Island of Funky Beatniks

Summer Updates!

2009-08-13T09:08:57Z

I got into both Western and Evergreen! I want to go to Western, but my mom REALLYREALLY wants me to go to UPS. She's beginning to use phrases like, "don't put all your eggs into one basket." Who knows...

Events are cowards. They run in packs and are too afraid to hit us one-by-one.

jeremyhilaryphd @ 2009-08-06T00:38:00

2009-08-06T08:14:52Z

So, I admit it, I totally forgot about this. My world has completely changed since coming home and making the change from college me to home me. Let's just leave it at that and let me get on to whatever I wanted to say.

Summer Inventory:
(In no particular order)

1. Went to Marymore Park and saw RaRa Riot and Death Cab for Cutie. Went a wee bit crazy in love and bought (another) tshirt.
2. Actually saw and cleaned up after Nick (the bassist) from Death Cab. Mickel is going to introduce us next time!
3. Spent time with my cousin, Eva. I borrowed her car even! Not that she didn't freak out about all the time...
4. Almost moved into my own place twice. Actually got moved into the first one before I decided that the owner was too dodgy. The second time because Aine had her bf move in instead the day before I was about to come.
5. Got a job at my Aunt's salon doing the glamorous chore of cleaning. Every day. That is my job. I've never had such a boring thing to do in my life. At least this gives me more incentive to be successful in college.
6. Got mad at Andrew. Forgave him. Got mad at him. Stayed mad. Told him to fuck off. Forgave him. Did it all again.
7. Went skinny dipping in the Pacific.
8. Spent all of my money before my next pay check. Damn costly food!
9. Got drunk several times with family.
10. Fought with mother continuously because I'm a failure and make her a failure as a mother.
11. Applied to colleges and freaked the fuck out about filling out all the applications again.
12. Tried to travel between two very crowded cities without a car for the entire summer.
13. Was misunderstood.
14. Became confused.
15. Life crisis.
16. Began a band.
17. Wrote a bit more of my novel, but not nearly enough.
18. Wondered where the time went.
19. Went to FolkLife and had the boys(Carlos, Andrew, Ben, and Jon) stay over with me for 5 days.
20. Played Rock Band.
21. Read a bit. Not as much as I usually do.
22. Had a lot more family time and talked too much about issues that have already been discussed before.
23. Stayed up all night so I could watch the sunrise on the sound. Twice with two different sweet boys.
24. Slept with a boy. Thrice. Sleep, that was all!
25. Was thoroughly disappointed with myself intermingled with points of clarity and courage.
26. Made another list without realizing it.
27. Dyed my hair red.
28. Found out that I'm only attracted to narcissists and to boys that will never want me.
29. Was told that I was beautiful and didn't believe it.
30. Was told that I was gorgeous and stunning and did believe it.
31. Have the responsibilities of a 30 year old, feel like a 40 year old, wander like a 25 year old, and been told I look like a 15 year old.
32. Realize that I've been inside my head for too long.
33. Shiver... with anticipation!
34. Been a good girl, I am.
35. Boobs got bigger. Again.
36. Miss all my friends profusely.
37. Ended a list on 37.
38. JK!!!!

Just a bit of fiction....

2009-03-05T04:08:55Z

Quote.

I was once a cloud. And so were you! We were all once floating above the world, laughing and bouncing off each other. It was during these pleasant moments that I forgot and I will never forget about forgetting. That is my secret, and it is only special because I can hold it here, in my ever-growing consciousness that I’m sure must be as big as one of the mountains that I used to sleep upon when we were once clouds. I can remember being almost blinded by the yellow and white glowing sun, but because we were clouds, we lacked the ability to have our eyes blinked and wetted or destroyed. It didn’t matter whether you were good or evil, high or low, we were just clouds in the abyss. My favorite days were when we traveled to the places where the ocean met with the land and we carefully laid our bodies upon the sand and rocks to look at the turbulent sea.

I had no friends and no enemies. I don’t even believe I realized I existed at that point until I had the chance to look back as I can now. I was blessed, or cursed, with the remembrance of those times. I was also a boy, a girl, a rabbi, a rabbit, an elephant, a lumberjack, a baker, countless plants, and atoms that were neither identified or responded to the prodding mind of mine. Now I am here, writing this to you. I have a father and a mother. I used to have a younger brother, but he became dirt a decade and a fortnight ago. I think that I am not the only who remembers him, and I thank the colors for that. My parents and my gene pool remember him very well and they even place youthful looking plants atop of his grey gravestone. I don’t understand why ending the life of one being can help the living understand the dead one in the ground. But perhaps I just can’t understand because I can remember it all. I don’t think my brother would like to be dirt at all, because it is not a very exciting life. You cannot decide what you want to do and you cannot go where you want to go. You merely are walked on and occasionally eaten by some carbon being. Yet he was so eager to experience his dirt life that he used a steel knife to skip up his arm and sliced through his tender white skin. I don’t like the smell of blood, because I have smelled it too often in my lives. Blood means secrets and secrets mean more gluttonous responsibilities for me.

I like the color green and letter “C” when it is pronounced like an “S”. I like looking at things for long periods of time and identifying their secrets. Sometimes people have secret little smiles that they hold in the corner of their mouth, trying to hide it from the rest of the population. Sometimes they hold a secret little frown on the other corner, too. I like thick sand between my toes and hiding out in places where no one, save the ideas that exist without a body, can see me. One of my mothers said I was a peculiar person, and I guess that you could say that. People are peculiar or odd when you can’t understand them. I can clearly understand everyone’s but the thoughts that are not fully understood themselves. There are a lot more than you would think and they confuse me and make me want to become particles again.

I don’t like to look into mirrors. That is a secret only I know and a few of my lovers who groomed themselves in front of their silver reflection. Today I am a person with a father, a mother, and a dead brother who was eager to meet his death. They call me names like Rainy (although I would have liked to have been called Cecil).

“So there we were, your mother and I, hiking up Mount Ranier. Your mother’s belly was almost as big as that volcano and you made her explode when we were on the side. ‘Fuck! Mount Rainier exploded!’ I said. Your mother was like Rapunzel’s mother, making her husband climb to the most ridiculous place to satisfy some crazy hormones. I said to her, ‘Susan, are you absolutely sure that you want to go up the mountain today?’ and she assured me, practically yelled at me, that she wanted to conquer the mountain before you were born. Life goals and all of that shit. So we found some of my old boots for her huge feet and one of my jackets that could zip up around her stomach. I was nearly going out of my fucking mind with worry for you inside of her. But I was more scared of your mother than anything else at that point. Ask anyone, she was a scary woman.”

“Oh, Alan,” my mother would say, “I wasn’t that bad.” And my father would nod to her with a smile then wait until she looked away to mock slice his throat with his finger.

“So I pack up our little beat up Volkswagen and we drove a couple of hours to get to the bottom of mountain. That place was full of fucking hippies, so your mother was happy. Happy Hippies. Heh. Anyways, it was raining that day of course. Raining at Ranier.”

My father likes alliteration and fancies himself a wordsmith because he makes up many poems and songs. I have nothing to say in contradiction to that.

“November 11^th, 1978, hiking up that damn volcano. It was blasted cold and wet, yet your pregnant mother had the mind to crawl up to the top. I don’t know how she possibly thought she was going to get to the top, because she could barely run to the grocery store that was less than a mile away without complaining from here to the end of the century.” (I like the word ‘century’ and always perk up at this point of the story because he tells it in the same way every time.) “ She wanted to do it without the help of any of those paths so Susan began to trek across the mossy rocks with me worrying my fucking head off about everything. But would she listen to me? No! She had a defined destination and she was going to make it. Why I love this woman is beyond me.”

Here my mother would lean over and peck him on the cheek I knew that they both secretly loved each other because they could complain the same amount. My father would use both hands to emphatically emphasize all of his words and to occasionally point with his thumb to my mother who had wandered off somewhere by then.

“We must have had one of God’s angels there holding us up, because she didn’t slip once. We got there just as the sun was coming up, which must have been about 8 am or something like that. Damn early, that’s all I remember. Anyways, she dragged me up that giant hill and I could barely even move my legs. This is another reason why I’m sure that she was taken care of by some other worldly creature, for she never seemed to tire. Angel or demon, I’m not sure. We passed the trail a couple times as we criss-crossed our way up. We didn’t talk, just rammed our way up with me huffing like a fucking addict. Five miles later, five fucking miles!, something felt odd. The ground shuddered a little bit underneath our feet and my heart must of stopped. It was then that your mother turned to me and said, I quote, “Alan, let’s name him Rainier,” and she fell to the green ground clutching her belly. No cell phone, no one around. You were born pretty quickly and that Angel/Demon made your mother barely feel the pain. She didn’t make it up that volcano, but you sure made it out of her. Bat-shit crazy woman.”

I’ve had many stories that have been told about me. All of them are true and most of them are fiction, but because they are about me, anything really is possible. Some say that I am fashioned out of the earth to protect those that are recycled, and others say that I am too evil or too good to let my soul die. My soul or consciousness (either or those work because the secrets in their minds tell me so) has been in the ground and in the living more times than I want to remember, but I always do. It’s a funny thing that so many mortals wish for immortality when they really desire eternal youth. The world is not so friendly when you can never die to rest. This is not a testimony for my complaints, no, for I have few. I am not the judger (they are my sister), I am the secret-keeper.

I cannot imagine a world without secrets, without the hidden thoughts of every human and plant drifting to near obscurity in me. My secret is that I truly wish to be able to have and to hold my secret, but I cannot make it real for it is written down for me to see and is not hidden. Air, my dead brother, seemed to think that all secrets had to be contained and known by the creator. He would think that unless they were clearly formed in the mind, a secret was not real or fully created. It is my personal belief that the most interesting and important ones are the stories that people hide from themselves or only subconsciously know.

But this is getting too technical.

I live in a city in the in-between of Seattle and Tacoma, Washington. Everyone is always bustling about, but there is always this insane calm that keeps us all sane here. The airport, the cars, the mountains, the rain, the smog, and the water all fit together in this crazy sort of nature versus nurture mess. My parents have both lived here all their lives, and can’t imagine living anywhere else. We are stuck in the Pacific Northwest bubble, and happy to be here. I have a large family to some, but nothing as prolific as I have had in the past. Ten cousins, three uncles, and one aunt. My grandparents are still alive, although they wouldn’t mind debating that topic with me. Their wrinkled skin just keeps on multiplying crevices, hiding more and more secrets than the rest of my family combined. I get along well with them.

Something began one of these grey, wet, and wonderful days. I’m not quite sure what it was, or even who it was, but it seemed almost as if it had been meant to happen in some odd cosmological secret that was above and beyond my own perception of the world and its inhabitants. I wouldn’t put it past the universe to have something like that, it’s a damn tricky place that often confuses the best of us. Myself and my distant family included.

Stepping out from the green painted door that we had in the midst of the other chipped and flaking doors in the suburban city I lived in, the hairs on my arms perked up and I felt like something was watching me. I don’t usually get that feeling, but I have been alive for so long that it’s quite easy to distinguish the silly intricacies of feeling in the human body. We have a small front porch that is always somewhere in between uselessly damp or so dry that even going anywhere near the creaking and manipulated wood would give you a splinter. The porch, like the rest of the house, is painted white but it almost always seems to have a bright gray complexion about it if you stare at it for too long. The tingling feeling was getting larger and larger, minutely so, but enough that my eyes began to dart around our moss infested front yard.

Nothing. No one. Not a soul was out besides one of the neighbors walking outside to get their mail, stand in the drizzle for a few seconds and squint up at the clouds, then they walked back inside barely even noticing the rest of the world around them. It would be sacrilege to carry around an umbrella with me, for it wouldn’t do much good anyways. You see, it rarely ever truly rains here, instead, the rain creeps up all around you, drizzling away like it will never stop –and half the time that’s what I’m nearly convinced of. It’s not that I get wet to the bone, but the saturation of the water in the air places us in a limbo land, a place where ocean, air, and clouds all conceivably co-exist together on one plane.

It's Friday the 13th!

2009-02-13T17:43:22Z

I suppose it's time for me to post as well. I feel like I have fallen too far into myself these past couple of weeks, just getting too involved in my plans and the future. This semester I falsely thought that I wouldn't be completely swamped by work, so I joined a couple of clubs, got two jobs, and gained three hellees. Ha! What a fool I was to think that Bryn Mawr wouldn't try and fuck me up the ass repeatedly. I got kicked out of my intensive French class because they didn't want to hold an entire class session for only seven people. So I had to go to the regular French class at the same time and, of course, Bryn Mawr ran out of the book that I had to immediately buy for it. I bought it online and it got stuck in the mail and took two bloody weeks to get to me. Basically, I got my book two days ago, the afternoon after I had to take my French. Now my prof thinks I am a dull-witted person who can't keep up with his regular class.

Thanks, Bryn Mawr, thanks.

Despite the fact that I hate all the beaurocracy of the school, I will fiercely defend it with my life against anyone who says perhaps I shouldn't be here. It's my own damn fault that the entire student population here is running on blood, sweat, estrogen, and tears. I will just cling to my good and amazing friends that I've made and be happy.

In the middle of orchestra, I suddenly remembered the dream I had the night before. It was set in Montreal (even though I've never been there). There was a large lake, or maybe we were at the ocean or something, because a hotel and city looked over the sandy beach. I was restricted along with the entire population with me to not go outside the hotel confines past sunset. I was very pissed about this curfew and snuck out with some people. We went to the city just beyond the gates guarding the prison/hotel walking on the marble pathways to the glittering city ahead. We somehow snuck out without anyone seeing us and had a lovely dinner at an outdoor restaurant. I stayed out the entire night, sitting by myself on the beach just looking at the water reflecting the moon. In the morning of the dream, I sauntered back into the hotel and was yelled out. I promptly walked out again and began to get chased by someone. I ran on the beach until night again and I had to hide in a shack on the sand. When I walked in, there were already people in there, so I went to the one next door. My friend was having sex with someone that I liked and I felt really betrayed and sad. From there, my dream was just flashed of me walking around a city and trying to solve a problem. At one point I can clearly remember pretending to be on Star Trek and being like Captain Kirk.

Soooooo... today I must write an essay, turn it in, go to work for a couple of hours, practice pimp strut for a couple of hours, die, have a wonderful Batman movie marathon, get shit faced, go to a party, and just not think about school for a night.

I'm excited that I'm going to have dinner this Sunday night with Nat and Reed again. The McGowan clan is finally coming together!

Hell Week is next week and I am not ready for it yet. This is the time where I REALLY need something to motivate me to work more with less sleep. Any suggestions?

Leaving.

2009-01-16T12:26:58Z

I feel most peculiar at this time. Walking out the front door was liberating and upsetting. I am glad that it was night and cloudy, for it seemed like a protective shield for me as I emotionally and physically walked away from things that I didn't even realize had been hurting me. All this time I have been experiencing life through a place where I had to keep tabs on how every movement I made would effect someone else. It wasn't, "gee. I wonder how this will make me feel," it was, "I hope that I make this person happy." I don't want to complain or make it seem like I am totally blameless in every way, but I do feel like I acted like the responsible individual for such a long time. Too long.

A child shouldn't have to see their parents call the police on one another, send each other to prison, constantly battle in the courts, and bicker in front of their children. I was the Berlin Wall that kept each side at bay. Constantly being pounded against, and in some places, virtually ignored. I do not appreciate people thinking that they can look at me and decide that I am a spoiled begger who just simply wants their parents together. That's NOT what I want. I want to them to completely forget that they knew each other, and that I simply appeared in their lives from the grace of God's hand. That way I don't have to be in the middle of all the bad blood and anger that's been boiling inside of them for over 20 years.

Anger has been pooling it's way to me and creating deep crevices in my defense. I don't wonder why I wasn't able to do anything outside of my comfort zone now. I told someone I liked them, something I wouldn't have even considered doing before this circumstance, and I feel so much better now. I have been so emotionally abused by both of my parents that I felt like I never would heal or be a complete person anyone could love. I was just that broken child who was the Wall.

I walked out on my Mother. As she gave me 'that tone of voice' and told me that I never did anything that she asked of me. I am pretty darn reasonable and forgiving, I have to be to get as far as I did, but I just couldn't see her side on this one. I feel like I have become the bad-guy in this story, and I refuse to be made villianized for wanting to have a full life of incorporating ALL my family and my dear friends. She was talking and talking and talking and I was crying. She told me not to leave because she couldn't chase after me. I didn't want to be chased, but I just wanted the situation to end completely. I dont' want to feel guilty, goddamnit!

I went about a mile without feeling any cold. My head was pounding from how much I had cried, and yet the tears still came. I couldn't stop the waterfall. Usually I just feel dead inside, but this time the desert was flooded. Ok. So a plan had to be created from the drama mess that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Call my friends, make a plan, get a hug, stay the night, barely sleep, can't decide what to do, and leave. I still haven't decided what to do, and don't you think that would be a little harsh to plan too far ahead into the future for this kind of thing?

I feel hurt and angry. I dont' want to see her and I want her to understand, really understand, how harmfull all her hate is to herself. For once someone understands that holding the guilt and the weight of something is bad for them, everything in their lives change. It's changing in mine immediatley. I don't have to be a Wall, I can be a particle of free floating air now that makes poor metaphors in effort to explain herself.

Tonight I got really scared. What am I going to do now, in this new spot of freedom? I think that she'll eventually come to the conclusion of forgiveness, but I really don't want to face that right now. I want to seperate myself and care about what things could make me happy. My aunt asked me, "What makes you happy, Hilary?" and I couldn't honestly answer her. I do things for myself, yes, of course. But do I preface all these things with how they would affect someone else, yes! I haven't eaten properly in three days, and I have a cold, but the only thing that slightly calms my nerves is to go on a brisk walk to the water. So that's exactly what I did. I found the tantalizing beach from my Aunt's Seattle house, took off all my clothes, and descended into the frigid January water. I didn't care about anything. Hell, I was wading out to my neck in the Puget Sound at 10:30 at night all alone. How odd can you get? The freeway above the water was above me and to the right, and I could see all the lights across the bay. Alone and slowly making my way through the black water, I wondered what I was doing and why? I had no one to explain myself to and no one to tell me, "no, you can't do that." So I did something that I've always dreamed about doing.

Getting out of the water was the worst part, for I had been aclimating myself to its climate for over half-an-hour I found as I later looked at the time. I think I had some hypothermia, for I could barely walk or move my hands. I had to sit on the beach for a while and slowly breath to try to get my body to stop shivering and to start thingking clearly. I got lost walking up the hill, so I didn't get back until 11:30. I was saved by my Aunt who talked to me and gave me exactly what I needed, love and comforting words with a nice big bowl of icecream and a bubble bath.

I don't know what I'll do for the bigger picture, but I do feel like I need to focus on being me for a while. I want to leave and not feel any guilt for that. So I'll pick up my things tomorrow and go to the airport on Saturday. This is not a permanent thing to run away from home, but staying in a abusive relationship is a bad thing. I realize that now.

jeremyhilaryphd @ 2008-12-15T13:39:00

2008-12-15T22:31:35Z

Done. I am done with all my classes this semester. It's such a relief to know that a million things aren't hanging over my head, knocking on me constantly telling to GET IT DONE! NOW! But what am I to make of this wonderful gift of a month? I feel like I wasted part of this past summer being selfish of myself. Not that it's bad to finally take a bit of time out to live purely for yourself, but I ended up limiting myself in my fears of handling other people.

Dear Mr. D, I've been a selfish little girl and I plan on changing that a wee bit. Honestly, I enjoy being able to laze about and not feel an odd sort of guilt about me, but I am going to actually disturb my reverie of self-pampering and actually go out of my way to get the truth out of people. I want to see my family and not have to think that I'm not good enough for them. I want to be able to be Hilary, that cool person with the original thoughts and perhaps a little funny. I don't want to be, that poor Hilary who hasn't had a Father her whole life and, hey! her mom has four cats! I'm not complaining, because I obviously love my family, but I want to feel like I'm not always standing on edge with them.

I feel like I finally have made that first step this weekend when both my parents left my Aunt Rory's house and I was alone to prove myself amongst my many cousins. They are all such accomplished people! I sat in the computer room with Eva, Viola, Rose and Jim. We looked at old pictures and commented on how silly someone looked or how one of us was adorable as a baby. There was this great picture of me as a baby, sitting with Santa and completely crying my head off. I slept here in the house last night and joined my Aunt Rory and Rose in the bed when Viola left and we were all still in out pajamas. They talked so casually about how they're starting their new line of beauty products, having designers give them over $25,000 worth of clothing and just simply living the life of dreams. But that's what it is- casual. I felt no sense of unearned giddiness run through my veins as a famous actress sat next me and told me about her life. I felt like it was my long lost cousin who has a life, dreams, hopes, ans simply deals with the life that we've all been given. I was glad that I finally got to talk to everyone, even though the occasion of my Uncle's death isn't idealistic or happy by any degree.

i love that I am finally being able to speak for myself and *gasp* swear with my Aunt Rory and make dirty jokes with my amazing family. I plan on making a habit out of this and forcing myself to getting to know them more. Viola lives in Montreal, Jim lives in New Mexico, Rose lives in LA, Nate lives in Philly, and Eva lives in Seattle. I WILL contact them and go stay with them. I will not be limited by being shy or feeling like I don't stand up to them. I fucking standing, bitch. My self confidence is a bit higher today, I don't know if this is the pills finally taking some effect on me or me just growing up. I rather like to think that it's a mixture of both. And it doesn't hurt that Rose told me (me!) that I look beautiful.

This break I plan on:
1. Practicing music
2. Writing music
3. Writing my novel so I can win my bet. I had a braniac idea about how to make my book interesting and to make the ideas in my head translate better on the page. I'm going to combine my regular novel with a graphic novel so the pictures and the worlds of words and pictures align to one totally awesome... thing. At least in my mind I'm pumping it up to be like that so I can actually get excited about it and get it done.
4. Visiting family equally as much as my wonderful friends.
5. Enjoying myself.

jeremyhilaryphd @ 2008-11-24T15:09:00

2008-11-24T20:47:23Z

I honestly don't feel like posting, but where else (no, what else) can I do?

I've cried more this past month than I have in my entire lifetime. I'm on more drugs than you can shake a stick at, I'm procrastinating till no end, and I'm thoroughly unreliable to get anything viable done. I feel useless and lazy- like a little dust pile stranded in that one corner you can never clean.

Grace died. She was one of the most wonderful people that I've ever known. I can't and never could think of a word to describe how amazing she was. And now she's gone to heaven and she was only 22.

My Uncle Danny is on his deathbed. He probably will die tonight, in the midst of all my family in the sterile white hospital bed in which he currently resides. He had so much life! I love his cackle of a laugh, always making jokes out of everything as if he had some devilish specter behind his eyes. He would whistle and sing and make up songs about his pets: the more abuse he spoke the more he loved them. I miss how he used to just let me be a child around him and respected me for who I was. I miss during those wonderfully grey Seattle days, wandering up to his studio on those creaky old stairs and watching him draw. Sometimes he would give me some of his art supplies and we would work diligently together, creating our respective masterpieces. He was no saint, but what he believed, he believed with his whole heart. I loved it when he would crack a gap toothed smile and say something completely wild and unexpected, somehow pulling in God's love into the conversation and completely confusing you. I love that you lived in Italy and had a cult, raising your children on freedom and love. You might not of grown up on the best of terms, nor been the kindest, but you found kindness and always let us know when you loved us. I miss you so much and I wish I could be there with you right now. My crazy cult, pot-smoking, Italian-pretending, hippy, artist, catholic, loving Uncle Danny.

So now I'll go about my life, trying to do stupid projects that will never matter to me again once I'm done with them. The small picture isn't looking too pretty, I just hope this is the dark shading in my life masterpeice.

History! I'm part of it!

2008-11-05T07:35:19Z

Barack Obama has just been voted to be our 44th President and I am feeling so proud and stunned. I feel like we've spent our entire lives learning about the oppression, the wars, the meager excuses for fucking our country in the ass like a common prostitute. I hate to get cheezy on you guys, especially since I really held in a lot of my adrenaline for the elections, but I am more relieved than I can explain. It's like this huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.

Obama may not be perfect, he may not live up to everything he promises now, but that certainly doesn't make what happened tonight any less of an experience. The foundations on which America was built, someone small making something important out of themselves, has actually come true again. It's been gone for nearly 3/4 of a century, but somehow the American public has found a point in their lives where they refuse to take any more. I am proud to be a part of this! We ARE a revolution, in our new thoughts, ideals, and even the way we can allow ourselves to find the importance in the issues of the world around us. I don't believe that a totaly overhaul of the system will happen, even the most avid supporter admits to that being a pipe-dream, but we have the ability now to slap the government in the face and tell it how it was being naughty.

I want to not have to worry about the rest of the world viewing us as some cowboys who only care about their guns and taking away human rights. I want to have adequate healthcare and schooling. I want to not be ashamed of the person representing me because they can't pronounce simple words correctly or to be ashamed of how they conduct themselves on the world's stage. I hope that my wants are finally noticed, and I'm glad that so many other people have the same hopes as I do.

I hate that I'm being all mushy and using these overwrought words that have lost much of their meaning, but because this is the first time I've used them, I do believe that they reselmble my true feelings on everything that happened.

History! And it feels good.

Here's to January 20th!

Look! Look! It's spam on Livejournal!

2008-10-28T01:09:44Z

01. What's the last DVD you watched?

Dangerous Beauty - It was a sick pleasure to watch such a thing on a Sunday night.

02. When was the last time you had a dream?

Last night. I think it had something to do with me being in clouds.

03. Who is/was your favourite cartoon character?

Belle! Hands down!

04. What is your favourite scent?

Freshly fallen rain and the sea.

05. What video games are you playing at the moment?

Tetris?

06. What do you drink the most?

Water and cranberry juice (because it's the only juice in the dining hall that actually tasted like what it's supposed to be...)

07. Is there a useless thing that you cannot brace yourself to throw out?

Raddy, Christy, and Spot.

08. Who was your first big crush?

Truly? Eric Idle. I clung to Monty Python and developed quite a clandestine love for his quirkiness.

09. What did you want to be when you grew up?

I want to be a hooker. But a nice one who goes to bed early and doesn't have sex. So basically a person who just wafts about life, living on the edge, and who gets to be that creepy aunt who tells children naughty things.

10. What are your favourite song(s) of the moment?

Mt. Wroclai- Beirut (thanks Anna!)

11. List your top 5 TV shows in order of favourite.

Doctor Who
Grey's Anatomy
Heroes
The Colbert Report
The Big Bang Theory

12. What 3 people would you invite to dinner?

Only three? Alright, I guess I would have to choose Albert Einstein, Alan Rabinowitz, and Jane Goodall. Queen Victoria and David Bowie would also make that list, depending on what type of mood I'm in.

13. What is your current desktop?

David Tennant leaning over his Tardis while wearing his specs. He has a very surprised look on his face.

14. What are you afraid of?

Not being able to accomplish what I want in life and getting stuck. I never want to be stagnant.

15. What's your strangest fantasy?

Is this really appropriate for LJ? Ok, ok. I have a strange fantasy of being able to fly and going to Neverland.

16. What are you into right now?

Procrastinating.

17. What did you do today?

Class, class, class, tea, bad novel, nap, class, lecture, facebook, LJ...

18. What do you want?

To be happy in life.

19. What should you be doing right now?

Coming up with a research project for my elections class.

20. If you were to form a band what would the name be and why?

OOOoooooo! I've always wanted to have a band! Well, for the songs that I've already written, the band would have to be named Eleanor Eyre. I like the sound of it and it's the first thing I could come up with!

Now you try!

Girl, please inform me.

2008-10-23T21:50:16Z

There you are, sitting in your messy chair and looking at the world through the back of a paper napkin. Scribbles and nonsense tend to make things incomprehensible, but time may tell us whether the things we can't understand are truly the most important of them all. I am under the impression that you listen to music and dance the night away (night time seems to breed moments where social conceptions and norms are the hard things to remember.) However, you seem to be away. May I knock at your door and peer into the room of darkness and light that you seem to hiding away? With just a peek through the keyhole, I get an idea that you're an odd sort of person. Or maybe far too normal. But I believe the latter without pressing any predispositions to flatter you.

Hiding out in this tired old pin box makes me nervous. I can almost prick my finger on the tension that seems.... well, seems to be evading me at this particular moment. You watch sad movies and drink in ice-cubes from the lake nearby. I want to plunge into you and avoid you at all costs, because I, myself, am the practical one in these cases. But we may be talking about the same person or two people that were light-years apart (that's distance, not time). Nothing's going to change you and you can call on me.

p.s. I miss Grace ever-so-much.

Today

2008-10-09T05:38:31Z

That spark of life is far to bright for you to contain it all in one lifetime; it must burn a hole through your heart and let the smoke bail out from your mouth.

I sometimes don’t realize when my spark is getting dangerously close to running out of fuel. It’s a hazardous thing to do, for when we do this, our light is sometimes far too intense for anyone else to notice it. The brilliance is mistaken for anger or some other passionate emotion. But no, it’s just a spark that threatens to burn me away.

When the fire alarms finally do scream in protest against their mistreatment, you realize it’s time to douse the flame. “I don’t want to do it!” I’ll scream at you. I want to burn and crumble away at the slightest touch. But please touch me, force me to know reality.

Sometimes my flame is fanned, and others it is hooded and concealed. I wish I had more control over it: I wish we had more control of it. Why can’t we see the light emitting from our cores? I admit to feigning realization with a poised sense of possession.

So stand back and nod your head as I swallow more matches and lay down to sleep on a bed of rocks.

UGH

2008-10-01T19:01:54Z

Dear fellow Bryn Mawr students,

Why are you so mean? You're vicious and severe, and you don't even take a chance to look back at the carnage you've wrought upon the world. Dena? Marge? Do you agree with me?

I hope you two know that I posted that crap on the board about nice music/movies/books (especially since you've been through my libraries extensively) and someone replied to me quite rudely. At least it sounded rude to me. Forgive me, dearest Bryn Mawr gods, for making a minor grammatical mistake, but is that any reason to punish me? I was tired and a tad miffed at your initial rude comment, I think that's reason enough to not have typed things PERFECTLY. What happened to just being polite and courteous? I was trying to help out a fellow student, a comrade in studies if you will, to broaden her horizons.

It's not necessarily this singular case that made me want to write this post, but a multitude of events that have been going on for the past few days. I feel like people are just so aggressive that they'll stop at nothing to make themselves look better than the rest. Is it not enough that we all made it into this "prestigious" school? I get it, you're a fucking genius. It just makes me so upset how people are finding it acceptable to treat one another so abominably.

Those backhanded comments, the lack of common courtesy, treating people who aren't your friends like scum, gossiping, rolling your eyes any time anyone does something wrong in class, acting like you're the bee's knees (yes, I just said that), blowing smoke in my face, making me feel like an ignorant cave woman, playing your instrument and singing off-key at 1am in our echo-y hallway, acting like you're in a 'cool-because-I-am lesbian/straight/play a sport/have an ethnicity/etc' gang, etc... More and more I feel like I am the minority for simply acting decently. I'm tired of girls being so full of themselves that they can't even smile properly.

It's cliche time: Can't we all just live in peace?

Last time I checked, the students of Bryn Mawr have not been involved in any wars recently. So why are you all so hostile? I just can't understand!!!! Really! What do you have to prove to our tiny little bubble that is so godamn important?

I guess it comes down to whether I want to beat em' or join em'. There's only so much 'ignoring' I can do. I love it when we all come together, peacefully and without our arsenal of complaints. It's beautiful and makes me want to be here. Then there are the days where I can't wait to get out of here, out of this battlefield (I have a lot of metaphors in this...) and get back to the golden rule of life.

Love,

Me.

P.s. For-fucking-give me on my grammar, do I look like an English major? No.

Another list? Really?

2008-09-23T22:08:31Z

So I don't forget any of these precious and o-so-wonderful moments in this growing time in my life, I am going to make another list..

I love...
1. My music.
2. The rasberry chocolate-chunk ice cream in Erdman. yummers.
3. That Oreo (I call him Orpheus) the yearling horse has decided he loves me. I love him too. :)
4. Coming back to my room after a really long day and just a.) collapsing into bed, b.) watch a movie, or c.) dancing about madly.
5. The lone protester at Bryn Mawr. A guy is protesting because he says his rights have been violated by some of Bryn Mawr's staff. Apparently, they are prejudiced because they only (and sometimes illegally) give raises in pay and status to black people. I wouldn't be surprised. The protester is the only white person I've seen who claims to have worked in public safety. Correct me if I'm wrong, I may just not be that observant. Well, I give him a wave every morning because he is defending his rights. And I feel sorry for him standing by the arch all sad and lonely. Some days I feel an almost uncontrollable urge to go up and hug him.
6. The Decemberists are coming! The Decemberists are coming! YAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!
7. Writing a screenplay and a novel. (Drew? Are you lurking?)
8. Being back in Rocky Horror again, you guys are amazing.
9. Finding dirty things about what my Profs are saying. It keeps me focused and I get to randomly cackle to myself in class. It's a win-win situation.
              Here are some examples from my notebooks
              a.) My goeology prof: "It feels so good. Please don't stop."
              b.) Chemistry lab: The nanosemens and the crotch clamp.
              c.) hehhehehehehehehehehehehehehehhehe
10. Being glad that it's easier to find ten things I love over ten things I hate.

I hate...
1. When the cracks of the concrete are out of sequence with my natural stride and cause me to walk like a gorilla with a foot problem. I've actually routed the ways I walk to my classes with the least amount of sidewalk cracks possible so they don't make me late.
2. Also when the painted portions of the sidewalk are too far for me to step on them normally, but just a tad too close to do a full out jump. It becomes more of a step with a hop infused in the middle.
3. When the regular caffeinated coffee is empty at the dining hall at 8:00am. Seriously?!?! I don't want some bloody blueberry coffee! What the hell is it anyways?
4. The 'fruit'. I want a peice of fruit from the dining hall that is not bruised, broken, rotten, unripe, and generally unappetizing looking. Is that too much to ask for? Hey! I'm trying to have a balanced diet here!
5. People being bitchy. It's not necessary to get angry so quickly, ladies. How about we take a nice and deep breath together, ok? *Breeeaattthhh iiiiinnnnnnn. Breeeeeaaaatttthhhh oooouuuuuttttttt.*
6. Erdman. You and I during the morning aren't exactly best buds are we? But I respect you and clean up after myself. Just PLEASE have some fucking cereal bowls out in the morning. Last week, forgive me, I nearly had a nervy-b when you didn't have any bowls out and when I asked for one, you got all snotty at me. And when you finally rolled out the bowls from the back, you had the nerve to yell at me for grabbing one from your little roll-a-cart because I was "dirty". Yeah, and Erdman is a freaking sanctuary for cleanliness and you definitely weren't about to put that bowl that is currently in my hand on the grubby counter top. Sure.
6a. I mean, I didn't yell or anything. I just sucked in my breath and ate at the speed of light. I was close to bursting into tears because I was so frustrated.
6b. I had two tests that day, that's why I was so flustered in the first place.
6c. That's enough.
7. Muscle cramps.
8. Control freaks.
9. Having no money.
10. Being grumpy.

The End.

My Room

2008-09-21T05:25:35Z

I. Love. My. Room.

I don't think I've ever had such an affection for an enclosed space before, but I realized the depth of my adoration for this bit of room this morning. I slowly woke up with the sun barely peeking through my curtains. I looked about the area in a routine stretch of the neck and let my eyes travel about all the posters and pictures I have put up. My lovely black chair, modest shelf, draped curtains and decorative lamps all greeted me. It seems like all my little items and trinkets seem to be a signature of myself. The Far Side comics mixed in with the Dali and Kahlo, the sleek black and the whimsical curves, my live plant and my leafy rug; they are me.

Maybe it's because I've never created my own space before. My bedroom at home recalls moments of the 8-year-old me choosing the lightest shade of pink (with the help of her mother) and the girliest curtains known to man kind. Together with my desk/bed, my room was cramped and uncomfortable. Here my space is mine. I'm selfish and leaning towards a hobbit lifestyle (which perhaps adds to the love of my abode), but my heart still froths over whenever I come inside.

My room is the ocean, the air, the clouds, the rain, the sea animals, the land animals, the indie bands, old Hollywood, classic art, modern art, American nostalgia, memories, the Beatles, fruit, books, christmas lights, and me.

That's all.

Beatnicks and Chowderheads.

2008-09-18T05:49:24Z

I'm officially going to make an indie film about the personification of Fate.

I'm going to help create a Pimp Strut dance based on Pirates of the Caribbean. And Jack/Norrington love. I can't really explain much more than that. (How could I???)

God, at times I just furiously love Bryn Mawr.

Nervy-poo

2008-09-16T00:13:58Z

I went through a very frightening couple of days this weekend.

It struck me like lightening and left me shaking and trembling in it's wake. I don't know exactly what happened to me, but one moment I was fine and another my brain had completely taken off to leave me with the brain stem reaction of fear. I sprinted out of the building because that was simply the only thing I could do. My vision was blurry with nearing tears, my palms were clammy and shaking, and my breath only came in short, sudden spasms. Once I got outside, my fear began to minutely dissipate, although it did take a minute or two to actually come back to my mind. God only knows what people thought of me as I ran about, looking like an ax murderer was after me. But no one stopped me to ask if I was o.k. I guess being paranoid on a college campus is a pretty common thing and causes no surprise to these seasoned party experts.

I hated the feeling of having no control over my emotions. The fact that they could flare up like that without a singular cause shocks and angers me. I want, I need, control over myself! After that episode, I was nervy until this afternoon. I couldn't shake that fearful, dreading feeling from my body. Even in chemistry this morning, I was odd.

Oh well. Marge has just walked into the room and we are going to finish a lovely creepy movie.

p.s. I had my first French session tonight, and it was hilarious.

jeremyhilaryphd @ 2008-09-08T19:24:00

2008-09-08T23:30:09Z

Sometimes when I want to amuse myself, I play a game of Have You Ever? Sometimes it dissipates after a minute or two, but sometimes it become less of a Have You Ever? and more of a Will I Ever?

Can I Ever? understand myself?

Should I Ever? make the risks to catapult me from my ~~normal~~ life into one of dreams and stories?

I'll Pull the lEver? and push that blaring red button next to my desk, opening a rift and teasing with dimensions.

But That Plan Is For The Next Tuesday Of nEver? Or the next Thursday?

I wonder.

jeremyhilaryphd @ 2008-09-06T15:27:00

2008-09-06T20:16:39Z

Within the pouring rain, I have reverted back to my old ways of staying up far too late and regretting it in the morning. My eagerness to improve upon myself has exponentially increased for this year, and I truly hope that something does happen in result of this. I want to not have to constantly feel like I'm catching up to people, or that I have to prove myself worthy. I want to be more adventurous and actually form some deep human relationships rather than being holed up in my room all day.

Pretty lofty goals, but I think I can manage to at least attempt them.

News from school:
-My Geology Prof looks like Art Garfunkel
-I have a poltergeist in my room (my computer went beserk, my curtains fell on my head and my paper penis of doom fell of the top of my shelf all within about a minute.)
-I'm in the middle of a tropical storm. Hurricane Hannah! Even though I am in the basement, and if the water goes two inches higher it's going to flood my room, I like to keep my windows open. Just in case, I have a towel on my windowsill.
-On parade night I went streaking and skinny dipping. While all the students were sitting on the ground around Taylor, singing the billion school songs, about 30 of us got up and sneaked to the back side of the building. There we speedily tore off our clothes, huddled together (naked hugs are weird) and let the adrenaline flow through our veins. When the Taylor began to ring, as tradition calls for, we sprinted to the right side of the building and past the starry and stunned eyes of the freshman. It was exhilarating! After that, I went to the cloisters to skinny dip in the fountain. The entire rugby team was in already in the modest fountain, and I joined them. No one seemed to care if a stray body part nudged up against another person's, if you were skinny or fat, shaved or furry; it just didn't matter. I felt like I was in a different time and era, a Bryn Mawr time machine into the world of I-don't-give-a-fuck.
-I've been watching Sex and the City like a crack addict. I can't seem to get enough of it. For some reason, I love to hate the characters for their snootiness and faux-miserable lives. Yet when I take a step back, I realize that I love to hate them for the same reasons that I love to hate myself.

Fear is a helpful thing.

2008-08-23T08:45:40Z

Humans are driven by fear. Fear of death, fear of rejection, fear of becoming an undesirable in society. We all serve the personal service of self-preservationist in the forest of irrational irritations. Fear keeps us alive, there's no question about it. In the frantic scurry to pass along our genes to offspring, this emotion allows us to survive in our trans-fat nation and to become an approved mate in the eyes of others. If our fears are created from the condition for species survival, how did I become scared of the things I am now? Or maybe the more rational question is why?

People are frightened of heights because they can fall. From the dark because our senses are impaired and don't allow for full protection. From spiders because they fit in the evolutionary scale of insects that look-poisonous-and-may-kill-us-if-we-get-too-close kind of thing. I could go on and on giving examples, but what exactly is my fear?

I laugh in the face of a sweet little spider. I skip in the dark. I soar to the sky the higher up I go. I do fear all the necessary things that every human being shies away from (aka. rejection, death, ax murderers, etc. etc....) but there is nothing that I can apparently find. Why am I so resistant to any fear of these large and apparently helpful biological factors? I shouldn't want to sit alone in the rain in the middle of the night at a park, I should have at least a tiny inclining of the danger and chances of say, a rapist coming along, to keep me from doing these idiotic things. I will admit to being afraid of people. I'm afraid of being betrayed and used (for apparent reasons and background) and therefore cater to the whims and fancies of my delicate conscience.

I want to find out why I feel my fear. What does your fear say about you?

jeremyhilaryphd @ 2008-08-18T01:43:00

2008-08-18T09:05:36Z

madmadmadmadmadmadmadmadmadmadmadmadmadmad
madly typing today.

Bad News:
     I have no fucking idea how my schedule is going to work out or even what I want to do with myself. I think I want to major in Biology, but now I really want to minor in Environmental Studies. I can't major in that, but instead I have to go through all the Biology requirements. And there are a hell of a lot of requirements. I actually cannot fit all the requirements in my schedule to stay on track, because the classes refuse to fit in the proper time slots. I think I am just going to end up signing up for way too many classes in the hopes that somehow my counselor can help me figure out this mess and not let my head explode. I HATE CHEMISTRY!
    Personal relationships confuse me to no end. He likes me? He likes me not...? I feel like I am picking petals from an imaginary daisy at all points of the day, pondering this over and over. If mixed signals were given only to the worthy, I would certainly be the Queen for receiving them. It would suck less if I didn't like him so much.
    My mother is not helping at all. In between her comments on how disgusting and fat I am, she blames me for more than my fair share of things. This open hostility is certainly unwarranted and I wish it would stop. I can't remember the last time when she freely cleaned the house while I've been here the entire summer. I am trying to do my part in this, and I wish she would just get whatever is on her chest out and stop letting angst grow.
    I go back in a week and two days.

Medium News:
    I swear two of my cats are having gay sex. So far it's kind of one sided, but I guess every relationship needs some kind of dominance and submission(?????). Anyways, Alexander starts this weird cooing noise really loudly and doesn't stop until Henry Clay comes over and notices him. Then Alex gets really excited and "mounts" Henry Clay. Not much happens after that except for Alex licks Henry while still sitting on him. It's very awkward for me to watch their clandestine meetings in the dark of the night. I wish they would get a separate room to do their love business in. Equal rights! Even for my gay lover cats!

Good News:
    The thunder and lightening storms are amazing. I stayed up all night last night and was shaken out of my computer hypnosis by a roaring thunder. When I opened up the blinds the lightening was so brilliant and spectacular that I became transfixed to the sky. I swear I saw purple and green in the sky from the shock of electricity. I hope it happens again tonight.
    It's supposed to rain all week. Yay!!!!!!
    I bought seven new books, a pair of really cute black flats with an ankle strap, a shmexy leather-ish jacket, three new bras (one's gorgeous), and a pair of undies. TMI.
    My mom actually got me a present when she was in a really good mood: socks!!!! She gave me really cute owl, horse and flamingo socks. Does anyone else get this excited for adorable socks?
    I finally figured out the new Bryn Mawr email and class login system. It took me 2+ hours to change my password, unlock my domain, and to log on to my account. Sheesh.
    I got even more music!
    I go back in a week and two days.

There's more.

Time's a bastard.

2008-08-15T08:53:51Z

Knock knock

Who's there?

Time.

Oh shit. It's you again! How did you get here so fast? Get out! Get out!

Time has run its little bottom to the ground and left me for dead. This summer is nearly over for me and I am clutching it by its heels, begging for it to stay. While Time is barging on my door, the Summer is running away with a knapsack on its back. Usually I feel kind of nonchalant about the whole summer-ends-school-begins thing, but this year I'm feeling it pretty bad. I want to go back to Bryn Mawr, but I am feeling physical pain at the prospect of leaving home. More like I am going to miss the people here like crazy. (I love you too, Bryn Mawr buddies!)

I thought I should compile a list while the memories (sweet, dear memories) are still fresh.

Things I did this summer:
1. Spent countless nights at the Dash Point Beach. Sometimes by myself, but mostly with two boys.
2. Went to L.A. twice with my father. DEFINITELY had some interesting experiences there. Damien. Discussions on life. Me pretending I really cared about everything he talked about. Stuff.
3. Waiting in line for 3 hours at the Doctor's office to get a bloody allergy pill.
4. Campfires!
5. I learned how to play the guitar (a little...)
6. I went skinny dipping in the ocean. That was one of the most amazing things I have EVER done. It really was like pure magic, with the phosphorus swirling around and the black water mixing with the dark sky.
7. I got all gushy for a boy.
8. I jumped off the dock at Dash Point on low tide, twice. Only later did I find out that it's actually illegal. Whoopsie-dasies!
9. I watched the meteor shower on a secluded beach.
10. I went to the ocean and got my whole body buried.
11. I burned a lot of music.
12. I found out that I was born out of wedlock.
13. I saw a John Krasinski look-alike.
14. I explored Seattle. Many times.
15. I went to SAM, Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium, and the Woodland Park Zoo, and loved every minute of it.
16. I ate breakfast with an old friend from the Pony Barn.
17. I fed a giraffe!
18. I wondered about life, the universe, and everything.
19. I adopted two more cats.
20. I realized that I spent the best times with the people that I love doing absolutely nothing. By accomplishing nothing this summer, I made great memories (get your kleenex kids, this is going to get mushy) with great people. I took the time to meet new people and go crazy with my older friends. I love that we don't even need any updates on our lives, for every time I see them it's like we just said goodbye last night. :)

Time, would you please mind your own business and just give me some peace?

So true!

2008-08-09T08:00:44Z

Life.

It's interesting.

jeremyhilaryphd @ 2008-08-06T23:25:00

2008-08-07T06:48:23Z

Dear Men,

You piss me off. I am not going to pat you on the back and tell you it's ok, because I am feeling grouchy and generally angry. In my own mind, I really don't need to list the specific reasons for why I am pissed off, but for the sake of this post, I am going to categorize the ones that pop into my head first.

Why yes, I am being general about 'men', but from my experiences, if you are not a total asshole, than you are a dick. It's a fact (except for Carlos, he is the only exception to this fact.)

1. Hey you! Honking at me while I walk! Yeah, that's a real turn on. Just stop at the next light and I can run up to your car and we can exchange numbers because I am soooooo impressed that you took the initiative to honk at me. Asshole.

2. Well hello there, sexy. I noticed you eye-raping me, and even though your pants are below your knees and it looks like you haven't showered in a week, I just love feeling like a piece of raw meat at the butchers by your bloodshot eyes raking up and down my body. Uh-huh, Baby! Keep looking!

3. Men, you are indecisive, and don't even pretend you aren't! Do you want to be friends? Do you want to have sex? Do you want to make a left or right turn? MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND! Let's stop this dilly-dallying and get on with our lives. I do not want to just be your cast off bit of rubbish that is entertaining periodically. Either you respect me as a friend, want me as a lover, or you just tell me that you don't really like me. Get. On. With. It.

4. You think that women have little to no opinions. I watch your movies and I watch you. You may listen (or at least pretend to) but in the whole spectrum of things, you just don't care.

5. Being a dick is when you play with a girl's mind, and you, my friend, are a dick. I know you've done it! You like that she's there, hey! it's an ego boost! Live up to your brain and give your dick a chance to settle down once in a while.

6. Yes, they are called boobs/breasts/basoomas/tits/etc. and I have them. I don't stare at your package, so stop making me feel like I need to put on a Nun's uniform and hide.

7. I think that this one is important, so I am going to say it again: please, oh please, you testosterone ridden life forms, make up your minds. Should I stay or should I go? (lol. Clash reference!)

8. Is sex really on your brain all the time, or is it just when a female is around? I bet that all men have a secret that they turn into smart, caring, sensible people (basically people=women) when every lady is out of sight.

I have MANY more reasons to back up my thesis at the beginning of this post, but I don't want to type them and I don't think you really want to read them.

GOD! I am just so sick of being treated like I am a sack of potatoes or like my feelings are going through a blender. A little honesty would go a long way. Even in guy language! I can understand grunts!

Love,

A female. A pretty darn understanding one, too!

Twilight and Darko.

2008-08-06T20:08:22Z

I have in my hands the fourth book in the Twilight series. I know I will read it in a day and then cry myself to sleep at night in a fit of literary guilt.

I just watched Donnie Darko for the first time. I know, I know, I should have seen it before. I wanted to, really! I've just never been able to get my hands on a copy of it until now. All I can say is that it is a fucking brilliant movie and I want to watch it over and over. I understood everything the first time around, almost as if I already knew the plot line. I guess my reading all those time travel and mathematical universe books helped. Oh, and I realized that I would "do" Donnie in a heart beat. Any guy who talks like that has (and looks like that) has a free invitation to my pants. Seriously.

The Cat Toy From Hell

2008-07-29T08:58:07Z

Being the gracious and loving daughter that I am, I helped my Mom empty the entire garage, pick through about three things and recycle them, then put the entire thing back together. This entire process took exactly six-and-a-half hours.

I will cut out the ridiculousness of our actions to get to the real important thing of my day, the cat toy from hell.

As I sat down to drink some water for a quick break from the heaving lifting, I heard a steady, "Beepbeep! Beepbeep! Beepbeep!" echoing from the laundry room. After waiting a few minutes, I got up to find out what the hell was making all that noise. To my discovery, my Mom had put an electronic, lady-bug shaped, cat toy into the wash and left it to dry. The thing began its call almost four hours after it had been out and the electronics were dry enough to scream out their terror from being so wet.

The cat toy soon began to make me a little nutty, so I tried to turn it off. No such luck. Ok, maybe if I broke it? Nope! I slammed that bastard onto the concrete floor and it taunted its little beeping face right back at me. So I left it outside, but I still could hear it taunting me with its little far-away beeps.

When my nerves became more raw than a scrapped knee, I knew I had to do something to get it to stop. I had been listening to this asanine beeping for over four hours, and that little shit-faced lady bug was going down. So what did I do, you may ask? I threw it into the only place in our entire house with a solid seal: the freezer. heheehee

I am firmly a believer that the toy was alive and rolling in its little electronic parts about how funny I was in trying to make it stop. For when I picked it up for the last time and threw it into the freezer, it stopped. That toy had taken concrete, me stomping at it, and a fair amount of verbal abuse, yet when it got lightly smacked into the cold and icy walls, it froze (*ba dum, ching*). My ears wouldn't believe that I had finally beaten this brute at his own game! But, low and behold, not thirty seconds later did I hear a rather chilly, "Beepbeep! Beepbeep! Beepbeep!" yelling at me again. Only something truly alive and cruel could pull that kind of a joke on me. And so it lies there now, hidden away in my freezer, beeping away until it dies.

I hope it's a painful and slow death, you cat toy from hell.

Note* I took it out from the freezer to revel in my success. It was silent as the grave until a few seconds before I was about to turn off the computer, it began to yell in a high pitched note," Beeepepepepepep!Beepepepepepepepepepepep!" so frantically that I jumped out of my seat. I am thinking that the demon has struck again. See if I ever remove again from the freezer. When the new tenants of our house (when we die) move in, they will discover a lady-bug cat toy and will soon learn where its true origins are from. Maybe I should put a note on it to let people know...