My housing lottery number: 157

What that means: I'm living off campus next year.

Either in a 3-4 bedroom house that I find with Dave and some other people (still unknown) or with a bunch of other people including Dave in a 7-bedroom house. I've kinda got my hopes set on the second option right now. I never thought I'd have to be renting a house this early in my life. So far, I've learned that 1) rental agencies suck balls. 2) We'll be growing pot in the greenhouse on top of the 7-bedroom house. 3) I need a Vespa.

This is just a mini-blog-update so that I don't feel guilty for going almost a week without writing. But give me a break, I'm really really busy.

I'm having some prospies spend the night tomorrow, Sunday and Monday. Of course, Ava will still be here tomorrow so we'll see how that goes. So far, it's been really nice having her here. She even cleans sometimes.

Happy Passover to all my wonderful Jew friends. I feel like slaughtering a lamb. Yummm.

In the Summertime

ARTIST: Mungo Jerry
TITLE: In the Summertime
Lyrics and Chords

Chh chh-chh, uh, chh chh-chh, uh
Chh chh-chh, uh, chh chh-chh, uh...

In the summertime when the weather is high
You can stretch right up and touch the sky
When the weather's fine
You got women, you got women on your mind
Have a drink, have a drive
Go out and see what you can find

/ C - / / F / F C - / G / F C - /

If her daddy's rich, take her out for a meal
If her daddy's poor, just do what you feel
Speed along the lane
Do a ton, or a ton and twenty-five
When the sun goes down, you can make it
Make it good in a lay-by

We're no threat, people, we're not dirty, we're not mean
We love everybody, but we do as we please
When the weather's fine
We go fishing or go swimming in the sea
We're always happy
Life's for living, yeah, that's our philosophy

Sing along with us, dee-dee-dee-dee-dee
Da-da-da-da-da, yeah, we're hap-happy
Da-da-da-da-dah....

Chh chh-chh, uh, chh chh-chh, uh
Chh chh-chh, uh, chh chh-chh, uh...

When the winter's here, yeah it's party time
Bring a bottle
Wear your bright clothes, it'll soon be summertime
And we'll sing again
We'll go drivin' or maybe we'll settle down
If she's rich, if she's nice
Bring your friends and we'll all go into town


I love it.
This song makes me feel so happy when I feel like I have senioritis. Or mono. Or depression. Or all three...I think...

How could this song not cheer someone up? I mean, it's a bit chauvinistic, but hey...aren't we all?

My (other) love

Jon Stewart on Crossfire
Oh, memories...

Just re-watching this makes my heart grow fonder. Why can't everyone be as awesome as Jon Stewart?

A midnight ride to Starbucks

Ok, not midnight. But it feels so much more romantic that way. Anyway, it was still awesome. I don't usually get out at night during the week and I should probably do so more often. Because it doesn't get much better than being in a car with Lisa, Ray, KC and Jess, talking loudly and listening to music.

I can already see a summer of blackberry green tea frappuccinos ahead of me...mmm....

Quote of the night:
Ray- Let's pick up some chicks!!!
Lisa- Yeah, because that's exactly what four girls and a gay guy want, some pussy


PS- Right now we shall pretend it is 1:23 on 4/5/06

123456!!!!

My new favorite religions:

Invisible Pink Unicorn Religion

Flying Spaghetti Monster Religion

I also liked the "Church of Jesus Christ, Elvis" and the "Jedi census phenomenon"

However, Discordianism is actually interesting...a modern, chaos-based religion- or joke of a religion. Either way, it's pretty cool. Organized chaos. THAT'S appealing.

Discordianism


Two cheers for religion!!!

Still Hungover?!?!

Sitting in my robe, drinking an IZZE and eating leftover risotto- this is perfect. I finally get a moment to sit back and relax, to have some Aline time. And it's not even because I've gotten past a big lump of work or done anything else- I'm simply forcing myself to take a blog break. I haven't even read the postsecrets yet for this week. Damn this risotto is good. I think it's the half bottle of wine that did the trick. No, it's gotta be the secret ingredient that no one will ever guess. Mwahahaha.

Speaking of alcohol...I had my first hangover EVER this weekend and it was a bitch. I think I still feel a little sick. I guess I've always been a bit of a late bloomer. For the number of times that I've been drunk in my life, like COMPLETELY shitfaced, it's a wonder how I got this far without waking up and not wanting to move. Or wanting to puke for three days straight. And of course that had to happen when my grandma is here. But she had no idea. I'm just THAT smooth.

And I'm just looking at the pictures I took. I should not be allowed near a camera when I'm drunk. My pictures are so embarrassing. It's like I take the same bad picture 5 million times. Can an extreme love of making facebook albums be considered a fetish? Because...yeah...

So my grandma just left this morning after going to hum lecture. I could tell she had an awesome time- she never stopped smiling the entire time. I wish we could have done more when I was "sick", but at least she went out on her own and explored. I'm so glad she liked it here. She loved Portland and ALL my friends who were sooo wonderful to her. I heart my g-ma!!!



Abby was cool. She came to surprise Ray for his birthday and we all had a great time until I totally blacked out and woke up on Blake's floor. Anyway, she wasn't snobby at all like I semi-expected. I gave it a chance and she turned out pretty awesome. I think she's one of those people who looks like she's too pretty to be nice but then you actually talk to her and she's actually sweet.

OH GOD I have too much to do so I'll get back to this blogging business some other time. Peace and love.

OMG, OMG, OMG, OMG, OMG

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_Wars_live-action_TV_series

Aline Factiods

Did you know...

266 Aline is a fairly large Main belt asteroid. It is a dark C-type asteroid and is probably composed of primitive carbonaceous chondrites.

Fluent in the Italian, Spanish, English, and the French languages, Aline Chrétien has been active in a number of charitable organizations over the years since her husband was first elected to the Canadian House of Commons in 1963.

Aline Kominsky-Crumb (1948- ) is an underground comix artist most famous for her autobiographical stories of growing up in Long Island, New York during the 1960s. In these stories she refers to herself as 'The Bunch', a nickname she was apparently given as a child. She was born Aline Goldsmith to a middle class Jewish family (Noomin, 1991). The superficial nouveau riche culture that she grew up in and the constant bickering of her parents led her to turn towards drugs, the counterculture and Greenwich Village as a teenager. Instead of going to therapy, she draws comic books about her life. She is married to the famous underground comic artist Robert Crumb. She wrote "Dirty Laundry," a comic about the Crumb family life, with her husband and later with their daughter Sophie Crumb. Each of them drew his or her own characters for the comic.

Aline Lahoud, born 2nd March 1981, is a Lebanese singer, and the daughter of well-known singer Salwa Katrib.

Aline is a town located in Alfalfa County, Oklahoma. As of the 2000 census, the town had a total population of 214.

Aline MacMahon (May 3, 1899-October 12, 1991) was an Oscar-nominated American actress. (nominated for her role in Dragon Seed)

Aline et Valcour; ou, Le Roman philosophique is an epistolary novel by the Marquis De Sade, first published in 1795. This was the first book published under his true name. In his novel, de Sade contrasts a brutal African kingdom with a utopian island paradise in the South Pacific.

(All of the above stolen from Wikipedia.)

AAAAAAAAAnnnnnnnddddddd, the best website of all, Aline on Wikipedia!

So basically, I'm an asteroid, the wife of some special Canadian guy, an underground comic artist, lebanese singer, tiny hick town, actress and novel.

G-ma, the ill shiznit

Tonight is the niiiiight

No, Alex isn't coming...my g-ma is!!! And this is going to be an awesomely splendiferous weekend having her live with me. I hear she made something for me, and it's not cloth or edible- so that rules out EVERYTHING I would expect from my grandma. Hmmm...it's a mystery...

Anyway, I can't wait to pick her up from the airport!

J.ust E.xpressing S.entiments S.incerely

As much as I want to move on to working on my hum paper and preparing for my grandma's arrival tomorrow, I have a little something that's been on my mind and won't leave me alone. I'll probably regret typing this publicly, but I've got to let it out. What is it about? The answer can be found in the title.

I feel like I was there for her a significant amount, talking to her and working through her thoughts on the breakup. I acted like the good friend should, always being available and always listening when she needed an ear. Even when I was hesitant and felt used, I did it anyway and told myself that she was going through a lot. I made so many excuses for her, and stood by her, trying to help. I felt like my efforts were futile, and that she kept going back to hurt herself. But STILL, I stayed with her.

And then she realized on her own what I'd been trying to tell her for months. Suddenly I wasn't important anymore; she didn't need me to get to him or to talk to when he wasn't available. And yes, I was happy that she was leaning in the right direction regarding that relationship, but JESUS, I felt more used than ever. Once again, the theme of disposability (word?) returns to my life. Aline is no longer needed. She couldn't even tell me that she was going to be seeing less of me- I heard the message through others. "No offense, but I'm not going to hang out with you anymore". Well O.K. I guess all that I helped you with really did mean nothing.

But then, stranded, at Safeway amidst pouring rain and a shopping cart full of groceries (for her dorm, no less), she wasn't there for me. We asked if it would be convenient, she got mad. So we called back and said nevermind; it's not worth it. Nothing is worth her wrath that she will use against you until the end of time. She "could have picked us up, and it would have been really easy, but she REALLY DIDN'T WANT TO". Thanks sweetheart. I understand being angry at Dave or feeling like he's using you or whatever. But when did this become a bitchy issue with me? Walking in the rain wasn't so bad. I wasn't even angry at the time. It was kinda fun.

We got back at around the same time. (She was already out, like 5 minutes from us when we called to ask for a ride) She made some comment about us getting there around the same time, I laughed about it and made a joke. I said, "Yeah, we're just a little wetter". She replies in her spiteful little tone, "Well, I'm NOT gonna apologize". As if I was asking for an apology. And then she disappears down the hall to her room.

And I said FUCK NO BITCH. I ain't gonna take that, oh no I won't. One thing about me that I hope everyone knows- I hold grudges. And that kind of comment didn't slide down easily.

Of course, she has no idea how I feel because our only interactions are her telling me about her sleeping around. Yes, I know you're fucking him. He's a slut; he's a kommie bike. Dirty and used, but everyone's had a turn. Nothing special. (Although some may argue vehemently in favor of kommie bikes) Go have fun but don't expect me to care until you show some interest in me. It's funny how I can sit at my computer staring at the screen the entire time you're in my room talking at me (not to me) while I say barely two words, and you think that everything's okay. That's just bullshit. What kind of friend is that oblivious?


Phew. Now that I've gotten all that out, I can ask WHHHYYYYYY DO I CAAAAARRRREEEEEEE?????????

For some crazy reason, I thought this would be worth posting. I'm pretty sure I was wrong.

I've eaten about 35 vitamin gummi bears in the last 5 minutes. Gummi Vites!!! You're supposed to eat like 2/3 per day. I think I'm going to OD on vitamins. What a sad death that will bring. And this is all because I'm too lazy to microwave some soup. What is this world coming to???

And the sickness starts creeping in...

I'm really afraid of getting sick at this point, knowing the insane amount of work that awaits me, or realistically the insane amount of work that I've procrastinated on for so long. Now would NOT be a good time to get sick. I haven't done any work all day, characteristic of every other Sunday except that today the pressure and workload are at their apex. I feel like popping a Nyquil and calling it a night but the guilt that would follow would be unsurmountable. I have too much reading, too much studying, too much homework and job applications, too much everything to do. The last thing that I should be doing is writing a blog. Stupid, stupid Aline. And it doesn't help matters that I volunteered myself for a 1,000-page humanities paper, due whenever but not really. You know what I mean by that. My g-ma is coming to visit for a week, which will be A-mazing but stressful until it actually happens. And I'll have to figure out how to balance the Reed party scene with her 65 (?) years of age. Uh oh. I hope everyone likes her. I mean, how could you not love this...

Dressed in Drag

What can I even say about last night? Reed is awesome. Reed is so heterosexually, homosexually, bisexually, transexually awesome. Drag Ball was awesome. Awesome, awesome, AWESOME. The only way to get some kind of idea is to look at my album of wonderfully gender-confused pictures...

Drag Ball Pics

For a peek,



This morning, I woke up and couldn't move. Literally, my neck would not allow me to move. I must have slept on it weirdly, because I definitely wasn't drunk enough last night to have forgotten a big fall. So it hurt like a bitch and I took about an hour to get up. I still can't quite look to the left or up. So...if you're talking to me, you should be on my right side. After breakfast, I came back and beautified myself. There's nothing like a night as a man to make you want to feel feminine. So I put some shit in my hair, put on lots of makeup, blow-dried my hair and put some more shit in it. I feel artificial and manufactured, almost like a meretricious laaady. Hah. Is it possible to feel beautiful and so plastic at the same time? I think the shower refreshed me, and then I plasticized myself, fucking up the overall effect. Whatever. I don't know what I'm talking about. Let's just say it's my poor attempt at compensation.

Now I'm just waiting for my camera to be done charging so I can take pictures of my beautiful self. Is that vain?

(don't answer)

Lady Sings the Blues

My girl Billie knows what it's all about...

Lady sings the blues
She's got them bad
She feels so sad
Wants the world to know
Just what the blues is all about

Lady sings the blues
She tells her side
nothing to hide
Now the world will now
Just what the blues is all about
The blues ain't nothing but a pain in your heart
when you get a bad start
When you and your man have to part
I ain't gonna just sit around and cry
And I know I won't die
Because I love him

Lady sings the blues
she's got 'em bad
She feels so sad
But now the world will know
She's never gonna sing 'em no more

Noooo mooooore

(yeah, I added some o's in the end there. I felt it necessary for the full effect.)

Back to chewing ice

Okay, it hasn't even been a week since I've been without Alex and I'm already dying. That can't be healthy. I'm kind of like the insecure child in Mary Ainsworth's Strange Situation (where children are left without their parents in a variety of situations and catalogued by their reactions). I need my mommy!

Sorry Alex, that wasn't demeaning, was it? Tú es mi papí, mi amor, mi cielo, mi corazón, mi vida!!! And I miss you like hell. Every day that goes by, I consider myself more and more of a martyr for dealing with the distance. Minus being dead and all. I never would have tagged myself as a long distance relationship person. I never thought I could make it work. And, yeah, it's fucking hard, but not impossible. I think we're pretty amazing.

Just like last week was amazing. I can't believe it passed by so quickly. I should have known. The best moments were lying in bed together, cuddling like an old married couple. My bed now feels so empty, so huge. There's too much room for me to sleep alone.

I also dyed my hair last week. Jess and KC helped me, thank god. I'm not sure I could have done it on my own. Here are the before/afters...

BEFORE

AFTER


I should have done one of those TV commercial mugshots where the before/afters are in the same clothes in the same position. But exact replications are a little harder when the first is taken in a restaurant on St. Patty's day...you know? Of course I had to put Alex in both of my shots, because what would last week have been without him?

Oh dear. One more month.

Oprah

So...

I meant to blog on my Oprah experience earlier, but I was otherwise engaged and had to take care of a small (Canadian) distraction first. Poor boy. He'll probably never recognize his own ignorance.

ANYWAY, I had a close encounter with the lovely Oprah Winfrey this morning. I actually met her. Well, not really. But I dreamt about meeting her. I can't describe the dream in full detail like I did this morning when Alex woke me from my tranquil slumber, but I can recall the most important parts. I was walking through a little street of Mexican tiendas, such as those seen on Olvera Street, with my friends Malka, KC, the boys (exactly which ones are just a blur), and Malka's parents. It might be a little weird that I dreamed of Malka's parents but I'm okay with that. We knew that they were taking us somewhere, so we followed. We somehow got to a humble little home (nothing like Oprah's real home) and she welcomed us inside. Oprah didn't really look like Oprah, but she WAS. She was too skinny and her hair was super short, like Halle Berry's hair when it's at its shortest. For some reason we had to pay for dinner, but I didn't have any money. So I couldn't eat. I sat and watched, only drinking water, as Oprah spilled her best recipes to the crowd and cooked a many-course meal. No one offered anything to me and I felt a little melancholy, alone and hungry as I watched everyone else enjoy their food and conversation. I wanted to join in on the fun! If only I could have stepped into my dream and given myself some money!!! At this point, Oprah still seemed like an out-of-reach celebrity and I sat farthest from her at the end of the tiny table in her tiny kitchen/living room. The entire room barely fit us all and it seemed like we were squeezed into a space meant for less people. When everyone finished eating, they all went down by the TV (on the floor) as I sat with my legs stretched out on the table. Oprah came and sat by me and we had some kind of enthralling conversation, most of which I can't remember. I do remember, however, that she was very sweet and understanding. She told me what a burden it is to be such a trendsetter; everyone will go out and get the new "Oprah" haircut. I sympathized with her superstar problems and she listened to my stories. I told her I saw a sexual abuse movie in 9th grade with her in it and respected all that she did for people in need. I love Oprah.


So, I went to her website and found some useful facts that no one should go without knowing. Here they are. Praise Oprah with me.

-The average man can keep an erection for around 40 minutes, even though he might not last that long. The average woman takes about 20 minutes to climax from oral sex.

-The average man gets around seven erections a day. Sadly, five of those are in his sleep.

-The average speed of ejaculation is 28 mph.

-Sex is healthy. There's more protein in the average ejaculation than there is in a medium-sized pork chop.

Canada, Oh Canada

A recent comment from a random but zealous stranger caused the ebullient Aline (the Aline that desperately waits for an attack that will provide amusement) to light up and prepare for an adequate rebuttal. I hope to do so presently. I chuckled a little reading the Canadian's pitifully cute response to my satirical post displaying the conversation between my sister and I regarding her late-night rendez-vous to the beach in the rain. I thought the best way to present a false worry of sisterly "drugdom" (yes I made it up, go with it) was to simply post some of our conversation. What most people don't know is the extent to which I've talked about drugs/alky/all that good shit with my sister previously. We get along relatively well and though I hesitate to tell her everything I've done, we can talk about these things openly with one another. She's a pretty good kid overall. In case there is STILL any confusion as to my worry about her being on drugs (although I'm pretty damn sure that anyone who actually knows me will find it obvious), I'm not worried the slightest bit. In all honesty, I LOVE my drugs. It amuses me greatly to find someone who takes me seriously, someone who needs to have my sarcasm explained. I only worry that our proud Canadian friend will never realize his misconception.

"Matthew" writes:
Druggie isnt that a little prejudice. Besides i bet you dont even know the first thing about drugs. Drugs are great here in canada were the deer roam free we smoke tons of pot and suplly your country with tos of pot and i would say on a per capitl basis we are better of then you americans. Get your head out of your ass american girl

And that was it. A slandering of my experience, my country, my drugs. God forbid a slandering of my drugs. I find it necessary to mention that Portland pot is some of the best there is- I know this from experience and have just about everyone I know to vouch for this. Yeah, some of my friends drive up to Canada every once in awhile, but not for the pot. Even so, it's a moot point whose marijuana is better. Thank you Canada, however, for the peyote and other hallucinogens. Greatly appreciated.

I found Matthew's attempt at condescension extremely cute, though his spelling quite appalling. Blogspot comes with Spellcheck- something he may want to take advantage of. But really, it is so hard to get words like "where", "off" or "supply" correct? Is that really too much to ask? It's not like he's editing a novel.

I feel like even addressing this unfounded comment is lowering my standards for debate, but I can't help myself. Oh dear. It can be shocking to be reminded of the lack of integrity and intelligence that exists in our world.

Quite the dumbass, eh?

Trainspotting

I forgot how great the soundtrack is. I looove it.



Man, what a good movie. I need to watch that again.

Her hair

It looked like wings. Not in a good way. I swear she could have taken flight right there in front of me. I'm not even trying to be mean, I kind of feel like it's my duty to say it. I should tell her. Nah. Maybe she'll realize on her own. I can only hope.

Oh, memories...

My mom likes to put together simple little webpages of our family from time to time to show our relatives and friends of the family. She sent me one today, and I went back and looked at a couple old ones. I was surprised at all the pictures and memories that I found. Check it out, especially the links at the top that lead to more pictures. Don't expect anything amazing, but it's definitely cute.

Winter 2004
Spring 2005
Spring 2006

Looking through the pictures, I got kind of depressed. I want to look like this again.

Is my leettle seester on druuuugs?

Ava: mom called the police
Ava: because i was on a walk
Aline: porque?
Ava: at dark/rain
Aline: oh god
Aline: why didnt you tell her
Ava: and she didnt know
Ava: well i had anticipated it to be a lot shorter
Ava: but my feet just took me to the beach
Aline: nuh uh
Ava: yesssssuh
Aline: whyyy
Ava: i dunno
Aline: were you mad at the padres when u did this
Ava: nope
Ava: which is weiiiiird
Aline: yeah how did that happen
Aline: did u have your phone
Ava: no
Aline: you should have told her what you were doing
Aline: is she angry?
Ava: she was at her stupid math class
Ava: and i am just stupid
Aline: you could have left a note
Ava: i dont know if shes angry
Ava: hope not
Ava: i am stupid
Ava: yep
Aline: so did the cops pick u up or what
Ava: no
Ava: i got home
Ava: and then
Ava: she called them back and was like "i have to cancel that"
Ava: pretty funny
Aline: you're not supposed to call unless your child has been missing for quite awhile
Ava: i know
Aline: and im sure she was terrified so it's NOT funny
Ava: i was gone for a total of like 4 hours
Ava: whatever
Ava: she needs to chill
Aline: no you need to not freak her out
Aline: you had to have known how she'd react
Ava: what is this poke thing with facebook
Aline: i know you're not stupid
Ava: i was far gone
Aline: far gone?
Ava: in thinking
Ava: i dont know
Ava: i still am
Aline: thinking about what
Ava: not
Ava: which is my point
Ava: ehhhhh
Aline: i don't get it
Ava: nvm
Aline: ava
Aline: are you a druggie
Ava: nooooo
Aline: alcoholic?
Ava: shutpu
Aline: does that mean yes?
Ava: no
Aline: do you smoke
Ava: no
Aline: this is some crazytalk comin outta you
Aline: i need an explanation
Ava: blahblahgoaway
Aline: nope

Aaahhh

I hate new starts. New semesters, new years, new mid-terms. Spring break was awesome and a much-needed relaxation, but it takes sooo much for me to get back on track once I've slacked for an entire week. I have an insane amount of Spanish that I'm behind on including an oral presentation (and lab manual that I REALLY need to turn in NOW), and a hum paper due Saturday that I haven't even thought about yet. And it is hot and sunny outside (I'm hot wearing a t-shirt) as I stress about all that I have to catch up on. I didn't even go to lecture this morning because I couldn't drag myself out of bed. I don't even have time to blog right now. I need to get my shit together and fucking work. I need some motherfucking motivation. AAAAHHHHH HELP ME!

As they say

All good things must come to an end. He came and left, and it seemed as though we only had an hour together even though it was almost a week. Spring break was so eventful, but it was over all too soon. I need another week, at least. I need him back, back in my arms, back in my bed.

I said goodbye and didn't even attempt the futile endeavor of holding back the tears. I had the most wonderful week of my life, and all I can think about is how much I'll miss him. He's already gone, and I feel like it's only been minutes since I was yelling at him to buy a plane ticket.

I walked back to my room, only to hear Elliott Smith still emanating from my computer. The tears haunted me again, bringing me nothing except loneliness. How can I write about my marvelous spring break when I'm so depressed about its demise? Maybe I'll be in a better writing mood later. I promise it was an A-MAZING week.

The Lovely Mr. Mena...

...is taking a shit right now. And that gives me time to blog. He better not check this because we promised not to look at each other's blogs until after he leaves Sunday. I'm wearing a really hot, green dress that he bought me for St. Paddy's Day and I love it. It's a little low-cut for my conservative wardrobe, but I guess I can make an exception for Alex. I think I hear him coming...I'll add more later...

Enumclaw, here we come

Bus: leaves from Reed at 4:54 this afternoon
Train: leaves from downtown Portland at 6:15

Then, a weekend of FUN FUN FUN with my absolute favorite Reedies and looking forward to Alex coming!!! Now I must pack and go!!!

Oh Jesus, it SNOWED.

I never thought it would happen here. But yes, it snowed and it was divine. GOD appeared from the heavens and spoke to me. He said, Aline, this is a gift that I present to you for your awesomeness. I give you this snow, these big fluffy fat snowflakes that mold into perfect snowballs; I give this all to you because you deserve it. You deserve to frolic in the newly fallen pieces of heaven, spread evenly about the ground. You deserve to catch each snowflake on your tongue and freeze your fucking hands off, frozen in ecstacy.

He spoke. And His words were heeded.

He gave me snow, and I cherished every moment.

The Brilliance of Emo

True Story

Slumber partay

Last night was awesome, and oh-so-inappropriate for the week of midterms. But whatever. It was essential for Sam's Reed experience, and we all needed to have a girl night. No boys allowed because they have cooties. (Although we made a couple exceptions, first for Mike who randomly stopped by and then for Josh who brought his ex-girlfriend). I saw "Saved" for the first time, watched embarrassing home videos, danced on the catwalk, and sang along to Cake. I won't deny that we had a pretty great time. One of the things that I love most about college is that all this is possible on a Monday night.

I've decided to dye my hair red again. It was dark red, I guess auburnish, for about three months sometime in middle school- and I've been looking for pictures, but I can't find ANY. That time is virtually erased from my life. My sister doesn't even believe that I ever dyed my hair red. Maybe it was just a dream. NO. I know it's real. And i'll prove it as soon as I dig through more photos. How could I not take any pictures of my dyed hair? It just seems so unlike me. Maybe I wasn't always this vain. Sad.

The bathroom smells like putrid anus

Not that I know of any sweet-smelling anuses, but something disgusting has rotted and died in the Griffin bathroom. Maybe it's a nutria.

It's Monday but it feels like Friday. I desperately want it to be Friday, so I'm convincing myself that it is. This time on Friday, I'll be out of all my classes and getting ready to go to lovely old Enumclaw for the weekend, my home over fall break '05. I'm expecting the greatest Spring break weekend EVER, with some of my bestest Reedie friends, followed by the best Spring break week ever, spent with Alejandro Meña who loves me sooo much that he's coming all the way to Portland to see me. I can barely contain my excitement, and if you ask me how excited I am, all I'll be able to say is "sooooo insanely excited". I can't even find the words to express my enthusiasm towards seeing Alex again. I can't wait I can't wait I can't wait!!!

So I made myself a little checklist to do before break starts. Here it is:

-finish ski class, turn in card for credit
-send dad b-day card (by March 16th)
-organize documents on computer
-clean out fridge
-pack for Enumclaw
-ask about bringing Chelsea Handler to Reed
-learn how to be a tour guide
-volunteer through SEEDS
-study ASS off
-laundry
-clean room, in general
-look HOT
-housing lottery

So far I've finished my last ski class but haven't gotten credit for it yet. I took my first test today (Spanish), but still need to study my ass off for the next two, psych on Thursday and Hum on Friday. Actually the Hum final should be easy. I'm just worried about psych, especially because I haven't done all the reading. Aaaah I wish I knew everything! I'm gonna go work on that now and NOT stress about it. I'll be fine, riiight?

A Beautiful Day for a Photo Booth

If you're happy and you know it

(clap your hands)

*clap clap*

YES! I can be happy! Alex FINALLY has his ticket to visit me March 13th-19th!!!

In other good news, my G-ma has her ticket to visit me March 29th-April 3rd and Ava is coming April 9th-16th. I am so fucking lucky. Now all I need is for Ulrika to buy her ticket. (hint hint)


*Addition: Alex is also coming for Renn Fayre, April 27th-29th! Yay!!!

Today

It's already turning out weird. And by weird, I mean I've already gone through just about every emotion out there. After a night of drunken crying, I woke up with my eyes swollen and baggy. It was hot, really. I woke up without having done ANY work whatsoever, completely unprepared for anything and feeling like shit. My last post, as you may know, is no longer confirmed. I spoke too soon. I hate how my happiness dangles in the air; I hate the feeling of not knowing whether or not I can be excited. It's hard for me having so much restless doubt- will he REALLY come visit me or will it not work out? I don't blame him- I just blame life's fucked up complications. Of course I blame myself for putting so much pressure on him and causing him to break down. So we had a lovely shared breakdown last night. This morning, a little under the weather, I drudged through the four feet of snow and mud to commons and swam my way through bricks to get to hum lecture. OK, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit with the bricks. No one saw, but I started crying in lecture. Not hysterical cries like last night, but tears running down cheeks. I got over it and tried to pay attention to the lecture on gossip. Seriously, it was on GOSSIP. I love Reed. So my mood swings continued throughout the day, which I should add is not even over yet. I wonder what there is to come. Let me elaborate on the day's events.

Eddie Cushman is awesome. It worked out perfectly that I didn't do any hum reading because he decided to let us hold conference out in the sun. Yes, the SUN. In rainy-ass Portland. Amazing, I know. Today is surprisingly warm and sunny. It feels like California, minus the smog and gorgeous boys. Alex, don't take that the wrong way- it's just a fact that boys are prettier in LA. The sun really brightens my mood. The rain has been bringing me down, I think. Not to mention my lack of Alex. I'm going through withdrawals. It's the only explanation. When you have the most wonderful boyfriend on the planet, it's only reasonable that being apart will fuck you up.

So anyway, Eddie buys us a pitcher of good coffee from the paradox (versus commons' shit coffee) and orders us to get whatever our little hearts desire, compliments of Reed. I got a croissant and my mood instantly lifted. I discovered a photo booth placed in the café for RAW (Reed Arts Week), which starts today. The booth wasn't completely set up yet but I'll be sure to get back to that very soon. I hear that people go crazy with the annual photo booth, taking naked pictures and having sex inside. Sounds like fun to me. As we're discussing Tacitus and his ballet dancers- remniscent of hardcore westside story gangs- and going on about how we wish our leaders were kinky transvestite sluts like the emperors from the Annals, I see my roomate eating with a drug dealer friend. We usually don't socialize out of our rooms, although we have a very friendly and understanding relationship, but today she looked up and smiled. I smiled back, gave a little nod, and felt like we had a really beautiful moment. I feel like there's something there that brings us closer even though we're really not. The only way to explain it is to say that we have an unspoken understanding. And that's exactly how I like it.

Eddie also revealed to us that we'd been challenged to a laser tag war by another conference- Alex Nice's conference. I've never played laser tag but always wanted to. And the best part is that they'll use Reed funds to pay for our laser tag. Can you even imagine? Private schools are awesome.

So hum was over, spanish passed by quickly and I went to commons only to find fresh squeezed lemonade. Of course it couldn't beat the lemonade from Molly's birthday, but it was still absolutely scrumptious. That brightened my day. The next thing to brighten my day was going to Paul's facebook wall, only to see a response from Sarah to my comment on her whorishness. I started talking to him a couple days ago, for whatever random reason. He asked how life is.

I responded:
it's been good, very good. i kind of miss your pale white ass. (literally) hey, good thing you never really got with sarah, i hear she's a superslut these days. i guess that's what happens when you stop being friends with aline.

Next, she wrote:
i am so sorry paul that you have to associate with people that starve for attention... we can't all be winners.

I let out a little chuckle. How cute. I talked to Ulrika a bit, filled her in on the dirt, and she decided to make an imprint of her own.

She wrote:
hi paul
guess what your girlfriend went to highschool with my roomate in sierra madre. What a small world. I also have a pic from senior breakfast of your ass so if you would like it ill mail it to you otherwise im just gonna burn it along with all the other pictures i have of your white ass (which is more then i ever wanted). and i am so sorry that you have to associate with people who think the only way for them to get attention is by throwing themselves on guys and screwing their friends over.
P.S. I miss you, im not sure why but i do.

Molly and I brainstorm on what we can do to teach her not to fuck with us. We are not two people easily forgotten. That was a biiiig mistake she made last summer and she'll fucking pay. Karma is my best friend. And this is kicking her in the ass in so many ways. I can't tell what came out of the brainstorm between Molly and I, but I promise it's delicious.

Just wait, it gets better.

We soon found out that today is Sarah's BIRTHDAY. I don't think it can get more perfect than that. I'm so happy inside with my middle school shenanigans. Oh, sweet sweet vengeance.


Don't tell me I'm a bitch- I already know. But right now I'm a very very happy bitch.

Here Comes Your Man

March 13-19th!!!

Mardi Gras!

Ray reminded me that today is Mardi Gras, so I whipped out my mardi gras beads to match my extremely colorful outfit and went to class a little more cheerful than usual. What is it about the inherent nature of holidays that just makes you happy? I love having a reason to get trashed on a Tuesday night. Who knows if that will actually happen...but it will definitely be a consideration.

On the other hand, I just realized that I have three midterms next week. Shiiiit.

Disaster Strikes

It's motherfucking 6:45 in the morning and I'm trying to get my paper done for psychology. I decided to use my Reisberg book as a reference, so I reach behind my bed where I left it. When pulling the book out, it knocks my phone off of the loft and onto my desk so that it's off the hook and the receiver falls down the crack behind my desk. As if that wasn't enough, my alarm clock falls down as well, ALSO behind my desk, and gets stuck there. The alarm clock turns on and starts blasting some radio station. Because it's so early, I frantically try to pull them back up. I'm successful with the phone, but the alarm clock is stuck. I grab for it, but it won't budge. Still frantic, I hurry to move my desk so that it will become loose. I push it out of the way as quickly as I can, almost knocking over my lava lamp (it's HOT) and just about everything else off my desk. The radio is mindnumbingly loud and I'm afraid someone will come yell at me. So I hurry to reach behind my desk, as the radio has now fallen to the floor, pick up the screaming motherfucker and turn it off.

Then I breathe. My heart slows from pounding a million beats per second and I tell myself, Aline, you can NOT get back to work until you blog about this frightful experience. Well, here you go.

I love Jan

Pronounced like Yawn. Yes, he's German. German with beautiful, silky, flowing shoulder-length blonde hair that he absolutely loves playing with.

More on that later. I have to write this damn psych paper. FUUUCKKK!!!

Wish I had a '64 Impala

Just kidding. I want a Vespa. Pleeeaaasse!!! The nice pretty burgundy one or one with a sidecar. Yummm.

Today was the first day I've had to check postsecret for my own postcard, not simply to see everyone else's. And for the first time looking at this website, I feel disappointment. It sucks, mang. Usually postsecrets are so exciting, and now my experience is ruined. I just feel contempt for the cards posted, knowing mine deserves to be there. Or at least telling myself that.

I can't wait to walk to the fruit stand with KC. If we don't have time for kickball, we'll find a way to break from studying!!!

A-mazing
a-MAZE-ing
ama-ZING

Right now I feel like singing. Weird. Usually that only happens driving fast in my car with the radio blasting and the windows down. I don't know why I enjoy that so much. I wish I had a car so I could quench this desire to fullfill my need to SING. If I weren't so reserved, I'd bump some music in my dorm room and scream to it. No, I will. But a quieter version.

I also want to take this time to admit that I've been secretly FURIOUS that Eminem got back together with Kim. I feel betrayed.

Doubley Stolen

I think mine beats KC's. It wasn't exactly the first book I tried but the first two were dumb. Guess what book it is. Hint: It may be strange to you, but I adore it.

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence along with these instructions.

"And so I learned that familiar paths traced in the dusk of summer evenings may lead as well to prisons as to innocent, untroubled sleep."

Saying Goodbye

Is getting harder and harder for me, especially when I'm talking to Alex on the phone. Why has the simple act of hanging up the phone become so hard? I don't want to let go. I know that hanging up will put me back into my loneliness, into a hole of Alex deprivation.

Saying goodbye on the phone isn't the only thing that's hard. It really sucks when you meet amazing people and become friends with them, only to have them suddenly disappear from your life. Natalie. She left before I fully understood that she was leaving. I don't know how long she knew, but I found out a couple days before she was gone. I haven't REALLY realized that she's gone. Leaving, left, coming back briefly, it's all the same. The fact is that I won't be seeing her aalll the time like I'm used to- but my truth is that it hasn't even begun to sink in. I feel like a bitch, not being depressed about her absence. But I still feel like I can run down the hall and bump into her. I expect to see her around any minute. It hasn't hit me that I won't see her bouncing around any minute. I don't understand how everyone else can take this in and accept it so easily. I guess denial is always easier than acceptance. But I DO feel sadness about it. I guess it's hard to explain. I miss her, but not with the full intensity that I "should". When I'm reminded that she's gone, the mood turns somber and for a few seconds a dead, contemplative silence fills the air. Eventually the gravity of the situation will sink in and I'll give Natalie a call or leave her a facebook message telling her how much I love her and miss her, because I do.

Thank the Lord

for cleaning off the toilet seat.



In other news, I feel like punching a wall. Don't ask.

Loves it

Recap

I hate eating lunch alone. I also hate waiting for everyone to get their slow asses to commons to eat with me. So I ordered a delicious burrito with extra guacamole and headed to my room at 1:00. It's been awhile since I've written. So here is my recap.

I've decided that I'm completely immune to shrooms. I've never had really big effects. I never trip as hard as anyone around me. I'm starting to think that all that I experienced before was entirely concocted in my mind, created on the basis of expectation. My mind thought I was tripping, and so my mind acted accordingly, tricking my body into experiencing the effects. Friday I took three disgusting grams of shrooms. If you know anything about shrooms, you know that's enough to get anyone solidly fucked up. Half the amount should have sent me into Wonderland. I don't know what's wrong with me. I guess I'm moving on to acid. The next time that everyone shrooms, I'll acidify myself. Or I'll wait for Alex to get here, who knows. So...since I wasn't tripping last Friday, I found a way to be happy. Marijuana at this school is like a whole different drug. I've never been even close to as high as I am here when I'm in LA. These people know their pot. So I got very nicely fucked up yesterday. The entire time I had the strongest urge to write about my amazing high, but I couldn't find descriptive enough words to depict my sensations and emotions. I couldn't stay concentrated, and never even found the motivation to get to my computer and type. It's not that I was lazy- just too distracted and overwhelmed by everything surrounding me. Everything was entertaining, everything was beautiful. Different of angles of different things produced different effects, and I had to try every angle. Highs like that make me want to smoke more.

"I'm a pretty good saxophone singer" said Alex. I never knew you could sing an instrument.



This is the mother fucker that chased KC and me through the canyon. I didn't get any shots this close shooting with my zoom-less 35 mm lens, and I probabaly wasted half a roll on the damn rat. Seeing a nutria was exciting at first. I'd only seen one at the beginning of the year and from far away. But this was up close and personal. I saw the bitch as KC and I were strolling through the canyon (which will become a weekly occurance from now on) and I screamed "NUUTRIAAAA!!!" I instantly started moving closer, testing it to see how close it would let me come. KC followed, and we both whipped out our cameras. It looked at us, and didn't seem startled. It watched as we inched closer and closer. At this point we were about fifteen feet away, close enough to make out its long, repulsive tail and old-man whiskers. Let's call him Ugly. Ugly started swimming away and we began to lose interest. We had plenty of pictures and the second half of the canyon to conquer, so we moved on. As soon as we are crossing some bridges to get back to the main trail, I hear ice cracking behind us. My interest spiked, I turn to see where the noise is coming from. I squint my eyes and see the nutria, closer than before, almost on land exactly where we were previously standing. I yell to KC to come and look as I start sprinting back to get a closer look at Ugly. It continues coming toward me, cracking its webbed feet through the thin ice of the canyon. I wonder what it could be thinking. Is this fat little rat challenging me? I refused to be intimidated by this creature that I could easily stuff into a lunchbox. So I get low, taking my National Geographic-esque shots of the ugly bugger. But this guy has no shame. He moves closer to me, testing me just as I tested me. When he came within four feet, with nothing between Ugly and me, I started to feel the fear inside me. I knew nothing about nutria, whether or not they were violent creatures. Did it even have teeth? Would it actually attack me? What would I do if he rushed at me? Run? or take a mean shot at him and kick his ugly ass back into the water? He wouldn't stop coming closer to me, and I started to back up. I didn't want a violent confrontation with Ugly. He then rushed towards me and I flew out of that area like a kid with red ants down his pants. I didn't even see it slither down into its hole. Okay, I saw that it disappeared but not exactly how it got there. I was too busy sprinting my ass as far from that beast as I possibly could. I was fucking scared out of my mind. I feared for my life as I ran screaming back to safety with KC close behind. She saw it all. She saw Ugly go straight for us, but then disappear down the hole beneath me. Apparently it slid down like a snake. ugh. I was quite happy to get out of there and finish our walk.

So we walked. And then swung on the swings on the front lawn. I can't even picture the last time I was on a swing. As KC and I fulfilled our childhood desires, we noticed a group of people playing kickball. We thought, wouldn't it be fun to play kickball?? So we asked to join, only to receive an enthusiastic YES! And so we did. This will be another weekly occurance. Join us; it's bundles of fun. Beer, cigarettes and twinkies are essential to any serious kickball game at Reed.

Last of all, I have a qualm with someone in Griffin. There's a spot of pee on the toilet seat. The toilet that I usually use. And the drip has been there for about a week. CLEAN OFF YOUR FUCKING PISS!!! Better yet, get it in the toilet in the first place. That's all I have to say for now.

Ray...

Is Greenland!!!!

While many people think he's a warmish person, he's
actually really cold and forbidding.  In fact, he's downright frigid, and he
demands that people be tough if they're going to hang out with him.  Despite
this rocky personality, he still yearns for more independence than he has, and
respect is hard to get even though he has a hard time just surviving day to day.
 Of all the pastries in the world, we all could live without any more
danishes.


Take the Country Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid

(we took lots of quizzes together and decided this one matched him best)

Boys are Stupid

I keep hearing my phone ring and I think that he's calling me. I wish he would, but I know I made him mad at me. If only I had ANY patience. This shit would be so much easier. I get so frustrated and I take it out on him. I make him feel like shit when I feel like shit. That can't be right. But it's not like he says anything to help it. I'm so mean to him. Why does he put up with it?

Sometimes I feel like I instigate just for the hell of it. Like I have the choice to easily let whatever it is slide, but I take it and milk every detail, I take things too far and not in the way they were intended. I'm a jealous girlfriend, but that's okay because he's a jealous boyfriend. He has no reason to be, but he is anyway.

Even when I'm angry at him (which is a lot, especially around the time of my period) it's a light kind of angry, one that doesn't bring me to tears although it still distracts me from doing any work. It doesn't overwhelmingly distress me but it still pisses me off. I'm in such a weird mood. I know I'm wrong and it's my fault and I'm acting irrational, but I'm still mad at him. Stupid boy. Of course I can't think of anything but him when there's a problem. He's shit at spanish by the way.


I love Ovid. Most interesting shit I've read all year.

"She seized her by the hair and flung her flat upon the ground. The girl held out her arms for mercy."

"Her cheeks are sallow, her whole body shrunk, her eyes askew and squinting; black decay befouls her teeth, her bosom's green with bile, and venom coats her tongue. She never smiles save when she relishes the sight of woe; sleep never soothes her, night by night awake with worry, as she sees against her will successes won and she sickens at the sight."

"On the girl's breast she laid her withering hand and filled her heart with thorny briars and breathed a baleful blight deep down into her bones and spread a stream of poison, black as pitch, inside her lungs."

"Now they are all around him, tearing deep their master's flesh, the stag that is no stag; and not until so many countless wounds had drained away his lifeblood, was the wrath, it's said of chaste Diana satisfied."

"Jove said, 'You women get more pleasure out of love than we men do, I'm sure.' She disagreed." Who's right???


Well...enough of this. I need to get myself some alky.

Valentine's Day Parte Deux

Now I can REALLY reflect on my Valentine's Day. Sometimes it takes a day to let it all set in. My box from Alex was wonderful. Puking in the morning was not. Spending romantic time with my valentine WAS.

I can't say I've ever had a candlelit pumpkin pie dessert with sparkling french berry lemonade in pink champagne glasses before. And I'm sure that even if I would have had one before, it couldn't have come close to how amazing our night was. Let's just say the sex was great. Sorry Alex.

As much as I would have liked to spend time with my boy, I've got to be happy with what I've got. And I've got A LOT. (that means you, KC) Yesterday was awesome. I love you.

Valentine's Day for Aline

No KC, I have the best valentine. YOU.

I woke up this morning to see Dave sneaking into my room to place your present on my desk. Which, I must add, is delicious. We are so awesome together.

I then worried like hell about my spanish test that I didn't have much time to study for. I didn't have time to worry about it being Valentine's Day. After my test was over, it was all I could think about. I've always hated Valentine's Day, but this year I have a reason to like it. I eagerly awaited my package from Alex, or Mr. Copacetic. I checked my mail three times before it finally came. I rushed to my room to see the treasures inside. To my surprise, as I opened the box, sand started pouring everywhere. I thought to myself Oh God, what did he do? I started sorting through the array of gifts that he sent me, all COMPLETELY covered in sand. I couldn't help but laugh. I'm sure the sand and seashells that he sent me from the beach weren't supposed to spill everywhere over everything. But it's the thought that counts, right? When I finally cleaned everything off, I got a chance to really take in the loveliness of my present. It all added up to perfection. The avocado, the stolen orange cone, a lava lamp, a slingshot and more. Who wants to read the Aeneid when you have the choice of the Postsecret book or "The Fine Art of Erotic Talk"?

So basically, I have two pretty fucking AMAZING valentines this year. This is my reward for never having a real valentine up to this point. I deserve it. I love you guys. I hope you like my gifts! HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

Renn Fayre

NOW it will be amazing. Because I'll be spending it with the only one I love. I've never been so happy about emptying my bank account.

And he says it feels like I just socked him in the face. Hah.

For Alex

Down, Wanton, Down!
Robert Graves (1895-1985)

Down, wanton, down! Have you no shame
That at the whisper of Love's name,
Or Beauty's, presto! up you raise
Your angry head and stand at gaze?

Poor bombard-captain, sworn to reach
The ravelin and effect a breach--
Indifferent what you storm or why,
So be that in the breach you die!

Love may be blind, but Love at least
Knows what is man and what mere beast;
Or Beauty wayward, but requires
More delicacy from her squires.

Tell me, my witless, whose one boast
Could be your staunchness at the post,
When were you made a man of parts
To think fine and profess the arts?

Will many-gifted Beauty come
Bowing to your bald rule of thumb,
Or Love swear loyalty to your crown?
Be gone, have done! Down, wanton, down!

Finally

Every time I see a postsecret like this, I think...wow, I could have made one so much better than that- more creative, more meaningful. Yet they still touch my heart. I can so easily put myself in the place of the postcard maker. I, too, finally fell in love. Each postsecret means so much to me. And I still haven't made one of my own.

I sometimes wonder- what's stopping me?

And she scores

Thaaaat's right. I got my ice cream. When I say I'm gonna do something, I fucking do it. And I bring my crew with me. And when I say crew, I mean semi-sober Ray and sober KC. I just got two ice cream sandwiches for $1.50 so nothing can spoil me good mood. That was supposed to say "my", not "me" but this way amuses me so I'm leaving it. We passed by a DT5mil party on the way where you can only get in wearing polka dots (and the pajamas I'm wearing are COVERED), or if you bring a date or alcohol, but dance parties are not my thing right now. I'm tired and I have to ski all tomorrow. I'm a little afraid of the snow. Maybe more than a little. We won't confront this issue until later though. Too much work.

I keep hearing my phone vibrate but it's definitely not. That probably comes from waiting all day for the boyfriend to call. I'm sure that's not healthy. Oh well.

What have the tables done?

Yeah, they've turned. A complete 180.

I'm home alone and Alex is out having fun. With ULRIKA! What the fuck.

No, I'm not jealous. Not at all. Ugh. I want to go to the promenade!! I wanna see a movie and go to Johnny Rockets!!!!! And I don't even like Johnny Rockets. I want to have fun instead of write a paper on the Ara Pacis. Fuck the Ara Pacis. Fuck the Romans. Fuck Augustus. Fuck death and fertility.

So now, I feel that I have the right to complain. I'm finally in the position that Alex is always put in. No, I take that back. I don't party THAT much. Whatever. I don't like this, not one bit. Someone should buy me ice cream. Ice cream is very consoling. Maybe I can persuade someone into a trip to Homer's. Yeah, let's go. Fuck writing papers.

Nirvana

I never thought I would find it in the form of a keyboard. But the keys are so soft and smooth, I want to glide and melt into them. Cradle them. It's so clean and white and innocent. And it works. I press each button and MAGIC. This is beauty at its absolute purest.

Yeah I'm a bit weird.

Shit Gone Awry

Only with my experiment of course. It didn't go so well. I guess I have to tell more people ahead of time. And I should carry something that they can read that will tell them I can't communicate. Friday is my next day!

As for other news, A LOT happened yesterday. I had long conversations with Jess, Dave, Ray and KC. All very good conversations. We'll see what trouble(?) ensues.

Revision

Okay, I can't go 3 days without human contact. I decided to go a day with minimal personal contact and then two days with normal conditions, and record EVERYTHING.

The days that I won't be speaking to anyone are February: 7, 10, 13, 16, 19, 22, 25.

Call me but don't talk to me in person! Love ya.

Self-Experimentation

I've been brainstorming for awhile on a good experiment to test on myself as a psychology experiment. I thought about testing the effects of getting drunk on my body, the relation between the amount of time spent reading and the location where it's done, and plenty of variations of my sleep patterns. But today, I think I found something even more intriguing. I want to find the relation between person-to-person interaction and time spent speaking on the phone. Maybe there is no relation at all, but I've got to test it to find out. It's possible that if I talk to more "real" people during the day, I will find less to talk about on the phone and therefore spend less time on the phone. It's also possible that speaking to real people will get me excited to tell more people the day's events on the phone. I really have no idea, and I'm interested to find out if there's any correlation there. So, starting tomorrow, I will start to limit interaction I have with friends and classmates. I'll go for 3-day intervals (if I can) of minimal and then enhanced interaction. I'll record EVERYTHING, every person I speak to and every second spent on the phone. I'm kind of excited. I hope to learn something about my social behavior and maybe even behavior on a larger scale.

So...basically...don't be offended if you don't see me or I don't speak to you on February 7, 8, 9, 13, 14, 15, 19, 20, 21, 25, 26, 27!!!!

On the other hand...

I feel bad for Cait and Emily. Now they'll have to deal with Ray full-time since I won't be taking him off their backs anymore. Who will he go to when he can't get them? I'm sorry I can't be a temporary replacement anymore. Damn.

My New Roomate

So...since Ryan's room burnt down, he's staying with me. He skipped lecture this morning and I feel like I should be more of a motherly figure and force him to get up and go. I feel like I should force him to work and not smoke so much pot. I don't know what it is that makes me want to lead him; I guess it's just the motherly instinct inside. Anyway, this will be fun. I hope.

Don't be jealous, Alex.

The GOOD Things

I feel like, for the past couple days, my mind has been encompassed with the BAD HORRIBLE EVIL things. And that's not healthy, especially because I have so many great things to be thankful for.

I have some amazing friends here, namely Molly and KC and Josh and Dave. They rock.

Shit, I don't want to leave anyone else out though. I want to become better friends with Lisa because I think she's awesome. Jess too. I want to have a nice long conversation with her and find out how she's really feeling. I'll lure her in with my big room and couch.

I have the best boyfriend EVER. Alex I love you. When I'm stressed out and going crazy and hating the world, you're always there to help me through it. It's fucking hard being so far from you but I'm strong and if I can handle this, I can do anything. I want to be an example to everyone and show them that a long distance relationship can work. It helps knowing that it won't ALWAYS be long distance, that we'll be together soon. I know when we are, it will be that much more rewarding.

I had a fucking awesome party. Shit, son. They're still thanking me for rocking out Griffin. I feel so loved. At least a lot of other people had fun and know it was my doing. I didn't even mind cleaning up the billions of beer cans and other alcoholic containers this morning. I was waaay too fucked up to take pictures- so that sucks, but I guess that's a good thing because there were some incredible parts of the party that I loved, and are better in memory than any picture can portray. Like my entire drunk/stoned/etc. room singing along to Bohemian Rhapsody. Lisa getting me her lovely smirnoff ice instead of the cheap beer I bought in bulk for my guests. I remember a few moments, a couple seconds of talking to each person. The night still seems like a blur, and I definitely passed out before the dorm was evacuated because of the mattress fire. I kind of wish that a fireman would have rescued me from my sleep, but I'm sure I'll get a chance for that another time.

Emily and Cait gave me the best housewarming gift ever- their own crayola copy of Van Gogh's Starry Night. It's easily comparable to Van Gogh. No, better.

I talked to Tedros for the first time in a very long time and it was nice. I think we should be good friends again. He even gave me Mac and Cheese in exchange for alcohol. For some reason, I feel a little ripped off. He's a good guy though. Yes, shit went down but it's all forgiveable. I understand his humor like a lot of people don't and I feel sorry for him when they take him seriously.

Rachel Leaf came yesterday and we drank together just like the beginning of the year. I miss that girl and we NEED to rekindle our friendship because she's awesome.

Ulrika Molly Burke came allll the way to my party from LA. Now that's dedication. (Not really, but it would have been nice.)

I've promised godmother to Malka for my second child. The first has already been taken by Ulrika. Who wants the third (if I have another)? KC?

So, I've got A LOT to be thankful for. I know I have to brace myself for an actual face-to-face confrontation with Ray, and it will help thinking of the previous lovelies in my life.

What I HAVE to do

I'm breaking up with Ray. I realized this morning that we can't be friends. Not with my personality and his satisfaction in destroying it. I definitely do not need his embellished versions of the truth or exaggerated, hyperbolic drama. He lives for that drama, and I don't need to partake in any of his shit. I won't stand for the kind of mistreatment that he gives me. He was wrong to freak out yesterday with the pizza-ordering and wrong to take it so far as to show up at my party for 30 seconds and leave. I don't remember what he said to me in those 30 seconds, but I do remember sitting on the bathroom floor crying about it. Thank you to those who noticed and comforted me. I love you.

And it helped me realize that Ray isn't the caring kind of person who I want in my life. I can't even picture him comforting me. We've gotten closer lately, and I was starting to think that a real friendship would work out with us, but I was very wrong. His temper and attitude is too much for me to handle. He can pull that with someone else but I refuse to be friends with someone who freaks out like he did. That's not okay, and no amount of alcohol in anyone's system would excuse it. I was willing to talk about him feeling excluded. His little door-slamming and petty remarks were bullshit, and I could have simply explained that anyone was allowed to order pizza with us- it was not at all a fixed, invite-only thing. I didn't organize it, I didn't intend to leave him out. Jess came over and ate with us after we ordered without her and there was absolutely no problem. Ray has ordered food without me countless times- so what the fuck is the big deal? It's not like he ever invites me either. So I saw no reason for him to hold a grudge. I knew, however, that he would. That's just Ray.

Regardless of the debatable details of the events that sparked my realization, I am now completely sure that we won't work out. I've never been so angry at someone that I "jokingly" tell them that I wish them dead. I can't even imagine what he'd do if I ACTUALLY did something mean or hurtful to him. It scares me to think about it.

Bottles and Cans and Just Clap Your Hands

I want to break down. My party was supposedly awesome and everyone was there but I don't even care. I don't remember much. The parts I remember were stressful and horrible and, shit I don't even know- just bad.

Blake and KC left after like 10 minutes- I don't know what that was about. Thanks for the support guys. Blake was just an ass, not at ALL helping my nerves about the party. I felt like I was going fucking insane and no one helped. I feel like I'm always there to support everyone for the tiniest little thing, but no one cares when I'm the one distressed. I talked to Alex and he calmed me down. Molly found me, and god bless her- she is my angel. I honestly don't know what I'd do without her. Blake. I try to take his criticisms with a laugh, because I know he isn't REALLY serious, but it builds up and it hurts. It fucking hurts when it adds to the hysteria in my mind. Yesterday I hated everyone. I got trashed and forgot for awhile. But now it's back and I want to fall into crying spasms again. it's hard to even walk down the hall without crying.

Dave slept in Jess' bed. BAD MOVE mister.

Ray is a horrible person. I realized this morning that we can't be friends. I refuse to be friends, even fake friends, with someone who so carelessly throws around my friendship. NO PERSON, even jokingly, calls their friend and leaves a message saying, "I heard your dorm is on fire. I hope you burn to death. Bye." Go to hell. I will do our lab report on my own, I will ski alone, I will find someone else to play racquetball with. I would rather do anything alone than with him.

Speaking of our dorm burning down...






Apparently it did. I found out this morning. Hah. What a great night.

Estoy nerviosa...

I do this a lot. I commit myself to something stressful, something that I know will eat my insides out and drive me insane with anticipation. Like having a party. What if no one comes??? What's worse: having too much beer because no one comes or not enough and ending it early because no one is drunk? It's gonna fucking blow! AAAHHH fuck fuck fuck fuck. I'm such an idiot. Why do I constantly set myself up for failure?

Tell me it will be great. Please. Even better, come to my party and make it awesome. Thanks.

State of the Union

There is nothing more depressing than watching it with George W. Bush as dictator, and nothing more fun than playing the state of the union drinking game with a billion reedies stuffed into your common room.

Cheers to "freedom"!

My version

I may have a problem. I don't necessarily find it too atrocious, but explaining it will make me look like a horrible person. I'm extremely elitist when it comes to writing. To the point where even the "greats" of literature aren't so great. I can't read someone else's writing without feeling a twinge of contempt. I inevitably feel like my writing is heartier, more packed with emotion, and filled with my character. I scrutinize every flaw in others' writing even when it is light years ahead of my own. I honestly can't find value in the writing of my peers. I try, and only come out with criticism. This is the reason that I hate correcting their papers, or even reading stories that I feel I could portray better. I don't want to have to tell them that their masterpieces are shit. Of course I'm not referring to any specific incident. I know I sound like an ass, but this is something I just CAN'T help. I feel like I'm free to reveal these sorts of things in a blog. Don't hate me for it.

On another note, I have my own story to tell. It's short because i think it fits best. There are times when pages are appropriate and times when a paragraph tells it all. Don't criticize me or I'll cry.


I always knew there was more than sex involved in their relationship. To the outsider, it looked as though it was simply a pleasure relationship. They were friends first. He liked her and she was preoccupied. She liked him and he had moved on emotionally. But they were still friends. Friends who liked to have sex. She taught him how, he liked it. No condoms needed. Inevitably, there came a point when she wanted more than sex in their friendship. Fuck buddies was no longer an option. She couldn't hurt herself any longer by suppressing her emotion that came too late, and she was forced to tell him what had to be done. She did it, and she cried. She felt relieved, wanted someone new. Someone like Blake, Josh and Dave combined. And so it ended between the two and began the stage of awkwardness. The awkwardness died down; they were able to talk again. They would never be the same as before, but a new type of friendship was formed. They even laughed at the dinner table together. But she had eyes for a new man. He was a mix of Blake, Josh and Dave.

To be continued...
(not really)

A Town Called Boring

It's kind of funny...I started writing the following yesterday...
"I've decided to stop drinking. Not because I care about a reputation or don't trust my actions under the influence (although I probably should be worried about that), but because it's expensive and is making me fatter. I'm like a fucking balloon right now, except filled with bricks. It's just gross. I'm going to lose weight and I'm not going to drink."

And then, that very night, I got trashed. I'm amazing.


So yesterday I woke up at 5 am, got bused up to Mount Hood and went skiing in 5 feet of snow. It was insane. It didn't stop snowing the entire time and the mountain supposedly got 20 inches of snow. Just that day. That's like two feet. On the ride home, a really cheesy western was playing on the little TVs starring Mel Gibson and Jodie Foster. It was horrible but I couldn't stop watching. We passed through a town called Boring and saw the Boring Supermart, Boring Restaurant and more. I was the only one who found it REALLY amusing. Ray just laughed at me. I'll explain skiing shit later (after my next trip or something) because I have not yet started any homework and that's very bad. But I've had other things to think about. Like the safety of my dear friend and the sanity of another, and the rearrangement of my new room. Pictures will follow.

So the room alterations went pretty well. And when I say pretty well I mean amazingly. I'm in love with my new room. I can either make it a big party room or close my curtains and divide it up for privacy. I have a little changing area, my computer is much more nicely placed (since I have 2 desks now and all) and there is so much room I feel like the entire dorm could sleepover. I am SO glad we didn't hammer my curtain to make a new cover for my bed. SO GLAD. Jesus, that could have turned out horribly. Hammers, nails and a handle of Smirnoff are not a good combination.

Anyway, here are some pics...

Short Skirt, Loooong Jacket

click here for the TIME OF YOUR LIFE

(my language)

I just changed my "date appearance" to Swiss German. I am SO cool.

Racquetball and a Call from Mom

There's racquetball with Ray.
We don't need to elaborate on the call from mom.

Hippies

These people are such hippies. Not all of them, but a good number of them. I just heard my roomate yell (to Ryan in the room next to us) that she took a shower(!!!), sounding like it was some ginormous accomplishment. Why can't they shower every day? Personally, I like to be clean. I love showering.

And then there's the shoe thing. I could deal with all the Birkenstocks, but all the hippies running around barefoot is a little much. Especially in the rain. I talked to someone about it the other day. He tried to convince me that it's cleaner than sweaty, smelly socks. My socks don't smell. If anything, they smell like roses.

Well, that was a good rant. The End.

I miss you...

Mary Wollstonecraft

said "the beginning is always today", according to my gmail. (which i LOVE by the way)

So there's a little quote of the day at the top, and I today is the first day I've seen it. And I happen to think her quote is fucking ludicrous. The beginning is NOT always today. The beginning of my life was 18 years ago. The beginning of college was months ago. So I'll admit that today was the beginning of the Spring semester at Reed, but that is one tiny exception.

Speaking of the new semester, I'm kind of glad it started. As much as I love partying every night, partying is hard work if you do it right, and expensive. It's also nice to get back into my old routine. Except this semester, I'm reading more for Hum. and studying more for Spanish and not sucking at Psychology. I'll try at least. So here's my boring blog. I thought it would be more interesting but I changed my mind about some things I was gonna talk about. Meh.

Peace.

Money

I hate you. Please die.

What type of girl are you?

You scored as Goth. Goth 69% Slut 63% Nerdy Girl 63% Hippy 50% Popular Bitch 38% Athletic Tomboy 25% Preppy Girl 6% Loser 0% What type of girl are you?!! created with QuizFarm.com

All I want to know is...how am I almost the same percent goth, slut and nerd? That just don't make sense, son!

And really...am I goth? I think not.

I'm out, once again proving that LABELS ARE STUPID.

Yesterday...

was really stressful and hormonal. I've been fucking with my cycle (for Alex of course) and I'm finally (sort of) back on track since I gave myself a period a couple days ago. It's kind of amazing how you can control your period with birth control. So I'm moody. Don't fuck with me. And starting school is always really stressful for me. I didn't sleep much last night, and I knew I wouldn't. I even started this blog yesterday saying that I know I won't be able to sleep. Of course I was right. I always am.

I love how Molly and I got the same grade on our psych tests and I said I did well while she said she did horrible. I'm just happy I passed all my classes.

I hate spanish. Maybe I should switch out of this whole mess altogether. If it wasn't for requirements, I'd never deal with this shit.

I don't feel like school. I'm not in a very good mood right now. Not in a bad mood, but not in a good mood. I need someone to make me happy.

Bleh.

You're an IDIOT

You know who I'm talking to. I hate when you fuck up and make me feel like shit, then get sensitive and make me feel even worse because YOU get hurt. So I have to feel bad for you for being an idiot. Well fuck you. I can't concentrate on my reading now but I HAVE to do it. I will. I love you.

Last Night (insert strokes riffs here)

I thought I'd be all over this paideia thing. Today I could go to the Foam Noodle Combat or a cooking class or Chemistry for Pyros or Heavy Metal 101 (and 201) or the bonfire. I could have gone to tons of interesting classes and events this week. I'll end up just going to the bonfire after my dorm event of making root beer floats. I feel like I've kinda been a failure. I didn't even buy the right size lightbulb for my broken lamp. I haven't even done my spanish project that will be presented tomorrow. I don't even have the book I need to read for Humanities.

And I just found out that on my schedule, my Spanish class has been switched to a different time and teacher. So that leaves me a lot more shit to clean up.

To top it all off, Alex is or was angry at me (I think) and now I'm just mad at him. Stop calling me, you bastard.


I really started this blog to talk about yesterday and what fun I had but I don't even feel like it anymore. Maybe later. I feel like shit. Mother fucker.

I just realized my underwear is on inside-out and there's a big chance that I'm too lazy to fix it.

Cry with me

Last night, slightly under the influence, I accidentally ripped Kurt's head. I am so sorry dear Kurt.

As an homage, a tribute to the one inflicted, I dedicate this song (his own song) back to him. Can I do that? I say yes.

I'm not like them
But I can pretend
The sun is gone
But I have a light
The day is done
But I'm having fun

I think I'm dumb
or maybe just happy
Think I'm just happy
my heart is broke
But I have some glue
help me inhale
And mend it with you
We'll float around
And hang out on clouds
Then we'll come down
And I have a hangover...
Have a hangover

Skin the sun
Fall asleep
Wish away
The soul is cheap
Lesson learned
Wish me luck
Soothe the burn
Wake me up

I'm not like them
But I can pretend
The sun is gone
But I have a light
The day is done
But I'm having fun

Which would you go for?

The Sausage Link Penis...

or the 2-P


Tough decision, ain't it?

The Curb

...after all that teasing...I can NOT believe it was what led to his failure. It's beautiful the way things work out.

Porn, Chicken and Bitch Beer (and smoking with a crazy old performer)

Yesterday was, as we say...interesting. After "almost" going to a Paideia class and then actually seeing Syriana with KC, Blake and his mom, we got back to the dorm for Josh's arrival and a great culmination of the dorms. What could bring all of us together so peacefully? The answer could only be porn. Fried chicken, Smirnoff Ice, Mike's Hard Lemonade and "The Sex Lawyer". Yes, it was called the sex lawyer. And of course it was a horribly-dubbed Dutch porn, with even the sex sounds inconsistent. I am convinced that they recorded one moan and looped it throughout the entire 2-hour movie. So we all watched porn, the girls greatly outnumbering the guys, and there was much more laughing and disgust than being turned on. (KC loved it though) I honestly don't understand how people actually get off on this stuff. And why does every single sex scene end with the guy cumming into her open mouth and all over her face? Is that hot? Ugh. I think the worst part, though, is all the spitting and butt-licking. I really want to know who's into that so I can stay 5 feet away at all times. While getting buzzed and watching porn (I didn't actually have any of the fatty fried chicken), I had to do laundry, so I did. I finally bought more detergent. I went back in my room for awhile, and while I'm in my bed (where no one can see me because it is covered by a sheet), I hear some people come in and out. That's perfectly normal and I don't pay the slightest bit of attention to it. Then, awhile later, my roomate Phoebe comes in and says "I'm glad my roomate isn't here". I think to myself, what the hell does she mean by that? It turns out that they had gone to one of the Paideia events called "Chicken: Self-Portrait of a Young Man for Rent" and somehow brought the sole actor home with them. (By them, I mean Phoebe and her 2 friends) I'll give you an idea of what this guy is like by sharing the description of his show. His name, I now know, is David Henry Sterry.

Based on the best-selling memoir "Chicken", which is being made into a movie, this 1-man show is the true story of a 17-yr. old wide-eyed son of Seventies Suburbia. Suddenly homeless and alone in Hollywood, David allows himself to be seduced into the sex business. As a wild 1970's soundtrack pounds, Sterry portrays everyone from his nun/teacher to his employment counselor/pimp, his sweet girlfriend to the charming man who raped him, his sweet naive 17-yr. old self to the love-hungry ladies who hired him.

That is what the pamphlet says. It leaves out, however, that Sterry is a gray-haired, 50-yr. old pot-smoking hippie himself. And he revealed this to us (me behind my sheet), by asking if anyone likes the marijuana. When I heard that, my ears perked up and I wanted to come out of my hiding place. He made a comment about what having a Kurt Cobain poster implies about a person, and I felt like choking a bitch. How dare you judge me, you old man. Of course, at the time I didn't know he was an old man. I thought he was just a friend that they all knew who had a deep voice and no shame. He commented on everything, he was very lively. So...hearing them all smoking in the other half of my room, I slid down from my tent and went to my computer. I waited for them to say something. They all looked up, shocked. They had no idea I was in the room. They all start asking me questions like "did you just wake up?" , trying to find out how much I had heard. I answered lethargically until I got the question I was waiting for, "do you want to smoke with us?". I said "kiiiind of", in my little suggesting tone, and everything was solved. He packed me my own bowl in a crack pipe and I inhaled that shit like a pro. It's been too long since I've smoked and I fucking love getting high. I thought I would never like it more than being drunk, but the effects are just so much more obvious and the feeling is just better for me. Plus, I have to drink so much just to get drunk that sometimes it's not even worth it. Too many calories, ya know? So anyway...I stuck around for awhile and then walked around a bit. I joined some people on the balcony and then stopped by the party in Lisa's room. There's always a party in Lisa's room. I told them about the creepy old man who was nice enough to share his pot but still creepy, and she offered her mattress so that I could stay in her room if I didn't want to go back to my room. I was just hoping he'd leave. I had another Smirnoff and chilled with them. Soon it was time to go. I checked if he was still in my room- he was. Two in the morning and he was still there. I was still pretty stoned and I went in the common room and called Alex. He was awake anyway, so I didn't fuck up his sleep.

Note to self: Next to taking a shower, brushing your teeth is the funnest thing to do while stoned. Try it.

Retard

This question asked to a number of people, with the results following: "What's more retarded, not recognizing your own shirt that someone put on backwards or putting someone else's shirt on backwards by mistake?"

KC Deane- "first one. whoever says the second one is one step, no, is retarded."
Blake Mason- "the former"
Joe Hand- "the 1st one"
Gloria Chung- "both" then changed to "not recognizing your own shirt"
Cathy Wehner- "Its a toss up. They are both pretty bad" and then "Lol um ok...not recognizing ur own shirt"
Brandon Edenedo- "i think not recognizing your own shirt"
Tina Hakimian "not recognizing ur own shirt"
London Moore: "you whore, ummmm not recognizing your own!!!"
Michael Sugarman: "putting someone elses on backwards" (He obviously doesn't know what he's talking about)
Jess Covey: "the first one"
Andres Edwards: "Lol ok....not recognizing your own shirt someone put on backwards I guess"
Dave Jackson: "the first one...it's your own shirt"
Tian Yu: "the first one. It's sad if you don't even recognize your own shirt"
Vicky Grinblat: "the first one..."
Alex Fragola: "I think you're both fucking idiots"
Joi Barnett: "dats random...da first one"
Ahlyzik Monroe: "putting somes shirt on backwards cuz w/ the other one, u wudnt be able to tell. I mean it wud be kinda hard to notice a shirt that's oj backwards."
Leah Peterson: "not recognizing your own shirt that someone put on backwards"
Sasha Nemchonok: "i'd say not recognizing your own shirt"
Sam Wessel: "the first one. how do you not recognize your own shirt?"
Aviva Kraus: "the 1st one. actually they're both pretty retarded"
Ray Dennison: "putting it on backwards. not noticing is forgivable". He then changed his mind to "the person who doesn't notice is stupider". Nice move.
Beau Bourne: "1st"
Molly Burke: "putting someone elses shirt on". TRAITOR.
Jesus Mena: "my answer is ot recognizing your own shirt that someone put on backwards"
^^^Jesus! My savior!!!
Arash Gharib/Abdul bin-Hassan al-Jahari: "My answer is going to be the first one"


Note: When people change their answers, it is only because I asked them again when they were indecisive, "If you HAD to choose, then which would it be?"

So here's the story. A couple days before the aforementioned "incident", Alex had given me a shirt. A t-shirt he doesn't wear anymore, nothing special. I was tired, and so I changed into it to wear as a pajama shirt. In my drowsy state, I accidentally put the shirt on backwards. Later, as we were lying in bed, he comments, "I like your shirt". I give him a blank stare and say "It's YOUR shirt". We then realize it's on backwards. But still. It was pretty obviously the shirt he gave me. And, according to the results of my poll, most people agree with me. The answers in italics are the only ones who think I'm a bigger idiot than Alex. Other than that, he's the bigger retard. Case Solved.