name: amber
age: 22
location: new orleans
aim: sapgirly mail work
September 30, 2001
I want some web friends. There's these whole communities of people--they link each other and talk in emails and whatnot. I just kind of hang out. I've been considering a new layout. This one takes too damn long to load. I feel kind of whorish blocking the ad but hey--if Blogger isn't going to accomodate for CCS use, then what? Am I supposed to move my div boxes down so that they can have their ad? The only reason I don't publish with ftp is that no one wants to give me a little bit of space. I don't need a lot. I have asked so many people. All I need is about 100k. There's people out there with unlimited sub-accounts and they're just mean little fucks. I don't have that shitty of a site. I mean, come on. Okay, bitch bitch bitch Amber. Get a life.
Movie Review: The Others Very well-done artsy-type movie. Not of the common "loud-music-screaming-OHMYGOD" genre. However, the film is exceptionally slow. Watching it again, I'm afraid, would put me right to sleep. The plot inches along and while at first, it manages to hold you in yoru seat, after a short while, I found myself fidgety. The acting is quite good, the characters well cast. All-in-all, not a bad film, but very sleepy for a horror movie. Lots of metaphors going on with religion that I don't quite understand nor think the film did a very good job of outlining. It's as though they dragged them out of the closet, but forgot to dust them off. In any case, I recommend you see it with someone you can make out with in the theatre during the slow parts. B
PS--I hardly ever see movies. It's just coincidence that these two are a day apart. Tra-lah.
Movie Review: Hardball Supposedly a "tear jerker," this Keanu Reeves does for ghetto baseball what The Mighty Ducks did for ghetto hockey. The same premise, more attractive lead. Keanu is a high-stakes sports better (tried to find a better word--it didn't work) who is down on his luck. He makes some huge bets, loses, etc. This guy (relation = uncertain) offers him $500 a week to coach a baseball team in the projects. Keanu gets pissed when the organization's leaders try to take down his team for being good because they're poor. Keanu gets the kids, a new job, things work out and, of course, the girl. Pretty lame. B-
CD Review: Scapegoat Wax, Okeeblow Hugely impressed by the funky and original beat of Aisle 10, I purchased the full length CD online. I waited and waited anticipating its arrival and then--yesterday, finally, it came. I popped the thing into my CD player anxious to full the full intensity of this new, exciting band, thanks to cavan. However, Aisle 10 is by far the best song on the CD. Many of the tunes are rather 80s soft rock-ish. Depressed at first with the band, I came to like their individual ghetto/white boy style. Aisle 10 is still the best song, but the others aren't that bad. I'm disappointed that not all the beats are as creative as the first I heard, but all-in-all, not a bad CD. B
I am relentlessly blogging, but I have something else to say:
I can feel myself becoming an alcoholic. Or, rather, I can feel that I am already one. How, you may ask, can I possibly be an alcoholic when I've only been drunk twice? Well, the answer is elementary, dear reader (ha): it's in the blood. Before I had that taste of liquor, I never knew why my mother drank every night. My mother, friend(s), is an alcoholic. I know it is in me, in my genes to be one. But I can feel it. I can feel the tug of it like I feel the tug of sex or of loneliness. When anyone mentions drinking, I want to. I really want to and it scares the fuck out of me to think that. It's not about being social. I'm watching a Behind the Music on Ozzy Osbourne and he's an alcoholic (or he was) and just the thought that he had enough money to drink whenever he wanted makes me jealous. Jesus, I'm in trouble. If I was smart, I'd never touch the stuff again, wanting so badly to not be like my mother. It's the strangest thing--this pull, this literal pull on my mind. It's like a boy. It's the same longing I have for sex and I'm serious. Dangerous. Frightening.
Today is Yom Kippur. It is the highest Jewish holiday. And I don't think hardly anyone understands. Today, there are lots of rules (which I don't follow because I do not consider myself Jewish). For instance: no turning on lights, no TV, no computer, no eating, no drinking, no driving, no sex, no writing. Stacked up like that it looks like a day of Hell. But think about it. The rules are no there to restrict a person's ability to have fun. The rules are there merely as an extension of the main idea. The point of today is to think about God and nothing else. On this day, there isn't supposed to be a damn thing you're doing besides thinking about God. Therefore, there's no time for eating, drinking, lights, (showers), or sex. Ultimately, that's what most people miss, especially my family. They look for loopholes that would allow them to do something. My stepfather reads. My brother goes outside and skates. What's the point of fasting if you're not going to think about God?
I was never interested in sharing religion with my parents. Even if I ever adopt a religion again (I'm a half-athiest), I won't share it with anyone. God to me is deeply personal. I wouldn't even sit by them in synagouge. I couldn't do it. It felt so weird. I would sit up in the back where there wasn't anyone behind the pew and just listen to what the guy was saying. I would seriously think about God the whole time and be respectful and everything. Sometimes my brother would come and sit on the other side of this wall thing. He would go to sleep and I would hate him for it. I really miss God, honestly. If I thought that, somehow, I could believe again, I would. But it's really hard to go back. And to which religion? Judaism didn't work with me and there's no way I'm gonna adopt Jesus as my personal saviour. Buddhism has no God; Islam is way too much. I just want to feel loved again. That all-encompassing, unconditional feeling that I had back when I believed. Because what happened is I got very religious. Talking every day, all the time praying and then -- nothing. I don't know exactly what happened, I just...gave it up. I didn't believe anymore. And I've been alone ever since. I either need God or a friend or a lover.
I love you, need you
can't live without you
but I'm lonely in your arms.
What are your lips on my eyes
but a sensation?
What are your hands on my legs
but a sensation?
What are your words in my ear?
A memory, a dream
creased in the folds of my heart,
strangled and cramped, pressed
up against the fist of time,
beating.
(I think malediction means bad or evil writing. I haven't been good at choosing titles for poems lately. Sometimes I just make up a word. Myolia was a poem I wrote earlier. Whatever comes to mind at the time. Is that weird? I left this thing sitting around the guard room today for a couple of minutes. I hope nobody read it. And I stole Powerade. It's the first time I've ever stolen from a job. Check it out, yo.)
Ah, the quest to be interesting. Don't write what they want you to write. Write about your life but make it fun. Make it poetic. Make it beautiful. Oh, but it's so difficult because life isn't interesting at all. Life is boring. Life is like "I saw Requiem for a Dream last night with Phil and Nicole and it was pretty boring but that's because I watch movies best in my own house in my bed." Boring. Or I could say I spent all day today surfing around and filling out surveys and whatnot because I have nothing better to do. Actually, I did go to this one cool site that has this tape swap where each month, she hooks people up with each other and they swap music and people get interested in stuff that other people are interested in. I'm actually really looking forward to compiling a CD for someone and getting one myself.
And how is it that everybody else has all these web friends? I never make friends on the net. Where do these people come from? There's been people that I've been emailing on a regular basis in the past but none now. Actually, there was this one girl that was writing me for a while. Her name was Lisa and she was 14, I believe, in Long Island. I think she quit writing me.
Cristina is really boring today. They're talking about movie stars, I think. No screaming hispanic people or anything fun like that. Boring boring talk.
Wanna read something boring? How about my current playlist:
This is How You Remind Me -- Nickelback
Fallin -- Alicia Keys
Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon -- (I don't know)
Plush -- STP
Been Caught Stealing -- Jane's Addiction
Smooth Criminal -- Alien Ant Farm
Plush (Acoustic) -- STP
Peaches 'n Cream -- 112 (I think)
Rock Superstar -- Cypress Hill
Irresistable -- Jessica Simpson
Interstate Love Song -- STP
Vasoline -- STP
Lovin' You -- Coyote Ugly Soundtrack
Aisle 10 -- Scapegoat Wax (thanx cavan)
Don't Let Go -- En Vogue
Because I Got High -- Afro Man
I'm in Love with Mary Jane -- Coolio
40 Years -- Counting Crows
All She Wants to Do Is Dance -- (Forget)
Battleflag -- Lo Fi Allstars
Need You Tonight -- INXS
Mary Jane's Last Dance -- Tom Petty
Creep -- Radiohead
Self Esteem -- Offspring
No no no (remix) -- Destiny's Child
I should stop writing. I'm not saying anything interesting. Kelly says, "Scott's a little boy." I know that. I can't help it. I can't help it much. I love lowbrow. These people are so much more pathetic than me. Damn. There was something I wanted to say. Hmm.
I watched The Ten Commandments today. I love the beginning when Moses is going to be the Prince of Egypt. The whole exodus/sheep-hearding bit is annoying to me. If it didn't feel blasphemous, I would just skip that whole part where he's not in the palace. I would have made a great Nile goddess.
Staying up because there's no reason to go to bed. If one more person asks me to fucking donate to the goddamn Red Cross I'm going to bitch-slap someone. My brother's the only one up. He better watch hisself, motha!
There's this really cool thing in physics. You don't care so don't read but I'm going to talk about it. You start out with distance. Distance over time. From that, you can get velocity and because velocity is the change in distance over time, the slope of the distance vs. time graph is the points on the velocity graph. Steady change in distance means you get a flatline on the velocity graph. But then it gets complicated because acceleration is the change in velocity over time so if you have a steady increase in distance over time (or decrease, whatever) then your velocity graph is flat and your acceleration is nil. If you think it's weird that I like that, you should see me do calculus. I'm a limit statement freak. I've never felt this way about math.
I don't know what's up with Kelly and Phil. For some reason, Phil has decided she doesn't like Kelly anymore and it's really killing Kelly. I'm in the goddamn middle and I will not choose. They can bitch and ignore each other however much they want but I'm not going to choose. They're running against each other for chaplain of our Y&G delegation. I'm not going to vote. When we pick hotel rooms, I'll tell Mark to put me in a random room. I will not choose. Why do they have to do this? They both want me to give them advice but I don't know what to say. How would I handle this if I were a psychiatrist? I would go find a schitzo and tell them to see a counselor. We've all got our problems.
I filled out a bunch of college applications today. It scares me. It really does. Everyone always talks about how they want to get away from high school and Lord knows I do, but necessarily going to college is what scares me. Am I making the right choice? Is the school good enough for me? Will they accept me? How selective is highly selective?, etc. Right now I'm just doing the lame work--what classes am I taking, my parents background. I'm not even willing to do the academic awards and honors and personal statements yet. Eh.
--> that grey box won't go away. What should I do? Help. It looks just fine on my local computer but for some reason it's fucking up here. Goddamnit. I spent all morning working on this damn layout. The positioning's even fine in Netscape, though of course everything else is fucked.
My mother married a 35-year-old man that lived with his parents. This is not something I have just discovered, just a topic I was considering. Mostly because I was bitching about Scott keeping my jacket and my stepfather decided to give me "relationship" advice. I should have told him to fuck himself but that doesn't make for a peaceful, loving home. In any case, he lived with his mother until he was 35 (talk about disorders -- see below). As the psychological person I see myself as being (psychoanalytical is a better adjective), it's not hard to see where all these problems with his mother come from. For four years, he demanded that our household be kosher (which is an orthodox Jewish thing where all meat is bought from a kosher butcher and every product has that little k or u that you'll find on most cereals [for instance] if you look hard enough). This never made any sense to me because he doesn't attent synagouge every week, only on the holidays. He's a Christmas and Easter Jew. One day he told us he doesn't even believe in God. Now what the fuck sense does that make? Which brings me to a very important point about his religion. He's very adamant about the fact that we show Judaism a lot of respect and it's equally important that we do everything exactly as he did it as a child (the "right way"). But I don't think God or religion matter much to him at all. He gets extremely pissed when we say we're not going to synagouge. He goes "pssssht," like we're going to Hell or something. Goddamn I hate that. And I used to do it to my brother. Now I've made him an atheist. Ha.
Phil, Diana and I stood outside the Waterpark today for an hour and a half talking about stuff. Mostly about our personality disorders and whatnot. We're all fuck-ups, apparently. Obviously. It got me thinking about my own psychological problems so I figured, why not just list them for my future reference:
I have an attachment problem. Not that I'm necessarily attached to any one thing or person, but I do become so very easily (we're talking guys) and it absorbs my whole life.
I have some kind of disorder where my father is concerned. I haven't really had a relationship with him since I was 9 years old. That has to have done something to me.
I'm a lot more intelligent than my mother and it has made me...I don't know what it's made me but it has had negative effects on my personality.
My early social life was non-existant. I had practically no friends and no boyfriends at all. My best friend lived across the street from me, was a year older than me and was really really pushy, dominant and ...a lesbian, I think. I remember her trying to do something to me but I don't remember what.
Um...I can't think of anything else, but I know I'm a fuck-up.
So yeah. So one of my friends is bi-polar, she said. I wouldn't have thought that. She said that she has mood swings and stuff and I've noticed that about myself, too. I always attribute it to my period, but I really do have mood swings. I get irritated very easily. I probably am depressed but I'll deal. It doesn't seem that I'm any less happy than I was before. In fact, I feel better now than I used to. I just go through these periods where I can't hardly stand anyone. I don't want to hang out with my friends. In fact, I can barely eat lunch with them because I'm so irritated. I have been friends with the same people forever. The deeper the roots, the less happy I am with the relationship. That's really stupid but it's true. I've been good friends with Krisi since the 8th grade (I'm a senior now) but sometimes I can't stand her. I've eaten lunch with her every day for 5 years and right now I really don't like her at all. I know that soon I'll be cool again but in the mean time, I have to put up with this feeling that I hate all my friends. It's awful. Human relationships. Pah.
With Scott it always feels like we're playing telephone. As if he's trying to talk to me, but I never seem to understand and the same for him. I yelled at him yesterday and told him that he had insulted me. He said he was only kidding and I said, "that's not what it felt like." I turned around and left. I keep doing that to him but he keeps pissing me off. So today he gave Phil my jacket and all's well between my jacket and I but it's certainly not that way with Scott.
It seems that he should get it. But I suppose even I know that I haven't been completely up-front about this whole thing. I just don't understand how he can miss the part where I throw myself at him (albiet drunkenly). I think about him all the time just like I had a big crush on him or something. But it's Scott. Jesus. "And I feel so much depends on the weather / So is it raining in your bedroom?"
Vanek is a big Counting Crows fan, which I think is really cool. He was playing August and Everything After when I came in this morning and we talked about music for a little while. He's never seen them live. He said he was doing something when they came to the Greek Theatre but they played two nights in a row and if I had the money and the time there's not a damn thing that would keep me from seeing them. I keep lamely checking their website as if they're suddenly going to come to the Bay Area from the east coast. I was such a moron not to call Wente Vineyards the day the tickets came out. Pussy-ass me was too scared to call. I was sure the tickets were going to be too much, but it turns out that I probably would have been easily able to afford one the back seats, though the dinner ones were quite a bit. But in any case, I've decided to say "Fuck love. Fuck sex. If I believe it hard enough, all I need is me." And I mean it.
Yeah, so Scott's had my jacket all along. I talked to Dave. But that's not why I'm posting. You know that Nickelback song, "How you remind me?" I thought the chorus was "but you're the bottom of every bottle." I was like...damn, that's a really good line. But that's not it. It's "been to the bottom of every bottle." That fucking kills the whole song. And I'm really pissed about the whole Scott thing. Boys just don't get it.
Grr. It makes me so angry. I'm not going to explain the whole thing. Curt Johnson in my auto tech class (the boy is half black, half filipino. gets me) had to hear the whole thing and I think he only pretended to be interested but he liked the parts where I said "sex." Anyway, today I went to Dave's house to get back my jacket and he is not back in school. He is still there. And so is my jacket and I gave Dave's mom my phone number and I have to screen my calls now because what the fuck happens if he CALLS? I can deal with embarassment. I just...yeah. The objective was to get my fucking jacket back. My brother's right. I failed. Dammit.
And I asked Scott how the "jacket retrieval" was going and he said it would be going better if I paid him. Little fuck. I told him he owed me a favor and he said he wouldn't owe me if I bought him a "Hawaiian island." So I turned my back on him both figuratively and literally and that's it. It annoys me more that he's completely insensitive to the fact that I have (albiet small and quickly fading) feelings for him than the fact that he won't do this for me. Phil said deep down he's likely just a nice guy but I would doubt that now. I would have agreed earlier. What the fuck is it with me? I have been asked so many times how come I don't have a boyfriend. What the fuck kind of question is that, anyway? Like it's my fault everyone hates me and I choose these dumbass guys. My boobs look good today. I have this awesome bra. That's my third point. How could Scott say something so mean to me when my tits look this nice?
Today is Rosh Hashana, the Jewish new year. I should be reading Shakespeare. I should be studying for my government test or doing my psychology homework but I'm not. My parents and I don't get along that well, especially when we start talking about politics or religion. How did I end up so different from them? My mom has no political ideology at all, but lots of ideas about all the wrong thing and lots of incorrect information. My father is a staunch (and I mean staunch) Republican. I'm a liberal-as-hell independent, and a half-athiest, half-I-don't-know-what. A little bit Buddhist, a little bit Puritan. Weird. And college is scaring the fuck out of me. I keep getting these applications in the mail. I'm supposed to fill them out and I don't know what to do. Damn.
Today is my last day of work. For anyone that's read my blog on more than one occasion (no one or i.e. myself) knows that I have put a lot of time and effort into my job as a lifeguard. My entire summer revolved around with who, when and how I was working. My coworkers have become my friends and the waterpark is my park. It makes me pretty sad to see it go. Though I said I would not be coming back next year, I probably will. Yes, pathetic as it is, I will probably miss the place and all the people. I most likely will never see 80% of the people I work with. Lottie, Jeff, Jon, Amanda, Bryan, even Dave. I guess I just have to get used to the fact that you make friends and then they go away. No one seems to hold onto each other there. You write down your email and everyone says they'll write but I don't think anyone will. But I guess that's beside the point.
I'll go to work today for my last shift and then we'll cover the pools and go home. That will be it. No more parties and no more bitching about my too-short shorts or yelling at head guards to bring you water or anything. What a strange and incredible working environment I've been in these last few months. Unlike any I ever expect to encounter again. Everyone at my job is a teenager (okay--oldest is 24, 2nd 21). It makes for a very immature, very laid-back work environment. I am friends with almost every single one of my fellow employees and they are, in turn, friends with everyone else. It sounds stupid, but we are pretty much a big family. And now the summer's over and I'll never talk to most of them again. I told myself I wouldn't get nostaglic and I'm working on it but this is my own goddamn blog and I can be sad and anxious at the same time if I want.
Also, I was reading the paper yesterday (oh my god!) and there was a full page for a speech or something written by the editor or god knows who as a response to the airplane...attacks. It had a big fat flag in the middle and the type was huge. In any case, I got about a 1/4 through when the thing says something along the lines of it is the United States' job now to get out there and "rid the world of evil." I almost crapped my pants. Rid the world of evil? I couldn't bear the fact that the newspaper, a supposedly unbiased communicator could put such incredible propaganda into the minds of its readers. We will not eradicate evil. We will not stomp down injustice and criminalization. What we will do is go to Afghanistan and bomb the fuck out of a bunch of innocent people and hope that we can land on a couple of the fucks that set up the New York and Washington plane attacks (I keep wanting to say bombings). But, in all likelihood, we won't. It will make a lot of Americans very happy to see Afghanistan in flames, but not all of us. Not me.
This is so fucking stupid. I cannot get my mind off him. You know what I think? I'm probably just really fucking horny. I think I am just...not able to orgasm. (Damn, I sound blonde.) Anyway, there's that movie...American Pie I think where Natasha (or something) Lyonne and that chick are talking about orgasms and Natasha Lyonne is asking her whether she's ever had one. She says she thinks so and Natasha Lyonne says "that means no." So I'm expecting something crazy good, you know? Yeah. It's NOT happening. There was something, but ...no. (We're talking like...half an hour. Sorry, if you didn't want to be grossed out then you shouldn't be reading my goddamn blog.) But in any case, whether or not it has anything to do with my VIBRATOR or not, I can't stop thinking about him. I think it must, though, because unlike most guys I can't stop thinking about, I imagine us talking or something equally lame and now I'm thinking about throwing him in the bathroom where we work and just fucking like dogs. Fuck, I need to get laid.
In other news, my friend Krisi was wearing this shirt yesterday with the New York skyline. The twin towers were the only tall thing in the picture. It was kind of sad, but kind of not. We were sitting at our table and Nicole walks up. Krisi points to her chest and goes "look, it's the twins." I nearly died laughing. Another funny thing: I was walking across the pool at sport. (Sport: large, blob/circular pool with two guards at either side.) [motherfucker--they just have to play REM when I'm feeling down. everybody hurts my goddamn ass. everybody pretends to be hurt to get attention, pity.] Anyway, as lifeguards, we all carry large orange tubes that kind of look like huge dicks if you're horny and all of us are. So, I stuck the thing between my legs for one second to wave goodbye to Liezl. And this 12-14 year old kid goes "SICK! There's kids in this pool!" I could barely keep from peeing myself. Phil gave me a thumbs up and Liezl just scanned her pool. That's like Liezl. "Everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends. Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. Don't throw your hand. If you feel like you're alone. You're not alone." Damn. I don't understand. Being horny, being depressed. They've completely merged in my mind. I want ass, I feel sad. I feel sad, I want ass. ::sigh::
I know I'm technically "on haitus" but I can blog if I want to, right? Plus, no one reads this anyway. So I guess I'll fill myself in down the road (since I'm not entertaining anyone now) about last night. It's always a fucking last night with me, isn't it? I guess that's the way it is for everyone. Anyway, it was Diana's birthday dinner so we went to La Plaza and had dinner. Dave had earlier asked me to go to his party so I said I would show up after dinner with Diana. Diana mentioned that she wanted to go. I told her it probably wasn't that good an idea (considering she tried to get Dave fired earlier in the season and Dave had asked me not to tell a lot of people) but she went anyway. And Dave's an asshole and he told her to leave. Understandable for both of them to do what they did and what am I supposed to do? I should have supported Diana but by then...no, I guess I can't play the drunk card but I was being selfish and I wanted to stay.
I wasn't flirting with Scott last night. I was flirting with Scott last weekend. I flirted with him all during work and then I invited him to come to the movies with Phil, Diana and me and flirted with him all during that but...ah...struck out. It's not my fault. The boys made sure I knew that and that was nice of them. Scott's a pussy. Anyway, the only reason Dave invited me to his goddamn house was because he wanted to get me drunk so Scott could have a second chance. But that didn't happen. I didn't flirt with Scott. I was afraid I was going to be slutted off by Dave so I kind of ignored him. And he didn't really...he's a pussy. So Dave shoved him out the door and locked it and I went after him but he went home. It was the saddest thing. Poor me. Right. So after that, it wasn't very much fun anymore. Everybody went upstairs to sleep. Aaron and Brian with chicks (I was like--Aaron, Stephanie, what are you doing? But no judgement. I don't feel like judging anyone right now.) Dave went to his room and I fell asleep on the couch. It was pathetic. And then I woke up this morning at 7 am and watched "This Week" on cbs or something which is this politics show but it was really boring. The republican and democratic majority leaders in the senate discussed Bush--they both hate him.
In other news, my brother got a new board and now he's dying next to me. Right. A week of off-season for him makes him a fat little fuck? No. Sitting on his ass playing Asheron's Call makes him an out-of-shape little bastard. Furthermore, I have been considering going to bed (it's 6:40) and watching Coyote Ugly. I really feel like watching Coyote Ugly. I was also thinking about having dinner, but I don't think I should eat if I'm not that hungry. I'm not that hungry.
