have been pushing this off all night. I totally forgot I had to do the damn thing til about six o'clock, causing me to think, "Okay, I'll start working at eight." Well, eight thirty came around, so I figured I should start. So I turned on the tv.

No, no! Not to watch it, to make sure I had the right channel already set so I could just switch on Intervention at nine. Yep, channel forty-four, that A&E. But what's this? An episode of Intervention I've never seen before! Well... I'll just watch and work.

As I'm sure you all have gathered, I did more watching than working. So nine rolls around and it's an episode that I've already seen. So I turn off the tv and sit at my desk. I kid you not, not even five seconds go by and I'm climbing back in my bunk, turning on the tv saying, "Well, I didn't get to see the ending of this one". I was cracking up as the words were coming out of my mouth because I knew how absurd it was! But like I said earlier, had to get in my safe pain for the day. The show ended, I started working again and reading the stories I had to write about. And I am no sooner started than I was at ten when the show ended.

I'll blame it on Thanksgiving. Or intriguing television.

Anyway, I'm pretty obsessed with this song by Robyn called Cobrastyle. You all probably remember Robyn from her '97 smash hit, "Show Me Love". Ha- I sound like such a VJ. I should be wearing something trendy surrounded by dozens of screaming prepubescent kids hovering over time square like I'm God. Thank the Lord the madness of TRL is finally done. Though, I must admit, I did love watching the Bye Bye Bye after school.

But back to Robyn. The song is pretty tight. The video is crazy weird, but hey, it grew on me.

P.s.- Had the best dream this weekend. Ran into an ex and he was super gross and fat and so was his girlfriend. It was pretty ballin. Shallow, but ballin.

God, I am so wasting time right now. Have to get back to work.

And by the way, this weekend with Bob was such a good time. I felt very independent. I took the train from Lansdale to Market East in Philly and walked to the CVS that was on Chestnut and 19th so I could get directions from Aubrey, Bob's housemate. We walked and talked as she explained directions to her house and then the subway. So I walked to the cozy little apartment on 11th between Pine and Lombard, got settled, and headed back out into the cold. From there I trecked to the subway, waited while listening to a man call "all you muslims and A-rabs" the devil. Oh yeah, he was saying this to a Muslim woman. It was... well, it pretty much confirmed why I have never taken the subway. The train finally comes, take that to Spring Garden, walk to the "copy" place to get a "personal identification card", wait a half hour, and walk back the the subway. The gate was opened, so I just walked right down the steps. So now I have an extra subway token. Took the subway back, walked back to the apartment, and let myself in right before dusk. Aubrey got home and then Bob. We met up with Bob's friend, Matt, and went out to dinner. Then it was back to the apartment for pregaming and then off to the bar! We drank, we danced, we laughed, we left. Bob and I power walked up and down the streets, arm in arm, being obnoxious and talking like Ms. Swan from madTV the entire time. Then Aubrey and I weren't allowed into the next bar, I don't even know the name, it was that bad. So we made our way back to the previous bar where I had one last cran and vodka that I later found out I really didn't need. Bob and Matt sipped their ruby drinks and laughed. Mine was red, pink, then gone in a matter of ten seconds. We danced a little more and I announced to everyone, but mainly directed at Bob, how happy I am that we have become so close again. Which is true, sober or not. Dancing lasted until last call where we said goodbye to Matt, bulldozed our way home in the bitter cold that none of us noticed anymore, and passed out with the world spinning around us.

The next day began at one-thirty in the afternoon and was spent walking around South Street. And for those of you who have read previous entries, the boy at Steaks on South wasn't working. But I'll be back. Trust. As we were leaving, we passed the TLA where Ingrid Michaelson was playing that night. I was pissed I didn't hear about it, I would love to see her live. Especially there. It's so small and smokey. I started singing "The Way I Am" to Bob on the street and I smiled. Because I sang the song half-way decently and he does. He does take me the way I am. There are some friends that you kinda have to put up a front around. You may feel like you need to impress them, or you may feel like you have to mold yourself a bit to fit better with them. But with Bob, things are just so easy. So yeah, I had to smile.

Back at the apartment, we ordered chinese food and rented some movies from the coolest movie store in the world. The people there totally made the experience. We watched "Beaches" over green tea, fried wontons, boneless spare ribs, pork fried rice, egg rolls, and white rice. Oh, then fortune cookies. Mine said I was about to come into a lot of money. I laughed.

But like all good times, it had to end. Bob drove my ass back to DSU. I went to bed, only to wake up the next day facing school. Bob woke up facing laundry.


If you have made it to here... wow. Good for you! You actually spent time reading about my mediocure adventures in life, haha.

Yeah, F this. Totally doing this paper tomorrow morning. I'm going to bed!!!

This picture so is damn old, but I looooove it!

The Magretville Dance- The Prize Fighter Inferno

I think that old saying or philosophy, people can't look away from a train crash, absolutely applies to me. I don't know why, but I find myself obsessed with watching suffering and ultimate lows. Okay, so today is Monday. Tonight on A&E is Intervention. I get so sucked into this show, to see how people can live the way they do, consumed by a drug, alcohol, OCD, or eating disorder. I would like to think I watch it because I want to see them fight the addiction and come out on top, which I do. But I honestly think I like gawking at their pain and wondering what it must be like to be in that place. Then after that is this new show I found called "I Survived" where people talk about being trapped in a blizzard, stabbed 25 times, being held hostage, or any other horrible circumstance you can think of. Sure, their stories are interesting and heroic enough, but that's not why I like the show. I like to imagine what the hell that would feel like, physically, emotionally. Because, let's be honest, I'm petrified to actually go through any of that by myself. So if I watch and listen, I can still get an idea of it without having to feel it full fledged.

And Thursdays have Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew on VH1. Of course I love this show. It's basically Intervention but with familiar faces. But I do have to say, I feel like I have some kind of humanity when I watch Steven Adler, the original drummer from Guns and Roses. He is so hurt and torn and practically gone, I feel for him so much. He is definitely my favorite person on the show. I usually text Bob when I watch this. We make fun of Gary Busey and Tawney's cheek bones and lips. But damnit, when Steven Adler comes on, I'm completely in it. I just feel so so badly for him. When he talks about his mother dropping all of his belongings out on the side of the street and changing the locks when he was only 11 years old, how he cries saying he wants his best friend Slash back, his droopy lower lip. I don't know. I get sucked in, I watch, I am the numb American. Ta-da. But look how damn cute he was. You know home boy pulled mad ass back in the day.



So if you've never heard this song, the title of my blog, you need to look it up. Coheed's lead singer did a side project and there it is: The Prize Fighter Inferno. Totally different, totally fun, be open minded. Anyway, there's a part of this song when the lines "Is this the way you, is this the way you, is this the way you watch the body die"

And I guess I just took it as a simple line of a song until now. Well, I mean, just look! I watch the body die through Intervention and Celebrity Rehab every Monday and Thursday. Is this fascination with decay the thing that makes me desensitized or human?

Secret- Maroon5

So right now I'm alone in my room watching The Wedding Date. I really love the friend in this movie. The thick accent, eccentric style, loud personality. But I hate those Glade candle commercials with the compulsive lying woman.

Kristen, the roommate, has gone to her boyfriend's house and may or may not be coming back. Courtney has gone out on a date with Brian and Colleen is at a party at her boyfriend's house. I, on the other hand, am boyfriend-less and date-less. But not for long. I intend to change that.

This weekend I will be making my way to Bob's house to spend a Saturday night, and lovely Sunday afternoon. Maybe bundling up and walking around the city. Anyway, I'm going to go to South Street to Steaks On South. Also known as S.O.S. I saw this guy working there last time I went to the city. Later that day, Bob and I asked iTunes Shuffler if I should see him again. I clicked the songs forward four times and the song S.O.S. by the Jonas Brothers came up on the playlist. Mind you, these weren't my songs. So we're taking it as a sign that I should at least attempt to ask him out.

There are also two other possible candidates. Courtney and I ran into her work today and there was a guy working in the back of the kitchen. He was cute, so I ducked, looking at him through the silver shelves, smiled and said hello. When we left I asked him what his name was: Conrad. Nothing puts me in a better mood than a guy with a really solid name. So I will be back to ask him out.

But it doesn't end there. Courtney's boyfriend Brian said that he is going to try and hook me up with one of his friends, Jasper. Another unique name. He's a little older than me though... Like, I'm 20 he's 29 older. But, whatever. Guys mature slower than girls anyway, right?

So I have a pretty good feeling about all of this. I have to at least get one date out of three.

So this is my Friday night. Chick flicks, lap top in bed, left over food from dinner. It will probably conclude with sweat pants, blanket, and a new book.

Damn, it's the part in The Wedding Date where they go into the boat and the song "Secret" by Maroon5 is playing. Such an appropriate song for this part.

Okay, that is all.

Where Is My Mind- Pixies

"With your feet in the air and your head on the ground, try this tick and spin it, yeah. Your head will collapse but there's nothing in it. and you'll ask yourself, where is my mind?"

What an appropriate question. Where is my mind? I feel like I have been losing it this past week. With less than three or four weeks of school left, I feel as though I'm scrambling to get everything together. But I guess everyone is feeling that lately. Oh well.

In order to relieve some of this stress that is bubbling and boiling up inside of me, I have given myself a project. For those of you that know me, or know me well, you know that there is a very special person in my life named Jon Macpherson. We aren't dating, never have dated, and never will. We are just the best of friends and it works splendidly. I even got his nickname "Ska Kid" tattooed on the inside of my lip. Why? Because his name is always on my lips. I talk about him all the time! There is a special place in my heart, just for him. But getting to my point...

Jon is in the air force, stationed at Dyess AFB, Texas. Soooo far away. But planes fix that problem. I visited him over the summer and it was the best weekend I have ever had away from home. Jon has also been down lately. He recently experienced a loss of a friend. The kind of loss the air force warns you about, but you never really prepared yourself for. Learning to deal is coming slowly. So I have made it my personal duty to make him feel better! He'll find out what it is when he gets it in the mail. I would write everything about it here, but I'm worried that he may read this thing just by chance and then the surprise will be completely ruined. And I would be pissed. I hate ruined surprises.

So that's what I've been doing today. And I have had a smile on my face the entire time! Just imagining his reaction and happiness when he gets this thing just fills my heart up with such, I don't know, warmth.

Stephanie always compares Jon to being my boyfriend of sorts. Saying that I worry about him the way she worries about her boyfriend. And I do worry about him. I feel like I have to protect him. But that's pretty hard to do when you're 1,710 miles away. But I do the best I can. OH! I included a picture of Jon from a while ago when in one of my previous blogs. Saying "NJ or bust" because, you know, I want him to come home.

45 days. 45 days til he gets deployed. Be sure I'll be checking my e-mail every damn day he's gone.

So in other news, I'm sitting on the floor of my room typing this thing, taking a break from previous crafts, waiting for my friend to call me asking to pick her up from the bar. It's our friend's 21st birthday today. Even though I'm the oldest in my small group of girl friends, they get into the bars because of their fake ID's. I'll just wait til I'm legally 21 and sell them out, haha. But probably not.

Always Sunny in Philadelphia season finale tomorrow. Watch. It's gonna be good.


p.s.- what the fux is this twilight shit?

Breathe Me- Sia

"In a perfect world, we can have our cake and eat it too. We can even come back for seconds."

I'm not sure if I've heard that from Sex&the City, some place else, or I was clever enough to come up with it myself. Either way, this phrase rings very true to me right now. I wish, from the bottom of my heart, that things could be so different between my ex and me.

Remember your first big heart break? This person was your world, and you thought that you would completely crumble without them. But like all things, it came to an end. And you did crumble without him. But by the grace of God, you peeled yourself off your bedroom floor, stopped playing all of "our songs", took a shower, and opened the door to face the world. And odds are, if you saw that person again, you would try to act strong. You would clench your jaw into a smile, tilt your chin up and show them, "Yeah, you made me hit my lowest low, and now look at me. You can't touch me." But on the inside, you know this isn't true. But as long as you are the only one who knows that, it's okay. You can attempt to be friends with that person, but most likely, you're left wanting all or nothing.

I know that I have been in this exact situation. And I know others who have, too. And what did we all do? We chose to never talk to that first big heart ache ever again. Maybe it's the memory. Maybe it's because we see what an asshole they were to do that to us. Maybe it's because we know that it's just too hard to bear. But at the end of the day, the two of you aren't friends. And you move on.

Now imagine that you're the heart breaker. You're the asshole. You were key in the crumbling of a person's life. You're their sad, unbearable memory. Sometimes, it can be just as hard to be on the other side of the story. It's like that children's story about the Big Bad Wolf. All our lives, we focused on the three little victims, and just took the villain as the villain.

It can hurt just as bad to be the asshole. A different kind of hurt but it stings just as much because it's the worst kind of pain: self inflicted. We pushed that person away. We decided not to be with them anymore. We didn't love them the way they needed to be loved. We did this to ourselves. I did this to myself.

I broke his heart. Twice. He trusted me enough to let me in a second time and I swore to myself, I swore to myself that it would be different. I would look into my future and see him in it. I could find it in me to love him. But I couldn't, and I didn't. Not in the ways he wanted to be in my life. And not the way he wanted me to love him.

I did love him. I still do. We had a relationship, for christ's sake. He was one of my best friends. I trusted him with my life. But I didn't love him like that. I wasn't in love with him. I didn't even know there was a difference between love and being in love until one day I just felt it.

Or maybe I didn't feel it. It was nothing he did. He kept asking that, in so many words. "What happened?" aka "What'd I do?" And I would tell him, no, no. It was nothing you did. You were perfect. You listened, cared, loved. You were perfect. And looking at us, we were perfect. Everyone loved us together. I loved the picture of us together.

And I miss him. I. Fucking. Miss. Him. I want my friend back. Not my boyfriend back. My friend. But since I don't want him as my boyfriend, he can't be my friend.

It's been almost two months. For many of the relationships we have past our first big love, two months would be enough time to get over a break up. You could work on a friendship. But I was his first big love. So at two months, he's just getting to the point where he doesn't feel compelled to ask himself, "What happened? What'd I do?" He's moved onto, "That fucking bitch. Fuck her for doing this to me."

And he should feel that way. I did break his heart again after laying with my head on his chest promising I never would ever again. It wasn't a lie. At that point I truly did believe I never would. But as you can see...



"Help. I have done it again. I have been here many times before. Hurt myself today. And the worst part is there's no one else to blame."


If I could have my cake and eat it too, we would be friends. You would text me something stupid that happened during the day. I would come and see your new place in Philly and maybe bring you a bamboo plant as a house warming gift. Something weird that only you would appreciate. We could joke about the past. We would schedule coffee to catch up with each other and talk about our lives. And even though we wouldn't play the same role as we did before, we would still play a part in each other's life. We would end our phone calls with smiles and laughs. Fuck... We would actually talk.

That's my slice of cake. With a cherry on top, please.

A Golden Exit- The Good Life

Better Together- Jack Johnson

My plans for this Thursday evening consist of:

• Appreciating my iTunes on shuffle.
• Running to CVS for last minute scrapbooking stuff. Grandparent's have their 50th anniversary dinner on Sunday and I have yet to start my scrapbook page for them.
• Finishing my math assignment. Yuck.
• Watching Celebrity Rehab at 10.
• Catching the encore episode of Always Sunny at 11.
• Laughing at rude and dark humor.
• Reading.
• Passing out.

Hm. What happened to the girl that looked forward to thirsty Thursday's?

Anyway, to close, here are a bunch of pictures I've been picking up while on the computer.

"...like a shoebox of photographs..."

Enjoy.

Warren Beatty. In a word, beautiful. Classic Americana.

Marlon Brando in the age where he coulda beena contenda. How much more appealing he looks without cheeks stuffed with tissue paper.

I have no idea which one this is. Which ever one isn't as cracked out. I'm not fond of either of them, but hey, the soda can thing is pretty tight.

Meg White from The White Stripes. This picture is actually from a movie she was in with her brother called "Coffee and Cigarettes". This movie is a series of black and white shorts about what? Coffee and Cigarettes. I found it funny. It also has members of Wu-Tang, Iggy Pop, Bill Murray, Steven Buscemi, and other familure faces. Cate Blanchett is also in a hilarious short where she plays two cousins.

Studying. My life in about three weeks.

A little Cuban boy reading a book on a staircase.

This is my dream dog. He'll get along perfectly in my house full of...

I want at least two of these cats just so I can name them Bonnie and Clyde. Still working on the dog's name.

Our library doesn't have this movie and I'm really dreading spending four dollars at Blockbuster just to watch it again. (shopgirl)

I miss my best friend.

1979- Smashing Pumpkins

I can't seem to get over this picture. Like something clipped out of an indie magazine. It's dark, just like the way I imagine his personality being. He seems to be completely lost in thought or looking away as if the rush of a passing train caught his attention. The street light gently bounces off his signature jacket. There's a bit of light balancing in between his middle and index finger, a classic sign of his classic habit. On my way to class back in September, he passed by me and I had an overwhelming need to write down something, anything about him. It's not much but...

"The cloudy blue halo hung lazily around his head before settling behind him, resting in his invisible wake."

I also drew him. Or what I see: Stubble, aviators, cigarette, and swirly smoke. I know, I'm crazy. We haven't even talked. But there is just something so compelling about him. I seem to always pass him or run into him, and he probably thinks it's on purpose. But I'm not upset when it happens. Maybe that's why it seems planned. And I'm sure his friend told him I was looking out my window while they were outside. She looked at me, I panicked and ducked. Very inconspicuous, I know. But I wasn't looking out my window because of him. I just always look out my window.

See, these are the things that I want to clarify, but I won't ever say. Because I'll never bring myself to talk to him. I'm stuck in elementary school that way. But it's good, in a way. He's bound to disappoint me. Any of my friends say I'm too cute for him, which I probably am, but that's not my reason.

I feel safe writing this because I know he'll never read it. But whoever does read it can make their own assumptions of how crazy or pathetic or hopeless I am. That's on you.

On a live wire right up off the street... you and I should meet.





It's 9:41 and my roommate and I feel pathetic. Because we have nothing to do. All the movies have been watched, the work has been done, the studying has been learned. I'm in my bunk writing, and she's using her toe to navigate the touch pad. She is now going to send me an IM with her toes. She cracks her toes like those cliche cartoons, where the character cracks his knuckles before sitting down at his typewriter. I'm waiting for her to squint one eye and have her tongue hanging out.

I hate feet. Though I would probably like mine better if it had a tattoo. I tried to convince my Mom that we should get them together. She said she had no desire. I'll just get one.

It's her birthday today.

XoTinkerbell(9:43:46 PM): hi
XoTinkerbell(9:44:23 PM): thaat was wiuth m y troe
XoTinkerbell(9:46:19 PM): love hac bigtcch
XoTinkerbell(9:46:43 PM): zkjhgtfredrtyujikjuhygtfrdtyhujk

Now, I'm going to stare at the ceiling and Kristen and me will ask each other what should we do and why we are such losers. And to think, I was about to enjoy a quiet night.

Always A Bridesmaid- The Good Life

I woke up at 12:30pm to my roommate throwing her bag on the ground. I then realized I had slept through all of my classes. My alarm didn't go off. I didn't hear any of my phone calls or texts to wake me up because my phone was on silent. So that was nice. At first I was worried, but then after, I didn't really care. So I slept in on this snow day.

It's getting to be that time of year where my insomnia starts to kick in. I don't know exactly what to contribute it to. Maybe it's the seasons changing, maybe it's because the days get shorter and nights get longer, maybe it's because I'm alone. Whatever it's from, it is happening. I read by flashlight until I pass out. I stare at the ceiling, looking for answers to questions I'm not sure of. I see how long I can hold my breath or scroll through old text messages.

Anyway, it got me thinking about guys. And how I make it impossible for them to please me. Before I get up the guts to talk to a guy, I put all of these qualities on him he probably doesn't have. I convince myself he'll be witty and wise, we'll like the same shows and bands, we'll probably go out to coffee on our first date, he'll laugh at all my jokes and kiss me like this, look at me like that, carefully brush hair away from my face. I create this perfect little person that I try to project onto them and they can never live up to it. So the relationship is doomed from the start. I'm bound to be disappointed. And with each new person I think, yeah, this is it. This one will be it.

"They snuck out for a cigarette/She said, 'maybe it's the whiskey sours, but I think this could be it./ If you ask me here and now/I think, no, I know/ I can make those wedding vows/ We could sneak off in the night/ And I could be the bride."

Anyway, I need a shower.

The Warmth- Incubus

Brandon Boyd urges us to experience the warmth before you grow cold. On this bitter, bitter November Monday, the only warmth I found came from Bob. From the heated seats of his Saab, the fire his Dad made after we ate dinner, and of course, from him. But damn, was it cold out today.

I know it is so predictable to talk about the weather, but honestly. I'm sweating my balls off on Wednesday and a few days later the wind is cutting through me like a fresh blade. Anyway, back to what I was getting at...

Today, I granted myself a snow day. After lurking out of bed after only 4 hours of sleep, I get to my first class only to find its been canceled. So I decided that I wasn't going to go to any more classes for the rest of the day. Instead of discussing Blake or Wordsworth, Bob and I walked around the Promenade debating milkshakes v.s. ice cream cones and laughing over the "Who Pooped The Bed" episode of my new favorite show, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. As we were walking down the sidewalk, he complimented me on my hair. I smiled and said thank you, while stealing a glance at myself in the store window.We then set out to find the essential oils, vegetable based soaps, and herbs for his at home scalp and hair treatment. This took a lot longer than one would suspect. The lavender was out of season, we supposedly needed to sign a form to buy iodine, and then encountered this pushy woman who was hellbent on selling Bob all kinds of different herb capsules. As we walked out of the health store, I turned to Bob and asked, "So, my hair really does look nice today?"

Dinner at Bob's was entertaining, especially when Bob read his dog's mind. He believed the dog was thinking "Fuck you, I just want the cookie." Bob's mom lunged over the table and playfully kept asking, "What did you just say? What did you just say at the dinner table?" After the table was cleared, we mixed the oils, crushed and steamed the herbs, and combined the whole thing in the appropriately labeled bottles. The entire kitchen smelled like a summer garden on a hot, humid day. But then, Bob and I had to part. I had to go back to school and he had to make his way back to Philly, homemade shampoos in hand.

It was just such and enjoyable day. We didn't dwell on fueds with friends, we didn't try to figure out why this or that guy fucked us over, we didn't ask deeply emotional questions that we know neither of us knew the answer too. We just enjoyed each others company. The different jokes, silly stories, songs in the car. Today was just for us.


As if today couldn't get any better, my good friend, Dave, who was lucky enough to go to the Smashing Pumpkins show this weekend in AC sent me some videos he took during the show. Way to end a wonderful day on a high note.

Nothing too prophetic here, but does there have to be? Just enjoy the warmth.

Swell- Thomas Cunningham

Awesome song I just found on my iTunes. You know how they give you some free songs when you first download it? Well, this song came automatically on it and you know something, it's pretty damn good! So check it out. In fact, search it on your iTunes. I bet it's already on there.

The lyrics I liked especially were...

"Take that all from me, oh and/Try to call me free oh and/Strip me all I know and/Then turn to let me go/False ripples in all the intellectual pools/Fathom the facts that turn talking heads on their stools/Schools corrupt the mind/And waste my precious time, oh/Where's the value, value when you just don't need that kind/I'd sayWhere's the value, value when you just don't need that kind?"

I probably like this part becasue I've been reading too much Emerson... and Thoreau... and Fuller. But whatever, the Transcendentalist movement of the individual shouldn't die just because they did. All the hippies that treat Walden Pond as their personal mecca know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, it's going to be a low key Saturday night. I've rented Eternal Sunshine from the library so I'll be content for the while.

Oh, yeah. Found this picture online. Thought it was pretty good. Certain "followers" of this blog will appreciate it, that is, if they don't already have it.

Me vs Madonna vs Elvis- Brand New

Not even half way into my Junior year, I've realized that I'm starting to get over the college scene. I love the learning, I love improving my writing, I love the friends I've met, and I love the person I'm finding while I'm here. HOWEVER... I cannot, cannot, cannot deal with the party/drinking/hookup scene any more. This is all being sparked after finding myself completely bored and slightly disgusted while at a party I left no less than ten minutes ago. Granted, I was not drinking, but I think the clearer state of mind attributes positively to this epiphany, if you will.

I went to the heights with my roommate Kristen. For those of you who do not know, the heights are basically on-campus 8 person apartments, just without a kitchen. A group of our friends were throwing a party and at first I was excited to go. But once I got there, I realized how much I didn't want to be there. A pong table made out of ply wood and chairs was pushed to one side of the "common room" with a ratty sign up sheet hanging up on the opposite wall. The only lights were a half blown out strand of Christmas lights and one black light. They had a decent enough stereo system that played outdated rap music to which every drunk girl would say "ohmuhgod, i LOVE this song!" and would start to dance on top of their friends. These girls were mainly freshman. Not that it's a bad thing, but I feel that freshman girls are crazier than their older counterparts just because they're trying to fit in a new place.

As these freshmen girls are dancing, red, frosty Solos in hand, I notice their eyes. Ever see "Bring It On" where the cheerleaders have eye sex with certain guys in the stand, or whatever that thing is? Well, that was basically it. And the guys they were staring at were just as guilty, returning the glances with coy smiles. The point of the night was to get as drunk as possible (without being completely tragic) and randomly hook up with someone.

One girl shoved by me holding her boyfriends hand, turns to him and says, "I'm getting fucking WASTED tonight!"

Now, I'm not trying to sit on my cloud of judgement, looking down on everyone, and talk about how stupid these people are. Lord knows I've had to the goal to get as drunk as possible, dress up for the possibilty of a random kiss, and announced to the world that I am SO DRUNK. But through non-hazey eyes, watching these other people and seeing myself in them, I had to think.

Maybe it was just the lameness of the party in comparison to other ones I have been to. Maybe it was feeling a little out of place because I wasn't as drunk. Maybe it was my own little insecurities getting the best of me. I thought about all of these things until...

I see people laughing, I see people sipping their drinks, I see a girl bending over to pick up a beer pong ball, I see guys watching the girl bending over to pick up a beer pong ball, and I hear the songs switch. Solja Boi is the next song on the playlist, sparking a group "OHHH!!!" It literally makes me jump. Then in unison everyone starts doing the dance. The Solja Boi dance we all thought was the greatest thing... last year... when the song was still on the radio every thirty minutes. As I'm observing the guys doing the dance banging shoulders into each other, the girls forming neat lines doing the dance with more hip than necessary, and my roommate's boyfriend banging into me on purpose, I made the decision that I was over this and I had to leave.

It probably just wasn't my scene and I will probably go to the next party (not at that place) and I will probably have more fun with my own friends. But as I was walking back to my room I couldn't help but think, damn, that was an eye opener. There were so many things I would rather be doing than watching people dance, sing songs, chat, do whatever. Sober or not. The entire night just reminded me of instant gratification. Get dressed, get a compliment. Get a drink, get drunk, get happy. Find drunken state, lose inhibitions, get laid. Maybe I am being a bit of a party pooper, but that's how I feel.

The title is one of the slower, and in my opinion, better songs by Brand New. A band that has been around since forever, but I've gotten really into last year. The lines from the song that suit this writing the best would have to be:

"You can sin, or spend the night all alone"

Take whatever you want from this. I'm going to get in bed and watch a movie or read a book. All I'm missing is a cat.

Linus and Lucy

This title really has no meaning except that I could not be more excited that Thanksgiving is coming. When I tell people that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, people don't seem to get it. Christmas or Halloween is usually a number one, some people say its their birthday, I rarely ever hear Easter, but more rare than that is Thanksgiving. But here are my reasons for loving it:

• Charlie Brown Thanksgiving Special. I've been watching it ever since I was little and it never ever gets old.
• My whole family in one place. This may be a downside to some people but not for me. I love my family so much and they always crack me up. We're not lovey, huggy, 7th heaven like. We're more likely to make fun of each other and pretend that we're not drunk.
• Please. The Food. It's soooooo good. And no one cares if you get seconds or thirds. And left over turkey sandwiches? Need I say more?
• Music. I don't know about anyone else, but Thanksgiving kicks off Christmas music time. Unlike some people, I am not ashamed to listen to Christmas music in August if the mood strikes, but for most people in my family, Thanksgiving is the pinnacle day to play those tunes.
• Let's Talk Turkey on Food Network. Nothing more needs to be said here...
• Football. Whether the Eagles (my team of choice) are playing or not, the games always seem to be so much more fun on Thanksgiving.
• Thanksgiving Day Parade. I can remember getting up at 8am to watch the parade on tv. I would have it on in my mom's room while talking on the phone with my older cousin, Amanda, asking her what she was going to wear to thanksgiving that day so I could try to match her.

AND FINALLY MY FAVORITE PART OF THANKSGIVING...

It begins the Christmas season. People really start to get all ready for Christmas right after Thanksgiving. The neighbors won't think you're weird for putting up the decorations, you go out and get your tree, you shop for presents, you pick out the dress you're going to wear to Christmas dinner. The anticipation, and more importantly, the appreciation is overwhelming. Because, honestly, when Christmas comes we have that day, maybe a party or two after that, New Years... and then the tree, the decorations, the entire feeling comes down.

So anyway, people should appreciate Thanksgiving a lot more.

BUKOWSKI BY MODEST MOUSE

Sooooo I haven't had one of these since high school, but reading other people's made me want to start it up again. I don't expect a lot of people to read all about what I think, but at least I get to put it all down in one place. And what is "IT" you may be wondering (that is, if anyone else besides myself views this blog) ? Well, it would be my conclusions of the day and opinions of certain people I have the pleasure, but most likely displeasure, to interact with. Speaking of which......

First off! I go to a small college that is practically high school: part two. I used to be a theater major, but dropped that and switched to English at the end of my sophomore year. BIG DEAL. I've gotten a few pity looks from some of my previous major-sharers... whatever you would call them. So anyway, I had to drop off costumes at the costume shop (located in the theater) for a friend. He choreographed a danced and asked me to sew his costumes. ANYWAY, the costumes had to be pressed and when I go to drop them off, I am greeted by looks of confusion from some of the majors sitting in the lobby. Like they were shocked I didn't combust upon entrance. I make my way to the costume shop and tell this woman working there that these costumes need to be pressed for the performance tonight. I instantly get heat from this dumb woman.
"Wait... what?"
"I was asked to bring the costumes here for ECC and-"
"OH nooo. no no no. We have NOTHING to do with that. No, ECC is completely done by the students, that has nothing to do with us."
"Okay, but I'm just saying that I was told to bring them-"
"Uh-uh, no. You need to take that up with Kristin. Not here"

I could not get out of that place fast enough. This girl, who could be no more than 27, gathered up the tiniest bit of power she had as a costume TA and took the initiative to make me feel like shit. Lady, you need to chill the hell out and get some ass. There is no reason to freak out about ironing some costumes.

Now, this is where the title of my blog comes in. I'm going to have the titles incorporate with whatever I'm writing about. In the song "Bukoswki" by Modest Mouse, the last lines to the song are, "God, who'd wanna be, who'd wanna be such an asshole?"

That IS this woman. Total asshole.

I'm sure I'll write again tomorrow, since the novelty of this thing is still thick.