They'll blow us to suckdom come.

Also: Guys suck. It has reached the breaking point of suckdom. I am honestly fed up. You show a little REAL com[passion] and then you get the big slap in the face.

Fueled by Diet Coke.

Well, almost a month since the last entry, and still in the position of unemployment. To get a good mental picture of how many times I've applied and followed up to places - let one lego block constitute a single application, and now imagine that stacked up as high as the leaning tower of Pisa.
So I might be exaggerating a wee bit, but after a recent attempt which seemed to be going very well (and what I proclaimed to be the 'perfect position' for myself) in which I had an interview, had homework (copious amounts of research and an interview molded into an article all nicely incorporated into an illustrious Power Point presentation which I was astutely proud of myself) was ready to present it - but it was apparent that another person was already picked for the part - when I was told I would come in and present it, they had me e-mail it instead, and got the 'we picked this person' e-mail shortly thereafter. (Commence the crying, shaking me at a bar later that night - out because I didn't want to be home, but completely quiet because I didn't feel like speaking to anyone.)
Since then, I'm trying my damndest not to be too jaded, and walking in town watching the sunset tonight, a thought popped in my head. Life is too fucking beautiful to be so bogged down worrying all the time. This does suck, I am very incredibly unsure about my future at the moment, but damn. I'm 25. And you know what? I'm not some stuck up shithead (excuse my french) who had everything handed to them on a silver platter, I've already almost worked for a decade of my life and did 4 years in college. I've always worked hard, and I've always tried my best. I have an amazing father who - lord knows has put up with my stubborn, ridiculous highs and lows, and is currently helping me out at the moment because this world is so crazy and money is so stupid.
Everyone is so worried, stressed out, and their mental capabilities are being tested and strained like slimy spaghetti that was cooked too long. Sometimes I wonder who stops to really appreciate a sunset anymore in this psycho world of technology. I seriously want to punch anyone who ever utters the phrase 'but there's an app for that!'
This is really discombobulated. I need to go do what I do to forget this nonsense. Sing some karaoke, and then begin the next day with more resume shuffling and yadda yadda.

uncomfortably numb.

This is my pickley pickle.

- Housing situation.
- Hit by car, but okay.
- got let go of work, seasonal cutback.
- Financially... ?
- Where to go from here?
- Must be strong and figure this out myself...?

Waitressing is finito, secretarial job in high demand. (I highly demand it, to find one however...)

I think all these events are trying to tell me something... I'm trying to listen.

yerple nerple.

[Don Aliff]
12:40am

that's good to hear. you always did that well
i haven't written anything since i've broken my hand

[You]
12:41am

:( i had to learn how to write with a broken hand in 1st grade
and succeeded!

[Don Aliff]
12:41am

well done!

[You]
12:41am

yeah, a bully knocked me down on a skating rink and i landed on it funny

[Don Aliff]
12:42am

little bastard

[You]
12:42am

i think he sadistically liked to see me cry, looking back on it now

[Don Aliff]
12:42am

find him and kill him

[You]
12:43am

i took my treasure trolls to school and he'd rip their hair out

[Don Aliff]
12:43am
yeah, sounds like your theory is spot on

[You]
12:43am

and chase me on the playground, to which my 1st grade crush chased after him to save me

[Don Aliff]
12:43am

chivalry is still alive and well in the young

[You]
12:44am

the crush was waiting at the side of the rink when the collision happened and he 'examined' it like a doctor when i went over to him and was like, 'yep, i think it's broken'
he also signed his name with a heart below it on my hot pink cast

[Don Aliff]
12:45am
smart kid, find him and marry him!

[You]
12:45am

he vanished the day before 1st grade ended and i never saw him again

[Don Aliff]
12:46am

you got a short story there. write it down

[You]
12:46am

it was... simple love.
and i still got to laugh at his underwear when he'd bend over - and he was okay about it. muahaha.

[Don Aliff]
12:47am

haha

[You]
12:48am

i want to imagine that he didn't think i was very aware of time because he got me a hip plastic watch for christmas

[Don Aliff]
12:48am

puppy love. cute

[You]
12:48am

obviously wrapped by his mom with his school picture on top
so suave

[Don Aliff]
12:49am

that's smoove
not smooth
smoove
i remember in kindergarten some girl called me handsome

[You]
12:50am

you know what would be nuts? if i could somehow, go out on a limb, call and ask my old elementary school in Dayton, Ohio if they would disclose any information about him... I've even asked old friends there if they'd ever seen him since - and no... he was gone

[Don Aliff]
12:51am

i was elated, butterflies in my stomache, all the cliches

[You]
12:51am

well that girl sounds awesome

[Don Aliff]
12:51am

and then i didn't talk to her again all year because i was shy, but in my mind she was my girlfriend haha

[You]
12:51am

aw.

Ay.

This is what happens when you decide to orchestrate some 'considerably happy and upbeat' updates for the world so they're unaware of my current fear of everything but fear. Of course, this was my little 'thought bubble' on facebook where you can put anything your little heart desires, and boy when does my trap shut? Wait scratch that - my fingers want to write something. If this is the only 'BS' I can get out, well everyone can suck it, I'm going to say what I want to say. (I really don't mean that. It'd always be nice to be a little bit more badass.)

"The most glorious rice risotto with two kinds of mushrooms (1up x ?) is in mi estomago, which shook as i laughed at really funny shows and drank LIQUID COOKIES and looked at the best book ever that had things on cats and planted a bottle cap on elliot's heat and he wore it ever so proudly and I get to babysit him soon and our epic journey will be foretold and will be somewhat considerably better than Homeward Bound. but where we run to - no one will know. oh and Gaby and I are going to make a show?"


It's 12:32 America, and where are you?

Dreams...

I was seduced by a much older man in my dream last night - completely obsessed, he goes back to his wife, once he sees me again with his wife by his side, he goes mad - yells at me saying 'why did you let me go back to her she's so boring (his wife)' has a creepy gleam in his eye, and shoots me in my right arm. And then I wake up.

Seriously, my dreams are outrageous.

"I'm gonna have fun in the city..."

Sitting on the deck with my roommate this morning, I regailed him about my rather whimsical day I experienced - and one I had not yet slumbered upon.

Having slept in like how a proper day should be partially spent doing, I awoke with a particularly profound ephiphany shortly thereafter -
and actually needed to vocalize said epiphany in the form of an exasperated voice message.

My heart is racing fast.

Due to the excessive amounts of soreness shooting through my body like a cold, steel pinball machine, I sat in the only area the interwebs are accessible (the kitchen table)
which, isn't the most comfortable position - what with them high rise chairs n' all.


Tonight, I'll spend my bread
Tonight, I'll lose my head
Tonight, I've got to get
Tonight



My ears perked up to these lines crackling through my radio as I sit propped up in my bed writing this.

Since one ridiculous thing thall shall not be spoken of that I use too much didn't seem to want to work yesterday, I amused myself gabbing into the phone with Fozzie Bear while sitting
outside on a step.

Up in the tall trees, the birds were ravenous with conversation - thousands of improperly spaced chirps with no real regular metrical ticks (beats.)
I wondered what the fuss was all about; I felt left out.

It's hard to focus my thoughts into my fingers at the moment - distraction is now in the form of the experimental notes permiating and penetrating
through a door into my ears: Mike is writing a song on his guitar.

I want to be verbose but I feel like I should be succinct - every moment was profound: I bounced around the city in perfect harmony - keeping to the beat of
the music flowing against my eardrums - albiet the lightning bolts in each right step; walking in town felt completely different to me.

First stop - sitting, smiling, and clapping watching the band The Red Hot Chili Pipers vibrantly perform classic and current alternative rock hits - kilted, attractive young (and old) scotsman: three bagpipers, two drummers (one of the snare persuasion), the ring leader singer.

but lest I ramble - it was an explosion of excitement. It was sold out; I had met one member of the opening band and their roadie from San Francisco as they sat next to me at a bar the previous night, and told me to show up.
I didn't know how well I'd pull it off, but with some talk and patience, I explained to the people at the door what had happened hoping for a 'long shot in the dark', I eventually stated, and as vindication that I wasn't some loon with a fake story, waited as they were busy breaking down their set.
I had missed it, tried not to be upset; the moment in time to see the interesting scotsman I'd conversed with had past.

During my patient waiting, I walked outside and talked to a young couple from Ware, when - who comes walking down the street?
Oh, you know, just Santa.

After some real life reality talk of his 40 year old career being the big jolly man took place, he asked me, "Do you still believe in Santa?"
I felt a little taken aback, attempted not to stutter, and mustered something hardy along the lines of "of course, of course I do!"

I left prematurely after asking a bagpiper - whom, was taking a break outside while the rest of the band still charged ahead on-stage inside - "If you could say one thing about America (in the five weeks that they had toured across the states) what would it be?"
It was the girls. Apparently they don't put out well back home.
"But, admittedly, they're crazy, right?"
He agreed to an extent.

To then adventure to watch some of the best comedies that always make me laugh aloud on television with three compadres in a comfy home,

visiting the chivalrous man at work - making unnoticeable funny faces at the comic book power duo of Urban Outfitters - drinking a beer, reading about the Airstream Turkey Wagon. Giving a kiss on the cheek goodbye...

and when I finally began my journey home, through my blurry near sighted eyes - spotted my best lady waving me down to cross the street. She pulled my leg to come join her with a free IPA involved, and I refereed a game of boggle between her and another friend. Little miss word genius won.

It became time for Boggle champ to go be a diner waitress - and I glued my butt to the bar, sipped coffee, read and discussed the newspaper with Kreg as he made me a cheeseburger, got hugs from friends who came in, and then finally trotted my way home.

But I drank coffee, so I sifted through past memories all night - and missed a lot of old friends... but is excitedly meeting and wanting to meet lots of new people.

It was the day I apologized to Northampton for having a love/hate relationship with her.

prickin' at the pain.

"a careless word may kindle strife; a cruel word may wreck a life;
a timely word may level stress; a loving word may heal and bless."

- Anonymous





Imagining myself in a group therapy session is rather painful; my mind is burning as I try to envision this moment: what would happen, how I'd convey my feelings,which of those I would pick and choose to vocalize, how I would collect and perceive others difficult - possibly traumatic - situations; what I'd be able to say to help.I've always tried to think of, or consider myself, a helpful person.

At this given moment, late at night - I am now questioning how helpful I really am, hence the thought of therapy in the first place. It's as if I've reached the point of being completely sick of my mental thought process, but that's not it, there's a horribly long list, and I'm an exceptional list maker. My uncontrollable urges to say what I hold to be self evident (and combined with the influence of alcohol, is a force so terribly strong that no one, and I mean no one, wants to listen to - even if it holds a shred of credibility - hidden amongst the malicious poison in the positioning of my lightning bolt pinpointed pokes and prods.) What gave me the god honest right to tell others what I think they should do? How have I made these justifications? After you tell yourself something over and over again,you truly start to believe it is completely and absolutely okay.

How repetitive I can be - Miss Repeating Parrot. My mind is trying very hard to believe what I say, so out it stumbles - in hopes that, at the same time, others will believe it too. 'Oh I've lived in this place and I did this and this happened and I'm trying to accomplish this," Great. Say it a few times, well okay. Say it any more than that, exnay on the oopid stay. Dwelling on the rough bumps in the past needs to be washed away - the future and the unknown are trying to wiggle their way in, alas - there's still a swinging no vacancy sign. 'What is keeping them so long?' they wonder.

Is it that awkward prospect of... love? the most mysterious indefinable fallacy (note the extreme oxymoron) - translative and questioned in every language - am I really just waiting around, putting my life on hold, driving myself and others crazy because of... love? Am I that gullible and naive? Oddly enough, after two years of throwing myself at (not to) the dogs (after two previous years of manipulative misery - on both ends, may I add respectively) I am attempting something with someone. Tippy toe, day to day,with the highest level of uncertainty (and pushing against my fatalistic, defeatist, holier than thou attitude.) Do I really want to tell anyone about that? In a town where secrecy is problematic, I am making the decision to keep something to myself for once (even though thoughts of creating a column about these specific endeavors constantly run around in circles in my head: probably on lap 5,698 - and that's only this past month.)


To Be Continued (Bed time.)

yoyoyoyo sup ya'll mama KDs in da house

Seriously people, forget the party boundaries - its time to find the real leaders hidden under the woodwork (ala Independents who don't get the extra moolah from big business to fund their campaigns for the more moderate world's point of view) Obama, if you want to save us now, wave a little white flag of defeat over the White House and see to it that you find the best and brightest of this country to lead after your term hath expired.

United States of Crude Ass Shit.

The oil spill is killing me. K-i-l-l-i-n-g me.

Tried to put a cap on that ass, failed.

Tried again, quite sure I read the robot failed again.

Then this: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/05/13/wheres-the-oil-your-gover_n_575647.html

They don't fucking know. They're not really trying hard enough. Let's just point fingers, let's just approve Shell to drill in the Arctic... let's just pretend all the fucking sea-life don't mean a damn thing...

God damn this country.

Smith College Greenhouse: 3/19/10

Once upon a chilly day in March of 2010, 

amidst the feminist confines of Smith College 

in Northampton, Massachusetts,

two non-students decided to gallivant to the greenhouse, 

and amongst the way, met a new friend: 

we had the goodies,

and our path laid out.

someone decided to follow...

the lil creep.

anywhozels, the rest of the photos with no ridic story attached

can be seen if you click the title of this entry.

Houston, we have lift off.

Hello blog, I'm back, and for good reason. It's time to REALLY use a blog for what it's worth. Why? Because as of today, everything we once knew is out the door, down the block... getting run over by a car.

Good news, Americans! Now other countries involved in our giant corporations have a say in what puppet will be in office next! (I'll get to this in a bit, don't get your panties in a bunch yet...)

I'm not holding anything back this time. For so long, I've kept silent, but now I can honestly say what I've been thinking about Obama's administration, a year of drinking spoiled milk. For the entire election, I tried, like the good college student I was, to stay actively informed... watching - reading - observing, hell, I was working for my campus' newspaper, and were running stories and articles left and right. Debates? Watched them all, lobbying? Hell no, and I'm glad I didn't (even though a majority of my fellow staff writers showed where their loyalties stood rather quickly), because I was up in arms about who to choose up until the very end, just as I was about the recent Mass Senate election. (I voted for Obama. I reprimanded myself merely a day after.)

Sometimes I'm just too objective... but being on the fence isn't such a bad thing. If someone can't choose.. that's admirable to me, means you're not easily persuadable. If one doesn't believe in the party system, like myself, WHY would you vote? Similar-minded people, where are you? We need to band together to create a group that would be impervious to ridicule - have elements of truth and honesty, no falsehoods allowed. (Get back to this too again at some point I'm sure.)

Yes, this might sound horribly, horribly disjointed right now, but being silent for so long, now I want to say everything. Something literally HIT me today, I actually said aloud in the bathroom, sitting on the toliet, "It's time to get serious." (How serious can you be on a toliet? hmm..)

Alright, so today... what's really pissing me off, is Obama's typical, repetitive sentiments. Yes, I know, most Presidents probably have had them, yes this is where people would bring up Bush to me in an argument, (I dislike arguments by the way, more for conversation that helps each other understand?) but, in regards to the most recent Supreme Court ruling, at this point in the failed 'Hope' campaign, who wants to hear this?

"With its ruling today, the Supreme Court has given a green light to a new stampede of special interest money in our politics," said President Obama in a statement. "It is a major victory for big oil, Wall Street banks, health insurance companies and the other powerful interests that marshal their power every day in Washington to drown out the voices of everyday Americans... That's why I am instructing my Administration to get to work immediately with Congress on this issue. We are going to talk with bipartisan Congressional leaders to develop a forceful response to this decision."
(Source: Huffington Post)

- Special interest money in our politics? Oh boy oh boy, Obama is doing a Mr. Burns hand gesture in his giant armchair...
- Now to most, this may sound like he 'cares' about the 'everyday Americans.' but, he also said, 'major victory!' for the Big'uns! That sentence alone is a mindfuck! Drowning out voices, well, they really don't want to listen to us complain, right?
- He handcrafted this one real well; I can just picture big corporations reading it knowing it's Obamas secret way of saying "GREEN LIGHT GUYS!" - cut to guys dancing around Wall Street.
- And of course, like all of his gift wrapped speeches, his passive aggressive, oh so typical 'yeah we're going to work on this immediately but really, I've told you I'm Superman and I'm trying to do everything, so don't expect it to actually happen.'


I can't stand to watch this man speak anymore, it's so shifty it drives me nuts. Saw his initial response to Haiti, had to turn the channel. Robotic, monotone, head turning left, right, left... like boot camp. But he doesn't have to impress us, right? Kinda.. gave up on that? Mired in a heavy workload one 'hopes?'


But you know, maybe that's all I should really write about Obama, because I'm not writing to be just another silly pundit. Yes, I can analyze his actions the way I'd like, and what I think is the truth, but it will not get me any further, nor this country, for that matter.

What I really aspire to do, writing here, is to try to get others at least CURIOUS about political subjects. It might take baby steps, but it's better than what I've been reading some people saying, who tell others to give up on everybody with the resounding words of 'fuck it, they'll always be ignorant.' who wants to say something like that, and let's say, if a catastrophe happened (who knows...) your friends and loved ones got left in the dust? (That was a lot of 'says'... Say say say, what you want, but don't play games, with my affection...)


Here's to political writing endeavors! AND - I want FEEDBACK. EVERY KIND OF FEEDBACK. (As long as it's intelligible.) If you read something and don't think I understand what I'm talking about, MAKE me understand. Hopefully I can/will/attempt to bring some perspective, maybe I won't, who knows? Doesn't hurt to try.

Holy healthy frustration!

Over-prescribed America: the pharmaceutical industry has successfully turned everyone into hypochondriacs. Nikki, my roommate, works at a pharmacy, and has to deal with getting harassed by individuals who firmly believe that without their medication, they will surely die. Yes, they literally question her, "Do you want me to die?"

Nikki spoke of how pharmaceutical companies, who send reps around with a big wad of money to descend upon doctors and shower them with freebies (in the form of computers and other high tech gadgetry) to use their crap (yes, crap), even make medication for side effects to their own product.

Say, a migrane medicine? Ah yes, I should stock up on high blood pressure and nausea pills too. Or maybe, I could really just drink more water.

Words escape me feeling this utterly painful pit in my stomach in regards to the sadness felt towards the current state of society: that it seems, no one can just fend for themselves: they must always be desperately seeking out some instant temporary relief.

Where's the journalists who are questioning Obama for essentially getting secretly financially involved with all these big company juggernauts? The muckrakers who want to go in and dissect these soulless (albeit beneficial, at times) burdens upon our country? Where's the writers who want to urge Americans, as well as every country, to re-learn how to take care of themselves, in which they wouldn't have to bow down to these modern day carpet baggers?

Under rocks, I suppose. Maybe I can coerce them out with a stick... heeere journy-journ. Come out, come out...

Frazzled.

I have a close friend in Northampton who, day by day, has been expanding my knowledge on the current agricultural crisis.

My interest in the topic started when I saw a This American Life episode last winter where they went to an engineered pig farm, but the more I read, the more I'm getting frustrated. Here's some links to various sites/articles/documentaries: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monsanto, http://www.foodincmovie.com, http://www.organicconsumers.org/monlink.cfm

and apparently, this is the woman to turn to, an Anastasia who lives in the outskirts of Siberia: http://www.ringingcedars.com





even more importantly, I'm teetering on the edge of wanting to be more outspoken about being against Obama. Just as many vegans don't expound their views onto others, I'm not doing so in regards to how I feel towards our current president, but honestly, Americans of every race and religion need to wake up. As a journalist, messenger, whatever you want to call me, I need to be true to myself to say what I think. Think what you want, but I wouldn't call myself misinformed.


[I'd like to think these people weren't crazy.]

On a different note, I have taken much consideration into becoming a vegan. Moving to Northampton has opened my eyes, broadened my horizons and perspectives. Connecticut is in denial mode major, and I'm glad I got out.


Food for thought.

"Oh come on. You haven't even tried donuts yet. You wanna store some fat, that is the way to store some fat, you'll be sweating through the winter."

Thursday night. Time: around nine pm.

In a quasi sedated state, my roommate Nicki and I decide to leave the apartment. As Nicki grabs something, I lead the way out, walking down the steps, and as I throw open the screen door, I see something that stops me dead in my tracks.

A large, brown bear.

Yes, Yogi the bear had decided to grace his presence upon the residence next door. The only thing separating myself from this nuisance was a miserable looking fence, one that said bear could pulverize in a pinch.

Alas, he was occupied in Fantasyland: four very large, full garbage cans were there for the taking. Nicki and I stood at the fence, transfixed on our visitor. While our neighbor called animal control, Nicki took photos with her phone, and I let out a "Holy shit I can't believe it's a bear" (or something to that extent) every few minutes or so.

At times, he'd look up at us, but that was all; he could care less. Funniest moment: him climbing into a toppled garbage bin, and our neighbor laughing, "If only we could shut the lid and catch him."

When he had exhausted all of his options, he decided to wander down towards an old folks establishment. "If they see him, someone's going to have a heart attack," I told Nicki. I was worried however, for he was walking towards South Street, which is extremely busy.

Running down the road, we found him chilling by a tree. All of a sudden, a helicopter began circling above us; I believe they may have used it as a tactic to 'scare' him back into the woods, and he did run away.

Later on at a friends house, I was a mere feet away from a skunk, who was apparently munchin' and crunchin' on a nice bag of trash. Arriving home, we find out that a neighbor's dog got skunked.

Yes, I made an Over The Hedge reference. It had to be expected, right?