name: amber
age: 22
location: new orleans
aim: sapgirly mail work
December 28, 2001
There was a knock at the door and who but everyone's favourite friend--Mr. UPS!! The package was from my Aunt Sarah and Uncle Eric. As I opened it, I noticed Hickory Farms on the side of the box. Oh Jesus, I thought, if this is a beef stick, I'm going to be pissed. (Don't eat red meat. We already covered that I'm starving ... or at least, you were supposed to pick that up). I flip up the box top and by God what is inside? Not only is it a couple of beef sticks, but the motherfuckers say "BEEF STICK." I just about died crying and laughing at the same time.
There's just something horrible about not having any food in the house and thinking you'll go out...not to buy food at the grocery store, bring it home and make it...not to order a pizza or chinese...not to beg your parents to come home with something...but rather to drive to Taco Bell. This is what I'm going to do. The saddest part of all is that not only am I driving to Taco Bell for myself, by myself, but that I'm only going to buy two soft tacos for around $1.90. Is that pathetic or what?
I feel like a leech but I only have two friends. One has her grandparents over and they're bizarre freaks or something and she has to devote every waking moment to their happiness and the other told me I could come over "later" and watch a movie...so I read 50 pages of Crime and Punishment (which, by the way, is excellent) and called her but she's not there. Disaster. I got showered and everything. It's so depressing being on break like this. I used to tell myself my friends were all busy but this year I don't hardly have any friends. Thank God I'm going to college. At least there people will be forced to hang out with me because I'll be in a dorm. I hate to say it--but I want school to start. I can't take any more of this sitting around and zoning out business. I didn't even turn on the TV today. Woke up at 12 -- did scholarships for 3 hours then read my book and now I'm waiting...after having showered and played on the computer for a while. ::sigh:: It's about time I left for that Taco Bell.
So blogspot (where people like me -- without websites host their blogs) was down just now. Furthermore, somehow, my password got changed from what is really is to a number. What the fuck? I thought for some reason my account had been revoked or something but I have done nothing wrong. At least, not for a while. I'm even paying for this fucker. In any case -- irritated but dealing. It's like Merry Christmas, Amber.
Dinner last night was nice, yummy and boring, as always. It's good to see my cousins, though. Very weird to think that in a few years, it won't be my aunts, uncles and parents that make up the principality of the group -- it will be my cousins, brother and me. Weird. It'll be Abbey, Beth, Jason, Amy, Jerm and my kids all playing together and stuff. That's so bizarre. I never know what to talk about with them. They all want to know where I'm going to school. They make fun of my intelligence, SAT scores, GPA. Oh well. Life. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and whatnot.
I'm so continually jealous of people like her. Where do these images come from and why do they load so quickly?! Goddamnit.
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. My aunt and uncle invited my family to drive down to Santa Cruz (hour and a half) to have dinner with them. Normally, I would love to go down. But this year, the dinner is not in the Robideaux House. It's in this new, small, non-Robideaux House house. You know how people are always referring to "home"? Well, that's where the Robideaux House was for the majority of the people in my family. And now it's gone. I can't even think what it will be like to eat dinner in the living room of this other house. There's not enough room!
Furthermore, I really really really don't want to drive down there with my parents. With my brother gone to San Diego (to see my father and ski -- psstch), I'll have to put up with them all the way there and all the way back by myself -- no defenses. Normally, we would spend the night and ignore their present-opening with jealous peeping eyes. But this year, I think we're getting a bit old to crash. I don't want to drive up there by myself, though, and end up driving back at 2 in the morning. Option 3 is rent a hotel room, but that's money I just don't want to spend.
What I really want is a friend to invite me to Christmas dinner. Of course, this is kind of weird and you can't ask. But the thing is -- my family is Jewish but Christmas has always meant family and dinner and presents and a tree to me, too. To just sit around and do nothing on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day is just gut-wrenching to me. I have to do something. Normally, my brother and I are sitting in the Robideaux House living room watching our cousins open present after present after present. Aunt Cherie would even make us up little stockings. It was really cute. She'd throw in some candy, an orange one year, stupid little toys, junk their kids didn't want. It was nice. This year feels different, though. However, I feel obliged to go because who knows where I'll be next year during Christmas. I may be in New Orleans.
1. Third Eye Blind Third Eye Blind
2. August and Everything After Counting Crows
3. Recovering the Satellites Counting Crows
4. Sixteen Stone Bush
5. Nevermind Nirvana
6. Joshua Tree U2
7. Celebrity Skin Hole
8. Die for the Government Anti-Flag
9. Jagged Little Pill Alanis Morrissette
10. Funky Divas En Vogue
11. Tidal Fiona Apple
12. Hellow Rockview Less Than Jake
13. Pieces of You Jewel
14. Throwing Copper Live
15. Out of Time REM
16. Janet. Janet Jackson
17. Frogstomp Silverchair
18. Villains The Verve Pipe
19. Play Moby
20. This Desert Life Counting Crows
Extra credit, of course goes to the following artists whose albums I do not happen to own but either would like to or have made mix tapes (I don't count greatest hits as albums and neither did VH1, so far as I can tell): Stone Temple Pilots (probably my second favourite CD--a compilation of their singles), Madonna, Michael Jackson, The Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, Aerosmith, The Rolling Stones, Mariah Carey.
Okay--this is a rough estimation of 20 albums I find outstanding. I'm probably forgetting half my CD collection. I would like to note that only four of these twenty were burned. The rest I bought with hard-earned money (or was given). Not bad for the 21st century.
I found it:
I just went through my entire Bolt email account and moved everything into its appropriate folder. I had 342 messages. A lot were from the Misanthropic Bitch's mailing list. She quit writing. Too bad. I enjoyed all her ridiculous articles. In any case, it has come to my attention that I used to get a lot of support for my website and I don't get very much anymore. I'm not complaining. I'm stating a fact. Actually, I know I don't deserve any attention because I never write. So I'm going on break soon so I think I'm gonna kick it into gear a little bit.
So yesterday, my Spanish class finished. I took the goddamn final, I actually did fairly well on it and that was it. No more Spanish. As I'm walking out to my car, Diego catches up with me. I'll probably never see the guy for the rest of my life and he says, "Matt said goodbye." I fucking don't give a shit about Matt. You know, it's not that I don't think about him constantly...because I do. I really do. All the time. It is just recently that I have been able to masturbate without immediately thinking of him and quitting. It has been really difficult to tear certain images out of my mind from that one stupid night. I feel like I need to go out and have sex with a couple guys just so that I can have a combined movie reel to play and not just the one. But I'm definitely getting
better. See, the thing is--I create my own scenarios (fantasies, if you will) and I can play those whenever I want. A week ago, for the first time in three months, I whacked off and I was so damn horny that the whole next day, I could not get my mind off the threesome I had with James and David the night before (in my head.) This stuff is real to me.
Speaking of sinning, though, after our Creative Writing pizza "party" today, Phil said she had to get to church to confess. Confession has always seemed so romantic to me. Complete absolution for your sins. What could be better? I always imagine that some day, when I'm feeling especially guilty...you know...walking in the rain or something and I'll happen to come across a Catholic church, walk in and confess all my sins and the guy will give me great advice. Just like in the movies, you know? It will probably never happen and even if it did, I would certainly not be impressed with the results but no matter. I'm not concerned.
So I promised I would write more. Here's a story idea I plan on writing:
man and wife have a fight
woman starts crying horribly and the man wants to reach out to her, desperately, but finds that he can't
parallel stories with man and his dog that just got run over in the street--he can't do anything but stand over it, woman sits in her room and weeps as her mother dies in the next room
story marked by restraint--both in the characters' actions and the style itself (if I can)
That's what I've got. It's the Creative Writing Club's official job of the break to write something worth reading. Every other week we show up and no one has anything to read. I haven't written a poem in ...a long time. I jotted down a few lines last night:
you wring your hands
while she weeps,
close your eyes--
open your mouth
to speak.
We'll see. In other news--I'm on break. Shoot! That reminds me--I never published an entry blogger wouldn't let me publish. Hmm. Well, it's not on my local computer so I guess it's gone. I suppose it couldn't have been that important or else I would have made more of an effort to save it.
My last comment is on the movie Keeping the Faith. This movie really touched me. A priest falls in love. It's crazy, you know? But you only see him (Edward Norton--my fave) praying once the whole movie. Why is he not asking God for the power to escape his feelings? I'm recording it right now. The strangest things affect me.
I take so little of Anais Nin with me. I'm reading her second journal and I'm about halfway through (I've been reading for months). I can't take notes in that book because I would underline everything but I sat down to read a bit today and I read an entire page before I realized that I had read it before. How can I remember so little? Because I don't take it with me. I find it all so important that it's overwhelming and I space out. Only the plain, simple, obvious stays in my mind.
My friends and I are seriously considering putting on a Happiness Parade in my home town of Antioch, California. We were in government, when we learned that Nazis were given a parade permit and allowed to parade through Skokie, Illinois (a Jewish neighbourhood) because of their First Amendment rights. So, we thought--why not parade for something worthwhile? So we decided to parade for happiness. I don't know where we're going to get the resources or where we're going to parade or where we're going to parade to, but I think it would be really cool if we could get support for this. Who wouldn't support a happiness parade? (If you'd like to parade with us and/or you'd like to help--go ahead and give me a holler at my email. We need all the extra hands available.)
Let me give you a small bit of insight into my life. So, yesterday, I was pulling into my parking spot in my cul-de-sac (because my parents don't have room for me in the driveway) and there was a children's bicycle upside down, resting on its handlebars and seat. A little kiddie bike, I'm telling you. Very strange. Just sitting in the middle of the street. My thought was, I should go get my camera and take some artsy-fartsy pictures of it because it's so strange but I didn't do that at all. This is my problem--I let my laze get in the way of my creativity. The act of walking back into the street to take some pictures seemed so strenuous that I couldn't possibly spare the energy (or the time--as it was imperative that I get started on my homework). This morning, it was there, too. Again, I thought I should go get my camera but, alas, it was time to go to school. And this afternoon, when I came home from running errands after school, it was gone and that chance...gone as well. Because you can't take a kiddie bike, turn it upside down and take pictures of it. That's just weird.
