tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17779772011-04-21T12:25:54.541-07:00it matters nowehAmbernoreply@blogger.comBlogger4721100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1155994566500866152006-08-19T06:32:00.000-07:002006-08-19T06:36:06.520-07:00It's sad. I have completely forgotten HTML. Moreover, I have forgotten how to use an ftp client, how to create a cascading style sheet and all the little tricks I knew in Photoshop. I have ceased to be a web designer.And that's why I'm posting here, I suppose. I meant to make a new site from which I would start fresh. Perhaps GoLive will make sense to me at some point in the future... Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1129564947919767172005-10-17T08:59:00.000-07:002005-10-17T09:02:27.923-07:00I've been writing like a crazy person, as if anyone cares.My creative writing class has me spinning like a top, ridiculously cutting out print from newspapers, magazines and vibrator packaging, taping individual words to fair tickets, like "ultimate" and "evening" and "walls."I just wrote about my father.And I've written about my mother and my brother and lots of other people, including Josh.MostAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1127493325226053362005-09-23T09:35:00.000-07:002005-09-23T09:35:25.233-07:00Your search - "no seriously, i think you might be retarded" - did not match any documents.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1117425610631044742005-05-29T23:56:00.000-07:002005-05-29T21:00:10.653-07:00You can't have Weezer. I refuse to discuss Weezer with you. Yes, I love Weezer. No, you don't love Weezer. You can't love this; it has nothing to do with you. You are not allowed to love anything from this particular part of me. You can love my shoes. You can love my Spanish essay. You can't have my music. Everybody, seriously, you have to fit the mold to love my music. If you don't fitAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1112978540780986352005-04-08T09:38:00.000-07:002005-04-08T09:50:08.543-07:00This song is fucking brilliant."99 Problems" by Jay-ZIf you're havin' girl problems i feel bad for you sonI got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one[Verse One]I got the rap patrol on the gat patrolFoes that wanna make sure my casket's closedRap critics that say he's "Money Cash Hoes"I'm from the hood stupid, what type of facts are thoseIf you grew up with holes in ya zapatosYou'd celebrate the Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1111967561874036622005-03-27T15:51:00.000-08:002005-03-27T15:52:41.876-08:00I just wrote this:everything is more beautiful with less detail.we could dance in oblivion and i would paintyou with a blank canvas.that would be love.the lines would all be smooth,with no color,with no definition,something you can see without lookingand i couldn't tell you apart from the others.and i wouldn't care either way.Everybody is so perfect until you get into it. And that beauty never Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1110485074035872912005-03-10T12:01:00.000-08:002005-03-10T12:04:34.036-08:00The problem with this whole fucking thing is that it's so temporary-permanent. You have this fleeting feeling: "I'm lonely" "He's boring" "I hate her" "I want to move to Canada" and it becomes this quasi-permanent statement, mutable only in the fact that you can go back and delete it later. But who wants to delete it later? Why "blog" at all if not for the ability to go back and read previousAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1110211377001293382005-03-07T08:02:00.000-08:002005-03-07T08:02:57.003-08:00All my friends found this site. I guess that means it's dead. So much for "web honesty."Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1110087973025139242005-03-05T21:43:00.000-08:002005-03-05T21:46:13.026-08:00Feeling strangely lonesome tonight. I went to an "eccentric dinner" party and it was fairly eccentric. One group of friends always throw these little soirees that are actually quite enjoyable and very interesting, if nothing else. Their stories are quite fantastic and always leave me thinking "why don't I have friends like this?" Which somehow leads to "I wish I had someone to have sex with."Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1108845571725863932005-02-19T12:35:00.000-08:002005-02-19T12:39:31.726-08:00Sometimes you see something or read something that you know immediately is going to change your life. Other times, it happens subversively and later you reflect upon it. This falls into the first category.And, beads of knowledge from my MCAT "teacher":Aspartame (found in all your diet sodas and powdered beverages) degrades into formaldehyde at high temperatures (say, over 100*F). Formaldehyde,Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1108616321798090162005-02-16T20:53:00.000-08:002005-02-16T20:58:41.800-08:00So, of course he was totally boring and it was horribly anticlimactic. (Don't want to use his real name -- googling it only comes up with one site now and this page turns up on seach engines). Anyway, it's not surprising at all. People that build their own fame are boring. It's only people that gain fame by being exciting can keep that interest after you meet them face-to-face.But the fact Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1108062082568188292005-02-10T10:55:00.000-08:002005-02-10T11:01:22.570-08:00Allow me to quote myself, again:
"Check this shit out -- everyone is so boring."
And if you weren't, you would probably know who you are.
In other news, Mardi Gras was fantastic.
And all you curious fucks can find me on the facebook if you uh... attend college.
Yeah so I have basically run out of introspective, artsy things to say. But I did write this today:
He walks through walls and Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1105761522346894472005-01-14T19:56:00.000-08:002005-01-14T19:58:42.346-08:00It's not so hard to be friends with him as long as you keep in mind that no matter what happens, you don't matter to him at all. He is endlessly interesting and witty but the moment you step out of the room, he forgets who you are completely. Only when you return is he ready to do anything you ask of him. Who was that girl that just left? We can't possibly have been friends for two years. I Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1105251174925235172005-01-08T22:08:00.000-08:002005-01-08T22:12:54.926-08:00If you want something, but know it is bad for you and it does not occur, are you supposed to be happy or not? In the end, you are better off, but what you wanted was not given to you. An interesting contradiction but it happens so damn often. Or maybe I'm the only one that wants things I shouldn't have. Or maybe I'm the only one that knows what is and what is not good for me and doesn't care Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1105069046025021802005-01-06T19:33:00.000-08:002005-01-06T19:37:26.026-08:00I used to write things like this:
"I am sick, pathetic, vulgar ... I am insane -- I have no common sense, intuition. I would claw out my own eyes if you could reason it to me."
Now, everything is like this:
"A man across the way has just eaten a bag of salad lettuce, plain, with his fingers. So few people seem to realize the lack of nutrition in lettuce. Nothing so thin and transparent could Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1104810957548502642005-01-03T19:52:00.000-08:002005-01-03T19:55:57.546-08:00Well, at least my age is still right for two more months.
I found this magazine today called Paste. It is really interesting -- sure to be a source of new music for me. It's so easy to get lost in the listings.
And I am home. For another day and a half. I will make it for sure, and then I will return to my beautiful home and my beautiful balcony and the beautiful prospects of finding Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1094192867544032612004-09-02T23:26:00.000-07:002004-09-02T23:27:47.543-07:00Can I just say that ladies' night and eighties night, combined, is the best thing to happen to anyone since .... anything? And that certain freshmen are super awesome and rock the socks off even if they're a bit too young? And god fucking damn that was cool as shit and we'll have to do it every damn fucking Thursday.
Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1093960678651379912004-08-31T06:57:00.000-07:002004-08-31T06:57:58.650-07:00I have all these gmail invites and none of my friends want one. For graciously directing your browser to my site, you can have a nifty gmail account, on me.
Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1093822279087005882004-08-29T16:27:00.000-07:002004-08-29T16:31:19.086-07:00Of course I noticed, but it did not bother me before that basically every one of my friends is in a relationship, generally with another one of my friends. My "group" consists of four couples, one guy in a long-distance relationship and another guy that is a conservative, right-wing Christian (decidedly not interested in me or me in him). Thus, when I want to order some damn Chinese food, I am Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1092550999536655042004-08-14T23:17:00.000-07:002004-08-14T23:23:19.536-07:00There's only so many people in my life I offer the ability to hurt me. This is not offered in and of itself. It is offered with the hope that instead they will love me, teach me, help me. The hurt is never expected though at times guarded against out of instict or fear. To be perfectly frank, there are few that can truly hurt me and few that I truly love or that I feel love me.
I think once Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1092073759597432362004-08-09T10:47:00.000-07:002004-08-09T10:49:19.596-07:00I shouldn't leave that as the most recent post.
Josh came. I felt like an asshole. I was so back and forth with my feelings about him. Sometimes I wanted him to hold me and other times I didn't want to be around him at all and was ready for him to leave. And then when he did I was crying and I couldn't stop -- the tears were just falling down my face and then as soon as I turned around, I Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1091124005430901112004-07-29T10:56:00.000-07:002004-07-29T11:00:05.430-07:00In my dream last night, initiation into my frat included getting "butt fucked." I was in a huge auditorium heatedly debating whether or not this should be included in the ritual. I was against. I had also, member though I am, not been through this process and was facing it. "Butt fucking" was a term thrown around quite loosely and no one seemed to mind if someone said it into a microphone in Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1090714053419599602004-07-24T17:06:00.000-07:002004-07-24T17:07:33.420-07:00I read an entire book today because the high setting of my air conditioning makes the television impossible to hear at reasonable volumes. It was an entertaining read. But somehow reading an entire book in one sitting seems like a waste of time. It is done now. But I am still bored.
Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-109061984031401362004-07-23T14:56:00.000-07:002004-07-23T14:57:20.313-07:00My friend said "cunting" instead of "counting" in a mass email she sent out. It was hilarious but now I am plagued with finding an appropriate meaning for the word. Chasing tail? Eating carpet? The possibilities are so large and I really want it to mean "fucking." Alas.
Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1090376287324655052004-07-20T19:00:00.000-07:002004-07-20T19:18:07.323-07:00I'm back. Grand Chapter was pretty cool. Takes me back to my Youth & Gov days: Bobs, Sacs... Kelly and Phil and everybody else havin' a grand old time. Youth & Gov was one of my only good experiences in high school.
And I saw Josh. I don't know whether I should be writing about him. I don't believe he would read this. And I don't believe I have anything to say that I would keep from himAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1089872718768314002004-07-14T23:15:00.000-07:002004-07-14T23:25:18.766-07:00I have a 7:20am flight to Richmond tomorrow to go to Phi Sigma Pi's Grand Chapter. We will conduct national business and elect national council officers. I am somewhat excited for this.
What I am more curious about, though, is what it will be like hanging out with the ex. We have spent a lot of time talking about our feelings and shit this summer. Everybody I mention my visit to has asked ifAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1089391673104204072004-07-09T09:47:00.000-07:002004-07-09T09:47:53.103-07:00I have nothing to say.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1089087234263732622004-07-05T21:12:00.000-07:002004-07-05T21:13:54.263-07:00Everybody sucks.
I gave my phone number to two boys yesterday, telling them not to puss out because we were supposed to go to a strip club today. What boy doesn't want to go to a strip club? What guy doesn't want to take a dude from France to a strip club? Apparently, strip clubs aren't even allowed in France.
I showed my damn tits to this purpose. Goddamnit. Everybody sucks.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1088724859501227982004-07-01T16:31:00.000-07:002004-07-01T16:34:19.500-07:00I wonder if I can write erotic literature. I've written some short stories before. I don't know that I have any ideas. But I have been reading a lot of smut lately and I think I might enjoy delving into the authors' pool myself.
But what to write about? Surely my first story would be a "normal sex" situation in which both partners are consenting and there's no real kinky shit... I will Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1088638301978411932004-06-30T16:20:00.000-07:002004-06-30T16:31:41.976-07:00I made a relevation about childhood while I was in San Diego visiting my father. I realized that often when we are children, our parents hurt us. They can be too critical and judgmental (like my own father) or perhaps they are neglectful or perhaps they are simply mean. As children, we do not see their errors as character flaws. We are unable to look at their actions in context. For me, my Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1088571267435801152004-06-29T21:52:00.000-07:002004-06-29T21:54:27.436-07:00I purchased plane tickets today to visit my ex. Either we have a healthy friendship or we have a really fucked-up something else.
I think I "chose" my Chinese line-cook because he is non-threatening. Everyone else is so abrasive, so in-your-face about everything. How can anyone not feel threatened? I had my ass groped by 3 different people tonight. I swear, I'm going to bust loose and knifeAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1088487227049718592004-06-28T22:30:00.000-07:002004-06-28T22:33:47.050-07:00Soulseek recommendations for me based on "things I like:"
Pink Floyd
Jimi Hendrix
Radiohead
Beatles
Nirvana
Bob Dylan
Coldplay
And then down the list all those bands you think only you and maybe a couple people know about because they're not on MTV. Oh well.
Came back from San Diego yesterday. It was mostly uneventful. I didn't cry which makes it the first time I've ever not cried when Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1087707649360729522004-06-19T21:58:00.000-07:002004-06-19T22:00:49.360-07:00I said this in the 8th grade:
"Yo quiero soy amor"
meaning this:
"Yo quiero ser amada."
Goddamn I was a fucked-up 8th grader. I kept all the letters I wrote to boys but never intended to send and it was so much DRAMA. When I should have said, "I'm not attracted to you," I said things like "Our friendship is so much MORE than a 'b/g relationship.'" What a ridiculous kid I was. What a Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1087451651936240022004-06-16T22:48:00.000-07:002004-06-16T22:54:11.936-07:00So I "picked" the person at work I wanted. It was a really weird pick. Did I have to pick? I don't know. It's like a last-man-on-earth situation. You kind of do have to pick. In my entire working situation, who would I be with? I picked and I got to hang out with him today. He's Chinese and something (like I know) and is a line cook and is probably 35-40. He studied electrical computer Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1087184598067162752004-06-13T20:35:00.000-07:002004-06-13T20:43:18.066-07:00What the hell does this stupid name even mean? It is the opposite of lightheartedness and exactly the way I do not wish to be thinking... for the most part.
I have started reading Howard Zinn's People's History of the United States and so far it has been mostly things I already knew, minus some subtle details. I have gotten through the first two chapters and on the whole it has been rather Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1086852287164032362004-06-10T00:22:00.000-07:002004-06-10T00:24:47.163-07:00Just spent three hours talking to him. He still puts me at ease which is both interesting and very... good.
I'm glad we can talk and share and all that crap. It would be doubly awful to lose him all the way. With my other ex I didn't really want that connection to stay. He and I had been moving away from intimacy for some time. It's so strange that we can find it again after it's over.
AndAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1086639050231226972004-06-07T13:06:00.000-07:002004-06-07T13:10:50.233-07:00To avoid thinking, I am going to check out a plethora of titles at the library today before work:
Catch-22
Choke and Diary by Chuck Palahniuk
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
A People's History of the United States
A Wrinkle in Time
Games People Play: Psychology of Human Relationships
Ecstacy: Three Tales of Chemical Romance
and whatever they happen to have and I happen to find Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1086623398553151722004-06-07T08:47:00.000-07:002004-06-07T08:49:58.553-07:00So he wrote me and says he misses me a lot and it's hard for him. And that he's not coming back to school. Which is rough. I am trying to sort this out for myself. I cried last night which is the first time I cried for him in a long time. I think I was still half-hoping that we would be together again when the year started back up. I didn't think we would be able to help ourselves.
So it Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1086401329966288742004-06-04T18:54:00.000-07:002004-06-04T19:08:49.966-07:00So about a week ago, my ex-boyfriend and I started exchanging emails.
Just had an IM conversation with him. Trying to sort out my own feelings. For him, our "magic" last night wasn't closure and it apparently doesn't seem to have been kept in its own box for him. He said he feels now like he's "leaving something great" or some such thing (which I am making the last amount of attachment to Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1086044947177618742004-05-31T16:08:00.000-07:002004-05-31T16:09:07.176-07:00I'd be so afraid to lose this. It is so insignificant to everyone else and I would want it to be so important.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1084829955909329702004-05-17T14:37:00.000-07:002004-05-17T14:39:15.910-07:00Update on my life: I was in my first strip club today. Visions Mens Club. Yeah. I was laughing the whole time I was getting there, scared for the few minutes I was inside and then going "oh holy shit dude holy fucking shit" as I was leaving. Not that it was especially bad. But it was maybe 1:30 in the afternoon and there were quite a few dudes there. Of course, I was looking for employmentAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1084756615662088602004-05-16T18:10:00.000-07:002004-05-16T18:20:39.323-07:00Is it wrong to start to analyze your own relationship problems after watching Sex and the City? Is it worse to get on your computer and write about it?
What made this relationship go down the drain? It wasn't sudden. It wasn't unexpected. We were unhappy and a natural conclusion is to end it. Was it my fault? Was it his? Is someone to blame?
Why was I always afraid that he didn't like meAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1084747531485700762004-05-16T15:40:00.000-07:002004-05-16T15:45:31.486-07:00Lordy lordy lordy it is SO empty in this place!
I'm subletting from a brother and my apartment mate is not here until the 21st. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself (besides look and hopefully GET a job).
Here are my prospects:
Telephone book delivery girl: yeah...
Waitress at shoddy restaurant: all the others require experience
Coffee shop chick: $5.25 an hour...
Shot girl at Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1084672077115939662004-05-15T18:41:00.000-07:002004-05-15T18:47:57.116-07:00I have discovered that there are times in life that do not belong in reality. Perhaps a trip to a foreign country or a book that transfers you to another plane of consiousness. There are times when you are experiencing something that does not get recorded in the normal book of life but instead in some other, highly guarded book of the unexpected and undisclosed.
Last night was one of those Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1083145667065983452004-04-28T02:47:00.000-07:002004-04-28T02:50:51.686-07:00"Pity me," said she to the man.
"And why should I pity you?" he replied.
"Because my heart is torn."
"Can you not see that I also am sad?"
"Oh no," said the girl, "I am more than sad. My depression is profound and I am so lost I cannot even see about me."
"Open your eyes," said the man, "You do not value your youth as you should. Such soft skin, such pretty hair. No one would pity you that hasAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1076014361551363322004-02-05T12:52:00.000-08:002004-02-05T12:54:23.983-08:00Oh, go away.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1068169468972453052003-11-06T17:42:00.000-08:002003-11-06T17:44:26.760-08:00Ah well here's an incredibly long post and something I just wrote, you know, for fun. I wish I could write erotic literature. It'd kill me but I'd write it.
September 27
He crashed into the room, slamming the door behind him. Breathing heavily, pressed up against the door, he waited for the footsteps to come rushing down the hall. When they did, he held his breath for as long as he could.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1067881839190270332003-11-03T09:50:00.000-08:002003-11-03T09:50:38.096-08:00Reviews of the last three books I've read.
This Much I Know Is True by Wally Lamb
World-famous Oprah author of She's Come Undone, Wally Lamb once again manages to write his characters horrible flaws and then forgive them. Rape and murderous thoughts and all kinds of horribleness and then at the end, everything just kinda works out (denoument if I ever saw it -- on both books). This Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1067584112290172062003-10-30T23:08:00.000-08:002003-10-30T23:08:31.456-08:00Testing: clay ass bitch fuck dick penis vagina cum cock pussy vag shit cuntAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1067563195680669132003-10-30T17:16:00.000-08:002003-10-30T17:19:54.690-08:00Try this one on for size:
It's been seven hours and fifteen days
Since U took your love away
I go out every night and sleep all day
Since u took your love away
Since u been gone I can do whatever I want
I can see whomever I choose
I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant
But nothing
I said nothing can take away these blues
'cos nothing compares
Nothing compares 2 U
It's been so lonely without Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1067267162968572032003-10-27T07:06:00.000-08:002003-10-27T07:06:02.590-08:00If that clay is still trying to be a link to something that doesn't exist then I am actually quite mystified and oddly happy.
And I hate being sick.
Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1066260981443882692003-10-15T16:34:00.000-07:002003-10-15T16:36:21.096-07:00Right now the song in my head is "Too Much Booty in the Pants" by Soundmaster T.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1066235050322618552003-10-15T09:24:00.000-07:002003-10-15T09:24:10.233-07:00"I love you" feels like new the second time around. And everything is better. I really mean everything. Like you could draw a line between it and all of before. So now there is this instead of that.
And my god, other things.
I should have put this here before -- "Such Great Heights" The Postal Service:
I was thinking it's a sign that the freckles
in our eyes are mirror images and when
we Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1066095116423152492003-10-13T18:31:00.000-07:002003-10-13T18:31:56.103-07:00You don't know what it's like to be a girl (unless you are one). It doesn't matter what you say to me and it doesn't matter even what he says to me I will still be jealous. And dammit, I don't want to be! I have to fight every single minute not to freak out about something. I have to fight to remain my normal fucking self. It's ridiculous and so stupid and I mean to be different but it's notAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1065796317361619482003-10-10T07:31:00.000-07:002003-10-10T07:31:57.053-07:00I wrote my first poem in something like a year a little bit ago but it sucks. I did go through my porfolio and I realized that I've written some stuff that doesn't suck. And maybe I only think it's good because I know the surrounding circumstances. But I'm still going to put a couple here.
This one doesn't have a title. But reading it reminds me how much it hurt. How ridiculously bad I feltAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1065793934787844492003-10-10T06:52:00.000-07:002003-10-10T06:52:14.210-07:00I have made an informed decision not to love him. I can't take that again.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1065185811616796092003-10-03T05:56:00.000-07:002003-10-03T05:56:51.016-07:00I get the aforementioned test back today. I'm nervous.
And I can never get comfortable when I'm in bed with my boyfriend (trying to sleep). Damned twins.
I'm now signed up to be a volunteer for Art for Arts' Sake. It's this awesome night where the galleries open up and everyone can roam freely through them. There's so many people there; it's insane. I'll probably be handing out fliers or Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1064927803490988512003-09-30T06:16:00.000-07:002003-09-30T06:16:43.476-07:00Don't you just hate that feeling after having taken a test that you screwed up an entire problem?
First organic chemistry exam down. Several more this semester and next semester to go. I walked in there right confident and I walked out of there right confident. But damn did I screw up that Newman Projection question. Darn.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1064641829363287062003-09-26T22:50:00.000-07:002003-09-26T22:50:28.816-07:00Am I really going to make another post about Counting Crows? Yes, I am:
Some music you know so well it feels like home. Some music you know so well when you realize you haven't listened in quite a while you feel like you need to put in that time with it again. Just to make sure you're cool. Some music gets into your bones and to be without it is like having brittleness inside yourself. Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1064413301350366342003-09-24T07:21:00.000-07:002003-09-24T07:21:41.293-07:00When things are really, really good, what do you say? Not too much more than this.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1063635823589018482003-09-15T07:23:00.000-07:002003-09-15T07:23:43.630-07:00Dream, before I forget the rest:
Joey, devastatingly handsom and much more manly and taller than real life but Joey according to that know-all we have in dreams, came to see me. We were in someone's garage. He was on the phone but when I walked in the garage he kind of looked at it and threw it away. I hugged him and actually jumped on top of him so he was carrying me. We hugged for a long Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1063425038081026122003-09-12T20:50:00.000-07:002003-09-13T23:12:28.500-07:00I don't believe that I have ever seen a movie about the Holocaust that did not move me. That said, I also become enfuriated every time I watch a move about the Holocaust. Six million people and you can count the retaliations on your hands. I still cannot believe, after having learned about this time period a hundred times over, that we didn't fight back. We let them haul us out of the countryAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1061736552362663602003-08-24T07:49:00.000-07:002003-08-24T07:49:12.470-07:00I am so happy right now. Back at school. New room. Good friends. All my stuff mostly unpacked and everything going right as rain. Except for the cost of books. That sucks ass. Otherwise, brilliant. But I'm real nervous about seeing Josh. What will he do? What will I do? Being here does remind me of the way it was (for that whole week!) and it wasn't bad at all. It was good. It was Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1060934308297597352003-08-15T00:58:00.000-07:002003-08-15T01:02:52.893-07:00I've let a WEBSITE fuck with my emotions. Now that is just stupid. I'm quitting that fucking site. At least for a while. Get some of my dignity back. Maybe some of my .... self esteem? I feel better already.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1060839998877417992003-08-13T22:46:00.000-07:002003-08-13T22:51:17.830-07:00leave me here.
leave me whole.
you aren't You after all.
This is killing me. They're never You. And of course they're not. How could they be? You is something inside my mind. He doesn't exist. If only I could kill Him. If only I could make Him disappear. If only I could not know what I want and be open to anything.
But it's also a backdrop. I know you're not Him. So why even bother?Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1060505531194878062003-08-10T01:52:00.000-07:002003-08-10T01:52:11.046-07:00Dammit, I will not have an internet crush. What could be more lame?Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1060468682356117762003-08-09T15:38:00.000-07:002003-08-09T15:38:02.390-07:00It is disgusting that I am this way.
And I don't want a new identity.
I don't want to be someone else at all.
I just want to GROW THE FUCK UP.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1058421948497326112003-07-16T23:05:00.000-07:002003-07-20T15:11:14.950-07:00I'll be honest:
I have nothing of interest to say.
Anything I can think of ends up being said here: makeoutclub.
At least until late August.
I'm AquaAmber.
And a google search for "nerdycool" should turn up this website so I'm adding it to this post.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1056954808013655312003-06-29T23:33:00.000-07:002003-06-29T23:33:27.950-07:00It's not even something you wish for. Not even something you hold inside you and hope with. When it all starts coming down, you don't want to be able to say "I told you so." The train wreck is coming. You can feel it. And you step right the fuck off the tracks. Even if you need a path to follow you step off the tracks because it's gonna hurt worse than the last time. You think everything'sAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1056607584955089692003-06-25T23:06:00.000-07:002003-06-25T23:06:24.920-07:00I decided not to go to North Carolina. Not that you knew I was thinking about going to North Carolina. But I've decided not to go based on the fact that Josh wouldn't be home for eight hours most of the days I was there. And it's 200 dollars.
And hey Keith. I totally told you not to read this and all but who knows, maybe you are. Where in the shit are you!? It's been like three weeks.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-3852800482003-06-25T12:31:00.000-07:002002-11-29T19:54:42.366-08:00I feel so foolish. It's a tough call, you know -- risking people with whom I have emotional attachments seeing this thing and exposure. I have this linked from my tulane page. I have this linked from Bolt. I've never been worried about getting in trouble for this stupid blog but ... I could get in big trouble for it. Stuff that's a lot more embarassing than some stupid ex-boyfriend reading Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1055775310490910442003-06-16T07:55:00.000-07:002003-06-16T07:55:10.546-07:00Dream I had last night:
I was homeless and kind of traveling with these two guys. We had to find a place to live and there was this big, empty house. So we thought -- perfect! There were three stories and we each were to have a story to sleep on. The house was totally weird -- there were small bottles of milk in strange blue containers all over the counters and tons in the fridge. The milk Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1055430507402102912003-06-12T08:08:00.000-07:002003-06-12T16:01:09.810-07:00I need to get out of here for a while. I want to take a trip. A road trip. I want to take it with Kelly. I want to get out of this dump for two or three days (because that's all I can spare from work) and drive and drive and drive and be someone completely different. Just blow this joint. Eat at greasy diners and sleep in crappy hotel rooms (or in the car). Stepfather gave me The Bad GirlsAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1055017726294776702003-06-07T13:28:00.000-07:002003-06-07T13:28:46.343-07:00Blah blah motherfucking blah.
You all (and by all, I mean hahaha) would be jealous as hell of the jacket I picked up at the Salv Army today. Beautiful, gorgeous winter coat that will come in handy when the seasons change again. Seven dollars. I feel like Sofia Loren. And Love in the Time of Cholera for a dollar. I am queen.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-1054954343590918432003-06-06T19:52:00.000-07:002003-06-06T19:52:23.563-07:00Wow. Blogger is new. In any case, I just finished reading A Child Called "It" and it was really disturbing but it only took a couple of hours to read while I was waiting for MakeOutClub's threads to load. Why, oh why do I love this place called the internet so?Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-951468062003-06-01T01:15:00.000-07:002003-06-01T01:15:21.100-07:00Dammit, Gina, I was just about to go to bed.
last cigarette: time before last that i got trashed in the dorm
last car ride: i drove today. last time somebody drove me was from the airport when i arrived here about three weeks ago
last kiss: last time i was in NO
last good cry: can't even remember. i'm sure it was about joey
last library book checked out: i currently have out Pigs in Heaven, Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-951226592003-05-31T08:50:00.000-07:002003-05-31T08:50:40.243-07:00A few choice and oddly thought-provoking quotes from a cheesy best friend thing my best friend sent me (she'l understand when I call it cheesy -- it's my way):
"Everything is okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end."
"What do you do when the only person who can make you stop crying is the person who made you cry?"
"Nobody is perfect until you fall in love with them."
I have Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-951066532003-05-30T20:09:00.000-07:002003-05-30T20:25:17.000-07:00I just walked into the living room where my mother was watching Court TV and eating a block of SPAM with a fork. Can I please, please go back to college yet? Nothing to see, nowhere to go. I wanna be sedated.
I think I'm going to finish reading Trainspotting now ... in my room.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-950624092003-05-29T19:54:00.000-07:002003-05-29T19:54:43.160-07:00If I believed in God as Creator I'd be really pissed at Him for making guys and girls so damn different. I will never understand guys for as long as I live. Maybe I should be a lesbian. I get my damn self. How much harder could other girls be?
In other news, I got paid today. A whopping $432.82 cents. Yay for me. Of course, I used it to open an account which means I have to keep the money Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-948852492003-05-25T22:28:00.000-07:002003-05-25T22:28:37.830-07:00Stupid technology, making everybody seem two steps away when it's thousands of miles. Damn summer.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-948196482003-05-24T00:07:00.000-07:002003-05-24T13:12:06.000-07:00I bring you first a quote from a book I just finished for the second time, Pigs in Heaven by Barbara Kingsolver:
"Sympathizing over the behavior of men is the baking soda of women's friendships, it seems, the thing that makes them bubble and rise."
This quote has nothing to do with my mood or this post, really. In fact, I thought I had saved another quote about the emptiness of a phone call -- Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-947392532003-05-22T07:53:00.000-07:002003-05-22T07:53:54.980-07:00I worked almost twelve hours yesterday. I took a night shift at the Antioch store out of the goodness of my heart and it was crap. Antioch is busy as anybody's business. My store makes 300 every day at shift change -- 700 at Antioch. Yuck. So, needless to say, my feet still hurt and now I'm going back. I thought I would have excellent sleep, too, but for some reason not at all. It took me Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-945436932003-05-18T11:23:00.000-07:002003-05-18T11:23:36.890-07:00I read two hundred pages of She's Come Undone last night -- up to the end. I got so angry at the characters -- at Dante. I was so worked up. If you've read it, you'll understand and if not here's an incredibly short breakdown: Dolores (the main character) knew about Dante when he was young but he didn't know about her. She went to go meet him and he ended up being a lovely, sweet guy. Then Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-944846012003-05-16T21:12:00.000-07:002003-05-16T21:12:19.036-07:00I haven't said anything for a while. I found employment. I now work as a receptionist at a salon. I think it's kind of funny, too. I actually don't hate my job which is more than some people can say. It's not so bad and in general I have something to do. Most of the time. When not, I read.
I was doing really really well about the not making a big deal out of the whole boy thing. I'm stillAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-940677282003-05-09T12:08:00.000-07:002003-05-09T12:08:29.473-07:00I'm in Antioch. Everything's exactly as I left it -- as it's like to be. My brother's still all kissy-kissy with his gilfriend which pissed me off because I had to leave my romantic interest behind. My mother's still a lush and has a temper like nobody's business. They fought all the way home. And they furthermore told me that there was "no" food in the fridge -- they told me it was "really Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-938746842003-05-06T10:48:00.000-07:002003-05-06T10:48:33.506-07:00Life can be so goddamn irritating. So... I get a little romance for finals week. It's nice.
I still don't have a job. Hopefully I'll get something really soon after going back. I'll come home, unpack a bit and then set off on a job quest in a day or two. I'll probably visit my teachers too. I actually like a lot of them and I'm all college-y now and closer to their level.
Finals almost overAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-936077822003-05-01T11:18:00.000-07:002003-05-01T11:18:38.560-07:00Mike has some pictures up from the Delt formal. He's actually a very intelligent, articulate, funny writer.
Two finals down, two to go plus one spanish oral presentation. And then no more spanish oral ever and no more JEAN DANGLER EVER. I swear, if I ever have to deal with as much bullshit for a class again as I did for that one I'll die. No textbook = no work my ass. But in any case, I'm Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-934285212003-04-28T16:15:00.000-07:002003-04-28T16:16:08.000-07:00"I'm in that, seventy-four, Coupe DeVille
With the, power seats, leather, wood on my wheel
One-touch sunroof but leave it alone
Hoes see it can't believe it - 'It's goin back on its own'"
-- "Pimp Juice", Nelly
Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-934176782003-04-28T12:51:00.000-07:002003-04-28T12:51:31.846-07:00As a continuation of my drunken hook-up post, I would like to say that the dude I hooked up with Friday called me like three times (I'm assuming those hang-ups were him) and then finally had the guts to leave a messge. Of course I won't be returning his call. I mean, it was Audubon Park. And he's beyond not my type. I figure, however, that enough guys have done it to me that it's not a big Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-933486542003-04-27T10:04:00.000-07:002003-04-27T10:04:15.900-07:00This Trainspotting quiz is really lame because if you know the movie well enough (like myself), you know exactly which character the answers correspond to. And that sucks. In any case, I was Diane. Big surprise there.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-933349922003-04-27T00:59:00.000-07:002003-04-27T00:59:48.810-07:00Update: Delt formal was fabulous. Very nice -- very dorky. Didn't have a drop of liquor -- go me.
In other news, I was talking with Lara after and I realized that I have never hooked up with someone besides Joey when I wasn't drunk. Javier I did have a second date with and we did make out a bit then but I did originally meet him under the influence. I don't know if I can count him as a Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-932990882003-04-26T08:46:00.000-07:002003-04-26T08:46:04.776-07:00Alright, this is why I have a livejournal for friends and this website for people I don't know but that basically means myself:
I am the biggest slut. Met a guy at a bar last night, talked to him for maybe five minutes and agreed to "watch a DVD" with him which, interestingly, equalled being fingered in the middle of Audubon Park. I am the biggest slut. Bleh, I feel so nasty at this point. Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-930713822003-04-22T14:49:00.000-07:002003-04-22T14:51:09.000-07:00My father was here this weekend. It's been weird seeing him since he moved to San Diego. For some reason it's a huge relief to have him gone. I miss him every now and then and all and wish my parents hadn't gotten divorce and that I saw him more often but it's very trying, emotionally, to be around him. Or maybe it's trying not to be around him. I felt a great sadness when I left him Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-928671132003-04-18T18:53:00.000-07:002003-04-18T18:53:47.340-07:00You can't really blame people for being lonely. Everybody gets there at some point. Lots of people get there when they're drunk. Some people get there when they hear "Your Body is a Wonderland" by John Mayer. I don't remember who I was with first time I heard that song all the way through but she said, "Who doesn't want to be loved like that?" Friends will only take you so far and then you Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-928111952003-04-17T18:34:00.000-07:002003-04-17T18:34:43.920-07:00Okay, don't fuck Passover. Even if the "seder" was more like running through the story of the Exodus and reading some prayers and singing "Dayenu" and the four questions and then pigging out on Crystal's really yummy curry, it was still cool.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-928022042003-04-17T14:57:00.000-07:002003-04-17T14:57:23.576-07:00Ahhrg! FUCK Passover.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-926544632003-04-15T08:23:00.000-07:002003-04-15T08:24:40.000-07:00Here's a link to some pictures from the semiformal. I've been meaning to post it but have been lazy -- plus, I was expecting to just put pictures up here but Stephanie will never get around to doing it and I'll be waiting forever and then the chance that someone reading this that already read about my semi-formal will be back to see them is practically nil, so: here.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-926362732003-04-15T00:17:00.000-07:002003-04-15T00:17:16.903-07:00Important appendix to my ideal guy paragraph: his name definitely, absolutely, without a doubt does not start with a J. A name starting in J is immediate disqualification.Ambernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-926190452003-04-14T18:17:00.000-07:002003-04-14T18:17:25.733-07:00This weekend was great. It was the perfect end to the not-so-serious season and now I have to deal with the very-serious season -- three tests Wednesday, how beautiful.
Saturday was a lot of fun. It was my Phi Sigma Pi formal and instead of bringing some stupid boy, I brought my two girls Stephanie and Lara and I know I had fun. They don't know my brothers so it was less for them, I think, butAmbernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1777977.post-924979122003-04-12T13:15:00.000-07:002003-04-12T13:15:14.920-07:00Tequila and I finally made up last night, as I found myself singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" in front of twenty people, six shots behind me. There may be nothing in the world cooler or more lame than karaoke. I think my soulful and heartfelt rendition of "I'm the Only One" by Melissa Etheridge was lost on the audience. I also think I might have been the only person that wasn't sober there. But it Ambernoreply@blogger.com