MOOT MONTAGE

2008-01-12T00:36:00.000-08:00

Protest Guantanamo. Go on then, do your thang...

2007-06-11T15:53:00.000-07:00

I kind of feel like I can't really talk to my friends. Or maybe it's that I can't really talk to anyone about the relationship I'm having with them. We can talk about other things. Or pretend to talk about other things. But it's touchy to talk about "us". Whoever we are. And it sucks. People are lame. I used to like them, or so I thought. But now I don't. Now I'm blogging instead.

2006-11-18T01:02:00.000-08:00

Posting Can Be Fun

When I was a kid I had this book that I loved!! That's right, Manners Can Be Fun. I AM SO COOL!!! I had another one titled something like Cleanliness Can Be Fun. (?) I can't remember. Anyway, they were wicked old and had these kind of stick figure illustrations. That's all I have on that.

I'm super tired and want to be asleep in bed, but got myself on the PC and well, there are just too damn many things I want to do in life, allllllll the time. I need some clones.

Things are pretty good. Or my attitude is. Like I'm always saying, I'm not sure which matters more. Though I'm certain both are relevant. There are annoying factors going on, but maybe I'm just more hormonally equip right now.

The coming weeks are all planned in 2 hours blocks. Even the happy, friendly good times. Kind of takes some of the charm from life.

Um, yea, I'm gunna' sleep now. OMG! Yea, it's late. Someone please send me some time (belatedly?) for my birthday and for Christmas and just for the hell of it, because you saw it and thought of me and you love me that much and couldn't help but get it for me. I want the big model too. BIG FAT FATHER TIME!!!!

2006-11-11T19:27:00.000-08:00

Sabado Noche

I'm going to the sauna. Cuz I'm new age. YES!! Which means I'll be waiting to shower, and I'm so food-service grrrrrosssss. Things seem to be improving for now. Or my attitude is. Is there a difference? Yeah, I guess sometimes. Perspective matters, as do circumstances. (It doesn't have to make any sense to you. Or me. Or anybody honestly. It's mine and I love it just the way it was born of my psyche. Cuz my self esteem in improving and that rocks my cock!!!!)

I'm bummed that Radiskull and Devildoll episodes don't actually play when I go to the sight. No one ever cares about inside jokes that make no sense and I can't let them in on. "Yeah, it's really great, there's this floating skull with spikes and a bandanna, and he's dense, and his best friend is this little red devil who has a requited crush on an angel, and the two friends rap together, and Radiskull loves coffee. It's GREAT!!!" Many blank stares. Many changed subjects. Just like when I talk about Fuckchops. Who INCIDENTALLY is gunna' give that girl another fuckin' kid if they keep at it!! Does she really need THREE?!!! Population crisis. Will the baby seat fit in the sports car? Moving on...

So yeah, a former co-worker, who has a different shitty job now, made us sweet reservations for the sauna tonight. This will be our third time going; I think? Rituals are dynamite. Rituals of the getting really sweaty, non-satanic persuasion.

...though speaking of, my motherhumping stereo malfunctioning causes my eyes to roll back and my tongue to fork. I even retrieved a ghetto-blastin' boom box that ALSO WON'T PLAY MY MUSIC AND I AM ABOUT TO MAKE BLACK PLASTIC SHARDS TO SHOOT THROUGH AN AIR GUN AT NON-SUSPECTING PEOPLE OF ALL RACE, CLASS, AND GENDER WHO ARE ABLE TO JOYFULLY EXPERIENCE THEIR MUSICAL COLLECTION IN THE COMFORT OF THEIR HOMES!!!!!!!!!!!!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Um, so anyway, it's been a good day if I isolate it's parts in my brain. And I'm down with that.

2006-11-10T21:34:00.000-08:00

Severance Pays

I'm so ready to be over this guy. But like in Heathers, when Veronica says that someone elses head is just going to sprout up in place of the current Heather, I know if it isn't him, it will just be SOMEONE ELSE!! Lord God, relieve me of this obsession. Male addiction is NOT recommended, my friends. Why can't I just fucking habitually smoke pot like everyone else in the county?!!! Pot can't insult me or fuck a bunch of SUV driving bitches. GROSS!!! I can't deal with his persona getting him so laid. Oh, I'd take him as my own without hesitation, don't pay no never you mind. Having him would do wonders to my own persona. He'd raise my worth cuz he leads with his crotch when he walks like the true alfa, engine fixing, opinionated, dark coffee drinking, kayaking Fuckchops he is. AAAAAAAAAAAAA. I forgot that in the title, so there's some AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA for you. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. It's going to pass. And then it's going to be replaced by some other obsession for some other fucking asshole who will reject me and make me feel like shit. Because I am karmically fated to suffer at the scoff of disapproving males.

OH GOD!!! I just found a gray hair. If you'll excuse me I have to go shoot myself for a minute.

My friend emailed me something about some guy who was saying something about how catholics and their guilt are so much more interesting than a guy who knows he's good looking and always has great sex. I don't really know what my point is, except that maybe I need an interesting ex-catholic instead of This Charming Man and the subsequent thoughts of him and sugar plum fairy sluts fucking in my head.

That said, I've been eating sugar for days. I think I'm sabotaging the weight loss I've been enjoying. Well, mostly enjoying, except that I can't successfully dress myself in ways that are efficient for leaving my home. I bought a pair of pants, since none of mine particularly fit. My co-worker/friend said, "Yea, you need more than one pair of pants."

Who knew the depths of my ability to complain would extend to whining about needing to buy new clothes because I've LOST so much weight. I'm a champion complainer apparently. Bring it.

No, I don't want to be all martyr-y and sulking and bitchy and negative. So much practice with looking on the dark side of things though. Oh, it can be fun, can't it? But it drains the lymph nodes of their power, or something like that. Weakens the ol' immune system, brings about more of the miserable same, scares the children, keeps one single, renders one ALONE on many night after many night after many day and night and alone, lonely day and night and following day. Not that I'm always pissed or bummed, cuz I don't think I am. AM I? No, I don't think I am. I spread my sunshine. Like shmear. I'm good at spreading incidentally. Or is it consequently? Can it be both? Anyway, working at a bagel shop gives me quite the ability to spread. All day long. But that's kind of a tangent, while the rest of what I write on here is linear and full of purpose and insight.

That fuck bag!!! Why did he even enter my realm? I began by calling him The Mirage and then took to calling him The Miracle. But Fuckchops and Fuckbag are really much more true to his personality, now that it's been revealed. Less to do with me and my perceptions or experiences, and more to do with objective reality.

Ummmm...I guess that's plenty for now. The sugar makes me write things. I can't really apologize on behalf of the sugar; I'm generally not authorized to speak on behalf of the sugar. But I am as sweet as the processed refinement that I crave and kill motherfuckers for. And eat in dutiful amounts.

Speaking of, do you watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force? You should. I don't really speak in terms of "should" for the most part. But I feel really confident about that. I bring it up because one media reference isn't enough for a blog post. ANYway, I currently play the role of M.C. Pee Pants it seems. Go forth now. With this important final paragraph to confuse and alienate you.

2006-11-09T00:15:00.000-08:00

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I'm going to start every post with that. Especially on days when I'm feeling that way. For now I am. I am writing on a day that is not a day at all, but rather a night. I am writing on a night which I have already written and posted. In fact I posted something that was just waiting around to be posted from a different day as well. When it pours in Northern California, I rein. Um, so, right... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. More letters to Fuckchops:

People die of cancer. They get cancer and they die. Where are you? And who are you with? And moreover why aren't you with me? Blood spewing from puncture wound to heart. Spew. Spew. Spew. Puddle. Drip. Drip. Pool. For the record I completely do NOT get you. And I'm getting to the point where I don't really want to. Ever. Exclamation. End quote.

Oh, so I also remembered why I stopped blogging...BECAUSE THE COMPUTER EATS SOULS AT EVERY MEAL!!!! The computer will, in fact, eat. your. soul. It has entirely digested mine, which is to say completely but I didn't want to repeat that word cuz I already done used it once somewheres upin here. Er, no, I guess I didn't. Well, now I have. I didn't do the things I said I was going to do. But isn't that a given? Does anyone ACTually do what they say they are going to do? How declasse`. How retro of the brown and yellow owl motif verity. No, I dare say that we are a contemporary peoples of none-doing as we claim. Making a statement about the future can NEVER be a fact according to philosophy and everyone who agrees with my professor. Even when I make a claim like, tomorrow is Nov. 10th, 2006? Is that not a true fact about the future? I forgot to try that one on him. Him being my professor that makes me laugh so hard (literally, not sarcastically and bitchilly) that I turned to one of my table partners (like one would have in kindergarten) and said through wisps of sayingness, "He'sssooofuuunnnyy", as though we had rented Chris Rock together. But instead I was obnoxiously the obnoxious girl at the front of the room that no one seemed/seems to EVER understand. (I can switch tenses in one sentence. You learn the rules and then you break them. It's called modern art. Get some.) They don't understand because they are dumb. And boring. And their mom has bad breath. And so does Fuckchop's mom. Have bad breath. And doesn't cook as well as mine. Or my step-mom that is. BUUUURRRNNNN!!

Anyway, so I got back on the computer after having completely AND entirely (now I've used those words gratuitously) logged out, and turned it off, and listened to music in the car, since my fucking stereo has been asking to go to an assisted living facility and I say, "NO! Stop whining! We do fine HERE! You just need to stop all this signs of aging bullshit and produce music like you did when we were young, and in love."

My personal rendition of "Oh, When the Saints Go Marching" is coming along nicely on key board. That is pretty much the only interesting tangent about school I can think of, outside of the wacky professor that makes me slap knees and tables. And bitches. I'm hungry but I already rinsed, flossed, and brushed. In that order. If you can think of a better order, please do not elaborate. New World Order. New Edition. New Jack City. Naxoproxen. Naugahyde. Niygggggah. Word association is totally in.

I'm going to San Diego in January and I'm not sure whether to tell my ex while I'm sober, ahead of time. Which would be proper etiquette, like declaring war civilly. Or just show up drunk, which will likely happen either way. Hmmm. What would you do? Again, don't feel like you need to expound on your experiences with such things. You needn't. I'll do what I want anyway. Or more accurately, what the alcohol wants. With very little regard for what he actually wants. Cuz I'm cool like that. And single like that. And have countless ailments like that. And mental illnesses as well like that.

(That made me laugh audibly. It's too late to be blogging when you openly laugh at your own thoughts in a silent home that only houses yourself. And no music, cuz your stereo is elderly and some how still took your virginity in high school.)

2006-11-08T21:53:00.000-08:00

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

FUCK SHIT PISS FUCK IN YOUR HEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am SOOO pissed at my slllloooooooooooowwwwwwwwww computer. WTF? Is it the computer? Is it the internet? Is it satan? I bet it's Fuckchops. Or Henry. I bet it's fucking Henry!!! AAAAAAAA.

Anyway, I read THL and suddenly want to post. I haven't been regularly posting in like...a year. And I never really regularly posted ever, as it were. But that is neither here, in Arcata, or there, wherever there is. I wonder if there is dark and rainy like here, in Arcata. Outside of course. Not in my apt. It's dry and lit in my apartment.

This is a love letter for Fuckchops, who my heart currently belongs to:

YOU SUCK!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! WHY DO YOU EVER EVEN CONTACT ME?! YOU MAKE NO FUCKING SENSE!!!! I DON'T EVEN LIKE YOU.

What do you think? I wonder if it's too long? I've been told by some dating advice capitalist monger opportunist not to write long messages to guys. Cuz they are turds. And turds don't have very long attention spans. Heh. Turd. Long.

ANYWAAAAYYY...yeah, I never got into blogging enough because of some reasons that I will address in short. Maybe in list form?

1. I don't know how to use a computer

Um, that about sums it up actually. OH, and the non-anonymous issue. Because I set it up in a non-anonymous way. And then just never really was motivated to start a new one. Or didn't care enough? Is there a difference? Motivation? Interest? Hmmm...

Yea. I LOVE reading THL, cuz then I can write whatever I want too. Not that I have adventures and a boyfriend. Or a career. Or a lap top that I know how to use. But just that I have random thoughts and am liberated to put them in small paragraph type thought segments and not edit them. Not to say that THL doesn't edit her shit, what the fuck do I know?

I know that if I don't fucking CHILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL my face is going to fall off. I am not going to go into my medical issues right now, but they are mounting and worsening. They are worsor than they've ever been. Well, actually Halloween was perhaps a pinnacle, nay, the acme of worsenessness. I need to pee and um, cut up my new shirt so it's fashion forward and supah cool for my shitty minimum wage bagel shop job. And sort through papers. The bane of all reality and sent here from the alien demon government monsters to steadily turn me from marginally functional to, say...on the streets babbling to myself about Monchhichi or McDonald's mostly soy burgers and how good they are and would they be considered vegetarian and could I eat one and still say I was a vegetarian and would I want to because I would likely get diarrhea and would it be worth the ring of fire and could I use a McDonald's restroom in that case because even though I was a street person at that point I would very much be a paying customer and they couldn't send the alien demon government monster cops to take me and make me one of them and read my thoughts and send me out to recruit other unsuspecting marginally sane people to merge in to the likes of them.

(update: the computer is still being slow and STILL making me want to put a used catheter in a nice person's mouth. Furthermore it makes me not want to spell check. So, if there are spelling issues, you can blame the internet, or my computer. Or satan, which spell check wanted me to capitalize. They also wanted me to call boys Tarts. I'm not making shit up.)

2006-11-05T19:21:00.000-08:00

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I have a headache. I have TMJ and tongue thrust. It's been gray and rainy. I am likely living with the consequences of chocolate and beer. I have allergies. I have a virus. I feel totally disconnected from my family. Two of my parents bicker and it's depressing. My mom has mental illness and has always had financial problems. My dad is stubborn. I have to hurry and get a passport. My name is "baby girl" and that presents a problem. My friends are pretty much always dealing with their own hardships. I don't have companionship most of the time. My stereo is broken. I need to do laundry but can't seem to. I need more socks and underwear. I can't find the make-up I bought to replace the make-up that was stolen from my car after the window was smashed out. My car is leaking. I had a terribly uncomfortable conversation with the guy that slowly and steadily has been breaking my heart for over four months. I am probably ovulating. It's my only day off and there's too much pressure to spend it doing important things. I work at 7:30 in the morning at my minimum wage job where I make VERY few tips for lots of work and plenty of crustomer shittiness. I can't look decent at work, because everything gets ruined. Most of my clothes don't fit me anyway. I have WAY too much school reading to do. It's too hard to be happy, it takes too much work. Like reiki, yoga, meditation, pure diet, vitamins, positive thinking, exercise, honesty but not complete honesty, and avoiding substances. SO much fear, pressure, physical pain, disappointment, confusion, emptiness, etc. And then I go directly to feeling defensive, because I have shame for being bummed.

2006-10-26T21:46:00.000-07:00

NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!

No more thinking!!! No more analysis. No more mulling or figgerin' or dialoguing.

OOOMMMMM...

And yet I feel so lonely. Must talk to someone.

2006-10-15T16:37:00.000-07:00

Do I Even Know How to Use This Thing?

This could be great. I started blogging and wanted feedback, but never really got much and the whole thing was so unsatisfying. But I've been having all these thoughts lately and when I talk to people they want to talk back at me. Solve my problems, fix me, dismiss or minimize. Give me some fucking trite, invalidating, or HIGHLY personalized perspective and play like God, wrapping up my feelings and experiences into neat packages so they can feel better about my being in discomfort. Well, here I am. At the keyboard, remembering the beauty of the black hole blog. By now everyone has stopped checking for updates I'm sure and I can just floooooow. Perfect. It's raining today and I decided not to pick up a work shift, even though I need the money to support a newly acquired Aveda habit. So basically I paid $50 to do nothing today. Like a cover charge at the door of my apartment. Still I could use a week of this at least. There is SO much nothing that I need to do. I think shopping might feel good. I've been out of the shopping practice for years. Then threw myself back into consuming and had to take a break. I know everything I purchase is exploitive and I already have more than I need. Let's see....is there anything really crucial to spill? Mostly I journal a lot, so it isn't that my thoughts aren't getting out of me. They are. I am just THAT self centered and absorbed. I have THAT many thoughts and feelings in a given hour. I need to journal in a notebook, journal on-line, talk, pray, take pills, meditate, just to expel the rapid fire observations, opinions, perceptions, theories, conclusions, confusions, delusions, pressures, and contradictions. Being me is complex. I'm not a fucking rotten turd, I realize I'm not brilliant, but I fucking think a lot and get all stimulated by simple happenings. Whatever. I don't have to defend myself, because it's my blog and no one is listening and I don't care. I'm working on self acceptance. Well, I don't know if I'm working on it, but it's a theme. Today the theme is Focus on School Work. It's true that if I want something in my life I need to practice that. That is to say, if I want happiness than practice happiness, or do things that bring happiness. If I want love, patience, energy, confidence, etc. So if I want to focus on my school work (which we all know I abso-fucking-lutely totally don't) then I need to practice it. Not wait for God to miraculously make me interested in my studies like Glenda. But rather show some fucking willingness. But I think I'm going to the mall instead. Mira got a kickin' zip-up hoody there and it's raining and I NEED long sleeves. Then I can hit a support group meeting and maybe dinner. Share my insanity with others. That's fun. And then MAYBE pick up a school book tonight, when I'm home. But I doubt it. I'm not claiming to be a victim. I know it's a procrastination of my making. I wonder though if it's the subjects, or the way in which I'm taught? Or if I'm just too self absorbed to give a fuck about what other people think, and I just want to think my own thoughts and think about what I think and how I think about that? Drinking water is important. And breathing. Breathing is really important.

2006-09-09T00:35:00.000-07:00

Unsolicited

You were going to call me tonight.
When you were done having dinner with "friends".

What if I wasn't taking a bath this evening?
Straightening up my place,
practicing piano,
buying an Edie Brickell song from itunes?

All the while thinking about school reading;
and You.

What if I was adoring another man?
Playing with his balls?

Would that bother you?

I know you could do better.
That isn't the point.

So could I.

I went to your home uninvited.
Your best friend answered my drunken knock.
Door locked.

I couldn't really focus on the lawn adornment.
Pepper plants, bicycle, clothesline, kayak...

Table made by your own affectionate hands.

So I just looked up.
The haze passing by the near-full moon was possibly
the best moment of the evening.

I tried to call first.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
BEEP!

I wonder if I stand real still
if I stand a chance?

2006-08-18T10:01:00.000-07:00

I don't know if anyone is still out there, but I guess it's pretty much inconsequential. Things have been steadily improving. Financially, internally, with work, with Him ("Him" being the sexy man, not the large, proverbial "Him" in the sky, though that relationship is likely improving as well). I am taking to calling him The Miracle, instead of The Mirage. As he still calls and comes by after all my awkward neediness. It's progress. I'm sure it would be super cool to write about something other than me, my life, my thoughts, my feelings, my experiences, my opinions, my perspective, my obsessions, my interests, my loved ones, etc. But I don't really see that happening any time soon. Maybe that is something I could challenge myself with? Step away from the Carrie. Most topics seem trite/cliche'/discussed already, so why not just super indulge in self? Good rationale? In some pathetic moment of desperation, (that's my excuse for being lame, what's yours?) I signed up for dating related internet "advice". Mostly it just served to utterly confuse and shame me. Well, still does. It's all set up as though I'm the J Lo character in a high budget movie who has access to 7 single men with different Ken doll personas, and I need to be selective about which plastic mound I mount. Not taking into consideration the nuances of my unique personality and desires. Nor the reality of the affect that moods, past hurts, addictions, mental illness, physical disease, finacial hardships, personality disorders, familial strife, and not being J Lo have on my 3 dimensional relationships. Still I can appreciate what they're trying to do. Capitalize on women's insecurities. It's a noble pursuit that is guaranteed fiscal gain, so if nothing else I honor their shrewd business skills. If I can keep from purchasing an ebook and just stick to the self flagellating free emails, then I win.

2006-08-07T22:23:00.000-07:00

Why My Life Sucks ~by Carrie

My life sucks because I'm a spoiled American (like I already told you) and I think I need something, when in fact, I have everything I need. I am safe and fed. But nooooo, I want romantic love. Which is a lot like wanting a space ship to land in my living room with all the disney characters in it, and all the aliens and disney characters to prance around my house and make Grateful Dead music and bake fresh bread in my oven. And then leave me $2900 for a shit kickin' time in my pad. That is the equivalent of what I want. Only a little more realistic. And that makes me want to cry. So I'll see you in another week. Or something.

2006-07-30T22:19:00.000-07:00

Ummmm

Yeah. So I don't really have any solidified thoughts. And so that is why I don't type shit on my blog. But whatever. "Why should I? Solidify, and make me real, so you can see me?" (~Sheryl Crow) Lots going on in my head, cuz that's how I live, yo. Thinkin'. And it don't stop. There seems to be a list of things that grows exponentially, it buds and multiplies itself. One errand leads to another. Projects blend, conversations lead to more conversations. My ass itches. What was an excruciating sunburn has "progressed" into antagonizing torment. Whatever, it's fucking always something. This summer alone was the foot injury, the stomach flu, and 3 sunburns. Don't give me that, "Why don't you put on sunscreen?" lip either. That's not up for discussion. I will be discussing how slow I am to technological advancements and procuring them in my life. I put in an order for caller ID this week. See? And I STILL don't have a cell phone, but need one every...OH, HOUR ON THE HOUR!! So...the rules and regulations of life are really hindering me.

Do: exercise, drink water, meditate, smile, tip well.

Don't: drink alcohol or caffeine, watch t.v., bask in the sun, or demand things of males, even if they are reasonable things that they would enjoy, and they often claim to want themselves.

It's all too much. The pay off isn't even walking on water. For me it's like, not wanting to kill yerself and shit. I mean that's kind of a mellow dramatic exaduration, but not really. If I play by most of the social rules I have some how acquired along life's breezey, zippidy do dah way, then I get what? The man? The glizt and glam? The nice T and A? Approval? Realistically I get some moments that aren't saturated with shame. And that's about it. I am not even guaranteed to live longer or laugh more. I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm done.

2006-07-29T19:45:00.000-07:00

Surly

You flash your smile
make me wanna' flash somethin' pretty
we were waitin' on a miracle
we were both pushin' thirty
you surround yourself with smoke, good music, Marley fans, and other girlies
left alone my heart gets surly

You place your hand upon my skin
my mind begins to wonderin' "Is somethin' happenin'?"
How could I do this to myself again?
Is there no end?

We're friends
just friends

When I inhaled as you exhaled sweet air
when my lips hovered, did you want 'em there?
And when your voice goes in my ear
you know what I want and where

But we're friends
just friends

Maybe if your eyes didn't look like the river running through my life
maybe if your sent didn't get me thinkin' so indecent
and ooh, your sound
if I didn't need you around

We could be friends
just friends
good friends

Uh uh you go, titillating all my senses
I told you baby, I was sensitive
now we've got up our defenses
when we meet again

Will we be friends?
just friends
good friends
more than friends?

2006-07-28T23:53:00.000-07:00

I don't know. You tell me. Zaadz...

2006-07-27T00:01:00.000-07:00

I DON'T CARE!!!!

Today fucking sucky suck sucked. And I don't care. If you think I am a whiney bitchy brat then that is for you to think and me to be. Things have been looking up, but today was a set back. At least that's what I want to think. I have a 9th degree sun burn on my ass and it makes me vulnerable in too many ways. I have been trapped in a pattern of addiction for so long, and it feels heavy and taxing. I don't want to listen to myself, so I'm shutting up.

2006-07-25T16:37:00.000-07:00

Sat. Sun. Mon. Tues.

So many days pass, and I think I'm not interesting enough to write anything, so I don't. I've been busy. Busy obsessing, I suppose. I likely just don't manage time well, because I think of all these things I could do, or "should" do, and am clearly not doing them. Like blogging. Like putting the letter to my mother in the mail. Like putting letters in the mail to my friend who was wrongfully sentenced to life in prison; and is fighting for his freedom for the 2 or 3rd year now.

It's a sunny day and I was drug out of my house by a friend from C.C. to the Mad river. Which brings me to the song that Devin wrote called "Carrie U." In which he says, "Carrie there is beauty like the Mad river underneath your skin, and I am grateful for your invitation in". To which I said, "Is there no beauty above my skin?" Aren't I a spoiled brat? Someone wrote this most amazing, touching, gorgeous song about me, and I hear, "Carrie you are inadequate".

Anyway, next I will address the Jenns. So many Jenns, and I want to thank them all. Thanks to Jenns for commenting. For listening, caring, being strong women, dragging me to the river, inviting me to OR, telling me I'm doing a good job, wanting what's best for me, being loyal, kind, loving, honest. Jenns are fab.

Work is improving, but I'm spoiled there too. It's nice to have an income. Super nice. It's also really easy for me to be sucked into consumerism. Wanting bigger, newer, prettier, softer, shinier, more.

Interactions with Marc the Mirage are possibly improving as well, but it's definitely easy to want more there.

In conclusion, I am spoiled. Which we already knew, as it is directly stated in the "about me" section of this blog. I didn't set out to restate that proclamation, but there it is.

2006-07-22T18:32:00.000-07:00

Carrie Starr yo.

2006-07-20T09:30:00.000-07:00

WHY?

I spent the whole day
worshiping the sun
because god
was like a serrated knife
in my rib cage

nobody needs to know
of the damage all that
curiosity did
to my ability to reason

neither does anyone need to take a stab at it

the only thing goin' down
on these steamy,
evening colored streets
is the blazing hot topic of
"Who did this to me?
And why?"

2006-07-17T08:57:00.000-07:00

Round Two

Marc's back. And he shaved his beard. All bets are off, and I can babble and be real. Well, mostly real. I had told him I couldn't be his friend because I'm too attracted to him. Which sucks to say, because men are often so arrogant, that saying things like that just feeds the problem that I'm finding myself in, as it were. But I told him I miss him and apologized. So now we're "friends" again. This could just be a stage in the process of letting go, but that's ok too. The man I really want to be intimate with right now, is the Big Man up the proverbial stairs. I wish he would reveal himself to me. And not be such an esoteric bastard, like the rest of these teases.

2006-07-15T20:04:00.000-07:00

Mmmmm...
Kitty Lunchmeat Sandwich

The contradictions between humans and the animal kingdom are baffling. I don't have a pet. And I don't eat meat. Both of those things make complete sense to me. I don't want to OWN another being. Neither do I want to eat them.

I remember my step-brother reacting to an article about horse meat. And people are always vilifying Asians by making jokes about them eating cat or dog. What's the fucking difference? If you eat meat, you eat meat. Why is it socially acceptable to eat a duck or a deer, but not a swan or a monkey? It's all gross, so don't look at me. Furthermore, why do people in this country give their cats and dogs better medical treatment than many humans receive, but eat pigs or chickens, who are repeatedly scientifically proven to be equally smart and unique in personality?

Creatures are kept captive in cages and bowls; I once saw Siamese Fighting Fish on an end-cap in a walmart. As though they were no less objects, no more biological, than spring collection body mist or plastic mugs for coffee to-go.

What happens in the meat and dairy industries is nothing short of evil. I buy my eggs cage free, if they are too expensive, then I can't afford eggs. Chickens don't have to be mutilated and kept five to a square foot cage, under 24 hour fluorescent lighting to nourish me.

So many people use the excuse that addressing animal rights has to come after dealing with human rights. Why make it either/or? Can we multi-task folks? They'll take their dog to be groomed, and not allow a houseless woman to shower in their bathroom, ostensibly doing neither.

2006-07-14T21:35:00.000-07:00

Closed

So I'm done with them for awhile. After Ken I decided not to date for at least half a year. Then I crushed on Devin when that time was up, but Devin wasn't into me. Post Devin I think it was Phil. He mislead me, and dumped me before we actually started dating. It was super weird, as was/is he. Then there were the cute Red Cross boys. One on each trip. And during the semester, Pretty Andy, who was totally fucked up and nothing happened with, but I some how thought it was promising. That's basically a year and a half worth of crushing, bringing us up to Marc. And I have felt so vulnerable, confused, obsessive, distrusting, anxiety ridden, and grossly insecure, that I can see (with the help of Jenn) that it's just not fucking time for me. I fall too hard, too fucking fast. Splat!

Because I almost didn't survive the Ken break up, I'm much more leery. I don't want to be alone, and I've tried to continue believing that love is possible. I would often say, "I would date me." But I don't think any of that matters. I have plenty to bring to the table and I deserve love. But I concluded at some point that I'm cursed. That karmic-ly I am paying a debt or learning a lesson from another life. It's kind of the only thing that made sense to me. But I don't really want to believe that either. For now, I just know that I handled this Marc situation so fucking lame, that I need to sit on the bench for awhile. Get some balance. I so naively blanket out my number with a friendly smile and lavish hugs, but I need to say, "No thanks." Not that they are breaking down the door, cause they aren't.

Anyway, I ran into a former classmate today, who reminds me of Ken. He talked to me for awhile, and it was fantastic. He's in a relationship, so talking with him was great; no pretenses. He reminds me just how AMAZING some men are, and how I should hold out for one of them. My fears are numerous, but mostly that his kind are all taken. But that is of no concern at this point. However, extracting my heart from my ass is.

2006-07-13T21:19:00.000-07:00

McRant

There's a lot on my mind. Moods, life, thinking, feedback, whatever. People keep telling me I deserve this or that. As in a loving partner. But like I've said, deserving something doesn't really mean shit, in my experience. Also, I am tired of people telling me I think too much. Or analyze too much. So what if it's true, even? What the fuck am I supposed to do about it? It's like telling someone they're too tall. That's just how my brain works. You know what I tell them? Maybe if other people would think more, I wouldn't have to do their share of thinking.

(I took a Maddy break)

Anyway, there's been a lot going on, because that's how life is as I know it. Complex and challenging. I fucking get so fed up with feeling inadequate for just being aware and honest. I am completely rambling, but I don't really care, for some reason. I think it's the anti-anxiety pills. I told Marc I couldn't be his friend because I'm too attracted to him. He was kind of offended. He's right, and I'm wrong. I make so many mistakes. But I was suffering. On the floor crying in fetal position kind of suffering. Anyway, it's all too fuckin' much sometimes. Life, people, death, reality, oppression, war, environmental devastation, moods, fears, sadness, confusion, depression, grudges. And then someone says sweet words, or Sage does something super spontaneous and new and it's kind of ok for those moments. Sometimes I cry with relief when love is exchanged or solutions are reached. I miss Marc a lot. I have missed him a lot since we first connected. I'm told my obsession with him, has nothing to do with him. And it's true. I mean he is a kick ass guy in his own right, but if it wasn't him, it would just be someone else. And that's so hard and embarrassing. Men are my addiction. They have been since at least junior high. I blogged about this a year ago or so. But I can't just abstain, it isn't that simple. I mean for awhile that's healthy, but not indefinitely. I'm not even over Ken, so I have no business being friendly and giving my number to someone anyway. But God was this one tasty. I wish I was addicted to something I could control. Something I could score on the streets. Instead of people with their own rights, who can set boundaries when you need a fix. Fuck.

2006-07-12T21:34:00.000-07:00

The Vans and the Buses

Checkered Vans
make Kurt Cobain
think David Byrne is cool
Cool enough to emulate
Cool enough to take Janine's place?
Never.
Maddy said Janine had flowers for breath
silken woven worm made hair
that shimmered as a lei
around Shaair's neck
and on his feet
were not checkers
but Ali Shaheed Muhammad's
New Balance
like a trip on the bus
It's National Make Congress Ride the Bus Week
They work in blue collared, raged, swollen, mildewing jobs
with no medical insurance
And they break.
And they too do themselves in
Like the nation
Like Kurt.

2006-07-11T21:03:00.000-07:00

The Hippy

Ok, so here it is...

No, he's not ideal.
But let me just say this, neither is being alone.

2006-07-08T19:42:00.000-07:00

Opposites Day

Tarnation, I do declare! This is the day the Lord hath designated for the loving of the Carrie. And lo, it was good. Amen. I could not say enough good things about today's manager. And she says good things about me. For instance, "Let me hug you because you're wondermous." My primary co-worker had phat love, and even random crustomers were down with tha love givin'. One lady said, "You must have been hired for your fabulous personality", while a guy visiting from London told me, among many other kind things, I was "spiritual" and "inspirational". OMG. So you KNOW I hugged him and sent him off with a free cookie. Let's see...I got a message from my mother saying nothing but love, and an email from Maddy that I'll just have to show you a little of:

"you rock, and though it will truly take YOU to tell yourself this, i'm going to say it again.

you make 29 look fucking HOT. everyone says so. you look goooood. shit, you make 21 look fucking hot. and talented. and beautiful. and kind. and gentle. and damn intelligent.

bitch please. you da shit."

NUMBER ONE, ALL TIME, BEST EMAIL EVER RECEIVED!!! Yesterday I BARELY could keep from walking off the job. Today was, by contrast, utopian. And it isn't over. That's what's so fuckin' rad! Is this mania folks? Does life shift that much, or is this strictly about moods? Anyone?...

2006-07-07T22:10:00.000-07:00

Take This Job and Fuck Yourself in the Face With it

I gussied completely up with rhinestones and liquid eyeliner in hopes to find Maddy still mingling about Lounge night at The Metro. I missed the whole blasted thing! I was in too much pain immediately following work to do anything, so I turned down TWO offers to be social. AARRGGHH!! I pretty much hate my job. It's all I can do some days, to avoid walking out. In tiny moments it can be fine, or even fun, but it is too stressful for me, and hard on my body. Right up cozy with the back dumpster is where I like to take my breaks, in tears. There isn't parking for me on the Friday shift, so I spend the first 2 hours justifying why it's ok that my keys are near the register reminding me to move my car before it's ticketed; which would thereby make the whole shift moot. Today I worked with a prepper that doesn't like me, a manager that doesn't like me, and then a women I knew as a teenager, who decided back then that she didn't like me, came in for lunch and Challah. Later in the day, I took a break from doing dishes and swept instead. Aaahhhh, a relaxing alternative. My first official job was dishwashing. I had processed tax returns from age 11 and trimmed lumber with a chop saw, but dishwashing was my welcome to the taxed income world. All that glory happened in some short-lived German pancake joint, so I had to scrub these HUGE industrial mixers. I was hired with the promise of being a waitress, real soon. Real soon. I would wear clean shirts every day and re-paint my finger nails every night. The scraggly looking girls who were waiting tables weren't tipping me, which I know now was tacky of them, in addition to just wrong. I worked there a month and then hit the redwood. The owners withheld my pay check, although both of my mom's requested it in person. Eventually we had to go to a labor commissioner, who granted me a bunch of money I never received. But I did get the pay check. It was the first of many thankless, low wage, degrading, debilitating, anxiety producing, employment opportunities like the one I'm in now. I dare say the class system in America is worse, because in India the rich are seen as rich and the poor are seen as poor. Here, the rich are seen as having worked hard to get there and the poor are seen as sorely lacking in intelligence, strength, charisma, stamina, or whatever it is that's supposed to be enough to take them from their particular social rung and elevate them. I'll be there again tomorrow, if you want to visit or call me. If you didn't catch that, it's Saturday. Yeah. I work Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. My Sunday morning shift is the one where I am responsible for cleaning the bathroom and parking lot first thing. But don't you dare assume that gets me out of closing. It doesn't. Nary a shift goes by that I don't close one of those macklefrackin delicatessens. If your placing bets on how long I'll last in this job, can I lay down an entire pay check on Not Long Enough to Pay Off My Debts?

2006-07-06T22:08:00.000-07:00

Highlights:

~avocado flavored Milky Bubble Tea with green Choobees
~curly fries, even though they were cold
~dough boy
~Jeremiah
~James and Destiny
~Ciara
~very fresh, black snapper in light batter fried by dad
~balsamic vinegar glaze
~stolen sign that reads, "I'm gorgeous inside"
~Lisa, and the fact that she had energy, a clean place, and seemed happy to be visiting with me
~oreos and milk
~the sun coming out today
~getting my hair cut FINALLY and buying bougie products
~gas money and new car insurance card from my dad (I told you he was way rad)
~and damn if it isn't a highlight being affectionate with that hippy boy

2006-07-02T22:31:00.000-07:00

It's been kind of shitty. Then I start thinking, is it always shitty? Do I always have this high of stress and this low of esteem? Anyway, the guy I like, and was whining to you about, before the phone rang and people showed up, is further fucking with my head. I have to move on, I can't afford it emotionally. But I don't know who is being the "crazy" one? I miss him. I know that. ALL THE TIME. I have that opportunity, because I fucking don't really ever see him. Today I decided I am uncomfortable. In my situation with him, in my body, my mind, at work, in my finances, under the rule of the leading government. That's not so good, eh? Anyway, things need to change. Or I want them to anyway. I'll be going home for the 4th. I hope that shifts my energies some. Things shifted a little this week, but crashed back down. I did a bunch of crying today. Wah. Maddy called me to goto a coffee house for an open mic, so I did. I even played. Some guy was talking to me and he was nice. And I just want to scream in his face. Just scare him away, or tell him, STOP TALKING TO ME NICELY!!!! DON'T YOU KNOW IT WILL ONLY MAKE ME LIKE YOU AND THEN YOU WILL BREAK MY HEART?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hmm, unhealthy much? I think I'll just post this on my blog, cuz I've been too insecure to write anything and in no way inspirational. Anyway, I hope you have some good bonding with your padre. And get all the dirt. It helps me to know where I come from. Like, "Oh! No wonder I'm like that." I finally bleached out the bathroom. I had to buy a bucket and some bleach. And I got a new mop head for when I want to mop my kitchen. And soaked the towel in bleach, which will no longer be for my face, but just be a rag. I still haven't entirely dealt with the old mop, but I'm addressing it all in stages. I want my life to be different. Or I want my attitude to be different. I am going to be taking anti-anxiety pills. Seems kind of dramatic, but I feel like it's come to that. Thanks for asking. ~C

2006-07-01T00:37:00.000-07:00

M.T.

Because I want to kiss you and because I think about you, because I like looking at your face, listening to your voice, feeling you touch me, smelling you, because you're happy in your own life, because I'm not happy enough in mine, because I want to spend time with you, because I care what you think, because it always ends up like this, because you don't answer your phone, because you don't follow through on your word, because it affects my thinking, because we won't be having sex, because I'm envious, because I'm insecure, because I only hear from you at night, because I saw how you were looking at Julie, because Arcata is teeming with younger, thinner, prettier, less complicated girls, because I'm broken, because you don't need me, because you don't invite me, because I'm impatient, because I am longing, because you are busy, because I am suffering is why I just can't continue in this capacity. You deserve freedom and autonomy and I deserve to be missed, connected, and held; with no confusion about what is being felt. I know it's extreme. I'm extreme. And lonely. But I like to know to expect the loneliness. And not pretend you could like me. I was independent and resigned to the absence of somebody. Then you smiled and listened to me. I'm so needy that if you threw your entire self into my void, it would be like taking a drop from the ocean and calling it emptied. I can't glimmer enough to make you swoon enough to make me satisfied. But I thank you for your eyes, your lips, your inspiration, your time. For making me feel like I could be a contender, even if you didn't let me win. I've missed you every day since you showed up in that meadow, and I will miss you still.

2006-06-29T22:11:00.000-07:00

Total Turnabout

I feel much better. Much better indeed. Speaking with my mom the other day was good. Compassion is so healing for me. And empathy. Some people do well with tough love, but not me, my friends. I like to be babied like the suckling I am. It hasn't even been sunny and I'm still super stoked on my new found hope. My foot has healed to the point that I can take a walk, and so I did. I have communicated directly with a friend, in a boundary setting kind of way. And I've been taking care of business. What's more, I have plans to go home for the 4th. Who was that heavy laden woman? Woebegone and utterly confused in her own mind. May she rest peacefully, she has done quite enough here.

2006-06-28T23:16:00.000-07:00

Keep That Cougar Spirit Up

A little known fact is that I got Most School Spirit in my junior high year book. Yeah. Me. Carrie. I'm not kidding.

Is this Wednesday, already? Is it time to blog again, already? I suppose it is...

Things have been gal dern hectic, I say. I just keep throwing out that word. I don't know how else to convey what happens for me internally in response to what may or may not actually be happening externally. Anyway, I got some perspective today. I saw people who know me to be happy and healthy and offer support. And while I was there today as someone who is essentially unhappy, unhealthy, and in need of support, I realized I am not my fucking problems. I have had so much of my sense of self worth entangled in circumstances and my reactions to them, that I lost sight of my...me-ness. Being listened to, cared about, and hugged was brilliant. I do apologize that I have been a bitchy bitch from the depths of Bitchitaw. I am going to just shit list it and see if you too, wouldn't be...me. I mean iffin you were in my britches. K, reasons for cracking under the pressure so far this summer:

shitty doctor visit
took final exam for penis head
conflict with best friend (who is TOTALLY stressed)
yelled at by ex (who I'm still in love with)
had to see him a bunch (he doesn't even live in this town any more?!)
cool neighbor moved
other friend went out of town (meaning lack of support)
friends generally stressed (meaning don't have much to give)
mom depressed and other forms of mentally ill (in Michigan)
dad stubborn and can't hear
owe parents and THREE best friends money
daily headaches
TMJ and tongue thrust (OUCH!!!!!!!)
gray weather daily for a month
threats (ALWAYS THREATS!!!) to lose water, gas, internet...
dealing with government agencies
job hunt/interview/training progression
intense pain from job
injured foot off the job
flu
house guests as favor for friend
house guests, again
house guests wake me like the fucking gestapo at 2 a.m., knock plant over into knitting bag, and flood bathroom with poo water. twice.
care about and writing to someone wrongfully sentences to life in prison
other medical problems
fucking anxiety and insecurity
the gift basket fiasco (which I think needs it's own post, so I can fully heal)
Pretty Andy sucking
Pretty Marc running
lack of sleep due to ON-GOING sounds of industry (what is this? New fucking York?!)
and on
and on
etc
etc
ad infinitum

The thing is, my family is of the disfunctional variety. The gift that keeps on giving. You don't just have disfunction in a family, and then that clears up, and you move on to other ways of living and being. There are always reminders, disappointments, pressures, and new reasons to grieve. My brother and sister are being raised by an evil man. Nothing short of that. My mom is a bundle of diagnoses. I don't actually, technically even know who my biological father is. There is more, but my point is, and I've mentioned this before, that I live my life very near my threshold for what I can actually tolerate, in terms of stress. It doesn't take much to push me over, because I am already, and always, coping. I am never not in coping mode. Coping with the trauma of who I am and where I come from. Physical trauma, emotional trauma. So, to the rest of the world, it's like "So you have a shitty little bagel shop job now, what is the big fucking deal?" Not so simple my friends. The big deal is, well, I'll just find a way to post a picture. That is going to help a lot. Those of you who've seen it can attest to the horrors of the polaroid of my dangling foot. I think motherfuchers at work would think twice about how they view me, if they knew what I am over-coming to not just be there, but smile, and god damn attempt to care about people's special, "extra toasted with light amounts of cream cheese, double wrapped, with chives on the side" needs.

In fact we're over due for a picture anyway. I will randomly post one of Jason Lee. It makes me feel better, and that's a good enough objective for right now.

2006-06-28T23:11:00.000-07:00

2006-06-27T22:26:00.000-07:00

Some things I like about him:
green eyes
teeth of the gods
affectionate nature
alluring aroma
musical talent
speaking voice
smile
dedication to his best friend

What I don't like about him:
no, that wouldn't be right

2006-06-26T12:36:00.000-07:00

For The Record

There have been glitches with posting comments. If you're comment sucked, then that wasn't a glitch, that was an executive decision. But some comments didn't come to my attention till months later. And someone had something to say today, that may or may not have been eaten by cyber monsters? Sorry.

2006-06-25T16:47:00.000-07:00

Sorry, I didn't realize you hadn't heard from me in a week. I wrote a controversial post and I kept thinking I would edit it, but I haven't. Things have been super hectic. People don't really comment, so I feel kind of disconnected from this thing anyway. But Maria emailed and wondered what was up. She wanted to believe I was having fun and feeling good. Nope. Not missing any of that folks. I either have been, or am, in pain, working, busy, or worse. I was sparing the lot of you. I even got a flu. I need real help. Like the professional kind. I've gotten it before. I can tell that it's time. I can't even think my own thoughts without feeling over stimulated. So, I'll be addressing that, as best I can. I went to work this morning and left people sleeping in my home. One of them came in and told me of a toilet explosion that took place, and how they had addressed it. I was skeptical. With reason. I contended with the shituation on my lunch break, and will finish the task when I get the energy to buy bleach and be upright. So, yeah. I just want to complain all the time. Then I feel defensive, because I know people think I shouldn't. But I hate those people. A lot.

2006-06-17T20:14:00.000-07:00

Ornery DiFucko

Ani's new album is coming out. (^_^) That's lovely. I am not as much of an Anihead as I used to be, but I'll still be excited to listen to a spankin' CD. I hear that Ani's angry? I wonder what happened? People must know her much more personally than I do. All I know of her is what I've heard in her music, or read in books. None of which indicates that she has seething personal resentments. I admire Miss DiFranco for many reason. Her:

masterful songwriting
innovative guitar playing
(woaw!) live performances
powerful singing
impervious activism
prolific production
(thought she wouldn't?) engineering
capabilities for other instrumentation
purdy smile

Jello Biafra and Ani DiFranco should breed a race of super babies. Then we might have a chance of survival beyond 2143. Oh, wait, Ani does mention anger in one of the songs on one of her 18 albums...

"and if you're not angry, then you're just stupid, or you don't care. How else can you react when you know something's so unfair? When the man of the hour can kill half the world in war, or make them slaves to a super power and let them die poor."

There is a documentary about her touring life called "Render". In it she says that her friend mentioned a "reluctant boyfriend holding pen" in which the boyfriends, who are drug to her shows against their will, can group together until they realize, "it's just a media fabrication that chicks who sing have some kind of problem with men". Oh my God, it's out! Yes, Moot Montage is feminist. I once had a bumper sticker that said, "Feminism is the radical notion that women are people". Anyway, begin at the beginning if you need to, and just read some of her poetry.

2006-06-16T12:11:00.000-07:00

Boycotting

(More gratuitous non-capitalization herein.) I decided to boycott dooce.com. It's uncharitable, sense of entitlement author ripped me off, shamelessly. I realize we all influence and inspire one another, and some of that is flattering and kind of cute. But straight ripping people off is diabolical. This boycott will be about as effective as any of my boycotts, which is to say, NOT AT ALL. It will only serve to inconvenience me. Is that stubborn? Am I spiting Carrie? Please, elaborate...

My first boycott started at 16, when I learned that rush limbaugh owned a good deal of stock in snapple. I was an avid quencher of thirsts via peach tea, so this was a sacrifice. But I was willing to make it.

With the inspiration from my bitchin' friend Stefani, I started boycotting walmart several years ago. People often ask me why, but the list is so long I'll just link you to something.

Then, prior to the war starting, I attended a peace rally where I received a flyer urging me to boycott:
walmart
pepsi co.
kraft/phillip morris
exxon
and possibly some others. It said something to the effect of, "Boycott the war, boycott these companies. They contribute heavily to the bush administration." I was already boycotting walmart, and I had learned in high school that pepsi co. consisted of (at least) safeway, taco bell, kentucky fried chicken, pizza hut, and the obvious (and not so obvious) pepsi cola products. So I decided to take that one on. I've been boycotting pepsi co. since the beginning of the war; which has been ravaging for how many years? Four? I don't even know. How fucking gross is that?

When these boycotts began I lived in what I call, "a tonka town". While growing up, lots of little guys played with plastic, fold up, hot wheel "towns". These "towns" had a gas station, a mcdonalds, and maybe some faux store front, or car repair shop. This is essentially an accurate rendition of Crescent City, CA. Well, throw in some extra corporations for the good measure of non-local capitol gain. They're popping up every where now. My point is, it can be challenging boycotting corporations of the "big box" variety in a tonka town, where nothing else has survived. But I've steadfastly held to my intentions of keeping my piddley income from contributing to world domination and destruction. Like Peggy Seeger "I support the boycott!" and there are myriad reasons why.

2006-06-15T10:44:00.000-07:00

OUCH

So this working thing sucks super badly. Oh. The. Pain. All day of both work days, so far. And I'm not sure if that is just how it's supposed to be, or if that has something to do with me? I'm pretty confused and feeling real low, scared, and bad about myself. I'm mad that God has all the power in the universe and just sits there and lets motherfuckers suffer and flounder. That is supposedly juvenile and trite to think, but it's where I'm at. Riddled with conflicting ways of thinking and feeling. I have faith in solutions and things getting better, I'm just not sure what that is going to look like, or what my part in it will be. For now I feel pretty concerned with not having my rent money, or any money for bills, but BAREly tolerating this job. I almost walked out, and this was day 2. I am never not in pain at any time through the whole day. And then there are the normal stresses of dealing with intimidating, impatient, passive/aggressive coworkers, and whatever else happens in a given work day. I've cried, so tomorrow I won't feel so hot likely. And I know I don't look so hot. I look as old as I am and as over weight as I am. My house looks like an outer manifestation of my internal state; and my landlord came by unexpectedly. I guess the gray sky is just something that I can mention in addition, but who knows if it's really governing any of these thoughts or feelings.

I think Devin may have written a song about me? That might be totally presumptuous, but either way I it's called "Carrie U.", which is my name and talks of things I can related to. I write songs about other people and had even started lyrics to one about him, but it never occurred to me what that would feel like from the other end. My whole body got hot from the inside. And I cried.

I've done a lot of crying lately. I've always been one to cry. I cried more than anyone I knew for years. That was a big part of why Ken left me, from my understanding. (I'm not actually sure, because he won't talk to me without yelling.) Anyway, I haven't been crying for almost a year. I mean not like before. But these last 3 weeks I've cried pretty much everyday, and today, the whole ride home from work and on the phone with a friend. I can't think a thought or feel a feeling without second guessing it, or invalidating it. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself" was a message that my friend's mother gave her last week. I hear that one come into my head. But it gets me nowhere. I am so confused about what to think or how to feel. There are all these theories about quantum mechanics and positive thinking and reality creation, and yet, I don't believe that people who are rich are that way because they somehow earned it with their righteous thinking. I don't think people who are impoverished deserve to be, because they aren't doing their affirmations. That seems to be the chic way to blame the victim. And I also get confused because I'm thinking, pain is pain; here in my apartment, or in a third world country. So if I am suffering physically, doesn't that just hurt? Am I lucky and fortunate? Because I am still pained, and still in the working class. I don't mean to discount that I have a fridge and drinking water and any number of AMAZING resources and amenities that many, or even most, people don't. I just wonder if my having a fridge is supposed to some how heal me physically or make up for the fact that I'm physically suffering? Sometimes I believe that hard is hard. And in many ways I think it's because I just don't have a perspective or reference point for hard. But I have broken my back. I mean doesn't that mean something? People are always so quick to say something like, "that's nothing, blah blah blah..." and invalidate people's personal experiences, whether past or current. I am not wanting to be a martyr, and I keep thinking I am supposed to will the pain away. That this only hurts because I have a bad attitude. Is that true? Furthermore, are jobs just supposed to hurt? Is it right that I should feel so uncomfortable that I want to cry? Today, over the dish water at work, I clearly heard the words, "I just want to be dead", in my mind. My second thought was maybe sympathy, which I guess is pity? And then my mind said, "I haven't thought that way in a long time, this can't be healthy". But what can I do? I have rent to make, bills to pay, people I owe. Am I capable, a day at a time? Do I only consider leaving because I am technically free to? Could I do it if I absolutely had to? If I had a gun to my head? Or would I eventually collapse? Could I happily do it, like Sisyphus, with the right willingness and attitude? Why have I let it come to this, and what is going to happen?

(I found this unposted from June 3rd)

2006-06-14T11:43:00.000-07:00

God Was Such An Extraordinarily Bright Light

When god stopped loving me
I was too old to know any different
My vision was poor
and most sound felt like puddles
Confined to my 3rd floor apartment
I strictly wore synthetics
"Please" I would start up again
"all I've ever wanted was the solace."
I had spent four years in solace once
collectively, not consecutively
But in this life my skin was sensitive
to all those words
and sun burns
And as we know
God is such an extraordinarily bright light.

2006-06-13T11:42:00.000-07:00

DE JOUR

Gas: is $3.49 a gal, so $30 didn't give me 1/2 a tank; makes a person think more about getting in their car all the time. We need to be more concerned with the impact that roads and cars have on the environment, anyway. Most of us have become so accustomed to driving when ever and where ever we want. But autos are the number one atmospheric pollutant and cause for erosive damage. And when I remember that there is a war going on, I feel pretty badly about even driving my relatively fuel efficiant toyota.

Next up, I'm saddened by a good deal of the messages in forwarded emails: My main concern is the perpetuation of racism or stereotypes about minorities. For instance, my mom worked very hard, but also received assistance, so jokes that perpetuate the idea that people who receive government assistance are lazy, ungrateful, demanding, and/or ignorant, to me are a detrimental continuation of blaming the victim. So many people are exploited in this country and world wide, and when those who barely have, point a finger at those who don't have, it creates a rift where it doesn't belong. The true enemies are those that possess the means to pay a decent wage and don't, who pay women less, don't allow pregnancy leave, don't offer health insurance, or out-source jobs altogether. These are the real bad guys. Not a hard working, California farm worker, for example. Furthermore, on that subject, we must also remember that this was Mexico not long ago. So who does and does not belong? There is a lot of racism that goes undiscussed. People say things or create media with negative representations of racial minorities, gays, women, people who are impoverished, and they may not even have intended for them to be loaded or negative. Many people take a lot of what is said or created in jest, and don't recognize the power it has to further oppress people who already struggle for equality and respect.

2006-06-12T01:14:00.000-07:00

Ain't Got No Time FOr Shuckin' and JIvin'

Yes, it's me. Drunk blogging. And what do you know, I can still type a mean post. I fucked up my ankle tonight. Oh, that is not the half of it. Remember how when I was 17 I broke my ankle? I told you, I broke them both, and almost lost my foot. Well, I went to pride night at the brewery, and there was this ever so tiny little wet spot on the floor that found my flip flop, and BAM! Now I have an injury. Can I work tomorrow? I'm not sure. I went to Ed's to see if he wanted to talk to me about why we aren't friends. All the while, saying to myself, "This is a bad idea". By the grace of God he didn't answer his door. I think he must have recognized my knock. Then I decided to email Ken. But I didn't send it. I'm gonna' post you a picture, just so'z you know why I'm so troubled. That is enough. I hope I can go make money at my minimum wage job. I have taken one aleve (?) and one aspirin, and it's elevated and iced. I'm on top of it Rose.

2006-06-08T23:28:00.000-07:00

Too Tired. Barely Alive. Can't Post. Must Write Something.

So much too tiredness is happening and therefore rendering me postless with headache. I have fallen into giving a fuck what people think again. Argh. I thought I already talked to myself about that here. Fuck the fuck out of giving a fuck what others think. Grrr. I rebel! I reclaim! I rant! I revolt! There is so much pain that my face hurts. Little girls have hard times, but I still wouldn't have suspected as a little girl, that when I grew up my face would hurt. Anyway, things have been so fucking shitty. And yet, because of relativity, they have been amazingly splendid. Well, I would suppose that's possible by some standard somewhere. Perspective is too fucking tricky that way. And this is perhaps one of my top 35 greatest challenges; determining reality. What is objectively true in this chapter of my life? Is life truly sucking? Or is my attitude simply sucking? How would one quantify that? I could take a poll, but as The Flaming Lips say, "...a million people can be wrong". I think physical pain is real enough. That can constitute some suckatude. But still some pain is much worse than other pain. It's kind of sad that it sometimes has to come to physical pain before people feel or express compassion for themselves or others. Like grieving doesn't invoke empathy until you're puking, or you aren't really frightened until you have an ulcer. Maybe if there was more compassion, for selves and others, it wouldn't have to come to cancer before the world would stop and say, I see you, and I care about what you are experiencing.

2006-06-06T21:16:00.000-07:00

I AM A WARRIOR. I CAN DO THIS.

2006-06-05T18:19:00.000-07:00

Go Do Something Else

I have been a stewing puddle of bile and putrescence. I don't give too many fucks about being negative here, because who's motherfuckin' blog is it anyway? Mine. And furthermore no one really reads it. AND, of the 5 people who might, .5% of them rip me off. (Fucking Heather!) Still I can't help but feel the pressure not to rant, because Jenn is a loyal Moot Montage visitor, and doesn't appreciate day after day of the hate spewing. Sooo, what I will do instead is send you somewhere else, and they can entertain you while I get my shitty attitude adjusted by the outlookpractor. The caption under this picture said, "America is finger lickin' good". I sometimes forget to let you in on the bitchin' shit I'm privy to. The WHOLE link is about translation losses. Oh, as well you should know that a month ago today was NO PANTS DAY. Damn, we missed it. As always, thank you for patronizing Moot Montage, we look forward to your feedback and shared innovations.

2006-06-04T20:21:00.000-07:00

Everybody's Tempted to Spill a Good Secret

The telephone walked over to where I was sitting
and asked sweetly if it could assist me
It's hard being tone deaf
and I knew the receiver smelled
like a hot mouth would feel on a burn
I looked awkward in my jail issue jumper
I craved attention.

Now that the continents are shifting back together
things seemed to make more sense
Sifting, drifting, the point is we're isolated
My chair may have been cozy
but the dim lighting wasn't convincing
There was room for the phone and I if it could keep secrets.

2006-06-02T22:48:00.000-07:00

Gratitude List:

internet (DSL especially)
compliments
Maddy
money
cameras
sanity
ocean
Jenn
guitars
pizza
redwoods
Jeremiah
Maria
azaleas
phone
freedoms
Nigel
gifts
drinking water
lavender
support
Ken
affection
music
hot water heater
creativity
progress
electricity
forgiveness
Tiff
Mira
bike
golf clubs
Stef
jasmin
computer
clarity
warmth
tennis racket
solutions
sleep
mom
hot tubs
the Smith River
honesty
Chris Haynes
Lisa
Sage
Aria
Simone
honeysuckle
Reese
oxygen
beers
relief
Pop
sun
Ty
fries
aqua teen hunger force
validation
pineapple
healing
red wine
houseplants
balance
car
safety
beauty
The Hot Librarian
green
God
camping
Tessa
wisdom
enthusiasm
empanadas
potential

2006-06-01T11:48:00.000-07:00

"Are you growing four leaf clovers?"

"Um, yeah. It's kind of a long story."

"That's ok, I don't need to hear it. I'm just glad you're growing four leaf clovers."

2006-05-30T14:23:00.000-07:00

"Gedah Job!"

Yeah, well, I'm trying. I interviewed with a music store last week. The interview was unconventional and the "shift" they are filling is confusing, still I was pretty excited; relatively. The owner of the shop was nodding off during my interview, and they have some kind of "foot in the door" approach to hiring, where one "self initiates" hours. Come to find out that just means, be on call.

In the past I've done restaurant work, and the resume I already had was food service oriented, so I primarily set out in that direction. I need a job immediately. In truth, I need a job 2 months ago, so I don't have time to plan a career change or anything like that. I only ended up in the music store, because I wanted to borrow a pen to write down some information about a dinner joint. But I went ahead and inquired there anyway, and seemed to have good timing. I returned for the verdict today and was told to come back in an hour. Upon my second visit I learned that there are people with, dun dun dun...experience, vying for the "foot in". PPPffffffffff. There goes whatever air was in my balloon.

To be honest, I don't want to work. That is my bottom line. And the only shame I feel around that is in relation to what others think of me; namely my dad. If I had my way I'd be a housewife. I'm fabulous at organizing, decorating, cooking, massage, giving head. But it hasn't insured me a secure position in a loved one's life. Not so long ago a woman would have been looked down on for wanting to work outside the home. Now a woman is looked down on for not wanting to join the ranks of the under paid. I'm not interested in labor trends. I just want to live my life in a way that best suits me, with some consideration for others and the planet.

As I was walking back after getting my disappointing news, a few things happened:

Just outside the music store, a woman was crossing the street with her hand in a man's, both thirty somethings. She wore a floral sundress with a cardigan predictably covering her upper half. Her blonde hair was in some sort of short, intentional style. I saw that she was looking back to a young guy who had asked me for change earlier. I heard her say, "Gidah job!" and couldn't help but let my heart sink with his. As I approached him I simply offered my hand. He accepted and began to cry. He was trying to make out phrases like, "They don't know my position", but it was clear that he didn't have to explain anything to me. I sat beside him using one hand to rub his middle back, not speaking. I have compassion for his struggle, and the woman's overly simplified solution seemed ridiculous. My nose made out the distinct smell of body; the young man slept in the wild last night, three miles out from town. He told me he had just received his ID and was hoping to get a social security card. The change he had requested was to call his mother in Texas. He's been on his own since 15.

Unrelated to that story and once I was nearly home, I saw a bumper sticker that said, "Remember who you wanted to be". From the age of three I wanted to be a famous singer. I would dance around to the music of Men at Work or Billy Ocean, and sing into a microphone, amplified through the stereo (obviously pre-karaoke). I am a talented musician, but my self esteem and personal experiences leave me seeking employment where I will hone my floor mopping skills and negotiate with people having blood sugar fits.

I have so much to say that I can't begin to get it all out. So I write shitty posts about life sucking (see yesterday). When I was 17 I drove a car into a redwood tree. Thus breaking three vertebrae, both ankles, and very nearly losing a foot. Theoretically I have a concept of what "disabled" looks like. In practice it's much more convoluted. I took a temporary disability leave based on anxiety over a year ago. I received a few checks for $60 and have since relied on financial aid. The job I last held left me immobilized after many shifts. I would be in such excruciating pain that all I could do was watch my sweet lover (at the time) clear my folded laundry from the bed and prepare a hot bath for my feet. Still I wasn't making enough to cover my bills.

I guess I can only sum this up by admitting that I'm in a quandary about capitalism and what it's made of society. If people are miserable in their jobs, why are they staying, and why would they wish that on others? If people are happily working, what's it to them if others choose not to? A few nights ago I caught a ride to a support group meeting. Afterwards we went to a Mexican restaurant. I ate gubm'nt macaroni in commodity soup before leaving the house. Once there, I filled up on water and tortilla chips. And though I obviously was able to scrounge up enough to pay the internet man, I'm not in a position to buy dinner out. It saddens me that at the end of the meal, people threw food away. Under any circumstances wasting food seems stupid to me, but especially in the case where you could offer it to someone you know, and possibly even respect. Most people are moved when, on tv, there is a struggling family that is given a 2 story house, with a 4 car garage. But are somehow removed when someone would eat their extraneous rice and beans, or needs 50 cents to call their mother.(?!) Has Georgie done this to us? Because you have to admit it's getting worse. It's getting worse all the time.

2006-05-29T13:52:00.000-07:00

Blogging Sucks, I Suck, You Suck, Life Sucks. In That Order.

Isn't it going to be a festive post, when we get off on that kind of start? It is I, Miss Shitty Fuckin' Attitude Problem Hag Mouth. I'm fairly certain I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy way deep down in my something, but apparently not anywhere that it's useful. Today is sunny, and still I want a drink or an upper. Must be a sign of depression, or a borderline depressive condition. (Do you think I'm jumping to conclusions?)

I do NOT want to be who I am not, and I am rebelling against myself for making me try. You think I need to be happy, productive, pretty, and nice, don't you? Yes you do. Get real, that is what we all expect of everyone, including ourselves. But plenty of people aren't that, and I'm one of them. So you need to move into acceptance and gratitude. Make peace with who I am, and furthermore be grateful for the opportunity to know me, as is. See how easy that was? Now it's your stupid problem, and no longer weighing on my everlastin', godforsaken soul.

2006-05-28T18:24:00.000-07:00

Thanks Smiddy

I met Kyle in Louisana, volunteering after Katrina. Since our first experience, we have both returned seperately. While I was there last, I was asked not to take pictures. So I appreciate seeing his, as well as hearing of his experience. I hope you will too...

So it's been over a month since I returned from my second term in the Hurricane Katrina region. I have had time to reflect now and am ready to share some of my thoughts. They follow:

We worked in an area called St. Bernard Parrish, a suburb of New Orleans, for ten days at an Emergency Communities site (www.emergencycommunities.org). Through this site we helped provide free organic meals for the nearly 2000 people who rely on this “Love Café” for food every day.

In St. Bernard Parrish, not a house was spared from 10 to 15 feet of water. There is still no electricity or grocery stores, and debris from houses cover sidewalks like a war zone. In addition, the soil is saturated with 1 million gallons of oil that was spilled during Hurricane Katrina. I didn't see a single military vehicle, and the only FEMA health facility in the area closed just after we left.

We spent our days chopping fruits and vegetables, stirring chili, slicing barbeque, cleaning dishes, and serving residents in the food lines. We also ventured into the surrounding communities, removing black mold-invested furniture and gutting drywall from damaged houses. The most rewarding experience was another aspect of service: that of listening to the stories of residents that we came to know so well like Catfish, John Wilks Booth, Lester and Lee, and Joe and Wilma.

We slept in tents located behind the kitchen and dinning dome; we cleaned our solar-powered showers and hand washing stations; we gathered with residents to listen to good Cajun music at lunch and dinner; we even enjoyed our first ever crawfish boil where you “break the tail and suck the head” to get those good Louisianan spices.

One Saturday particularly impacted us all. Lester, a resident from the 9th ward, asked that we help him with the cleanup of his house. For 4 hours we trampled in and out of his waterlogged brick home in our blue suits, goggles, and breathing masks. We pulled out furniture, clothes, drywall, and even a freezer that had sat with rotting meat for 6 months. Afterwards, Lester took us for a tour of the levee systems that had failed him and his community. He explained that contrary to how the media described the flooding, much of the water that rushed down his street occurred because the levees were not set deep enough into the ground, thus allowing water to come up from underneath like a garage door opening.

Later that week Lester and a local cook, Lee, prepared 25 pounds of crawfish with ham, potatoes, corn, and Louisianan spices to show their appreciation for our help. This example of gratitude was just one of the many ways we were humbled by the warm hearts of the residents we had the privilege of serving.

Here's a link with some pictures: http://www.flickr.com/photos/52385479@N00/show/

2006-05-27T18:10:00.000-07:00

Pressing Madders

This brilliant woman is not even legal. I mean she could probably drive a car, but she definitely couldn't smoke a cigarette. Maddy, in your own words, "Whowza!" I'm super impressed with you. As well, I appreciate our new found friendship. Maybe I can be a mentor to you? (Reference to yesterday's post.)

2006-05-26T15:48:00.000-07:00

Everyone, This is Jennifer.
"Hi, Jennifer!!"

Jennifer (known in my comments windows as Jenn) is a woman friend who I also consider to be a mentor. Mentors are really important in life, because they go bravely before you, making some crappy decisions so that you don't have to live the consequences of similar mistakes. But, that is not all mentors do; they also walk you through your own shitty situations, one's even they've never been dumb enough to put themselves in. So for that, as well as being funny, interesting, bright, honest, direct, patient, loving, insightful, creative, persistent, and smiling through pain, I admire Jenn and honor her with this post.

2006-05-25T23:02:00.000-07:00

This is precisely where I live.

2006-05-21T11:44:00.000-07:00

Yoeni

For whatever reason, while I was growing up, my mom called it a "coo". Hohynah, fajayjay, virginia, there are anyway number of ways to refer to the passion flower. A woman I know with Down's calls it her "china", for lack of being able to pronounce it any clearer.

As children my dear friend and her younger sister went horseback riding. While positioned together on the same horse, my friend got excited and had it galloping a little too quickly for her younger sister's comfort. Little sister responded, "Stop it, [friend's name]! You're jabbering my furjyna!"

Another friend of mine read a book about discussing such matters with youth. The author wrote about the importance of referring to body parts with their accurate names. In so doing some of the silly, squirmishness that often comes about, will be conditioned out of the person. Subsequently, her daughter called it a "bulba". I remember going to church with this same friend and her daughter. The congregation sang fervently about Jesus and his cross. How his blood ran on the cross, and more on the general importance of the cross. The sweet girl whispered to my friend, "Mamma, cross means bulba." And without hesitation, in perfect mother form, my friend replied, "No honey, that's crotch."

Yes, it's come to that time folks, the part in the blog where we share our collective knowledge. Carte blanche, what do you refer to your cookie as?

2006-05-18T23:48:00.000-07:00

Curses

Today was cursed. I don't know what my horoscope said, but if it was anything other than "DON'T FUCKING GET OUT OF BED!!" then it was grossly inaccurate.

I woke to the sound of thunder in the hallway; my much cool neighbor who flops on the couch once a week and accomplishes two things. I get kept company, and she gets to bitch a little about the people in her circle that I don't really know, and have few opinions about. My neutrality and her being a LIVE UMON BEING IN MY HOME makes for a lovely exchange. But that's over now. She is dumping me, and our apartment building, for more counter space and some kind of grilling apparatus. No loyalties in the girl rowers these days.

THEN, I got on the computer, like I always do first thing in the mornin', and some fucking molding, soggy puddin' of a christian conservative, told me she was blocking me because I didn't tolerate her hate messages of racism and verbal bile. Good. Block me. You're a seething wad of contradiction anyway.

On to the email I got back from a mentor, lady friend of mine. Wherein she mentioned that I'm too hard on myself. And you know what I said right? "DUH!!" No, just kidding. Really I said, well, um, are you sure? I mean am I harder on myself than the hardness that others put on themselves? And furthermore, don't you know that when you say this my brain immediately sends the following messages, "Carrie, you are too hard on yourself. You need to be kinder. You need better self esteem. What is wrong with you? Don't you know other people like themselves more than you like yourself? You need to fucking like yourself! STOP BEING SO HARD ON YOURSELF! FUCKING LIGHTEN UP DUDE!" And things along those lines.

The day got lamer and lamerer. It was greay to begin with. I am calling it "greay" from now on, because I can't fucking get a straight answer as to whether it's "gray" or "grey" so I'm going with both to cover my bases. I moved onto creating a darling little gift basket for my bad ass geography teacher, but was interrupted by a physical manifestation of my internal verbal abuse. She proceeded to invoke feelings of why don't I take the wine from the gift basket and use it to wash down all the pills I can find in my home? But I survived. I mean duh, obviously, I'm blogging, ner. I just wrapped up what I was doing and marched (with my car) that gift basket right to where my professor...had been. And was no longer. Now I want to take that cutesy little gift basket and smash it through the window of a starbucks that has been put in a gap. (I don't capitalise names of corporations, because they get no reverence from me. Remember my reverence/capitalising policies?)

So, blah blah blah. Then I felt better, blah blah, I wrote my mother, blah blah, can I go to bed and wake up inside of a different day now? Thanks.

2006-05-17T14:12:00.000-07:00

Lazy Blogging

This was taken from an email and barely modified and/or censored to make (kind of?) sense. God, loser! Sorry about that. The bank teller bit was from an email too. What is this blog coming to?...

Interestingly enough, I hate my English professor, and you should too, but he doesn't say "outro" (as in "intro" and "outro"). Only I do. I did it. It was me, in the liberry, with the Molotov cocktail. And now you know. I thought I was making that word up. But I wasn't. And some people are amused, and some people just openly use it. If you're gonna' openly be open. Which I am that too. So open that I call Ken whenevah. I have decided he's a kenundrum. Nary an answer to be found within the context of himselves. I have the greeziest old lady bun on my head, frump pjs, and have seen so many neighbors. Well, two to be exact, and a friend of a neighbor. But I am tatas-a-danglin' and I should always do something to make up for people having to look at my skin, any time I do anything remotely public. Like put on a necklace so they have something else they can focus on. It's just not right, exposing the kind peoples to the horrors of my face, all unadorned and shit. Anyway, gray day. Which yesterday was, and that was fine cuz I had movies to finish, but I didn't need two of them. Ravi Shankar is so entirely, actually playing on my hifi right now. I want something. I don't even know what I want. Well, I mean I do know what I want. Lots of things. But realistically I don't. I want Ken and sun, money, beauty, energy, direction, a band. But what do I want that is part of reality? Like, the inspiration to wash my dishes; that would be a really good plan of direction. I also want some time and space to come between me and the ass I made of myself last night, in my pre-sub-celebrity swooning. Pretty faced wonder boy likely has finals, so I haven't bothered him. I can call at the week's end, but soon thereafter he leaves for NY. Which he said Mira and I were welcome to come out, but that may have been revoked cuz one time I had a mikespace. Not really, he said that he's over that. Be we never really picked up where we left off. He is Moody McGrumpster. But doesn't own it. I don't know if it's pot smoker's syndrome (PSS)? Maybe that is what my mom had? But with Pretty face, throw in the periodic coke binges. Or who knows, maybe they are frequent? Devin forgave me officially, and invited me to a CD release party that I am totally bummed I forgot about and missed. I haven't blogged enough. But I email unreasonable amounts. Mostly to Mira, who I talk unreasonable amounts to already. How can I have that many thoughts? But we do. Marc has never hesitated, or missed an opportunity, to tell me that I think too much. Sometimes 3 or 4 times in one hang out session. "Bitch, if I wanted to hear your thoughts on my thought patterns I'd maybe ask. I haven't asked. Shut the fuck up!" I don't think the organic frozen burrito is going to cut it. My jaw and sinuses and head are all really on strike today. Demanding that I never call Ken again and that I cut out wheat, diary, soy, AND corn. Or any possible allergen ever discussed or written about. Did you know some people are allergic to lady bugs? I might just post some of this shit on my blog.

2006-05-14T09:40:00.000-07:00

WTF?!

Where have I been?! I have no idea. I am totally not out of town. Which is to say, I am home and just openly ignoring the blog. I think about it, and visit to see if I have posted anything; alas there is banktellerness. Or in the words of Bukowski..."and nothing and nothing".

It is a beautiful sunny day that I intend to capitalize on. Well, not technically. I won't be making a profit off the angle of incidence, just maybe utilizing the solar energy to be productive.

Many topics have been discussed, namely with Mirabai. Boys have been encountered, classes have been attended, alcohol has been drunkeded. It's grad time here in my little college town. All the conservative moms and dads are visiting to watch the hippies dance barefoot in the plaza to world beat drumming. Farmer's market, it's a beautiful thing. Cell phones, sequins, infants, handbags, Thai basil, titties, dreadlocks, and expensive mules all akimbo. I was so uncomfortable in my skin that I just let Mr. Sun burn that shit right off me. I've been a few places lately, all insecure and shit. One day I'll know how to put the pictures from the camera onto the computer and we will really have some fun. I can show you the trashy whore that thought she was being really cute by bumrushing a mannequin and taking EVERY SINGLE ITEM right off of the plastic window doll and adorning her own plastic personality with the entire thing, unaltered. Lame. It's going to be a great deal of amusement, when I show you her ass literally bursting out of her pants. But that will take some more technical difficulty. For now, ramblemicknamble.

The sweet boy is AGGRAVATINGLY odd!! He gives massage, chocolate, and good head, along with utter confusion every time he speaks. Shhhh, don't speak. Your lips are far too pretty to be spilling forth such gobbledigoo. Just hush my dear, and proceed with batting those luscious eyelashes. We'll find other ways to put your tongue, nay, your entire mouth, to good use. Then there is the cokehead that is really, quite exactly, a Carrie remote control. I will do anything for this kid, and yet, he has me doing nothing. He isn't even employing my mouth. *Sigh*

p.s. Happy Mother's Day to Maria, Stefani, and Jennifer. All of you kick serious mothering assssss!!!

2006-05-09T11:42:00.000-07:00

I Look Like a Bank Teller Today

Not in attire, but in face and expression. I look about 34, and like I'm going to my kid's baseball game to try and get laid. Ew, do people do that? Kid's sports, singles hook-up culture?

"Oh, hi Mark, nice to meet you, this is my son, Ryan. Ryan, say "hi"".

"Hi, Trish, this is my son, Joshua, he's a little digger."

2006-05-07T22:15:00.000-07:00

This Isn't Fair To You

I need to be more present for you, more committed. I am having intimacy issues, pulling you in and pushing you away. Lots has been going on. Lots of nothing, but plenty of thoughts. That is maybe part of the problem. How do I decide what to spew and what to swallow? (Um, yeah, that was rhetorical, no need to, like, email me with an answer or anything.)

Mira and I went to a pot luck for Cinco de Mayo, that our professor invited us to. The cool one, not the penis face. He kept sending people over to stealthily try and convert us to being geography majors. How sweet. Manipulation and control have never seemed so wonderfully endearing. I had to take the guitar from around the fire pit, and show the hippy boys how it's done.

Come to find out, my pretty faced wonder is a bit of insane, which makes my insane flair up, and then there is just all this radically free insanity unharnessed and causing palpitations. And hang overs. I was feeling aggravatingly lonely earlier, but I have a new friend now. She and I walked at the bird sanctuary and made a lovely dinner of egg plant parm AND lasagna. Top that.

2006-05-03T18:33:00.000-07:00

My Dad Could Kick Your Dad's Ass!!

I went home again for a long weekend; it was great and I am pleased that I did. But what is totally crunk about life (among many other things) is how there will be a piercingly hollow void of social possibilities for 93% of my life, and then when one invitation is bestowed, 7 or 12 that are happening simultaneously, tend to follow. Is there a Patron Saint of Not booking my social opportunities all at the same fucking time that I can pray to? What didn't I do, you ask? Well, I didn't go camping with the boy, I told you I had my reasons. I didn't join other Red Cross volunteers in the Rhododendron Parade. I didn't spend Stef's child-free day with her. Nor did I attend Mira's birthday afternoon activities. And, I wasn't here when Corine finally called. Sigh.

I got to Crescent City too late to attend the all day workshop I was hoping to participate in, so I just grabbed Jere and attempted a river trip. It was windy and visiting over the raging rapids was not serene. My parents where out of town, and you would think that makes for a ripe moment to harvest the wine collection my dad has growing in his industrial sized garage. But I have so much reverence for my dad, and I don't know enough about which Australian wine is more expendable than which Spanish wine, so I end up drinking really shitty wine in Crescent. Maybe that is in keeping with the endearing name that local youth have used in reference to my hometown for decades, Crusty Shitty. I did a lot of bonding with Jere and even got some in with Lisa. Eventually I spent time with a few members of the fam. I did make it to the river on a day that was nice enough to make my skin hurt, so that's good. I won't go on and on about raiding every container that the 'rents had coins in, for an oil change and a kona shake. Nor will I babble about the stories of atrocious violence that I became privy to in Denny's. Instead I want to move on to linking you to my kick ass dad (who is in fact wearing a Swatch in the photo, you are correct). And who really could kick ass, because he's 6'6" and has lots of chain saws. I will elaborate on the radness of my dad another time. For now, look at some of the projects that are lucky enough to have been constructed from his salvaged, old growth redwood. My dad is so much cooler than a whole, new truck lot, full of dads.

2006-04-28T22:20:00.000-07:00

NO FUCKING WAY!!!

'Member yesterday how I was like, I just wanna' sit in The Cute Boy's lap all scuzzy in my 'kini? No? Well, I said it. Not in those exact words, but I was all, "I just wanna' be icky and yucky and crawl on the pretty boy who has the remains of my attention span". And then you guys go, "____________". And then I said...

Oddly, enough I was presented with just that fucking chance!!!! When does this ever happen in life?! Ohh, about, um....NEVER!!! Have I EVER had a fantasy, then received an invitation the very NEXT friggin', mackle frackin' day, to live it out?! WOAW!! Apparently I have been given extraordinarlily special wizard powers. Does anyone want to make a wish?

p.s. I didn't go. But I have my reasons, and I DAMN well plan on getting filmy and connecting skin, 'cept not just yet.

2006-04-27T11:38:00.000-07:00

Escape the Gray Internally

"I just want to find the sun and drink beerz. And sadly enough, lay w/ the cute boy. Or even just hug for a few minutes. I would like to be camp-y, river wet, sweaty, and ever so mildly buzzed, and sit in his lap for a few minutes. Then share a quick, light kiss. Ah, dreams. Boys keep their treasures from me. Their lips and hands. All designated to pot pipes and girls like Michelle."

2006-04-26T18:49:00.000-07:00

(Found unpublished...)Bloggin on Pills

Lets see what I come up with. Typeo s to start. I was trippin out adn realixed I ahve a perscription for that. but a whole pill really makes it so i ought to be in bed not makin any more trounle for ymself. I wouldnt 'want to be hokkked on thies things. sheesh. Well running erranfs was enogh to lut me over the endt roday i fuess. spelno.

2006-04-25T22:57:00.000-07:00

This Day was "Waking Life" Bazaar!!

I just finished reading an email from Mirabai, in which she wrote, "...thrice-baked hamface".

That's all I have on that, but it is enough to get me started on how fucking strange my day has been. So much stimuli. I am an HSP. I can't take all this information in and process it. Especially not on my anti-histamine. I told you already, that's what they make meth out of.

Having an encounter with Pretty Andy (as I have taken to calling him, to differentiate him from my neighbor, who I have taken to calling Drew. Only because they are obviously both Andy, and only one of them do I want to touch inappropriately.)(If there is more than one of them, is the plural, "Andies"?) (ANYWAY! Having an encounter with Pretty Andy...) was enough to keep me from being able to focus on basic bodily functions like taking in oxygen, blinking, swallowing saliva, that sort of chore. Ad to it that he was receptive to the mixed CD I made him, AND he initiated a hug! I can't really breathe.

Next up for discussion: My English professor is an uncircumcised penis head. I have nothing against uncircumcised penises, in fact I am opposed to circumcision. However, I am not saying he is a "dick head", like he is an "asshole", although he is. I am saying he looks like an uncircumcised penis. I really hope that if he reads this, it will be after he grades my next few papers. But anyway, his weird little turtle head, that he pokes into my mental space, can not be avoided, as he will dock one a whole letter grade for more than 4 absences. The biggest issue I have with this policy is not that it exists, I can see it having it's application. My peeve is that there is no learning, no teaching, no intellectual growth that takes place. He just creates a captive audience for the break down of his psyche, that is currently taking place. That is my best estimation as to what is up with Foreskin Face.

This isn't what I set out to express to you, and I'm not even currently on anything, other than the allergy pill I already mentioned, that I took way back this morning. (Which reminds me, I found a saved draft that was started on pills. It's very short and will be posted soon.)

My reason for exploding on you about my professor and his pink prick profile is, I found out today that a girl from Nicaragua who is in our class (if you didn't get that, English is NOT her primary language) is taking 3 other classes besides his piece of fuck (that I only call a "class" because it takes place in the room o' classes and I'm being graded) AND she works with children at least 5 days a week. And Cockbrow won't let her leave his windbag sessions of non-enlightenment 10 minutes early to get to her job!! He is mediocracy at it's most malignant.

I can't right now, I just can't. But I hope you will also/eventually get to hear about Mute Nick, Dayglow girl, Mike Jones!, and Pandora. Especially the part where Pandora says "crap" while explaining something in class, and our COLLEGE ENGLISH PROFESSOR says, "Well put".

2006-04-24T13:39:00.000-07:00

Remixes SUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

First let's just come out with the fact that I still get an easter basket. (Small "e"aster, because I am not a "C"hristian, nor am I a lover of "A"merican culture. So the very tiny bit if reverence I have went to capitalizing "C"hristian. Moving on...) Yeah, I do. Have you processed that? Good. Because that is not my point. I am just walking you through some information you may or may not need, to reach the point I want to make. So, I still get an easter basket, and contained within this year's easter basket was an itunes gift card for $15. This is a brilliant idea, and I emailed my step mom to say as much, since I didn't really understand that at the time of receiving it.

Off track I will ad, that I also got much needed, striped, flannel pajamas. The one's I was wearing in the computer lab while writing my paper, drastically hungover last week. I got a basil plant that I transplanted, and then without thinking I watered it with miracle grow house plant solution. I received just a touch of candy, and as hoped for, a bar of soap; which I count on from baskets, stockings, and the far off places my step-mom travels to. My smom is a travel agent, and DAMN good at it. She goes hither and fro and brings me trinkets. Hitting and missing my taste, but soap is usually a hit. A good soap is something of a priority for me. I am really going off track here, but whatever. Yeah, there came a time that I realized that so many people have these fabulous soaps and candles just collecting dust; literally. I was one of those people. Like what the fuck was I saving fancy soaps for? Weird. So I decided to use things like great soaps and candles, there seemed to be an endless supply of them in stores and goodie packages. I have been right. I use and replentish, by way of self, or by way of others.

But anyway, I was sharing about the suckage of remixes. Well...Then I was about to. Calm down. (Oh, just one more thing, there is a candle I LOVE, that Tessa bought me for Xmas. I can't tell you what it is, because I don't want to raise the market price. It's already absurdly high. I do kind of conserve that candle. I need to break out of my hoarding stronghold there. But anyway...)

I also got a gas card, for 1/2 a tank. Yeah, I'm spoiled. I already told you that at the top of the screen, in the little explanation "about me". Unfortunately, as well, I was given a distasteful planter. I know you are thinking, "How can a planter be distasteful?" And if you aren't thinking it, then I just thought it for you. But I use that term correctly. No it is not shaped like a penis. That would be cool. That might even help me get over my terra cotta phobia. Rather, it is the "head" of a lady. The kind of head with the face on the front. She wears an Aunt Jammamy (sic) do-rag, and has very, spacially real, dangling gold earrings. Someone thought it was cute to make it, and my step mom thought it would be cute to buy it. And even more cute to give it to me.

OMG this post is suddenly SOOO LONG!!! It's from reading The Hot Librarian (see links). She did this to me. Gave me permission to rant. At first my post just said, "Remixes SUCK!!!!!" and I was leaving it at that. Then I thought I would come elaborate on what that was about, and here we are, together. Look at us. Discussing hangovers and step moms. What is wrong with us?! WHO CAN HELP US??!!

SO, on the "lady's" "face" are HUGE red lips. In terms of racial representations, I think bell hooks would certainly culturally criticize this piece. But I know my smom didn't mean anything by it. That is the trouble with modern democrats. They never do. Passively participating in, and therefore fueling, the white supremist capitalist patriarchy that is our society. But I do it too, so back to itunes...

There I was, redeeming my itunes gift card, and happily making selections (oh, the joys of rediscovering what you already knew to be very kickass music) and not once, but TWICE!!!!! I chose the WRONG SONG, based on remake and remix bullshit. The first of which was the Slick Rick song, "Children's Story". This, among many other Slick Rick songs, is perfect in all ways, just as it is. But some how, in a slew of Slick Rick options, all of which were divinely "explicit" versions, I clicked "clean". Me. Carrie. Filthywhoremouth of the Northwest. THEN...I ended up with some shitty remix of my precious "Put it on Me" by Jah Rule, that had this bitch's voice all over it, where it didn't belong! ARGH!!

So that was the point of the title, and my post. Have a good day, now.

2006-04-22T08:34:00.000-07:00

Three Things I...

Ok, I have been way too sincere about coming up with answers for these, thereby spending WAY too much time on it. But anyway, Tiffany made this questionnaire up, and of all the ones I've seen, it's the only one I've liked. Getting back to the sincerity of it, I had to changed a few of the words, because I take things like "favorite" to seriously, so I had to exchange words like "favorite" for phrases like "things I really like". The integrity is in tact, the concept remains the same. It's already self indulgent to have this blog, so I'm just gonna' roll with it...

Weird things said to me by the opposite sex: (these are kind of weak)

1. One year at Reggae on the River a man proclaimed that I had "beautiful, bright thighs".

2. I'm a musician and my step dad once told me not to "come home with a female drummer".

3. Among many other insults, a former boyfriend told me that I had "Gremlin eyes".

Things I regret the most:

1. Whatever I did that pushed Ken away.

2. Being mean to my little sister while she was growing up.

3. Saying something awful to Mirabai in jr high.

Things I want to learn how to do:

1. Get and keep a boyfriend.

2. Use a sewing machine well enough to alter and make clothes.

3. Play piano.

Things I like about myself:

1. Umm...I'm loving,

2. relatively self aware (I think?),

3. and to be honest, although I've been told repeatedly that I am too hard on myself, there are several things I like about me.

Things I do not like about myself:

1. My weight. (I'm a female in America, so that seems like, duh.)

2. My desire for approval.

3. Conditioning within myself that makes me not like my weight.

Things I really love:

1. The Smith River!!! (see photo above)

2. Warm, sunny weather.

3. (loved) Being with Ken.

Things I really don't like:

1. Heartbreak.

2. Bad drug trips.

3. The sum affects of greed and industry on the planet and the species inhabiting it.

Three kick ass songs:

1. Walk, by Blind Melon

2. You Said Something, by PJ Harvey

3. Always a Use, by Madeline Peyroux

Three wonderful best friends (randomly picked):

1. Mirabai

2. Stefani

3. Maria

Three lost friends:

1. Nigel

2. Nigel

3. Nigel

2006-04-21T22:51:00.000-07:00

This was up last week on PostSecret, and I can totally identify. Not that I was "rebuilding". Still, I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to be in Louisiana, and witness the strength of character and faith of the residents there. If you haven't gone to New Orleans, try to. And if you haven't gone to PostSecret, check it out anytime. It's listed as a link over there ----------------->

2006-04-20T22:48:00.000-07:00

Admitting There's a Problem

I had an anxiety ridden dream about trying to get a paper in on time, right before I woke up and lived that very anxiety. And oh how hungover I was. Because Hanna is in town, I justified having the better part of a micro-brew pitcher and chasing it with some gin and tonics last night. I imbibed in lieu of writing the paper. This morning I proceeded to do that "dance" where you don't know whether to use the toilet as it was designed, or to stand up and vomit in it. I got to do a little of both, and also submitted a vomit sample to the bathtub, when I couldn't quite decide. Thankfully I only had seltzer and aspirin to heave. The time quickly came for me, and my vertigo, to spin a piece of shit paper into straw. While in the computer lab (still very much hungover) dressed in PJs and house slippers, I realized I would need Mira's help in that endeavor. There was so much wacky energy and goings ons in this day, but most of it would sound too obscure. We spend much of our time making observations of, and expressing opinions about, classmates. Today was nary an exception. We gorged on jokes and laughter at the private expense of the bafflingly interesting people around us. Major plus: the sweet faced boy from geography broke up with his long term. Light a prayer candle for me.

Caption(?): The photo I posted was not taken last night, I just thought it was time for a photo and I like the gravity defying powers my lips possess here. If I have a point, it is that I have been drinking WAY TOO MUCH. I realize I may have tip-toed around that in my body paragraph.

2006-04-18T11:11:00.000-07:00

Criminy, Where Have I Beeeeeeenn?!!

I took a little extension to the Spring Break, back in my hometown. Returned wallet-less AGAIN!! It was a substitute wallet, but worry not, for Jeremiah is sending it to me. (Post on Jeremiah yet to come.) I will ad the new ID that came in the mail (that looks a little tranny. And the puffy, vintage, Esprit vest I wore didn't really transmit as fashionable, as much as it did an additional inch of person.) As soon as I have something that isn't multi-colored, plastic mesh holding my life together, I will complete the grieving process and move completely on from all this mayhem.

It is sunny here on planet Arcata. The gray and rain seriously create this other dimension that I really don't appreciate spending so many months in. When it clears and I touch down back on my home planet, I just sort of wake up! It's as though I'm a wind-back toy and someone has graciously wound me. I find myself suddenly erect and moving around, not so much doing the robot, as being generally productive and having some spring in my step (pun). So for that I am grateful. I realize this isn't Thanksgiving season, this is Easter season, but fuck it. I'm a rebel.

2006-04-11T22:22:00.000-07:00

Conundrum

I've been sending emails, but there are too damn many to write. I say the same thing to everyone, so they should just come to Moot Montage. That would simplify my life. I was glad to recognize that I am not depressed. I've struggled with depression on and off for years and thought it might be infiltrating. I realized my dispirited attitude was due to my having been overtaken by a virus and premenstral. Cool. Those things I can manage. Those things are fleeting. The weather has been enough to make me want to plan a move to southern California. My former boyfriend (who I'm totally not over) just moved back south. He didn't tell me this, I found out through his myspace page. I don't really care what people have to say about that, or about getting over somebody. I think people are totally weird who project that I should be neat and tidy about fucking loving someone with the entirety of my soul, down to his every nuclei, and then expecting me to casually return a few things and think nothing of him from then on. Fuck that. As well, fuck any of his friends who are cold and therefore as I see it, emotionally retarded. Yeah, but more on that another time. What is on my mind (and subsequently in my emails) is all the fucking shit I have to do. Or have on a list of things to do, whether they need to be done or not. Not everything makes it onto a written list, but I have an abundance of those too. Oh, as you can see, my natural linguistic cussing patterns are showing themselves. Yeah, I cuss a lot. I would venture to say I cuss more than anyone I know. I remember talking to a boyfriend at some point about how I wanted to curb gossiping, and he responded with something like, "Yeah, it would be good to stop cussing." What the fuck?! What are you talking about? I was totally not even addressing that, and I do not intend to stop my precious cussing. Anyway, so this whole list of things to do, it is extensive and self-generating. There is always some god damn thing to do!!!! There was a time in my life where I began meditating. At first I would open my eyes to look at the clock several times in a 5 minute session. Eventually I worked my way up to comfortably meditating for 20 minutes. It was so healing and empowering. I know from personal experience that it helps combat the feelings of anxiety that come up for me around the endless cycle of shit to do. But I have to tell you, right now, "take time to meditate" is just another thing on that list.

2006-04-11T02:00:00.000-07:00

And We Shall Title it Healing

"He" says:
good nite and good luck
Carrie says:
sweet dreams string bean
"He" says:
ditto kiddo
Carrie says:
Hug,*
"He" says:
(^_~)

2006-04-09T11:06:00.000-07:00

WOOOOHOOOOO!!!!!
Harry Taylor!!!!!

Nicely done. Go thank him folks.

2006-04-08T15:16:00.000-07:00

From Then

So if anyone wants to look on a map, I'm staying in Kenner, LA. You can Google earth me, I'm at the Comfort Suites. We eat a free breakfast here and then leave the hotel (which is so lovely) at 7ish and drive to the ERV lot. We then go to an out door kitchen that's been set up near a church, and load up. Both locations have security at them. Then each day we are with a different crew on a different ERV headed to a different neighborhood of New Orleans. Each truck delivers 500-600 meals a day. There are about 26 trucks that go out of our kitchen. Most clients say they are feelin' "alright" or that they are "blessed", even if they work a job all day and then have to go home and clean several inches of dried sludge from their homes and yards. Incredible. Meanwhile volunteers, such as myself, bitch about things like who's gunna' get a car to go to the target or how long someone's been on the house computer. "God bless y'all for whatcher doin' " they say to me "it really means a lot to us". I hear things like this all the time and I just tell them "it's our pleasure", because OH HOW I WISH I COULD DO SOOOO MUCH MORE!! I want to make a T-shirt for myself with a design like the ones on all the houses that the inspectors spray painted. I could make a few designs in fact. One would say "New Orleans, now hiring". "Now hiring" signs are everywhere. The driver today played his radio over the loud speaker, so that was fun. I use out-houses everyday. We find them on our routes. California is well represented as far as Red Cross goes. On today's truck all 3 of us were from Cali. I'm beginning to wonder if my home chapter will pull me back to do volunteer work there, with the storm damage I'm hearing about in y'alls emails. ?? I want to really thank all of my beloved people for emailing encouragement and support, it is so wonderful to receive your care and blessings. Don't hesitate to sign up in your area to volunteer with Red Cross, cuz there is likely something you can do in your local chapter's office, or you could at least be Red Cross ready to do what needs to be done should an emergency occur locally. A personal objective while I am here is to see a girl I met in the shelter in Slidell, who I am in contact with. I have only a PO for her, so I've written and I'll keep you posted. Wish me luck with that. You would just love this girl. Hugs, ~C

2006-04-07T14:57:00.000-07:00

Mangos, Cooking, Being Ill, and Blogging

Lately I like mangos. I guess I just caught on. I used to just buy apples, oranges, bananas, things my parents would buy. But I'm grown now and I can eat a mango if I want. I like the sweetness found near the rind and I like to rip the tart meat right off the seed. Mangos make a good dessert, and just like all desserts, even if you are full, you can't stop eating yours. I remember Tessa saying that when she was in South America there was no good fruit, because it was all shipped to North America. That's lame.

Mira and I have discussed dining in vs. dining out, and how we have a problem and need help. I think we are addicted to the dopamine we get from pizza. Last night I made vegetarian chili, coconut milk and curry rice, AND layered cheese enchiladas, so we would have access to yummy food quickly, for our study sessions we are not currently doing. The taxes and tip are what kill us about eating out (in restaurants that is. OH!). We both have worked in food service, so we both round up and tip about 22%. I am totally embarrassed to tip any less. She has little income, and I now have officially no income. So dining out is not an option really. But like crackheads, we find a way. I am preemptively trying to keep us from having to do that. I intend to make lasagna next week and maybe a pasta salad. And I definitely want to make sure I have what I need for fruit smoothies. This is me obviously addressing one issue at a time. Because both of us want to diet as well. Being more spending conscious is only part of it. Next we will have to address being more health conscious. Sigh.

I am sick again. Last time I had a flu that lasted the typical flu amount of time, about 3-4 days. This time I have a virus that causes a sore throat, sinus issues, sneezing, and coughing. Also the pain while moving my eyes is back. Hmmm. I suspect I got it from the pub I was in last Friday. But that's a long story. All this sickness came after recently realizing how I used to get sick so much when I still lived in my hometown, and how anymore I don't seem to get sick as much. Isn't that always the god forsaken way? I ran out of my posh tissues and was left only with recycled toilet paper for nose blowing. (Not USED!! RECYCLED!! Don't be gross.) I felt like a total bourgie snot (pun?) for wanting the aloe and lotion kind. This is part of my strata of psychological problems. But I can't get into that right now.

I'm rambling. Sometimes I try to have a complete thought here, but there aren't really any pay-offs. I don't usually hear from folks much either way. I can see that people come to the sight, with the little sightometer thing. I have been behind on my blog reading ever since Spring Break (which I sometimes like to Capitalize, but I don't think that it's Necessary). I've caught up on a good deal of it, but haven't been moved to comment. If I were reading other blogs and making clever comments then people would perhaps come over here and make a clever comment (thereby giving me more to read, cuz I would then have to go to that persons blog). Through guilt or manipulation or asking I could likely get people to say something. And once in a while I even earn it the old fashioned way, by inspiring it. But that is pretty far and few. I do think about starting an anonymous blog so I can cuss a lot like I do in life, and be disgusting, or angry, or whatever I might actually be when I am posting thoughts over here about weather, or just not posting at all. I suppose I still might could. For now rambling will ensue.

2006-04-06T23:38:00.000-07:00

....."take the money from the people who supply us with prisons, and put the funding into something that will rise our conditions...."

2006-04-04T23:11:00.000-07:00

Methademic

Methamphetamine use is huge in my hometown of Crescent City, CA. After all it sits 20 minutes south of the Oregon border, the birth place of social problems seen by meth. I'm pretty sure meth is why my wallet was stolen at the end of my spring break.

For many years I had no idea that the people who look like the lady pictured here, where on meth. I just thought they were the regular, impoverished, whitefolk of my upbringing. I can remember the presence of meth in my home during childhood, and thank God it was relatively brief. I suppose the good news is, I got a sister out of it.

After moving from my parents house at 18, I soon came across my good friends and housemates smoking meth from a broken lightbulb. At one time they offered me a "line". It was yellow, so I declined, stating that as my reason. I've heard it's made with bleach and various chemicals, the necessary ingredient being ephedrine or pseudoephedrine, a.k.a. Sudafed. The whole drug is cooked up in household kitchens or industrial sized "meth labs", that are set up in barns or garages. My boyfriend of the time and myself went to visit his family, who are of Mexican decent, and who were also in "the business". His naive, Christian friend came over to pick us up for a night out and asked if they were making horchata. (If you don't know, horchata is a completely yummy, sweetened, vanilla rice drink spiced with nutmeg or cinnamon.) Sometimes while manufacturing meth, a fire will start. From my understanding it's because alcohol is used to strip the coating off the cold medicine pills. Anyway, during that same trip I read that a meth fire had erupted in a mobile home. In the fire, three children under the ages of 2 had died, while something like four adults, survived.

I'm not exactly sure what makes someone do meth that first time. Once you have the rush of dopamine that comes from one hit of meth (crank, dope, speed) you are at risk of wanting another. I have friends with stories of their own about their days of meth use. One subsisted on Dr. Pepper and ultimately ended up the victim of multiple rapes, when she was in the throws of addiction. Others only have depression, anxiety, social phobias, and sleep disorders as a result.

Apparently meth is making it's way eastward, gaining the attention of Congress, finally. With over 1.5 million people regularly using meth, how many more kids are experiencing the side effects; the lies, thievery, neglect, physical and sexual abuse? Good people of Moot Montage, in the dialect you might hear outside of a Crescent City meth dealer's trailer, they ain't callin' it an epidemic fer nothin'.

2006-04-03T17:24:00.000-07:00

Radiskull & Devil Doll

How I adore thee. You can't tell, but Devil Doll is having his Hell Bucks coffee in this poignant still taken from the creators home page. Go there, and be forever changed. Inside.

2006-04-02T22:12:00.000-07:00

More Delayed Correspondence from New Orleans

A new year and new elements to contend with. There is a Red Cross shelter in Humboldt, CA to house those flooded out by the rains. As for here, there are people who have been living without water, electricity, or gas for the entire 4 months and still are. They are extraordinarily strong in spirit and I have so much reverence for the people I come in contact with here. They are grateful for the meals, snacks, and water we give them. Sometimes we have a few blankets, or care packs with toothbrushes and soap to give, and today we had a few toys. The kids get m&ms and everyone that I speak to gets a blessing and a smile. I even sang in to the loud speaker today. A little somethin' like...

I release and I let go

I let the spirit run my life

and my heart is open wide

cuz I'm only here for god

no more struggle

no more strife

with my faith I see the light

I am free in the spirit

cuz I'm only here for god

Those of you who were at Northshore with me likely sang along right there. This is a very faith based part of the world and that song can speak to folks of many affiliations. It was about 80 today and this evening I got to take a trip to Target for some things that I needed. Yahoo!! I have been told that there are tour buses looking at the damage. People feel very sensitive about others exploiting the trauma these folks have survived. My biggest hope is that people get help with their homes and have jobs and schools that are safe. Many are contending with insurance companies because they have hurricane insurance but not "flood" insurance. I see trailer parks with FEMA trailers and stairs going in to them, but not people in them. They are empty. Awaiting power I'm told. ??? There are shirts on Bourbon that read "FEMA: Federal Employees Missing Again". Or "Missing in Action". And because you are my hand selected friends and family I will share with you my personal belief. No one has said this to me and everyone knows I am a liberal, Arcata hippy. With that said it hit me very hard yesterday, the belief that this is a class/race war. I am of the opinion that this was intentional. Maybe I am not supposed to say such things over the Internet, or even at all. ?? I think the power hungry, money men wanted these incredible homes and rather than offer people what they were worth, they drowned them out and soon we will see rich people offering residents $12, 000 or something lame like that for beautiful old homes. People will feel like they have no choice but to sell cheap. I could be wrong and I hope I don't offend anyone with this theory, but I am glad to have the chance to share my feelings and thoughts with y'all. There are elderly people living in their homes, people with children. And these homes had toxic flood waters, they have been gutted, many of them. So there is no flooring, no dry wall. And there is trash EVERYWHERE. If you took a palace and placed it right in some of these neighborhoods, it wouldn't make up for the fact that people's neighbors are gone and the entire street is devastated. So even those who can afford to put things together are dealing with discouragement and heart break most of us will never know. I tell them that the American people care about them, and I believe that is true. And I thank you for being those people, so I can speak on behalf of you and mean what I am saying. God bless y'all. ~Carrie

2006-04-01T20:24:00.000-08:00

Carrie recommended

2006-03-31T18:58:00.000-08:00

Davy Cricket

by David Hayward

I did what I did for Lubbock and the Crickets
and me. The headline they gave this,
Minor League Mascot Ejected in Brawl,
is funny, I know-over-ardent loyalty,
ha ha, the furious blue insect impervious
in his padded suit and by the same cushion
disabled. Still, it hurts. They boo joy
when they boo me, and the players who held me back
might think harder about whose adamant image
they wear on their caps. For as long as I'm in him,
Davy Cricket won't be among the buccaneers
or bears or Indians who have at their center
something alien, some actor. I am what I look like
and want the things I shout for. Foam lips
are lips. The costume makes me nakeder.

2006-03-30T19:24:00.000-08:00

It's Friggin' Cold!!!

Well, what I mean to say is, I'm cold. I think the record, all time low for this area was in the mid twenties. So I apologize to anyone in Russia or Wisconsin. How are you people productive?! I mean how are any of you productive really, in cold or hot climates? I think in a consistent 69 degrees I could be a viable member of the human race. But as it stands, I don't do so well wearing my shoulders as earrings, and loosing sensation in all tips, be they fingers, toes, or otherwise. As a result, my internal engine very much refuses to rev. Get on the computer, I can do. Stand in front of the radiator, lay under a blanket, run to my car and turn on the heater. All other activities will have to be rescheduled till long past the equinox.

2006-03-29T18:55:00.000-08:00

New Moon

So that means it's time to put out to the universe what it is I want in life, and light a candle. It rarely comes to fruition of course, but there are worse pass-times than focusing on goals, and it makes my house smell nice. The whole wallet being stolen thing could have been much worse. I would rather loose pictures of loved ones, than loved ones themselves. And I hated that ID photo anyway. I could never justify getting a new one based on that reason, so now I have an excuse. It's untimely, cuz I am sans dinero, but I will get everything put back together and move on from it. Twas a good day, in that the sun done shone. I want to send you kids over to Damian Mulinix's sight. I was on myspace looking for new music one weekend, and after searching for about, oh...13 hours, I found 1.The Coup, which are very much not a secret and I linked you to yesterday, and 2. I found Damian. I listened to music from New England to New Zealand and discovered what I really dug was a kid who went to my shitty high school. Can you believe it? We are in touch now, in that myspacey kind of way, and he will play here this summer, if I have to make him gig in my garage.

2006-03-28T18:20:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I Know!!

It's been friggin' annoying me too. I was away for Spring Break and nary was there a computer that would let me post. The icon I needed just wouldn't present itself. I tried to get help and there was something about "cookies" and "settings", and it was all just so much more than I am equip to deal with.

Before I left I went to an anti-war march, and I don't know which annual it was, but first annual would have been horrific enough. People would say, "Last year we did such and such, but the year before that the weather was all so forth and whatnot". What a crunk thing to have traditions building around. Although, I would like to have been more prepared. My sign would have read, "How can you be pro-life and pro-war?" Right, cause how can you? You can't my friend. One guy's sign, "I'm a Republican. Stop the war. Stop lying." was refreshing to see.

I made my way north to the ol' hometown. Saw kinfolk and friendfolk. Ate really elegant seasoned fries with Ranch dressing. Did you know Ranch dressing was invented in the 80's? Because I was on the phone with one of the someones that I discussed in my last post, while I was packing, I FORGOT to take the yarn that I have needed to return since I received it on Christmas, and forgot my homework. Which do you suppose I grieved heavier?

Most of my time was spent north of "home", with Tessa (of the Tessa post, I don't know how to link you to my past posts. Stop making fun of me.) in Ashland, OR. I don't really know what we did. I think we ate. And it seems as though each time we did it cost the amount of money I desperately need to pay for the water that the city is threatening to stop pumping into the pipes of my home. Tessa was my benefactor. Who needs pride and integrity when you can trade it in for pad Thai or gorgonzola ravioli? Highlights: In one glorious day I sweat out my inner child in a sauna then plunged into natural spring waters. I completed Mira's fabulous, orange, uber soft, ribbed beanie. And I makelfrakin got by with a little help from my friend, Toots. Yes, I did go to Toots and the Maytals and it was as fucking divine as one could imagine. I feel truly blessed and inspired. And yes, I did dance on the stage, thank you. I'm cool. It's official. Living in the moment is so much easier, when the moment is filled with the live music of a legend. "If you don't want it, don't think it." Said the show's promoter. I don't want self doubt, insecurity, or feelings of inadequacy. I don't want poverty or procrastination. I don't want isolation. I want to be creative and active, both physically and politically. I want personal power and spiritual strength. I want balance and productivity. I want more live music. Thank you Toots. And every last one of your Maytals.

In all I did have a lovely time, despite my wallet being stolen from my purse. In my hometown there's a bar where I impromptued this sort of David Lynch style open-mic to a crowd of 7. (This number includes the bar tender.) I don't want to get into the whole stolen wallet thing too much right now, so we'll move on to another disappointment.

I was extremely interested in seeing The Coup live, my new favorites. They have a CD coming out in April that would sound really good on your car stereo. When I learned the show was free I was even more excited. But I discovered it was a CD "Listening Party". So, the CD plays while the artist mingles. Mingling is cool and it was going really well. I had every confidence that I would be kicking it with the MC after the event wrapped up, but some aggressive groupie bitches stole my Boots Riley! And while Tess and I got a piece of pizza out of the interaction, I hadn't taken any pictures cuz I figured the night was young yet. Suddenly he was swooped up, just like my wallet. And the emptiness and confusion was equally great.

Today it was painfully difficult to stay awake in class. Tessa's gone now and Mira's still in Florida. No financial aid check I'm afraid. Just over due bills and laundry I can't wash because my laundry card was in my wallet, where it belonged. So if you see me, and I smell, have mercy. I'm a little hungover from the whole thing. But I guess such is the nature of Spring Break. Debauchery, debt, and penance. Just a tease of what summer could bring.

2006-03-17T11:17:00.000-08:00

Blah Blah Blah

After nine months, I seem to be kind of warming up to this blogging thing. I have no idea, really, why I started it. I wanted to take Anne's advice (of "art humor larceny") and be sort of curt, informative. But then, I read other blogs that sort of ramble (Dooce, The Hot Librarian), and I dig them too. So whatever. The common denominator seems to be funny. And I am just not consistently funny. I rely on others to inspire whit and cleverness. It would be great in some respects to have blog celebrity. But mediocracy is just my plight. I have done black and white photography, ceramics, knitting, singing, guitar playing, song writing, beading. I can do something well enough to get a decent outcome and positive feedback, but never do I shine quite bright enough. I think many of us would like to have our purpose clearly defined, like Mozart or Michael Jordan. But most of us are just kind of good at something, or partially interested. Mira says she just wants to feel passionate about something. Then I forwarded her a myspace profile of a Civil War enthusiast.

What kind of music do you like? War music

What kind of movies do you like? War movies

Who are your heros? War heros

Yeah, you get what I'm saying. Passion for the sake of, that isn't what I'm aiming for.

Today's topic is back to my problems with romantic involvement. My thoughts are...in this day and age, if you want to get laid, you can. I mean just go get laid already. What happens for me is, I'll meet some guy, goofy, or only quasi appealing, I'll not really think anything of him, but he'll want to hook up. If he is smart enough, or funny enough, or has nice enough lips, I'll eventually want to kiss him. Then we move into the part where they lay it on really thick. They become careless with their words. "I'll be dreaming of you", "I have the hugest crush on you", "I'm falling in love with you". And I'm locked in for the ride. I don't even like roller coasters. What I'm saying is, if you want me to take off my underpants just say so. Don't coax my tender heart out of her cave, or come all up in the cave with her and bring cool, independent films, red wine, or chocolate with you. Don't court my mind, if you mean to be courting my hohynah.

2006-03-16T23:24:00.000-08:00

(More from NOLA, New Year's Day...)

So I went to town last night after all, and had a great time. Good food and a few pictures, though I didn't want to look too touristy. Police in full effect. I'm glad I decided to go, even though I was a little tired today as a result. Sundays we run 1/2 the food, so that was good timing. Less destruction in the area I was in today, but that still means more destruction than I've even come close to seeing anywhere else ever. I went directly to the hot tub and then to dinner. I got things from the market so I can eat food that isn't potato chips. Yeay! Volunteers that aren't from Arcata, CA eat chicken, or whatever is being served on the ERV. I'm tired now, and will continue to be while I'm here, I'm sure. The work part is a lot like work. With bruises and sweat and all that. There's a guy named Chris, from New York, that I met in the airport. He has become my "Hey, how was your day and what are your dinner plans?" buddy, so that's cool. I guess that's enough for now. There are more stories as you can imagine, but I can't really think, and my computer time is limited so these blurbs will have to do. Big love to the Big Easy cuz they need our love folks. ~C

2006-03-15T14:07:00.000-08:00

My milquetoast brings all the boys to the blog.

2006-03-14T19:33:00.000-08:00

I FINALLY Discovered How to Cut and Paste on this GD Thing!!

But then forgot that I wanted to post the emails I sent while I was in the Louisiana. What follows will be the first of those emails, obviously very delayed. I am not currently volunteering with Red Cross; I am in California dealing with school deadlines, awaiting Spring Break. I have another wretched English paper due. (The astronomical news is the A I got on my geography midterm. OMG!!!) Anyway these two emails are from the first days of my second deployment:

Hey y'all, I got to NOLA alive and I will likely be running food and
supplies in an ERV (emergency response vehicle). Things seem to have
already improved a lot since I was last here. Thanks for everyone's
well wishing. The temp today? 75. And I see hush puppies in the very
near future. ~Carrie

Well, it was a great day in some respects. It is semi-hard work. We were in an area with massive destruction. I can not even begin to impart the impact. I do encourage you to ask yourself "What have I sacrificed for the survivors of Katrina today?". If you can give of your time or money or send a prayer I would ask you to do so. We were told not to take pictures and that was hard, although pictures wouldn't really convey the nightmare. People were soooo amazingly kind and grateful. I found that in the shelter as well. Very positive and friendly. Cutie kids too. It is New Years Eve but I don't know what I would be worth tomorrow if I celebrate as such. But then, New Years in Nawlins?! That's a tough choice. There is a hot tub in the hotel, and you KNOW I will be visiting it during my station here. I'll post you as I can. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! It's bound to be better than this one right?! With much love ~Carrie

2006-03-12T19:18:00.000-08:00

What I Know is Killing Me

Stress kills. We all know that. Someone told us that so we could stress out about the stress we feel and die about it. So not only do I know that stress kills, I also know that many other things are bad for me. Which equals, will slowly kill me. I have learned over the years that partially hydrogenated oil is bad for me. I have no idea what it will do to me, I only know it's bad. I have learned that too much sodium and too much sugar is also bad. Very bad. Bad girl. Go to your room. Not to mention high fructose corn syrup. I know that most fat in most portions is bad, as well as dyes, hormones, pesticides, and pretty much all preservatives. Soda is the tincture of Beelzebub, besides aluminum causes Alzheimers. Animal by-products are part of an evil industry that promotes grinding baby male chicks alive by the 1000s and other such atrocities. Soy manipulates hormone levels. While protein bars and trail mixes agitate my TMJ. Yes, grocery shopping with Carrie is a joyous occasion, wherein she is only allowed to purchase basmati rice and whole oats in bulk and seltzer by the case. Hummph.

2006-03-09T11:58:00.000-08:00

My Toaster

If I stand in front of it, it just looks up at me like, "What am I supposed to do? What do you want from me Carrie?" And then proceeds to ehhhhhhhhhver so delicately warm the outer most layers of my toastables. HOW~EVER! If I should walk away long enough to merely adjust the volume on my stereo, it turbo-speeds in to the little toaster that could, and gal dern if it doesn't char and blacken my handheld breakfast item every time! (Which is a preferred method of preparation for my catfish but not so much my baked staple food)

2006-03-08T18:35:00.000-08:00

Why Stop There?

Rather than post nothing, I think I may just post everything. I don't read much, so I project that others don't want to read much either, and I spare you the length. But that means all posts have to some how make sense in their succinct entirety. I don't want to be succinct, OR make sense. Who's blog is this anyway?! Lots of individuals around me, or in internet proximity, have been sick. People who make up my support system, best friends, neighbors, babies, family dogs. So my turn did come. But it's this really strange sick. Aches over my body with stomach pains. Other symptoms have been short lived but include chills and pain in my eyes, when I move them. Not too much to ask of my eyes, I don't think. You know, that they be able to move and all, without hurting, but tell that to them. Anyway, I know that relatively I am blessed and this is transitory and could be worse and isn't fatal. All of that is really important. Also important to me is getting back to my normally uncomfortable, symptom ridden self. My threshold for physical discomfort isn't far from where I spend each of my days, so essentially I'm not so tolerant of illness if I don't have to be. Headaches are an old friend, I get them everyday. I have since high school. But EYE aches? Farewell eye aches, you can sneak in for a visit but don't think you are making a network with me and my headaches. So anyway, there's some of that. It makes me not really want to function so much. "So much" is something that the Hot Librarian writes. (See my links for THL) The Hot Librarian is mad at me by the way. She doesn't know or care about me, but that doesn't stop me from knowing she resents a comment I made on her blog about people in this culture jumping too quickly into blaming someone accused of a crime. "ACCUSED" DOES NOT MEAN "GUILTY"!! The gut wrenching fact is, that convicted does not even mean guilty. And that is the kind of thing, like cancer, that you don't even really think much about until it happens to you or someone you love. If she wants to hate me it's fine. But as I've said here before, hating me is not only really trendy and trite it is also cliche`. Take for instance my English 1A professor who ABSOLUTELY hates me. That is why he likes to spend his lectures verbally abusing me in front of my classmates and when he grades my papers he writes "strong intro" but then deducts points for the entirely unmarked-up intro. Yeah, definite sign of hatred. Unless he is trying to create some kind of sexual tension and I'm just not catching on. This very English professor so nearly was blogged about when the semester began. I wanted to take college comp. And at my school they offer all these "theme" classes. English with a democracy theme. English with a pop culture theme. I'm not friggin' kidding. But I just wanted plain old English for my plan old general ed requirements. Nothin' fancy or specific as I am non-committal, which we already knew. So we get in to my first English class and learn that not only do EVERY one of our papers have to be written in a persuasive manner (no analysis? No compare and contrast? No creative writing?) but we will be taught this semester by a guy who 1. Says "nK?" at the end of every, oh, 5th statement and 2. Says "might could"!!!!!!! Now I have a really good friend from Georgia who I will get around to posting about eventually, and she is really cute. I remember the first time she said "might could" and I remember also that being my first time ever hearing it. I giggled a little, and a dialogue commenced wherein she said "I'm not even sure that's wrong." And I said "Well, if nothing else it's redundant." This particular friend is also a teacher, but a teacher or 4th graders or so. Not a college English professor. AND she's from Georgia! Georgians can get away with sayin' all sortsa' funny thangs and it don't mean no nothin' no how. Besides she is WAY cuter than him when she says it. So, anyway, I am taking English 1A from a guy who asks "nK?" and I very much want to say "NO! It's NOT nK!! It will never be nK with me that every paper we write has to be persuasive! So stop asking me!" And he says "might could", which my count is up to 3 on that one. And NOW this new, really unsavvy verbal abuse thing has kicked in, and I think it all just ads to my stress levels and depletes what is left of my immune system. So today I went to my 12 step meeting. Yep. We've never discussed that here. I am a cussing maniac who attends support group meetings. Deal with it. In your own way of course. Find your own meeting and talk to them about it. And I also took a shower. And I'm real proud of how well I've handled my day. So bugger off iffin' you feel any other way. I WANT veggie soup from the Co-op, a new season of Aqua Teen Hunger Force, and a massage from a wonderful guy who loves me a lot. But I am settling for raspberry hemp granola, watching Anything Else again, and the Tiger Balm I put on this morning. So with out further ado I will take my movie off pause and stop bitching at you now. (Notice there was no highlighted link to "a guy who loves me a lot". Yeah, it's my life and I'm livin' it as best as I can. Thanks.)

2006-03-06T21:48:00.000-08:00

I Am So Sorry

I am with flu, overwhelmed, and have been very badly beaten by myself. If that were a golden ticket in to the hospital believe me I would be there. Put an IV and a catheter in me and let me be. Oh, and can you bring me some canned peaches and banana pudding?

2006-03-01T10:08:00.000-08:00

Waria

First of all, aren't all my friends attractive? I know. Thus explaining my crippling image issues. Anyway, Maria has pretty consistently been what one could call my best friend, for about...(doing the math, uh, number crunching, um..) 16 years. NO FRIGGIN' WAY!! That is amazing. You are not amazed, but I am amazed. Isn't counting up your life like that so intense? Time and space are this really uncomfortable dimension for me. But always with the digressing (in the Mira post I meant some form of divergence but wrote "delineating". Sorry, I fixed that now. You can go back to thinking I don't have poop in my head). So yes, Maria and I are the best of friends and that means we can stand in front of the extraordinarily all-encompassing mirror in the bathroom of her childhood home and pick our adult acne together for ungodly amounts of hours or complain about the current state of our hair, grades, Temporo-Mandibular Joint Disorder, or wardrobe for even longer. Now for the list: Maria is god danged original. Some people go away and you don't really notice. Maria is my reference point for the emotion of missing a person. A moment, a conversation, will be very different if Maria is present than if she is not. I would say this is true of all my dearest friends. But I have noticed Maria's absence more than I have noticed the absence of others. Often wondering to myself or aloud what Maria would have to say about a given topic. She is really great at giving supportive, sincere feedback. And even though she is entirely capable of a full range of emotions, she is profoundly rational. So much so that she can even have a clear, objective opinion about her own daughter. I have never seen another person be able to do that. Maria is outrageously intelligent, I guess that's mandatory criteria because I'm getting a pattern here in my posts about friends. And she makes me laugh a lot.( I started this post yesterday and have been feeling banal and even more mediocre than usual. So in order to actually get this posted) I'll just let a recent email from Maria take it from here...(I had to modify it some for it to make sense.)

My EMT class (from the start) has been shockingly bad. Picture an emergency medical techniques class taught by a whole team of nearly illiterate people spending all of class contradicting the text and misreading the Powerpoint outline from the chapter we have just read for homework. On the first night of class, (I think I told you) the instructor repeatedly said "This crap is so boring". Well, last night was the low point thus far. The instructor read from the screen "Cardiac Treats" instead of "Cardiac Threats", and didn't even catch herself! She just continued like "Cardiac Treats" made all kinds of sense, and a student had to correct her! Anyway, that is but one example of the caliber of incompetence we are dealing with. My friend Andy was so angry afterwards, that the whole hour-long van ride home he was too pissed to speak. The rest of us just spent the trip home shrieking like banshees. Erin poignantly questioned, "Now, is it 'Rice Crispy Treats' or is it 'Rice Crispy Threats'?" and Meg replied, "If you are vegan, it is definitely 'Rice Crispy Threats'". A discussion ensued about what a treat it was to have an obstructed airway. In class the instructor had challenged, "Now, what does obstructed mean?". Brilliant, what a treat it is to have blood clots. The ride home afterwards almost makes taking the class worthwhile.

Love,

Maria

2006-02-27T11:25:00.000-08:00

Suggestion box

Someone somewhere say something. I am ready for a comment. Tell me you need a theme or whatever. Tell me something. Writing in a vacuum leaves me going to myspace where I can pretend it's interactive.

2006-02-24T23:11:00.000-08:00

Mira

As in Mirabai. Merah-bye. Not Myra, Merabelle, Meerabea, Marabay, Miraball, or Merrybear. All of which she has been incorrectly addressed as. Criminy people!! Merrybear?! For tha love of the LORD!! Although that was a mistake of our mutual friend Maria's terribly cute and ass kicking grandma. (Yes you can be really old, and cute, and kick ass, all contemporaneously.) Anyway, Mirabai is my sister. While we were growing up, her house was just, um... "wacky" enough, to make my house seem like a good idea. Mirabai is far and away one of THE funniest, most intelligent people you will ever not meet. This is who I spend my time with. I have both of my classes with her. (Yeah, I'm only in two classes, Idontwannatalkaboutit) I warned my friends that I would be posting about them, and she told me to make sure I got a good picture of her first. She's gunna' hate this one, and I thought about not posting till I got one she liked. But then I realized none of my friends will like any of the pictures I post, because that is the nature of viewing pictures of oneself. We are all simultaneosly fascinated and disgusted with them. I seem to be diverging from the subject in my post dedicated to Mirabai. I think it's because when I think of Mira, other than thinking of her beautifulness, I think of smart and funny. Funny and smart. Intelligent, comical, witty, clever, bright, quick, humorous, brilliant, hilarious, sharp, astute, keen, hysterical. Fuckin' funny and fuckin' really fuckin' smart. And to top all this off I am going to attach an email I got from Mira yesterday, just to prove my point. It was recieved at the last leg of our paper writing debacle. First let me ad that while you do not have any friends, family, or loved ones that are funnier, or smarter, I will also say that Mira is loving, supportive, interesting, talented, fashionable, and has a really fabulous ass. K, email now:

(subject title)"economy of language

and the excessive linguistic habits of today's overwrought and underslept American Mira point to larger concerns within the paradigm of bloated verbosity and inefficiency; furthermore, the subjugated laboriousness of her distracted and digressive discourse lead to imbalances above and beyond the sensibilities of any critical, educated reader. her utter lack of carefully chosen and/or direct communication lead the inquiring reader to the unavoidable conclusion that the aforementioned author of said text merely and dubiously ventured to write a college level persuasive essay without the necessary underpinnings of preparation."

See? Smart. And funny. (Although I imagine this might be more of an inside joke and not so much a world wide web joke. But fuck it.)

2006-02-23T23:36:00.000-08:00

I'm all writed out

I think I need to ad ADD to the scroll of diagnoses that I have given myself or actually received from a professional. I had to write a paper and it is entirely counterintuitive for me to just friggin' FOCUS! Anyway I got it in with the better part of 2 minutes to spare. And now that I've had a chance to read the swill that finally made it's way in to my instructors hands, well, let's just say it's comin' on midnight and I felt it was urgent that I send an email apologizing to him. On a lighter note the same professor was very kind in response to my request to miss a class meeting so that I might guest lecture in another class about my experiences with Red Cross in Louisiana. A few semesters ago I had a kick ass sociology professor who has since transferred. While I was gone she was one of the many who received my daily emails.

...I just proof read this and it's fucking boring me so I gotta stop writing now.

2006-02-22T08:16:00.000-08:00

Whyspace

Sorry. I was on a roll here lately, and this was supposed to be the sting of posts about my beloved friends. SOOO trendy and trite, but I took a little time out to explore and become addicted to myspace, the government's newest form of mind control. Then proceeded to flagellate myself, go in to a recovery house, and relapse. Yeah, all in 3 days, isn't that amazing? Myspace is the trashy bar goer's free domain, as opposed to the brooding, heady, coffee shop patron's outlet for creative genius found on real blogs. Anyway, I have a persuasive paper due for English that I have of course and entirely procrastinated until the last nanosecond. It's a brown bag paper (like, bring your own topic). Do you have any idea how many possibilities that creates?! Choose an idea in all of existence, in all of reality, in all of the universe, in all of time. And then spend olymipic training amount of hours knocking that thing out. Ouch. I don't want to focus my attention on anything, for the amount of time it takes to write a decent paper. Well, with the exception of myspace that is.

2006-02-19T19:38:00.000-08:00

TESSA

Yes let's. We'll begin with Miss Tessa. (Mind you there will be no particular order to the love.) A.K.A. Bobess, TB, and other nicknames that relate to her last name that I don't have permission to print here. Tessa is a guy's dream. I mean she is a dreamy friend as well, but this is something outstandingly admirable about her, being as I seem to be a guy's nightmare. She has all the qualities I require in a best friend, smart, kind, interesting, but this girl is saintly sweet. Maybe the tuition her parents forked out for parochial school paid off? She is affectionate, a good listener, generous, patient, and OH MY GOD is she forgiving! Like no one else I have EVER met. That's come in handy during our friendship, a few times. She sews, knits, and bakes, the whore. AND she's athletic!! She smokes these really classy cigarettes that make it some how harder for me to bitch at her for smoking in the first place, like just because they are highbrow(?). Tessa is absurdly stylish in the coolest of ways, and if I didn't love and adore her so much, I would absolutely fucking hate her. There is almost no quality about her that is not enviable.

Anecdote time: I love Salmon. In fact I have referred to it as the gateway meat, because it is what tempted me away from veganism to fish and shellfish eating. Anyway, when Tessa got her AA we had a little gathering to celebrate the midway accomplishment, and I bought her a Thai cookbook. Her father owns a commercial fishing boat and her brother is also a fisherman. We're talking access. Tessa made the number one, all time, I would order this for my last meal, succulent, fresh, Thai, cilantro, lime, something or another, etc, etc, accoutrements, salmon that has EVER been made in all of humankind's existence. EVER. And for that, as well as our continued friendship, I am grateful.

(Something about this girl makes me want to type "EVER!!".)

2006-02-17T19:44:00.000-08:00

PITCHERS!!!

So now that I know how to post pictures from any number of sources, AND have a digital camera, I am pitcher happy. The next series of posts will feature my closest friends. Complete with portraiture and mushy, hard earned compliments. Are you friggin' ready for this friggin' jelly?