blimeypear

Wed, 27 Apr 2005 00:19:38 GMT

I got accepted to Emerson College again. Basically, I now have another Emerson College folder that only cost me sixty dollars. Yay me.

My parents got back from Jamaica last night. They called me tonight. I barely got into my room from work to answer the phone. I couldn't find the right key to unlock my door despite the fact I only have three keys on this ring. I told them about Emerson and they asked how much money Emerson gave me. I told them I didn't know, which is true because Emerson sends the financial aid packet sometime after the acceptance letter. It doesn't even matter now though. Because I've been accepted into the England trip for next year, I am obligated to pay that fee even if I don't attend Hiram next year. In fact, even if I die, my parents still have to pay as if I was going. They had to sign a contract guaranteeing this. It's all very harsh. I have to name my power of attorney in case I die in England next year too. Great. So I'm pretty much trapped here for the next two years. I can't stand the thought of being here another three weeks for school. I may have made a bad decision. Well, I'll know when I get financial aid info from Emerson. Also, my parents felt it necessary to harangue me to the upteenth degree. I haven't spoken with them for over two weeks, and they need to work doubletime in their quest to make me feel miserable. They start berating me about finding a summer job. When my parents berate, their arguments are circular, the only difference is that each time it comes the same way around their voice levels increase. I couldn't deal with it. I asked my mom, "Are you trying to bring me down? I haven't spoken to you in over two weeks and the only thing you can offer me is discouragement. I can't listen to this. I need to go." So I said "bye" and hung up.

Right. Apparently I'm always angry.

The Waste Land

Mon, 25 Apr 2005 07:55:10 GMT

There is snow. Everywhere. It's now officially April 25th. There's four inches of snow outside and it's definitely not the Ice Age. Eliot did say that "April is the cruelest month." It's still snowing even now too. The daffodils (horrid flowers that I think they are) are covered with snow. The flowering trees are now blossoming with snow. My lyrical language is crappy. BAH.

I think I'm going to minor in both Economics and Spanish. Who would've thought? Certainly not me, but I already have the foundations for economics covered so I might as well just take three more classes and get a minor. I need three more classes to complete my Spanish minor and after next semester in England, I'll need three more classes to complete my English with a creative writing emphasis major. In less than three weeks, all my distributions for Hiram will be complete. This is after completing all my distributions for UMass two semesters ago...Talk about taking a step backward with transferring. So in three semesters I'll need to take nine classes to complete everything. That's doable. Only of course if they offer the right classes in the right semester and not all at once. The great thing about the economics minor is that since I have the foundation done already I can take any three courses in the major. This offers me some flexibility since the school offers economics courses every semester. I can do this. Maybe. I just need to read fifty pages of sociology of religion for...well um my class this afternoon. I should probably do that, as it is nearing four in the morning.

This is exceedingly boring but I don't care because this lends me more direction in my life. What will I do with an economics minor? Bash Andrew Jackson to the ground for his stupid gold species circular idea. Hail Alexander Hamilton for his centralized bank idea. Call the maestro Greenspan a hack. ahhhhahahahaha. I'm getting cocky.

I need to trim my nails.

I need to stop crying because I don't have any more tissues.

I need to stop caring because I don't have any more energy.

The Second Coming

Sat, 23 Apr 2005 07:31:02 GMT

I looked up at the lights of the shower for the first time today. There were dead flies in it. Countless dead flies, or maybe my arithmetic is too poor to count corpses. I had a nightmare the other night that I was all alone and I woke up crying. That has only happened once before in the memory of my life. Sometime before I was even a preteen, I dreamt that my mom died. It was a strange dream really. I also thought she had made brownies, so in the morning I was sadly disappointed by the lack of brownies in the house.
Total times I cried today: four. The first time was the nightmare. The second time was in the middle of anime. The third and fourth times were on the phone. Overall rating of day: not too shabby but not too peachy either...mediocre. I dusted shelves at work for over an hour today. That was grand. Grand Theft Auto, San Andreas, BABY! Right. You can slap me anytime now. I feel I can make a reference to that game though because I played it for a few minutes with my brother. Oh yeah. That's right. Over spring break. The cops were all over me in the game. I also had this penchant for chasing down people on foot with brass knuckles. I beat an old lady.
I started packing my books for home a few days ago, but they have to chill on my floor for another three weeks. I have to wait until Tex comes back from Italy to carry the boxes down the three flights of stairs. I'm weak as hell. It's all the chocolate I bet. Instead of muscles, I have delicious chocolate sticks filled with soft chocolate, like a truffle really, except in my body. It's quite cold in my room. Unfortunate really. Holes keep emerging in my favorite pair of jeans. It's a travesty. It's a tragedy. It's Hamlet slouching towards Bethlehem.

bah

Wed, 20 Apr 2005 20:56:24 GMT

It started pouring outside. Thirty minutes ago the sun was shining intensely. Thunder and lightning. My hands smell like Italian salad dressing. I noticed today in Sociology of Religion that my flip flop has started to break. Too bad that Neal's puppy ate one of my Tevas. Yesterday I tried to blow a bubble on gum that was not bubble gum. The result was a failed burst bubble all over my mouth.

I'm going to England next year. This means that I'll also be going through the "chunnel" to explore France, Spain, Germany, and other places in Europe. Hopefully Ireland too. I can't even imagine what this will be like. To be in the country that gave birth to Maugham and Forster. I'm excited as hell and nervous too. I'm worried that I won't have enough money to go backpacking around Europe with Jess the eighth week we're there. I'm worried that I'm going to have to waitress again this summer in order to make "enough money," or at least enough money to alleviate the massive loans. It's all quite bothersome really. This anxiety of sorts. I want to be able to buy a book without having to worry if that will impinge on my ability to pay for laundry. AHHHHHHHHH. I have a quiz tomorrow in Sociology of Religion. I miss my friends who went abroad. I miss my friends who attend other colleges. I miss people I don't even know. Goddammit. Damien Rice has such a wonderful voice. I wish I could hug it.

"Tell it like you still believe the end..."

I hate it.

reevaluate everything you are

Mon, 10 Jan 2005 04:57:41 GMT

I stepped foot on the Hiram College campus again. I went up the three flights of stairs to my room and after much fumbling with the keys, I sat down on my chair. I sent my parents an e-mail telling them that I was still alive and then I tried calling Dan. The time was 10:45 PM. It rang a few times and I thought to myself: maybe he is sleeping... A strange thought perhaps. I mean I am so used to Laura's insomniac ways. Alex who goes to bed at 4 and gets up at noon. The idea of someone going to bed before midnight now seems ludicrous to me. Yet, I just had this sinking feeling that he was sleeping. He picked up and his groggy tone told me that my fear of his sleep had become realized in that instance. Then, he coughed and I remembered that he was sick and the Catholic guilt, even in my heathish state, just piled on me. I spluttered some brief apologies and hung up. As soon as I put the phone in its cradle, I started to cry. Anyone who "truly" knows me, knows that I cry very easily so this particular episode should not seem overtly significant. The feeling that the world is going to end does become imminent. Oh the melodrama. How hideous. What I really wanted Dan to do when I called him at that moment was to wake up and talk to me. Selfish--yes I know it's selfish. He told me once that he would always be there for me, but at that moment, I realized once again how empty words are. Then, I went to Brian's room to see what he was up to and he wasn't there. I guess what it really is then is loneliness. It sounds so trite. I mean what's my deal?

Did you know that today I took the subway to the airport instead of a taxi? It was quite the adventure for me. I have never done such a thing before. Granted, Juliet gave me an index card with all the different tracks I had to take to get to the airport. Something interesting happened when I was on the bus to the airport. This man started talking to me which in of itself is not such a strange thing because even though I am lonely people do still talk to me on occasion. Here's the strange part: he gave me his business card with another phone number and two e-mail addresses scratched on the back of his card. Apparently he is a Harvard grad student in economics (this much I gathered from his business card). He was going to Brazil for a week for a business conference, which considering he was wearing a business suit and carrying appropriate business accessories I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt on that one. Then, he requested my phone number and other such contact information. I told him I didn't have a pen, which was the honest-to-God-truth. Of course, then he had to go and supply me with a pen. I couldn't remember my phone number at school and I felt bad because his business card had 4 numbers I could reach him at so I just gave him my home number. Not that that will be particularly helpful anytime soon. In retrospect, I wish I hadn't complied with such an action. The whole exchange seems sketchy in my memory. But I didn't want to feel like a jerk by giving him a wrong number. I can only hope he loses the information I stupidly gave him. So do we think that he just wanted to be friends with me? Do I somehow eek out loose-woman vibes that I don't know about? I didn't even shower today. mmmm...must be that greasy hair of mine.

The unsaid things

Sat, 08 Jan 2005 07:51:11 GMT

If only we could say what we wanted to without any repercussions, then I would be a much more content individual. The sad thing is we can't even say these things to ourselves for fear of the truth of our desires. It is just like life for the unsaid things to be the most important and telling.

When I saw you there, with your shoulders in a habitual slump (as if his body was too tall for his frame--slight as it was), I wanted to tell you again that I was sorry. Sorry for what never would happen between us; sorry for the very end of an "us"; most of all, sorry that I could not hug you with the emotions that I wanted to convey to you. I thought that seeing you would bring me a sense of closure that the phoneline could never give me, but when I heard your voice, you know how much your voice meant to me, I experienced a renewed sense of regret. At that moment, I wanted to cry for the times that I should have cried with you. That time when both of us were so desperate to reach an understanding; that time when you gave me absolution; and that time when you realized that I wasn't worth it. Yet, I couldn't do any of it. Not the words. Not the embrace. Not the tears. You were beyond me to a place I could not reach. I might as well have tried to gather sundust.

The moments never lived. The moments with you. The things never said. The "I love you."

But isn't love never having to say you are sorry? Why are all the adages always so horribly wrong? Love conquers all. What a motley assortment of words. I don't even believe in love that extends outside of the self so how does one explain this seemingly endless ache?

Wed, 05 Jan 2005 04:37:44 GMT

I don't like Shakespeare. I think that he has some clever works and uses meter very well. His work can be very crude though and too bawdy. Hamlet was a play I appreciated. I also liked Twelfth Night. Here is a sonnet of his that I thought was particularly sweet:

William Shakespeare

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no, it is an ever-fixèd mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his heighth be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

I guess what makes me dislike Shakespeare so much is the fact he is lauded entirely too much for one man. Moreover, his plays are complete bullshit to read and were meant to be viewed and not read. The sheer testament to this fact is the sheer horridness of reading his overwritten and stolen garbage. Forster now. That's a Brit worth reading. So it Maugham for that matter. Ah yes. I am quite passionate about these issues.

Thu, 23 Dec 2004 01:21:24 GMT

So I am sitting here in the Quad with hot chocolate. It's pretty sweet if I ignore the fact that I can only take 3 steps from my desk before I walk into either:

1) a couch
2) a refrigerator
3) a door

I am also sitting against a wet shirt because I am in the process of doing laundry (damnation for air dry only shirts and the fact that I don't have a clothesline or clothes rack!). Anyway, Simi is storing her couch and refrigerator in my room because she is moving off campus next semester. It's cool. Simi is one of those people who make you feel guilty because she is so good natured or that could just be me because I am bad natured? The downside to this boring tidbit from my life is that she forgot to defrost her refrigerator before storing it in my room. Consequently, a quarter of my room, which came carpeted, is soaked in some sort of vile smelling water. It's times like these that I wish I was in Salinas, California to immerse myself in Steinbeck culture...Ah yes. If only. Fortunately, my RA Patrick is in the best possible colliquial expression, plain "awesome." I told him about my current predicament with the soaked rug and he fixed me up with a space heater to dry it out. Patrick is really a dear, dear person. He is double majoring in Biology and Spanish! He also painted this extraordinary oil painting. Moreover, he tried to help me in botany and doesn't seem overly upset when I lock myself out of my room at 4 am.

I have to say that Hiram is pretty abandoned right now. Pretty much everyone left early today or yesterday. There is even more snow than there was before. I am slightly concerned that my flight will be delayed or cancelled. Such an event could result in me departing from Ohio on Christmas Eve which would suck unbelievably.

Today I watched part of "Bowling for Columbine" with Takihiro but I fell asleep in the middle of it because I was sleepy. Takihiro disturbed me greatly when he randomly inserted into our conversation that I smelled like the Nepalese students. I think I should be insulted? I only say that because I know for a fact that one of them does not shower for long periods of time.

Tomorrow I will be travelling from 6 am to 5 pm. Fun, fun.