My voter registration card came in the mail today. Ecstatically happy to receive it. I can't wait to be a part of democracy. ::cough cough:: I'm home from school today. Of course I'm not sick. Yesterday was a bad day for me (as soon as I got home) so I decided that it was high time I got a break. Most people take off Mondays or Fridays. Not me. I'm always taking off Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays. I like it better that way in any case. I can't take five straight days of school sometimes.
I finished setting up my Counting Crows rarities CDs. Since our printer doesn't have any ink, I have to wait to print everything out until I get to Staples and secure a new printer cartridge (hopefully colour this time). The track listings are as follows:
Train from California:
Margery Dreams of Horses
Bulldog
Daylight Fading Demo
My Love
Chelsea
Shallow Days
Baby, I'm a Big Star Now
A Mona Lisa
We're Only Love
Forty Years
Something Easy to Believe:
Barely Out of Tuesday
Einstein on the Beach
She Don't Want Nobody Near
Love and Addiction
Suffocate
Here Comes That Feeling Again
The Greening of America
Open All Night
Lightning
Good Luck
Closer To You
Of, course I'm Jack. Of course. But hey, at least I get to have multiple personalities.
Yesterday was our school's Winter Ball. I hate the Winter Ball. I've hated it since freshmen year when I went and it sucked. This year is even worse than previous years'. Wait, I have to take that back. It's not as bad as last year, worse than sophomore year. Freshmen year is 50/50 because I liked it a lot until I got there. In any case, last year was worse because I spent the entire evening with ::cough cough:: the one, the only, the boyfriend of the guy I'd had a crush on for 3 months. Beat that one, suckah! In any case, it's hard to hate someone when they're intelligent, funny and sweet. Fuck me.
So we went to see Gosford Park, which turned out to really suck. Where do these great reviews come from? Jesus. It was really boring. But the chick from Trainspotting (the non-drugged out one) was on it--practically the main character. As was Ryan Phillipe, which is always yummy. And yes, of course the accent is a joke. I knew it from the start. Bleh. Queer as Folk and Sex in the City tonight. I wait all week for this shit. And I haven't read Madame Bovary. Madame Bovary can kiss my fat ass.
Oh, lord. Talking to Admissions people from a college you almost definitely won't go to is funny. She makes it sound like a really nice school, though. I'll look into it and all. But I'm telling you, if and when I get that Dean's Honor Scholarship (and I will), it's Tulane all the way, baby. I have to get out of California.
Tuesday slowly lowered herself into the desk. As the morning announcements sounded into her ear, she attempted to stare longingly at Eric, the next seat over but he was intent on looking at the speaker in the back of the room. She had to keep turning away. Eventually, he noticed. "Hey, Tuesday." "Hey Eric." She quickly moved her eyes back down to her desk, played with her fingers, waited for announcements about the god-awful Winter Ball to be finished. "Right," said Vanek, "if we're done wasting our time on that." She allowed the droll about Madame Bovary to roll past her, occasionally throwing in a word or two for those oh-so-important participation points. Eric fell asleep on his desk, turned away from her. She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. She let her eyes trace over his back, his ears, the dip in his neck, his hair as it fell over his English book. "Tuesday, what do you think?" Vanek drew her back into the conversation. She threw up her glance. "I don't know what to think." He moved on. Eric raised up his head. "What are we talking about?" he wispered to Tuesday. "I don't know; I'm not paying attention." "Oh." "I'll be right back," Vanek stated and marched out the door. The classroom erupted in small talk. "What are you doing on Friday?" Paige leaned over to ask Britanny. "Friday's are my family's 'dinner night.' Saturday's my favourite night because I have a later curfew." "Oh, well, there's only something for Friday. My favourite day's Friday, actually." She threw her perfect blue hair over her shoulder. Crossing her legs towards him, she asked Eric, "What's your favourite day of the week?" "Friday," he answered. "Like me," she said. Tuesday snorted imperceptibly. "We all know Tuesday's!" Paige exclaimed. Tuesday looked up into her beaming face. "I like Sundays," she said, and walked out the door.
PS--This story is not about me in that I am not Tuesday, directly, in real life. I wrote it just now, at the computer, for a change of pace because I'm sure you are all bored with web logs and frankly, I'm bored with writing them. Also, it's not about Mike or Ashley and it's definitely not about Epona. Paige doesn't have a physical manifestation in my life, neither does Eric (thank God). I was just listening to "Tuesday's Gone." Also, there's this Counting Crows song "Barely Out of Tuesday." What's with that day? I was thinking how nice a name Tuesday would make and then what would happen if you were in class and they asked your favourite day of the week. Everyone would assume and it would make you feel like shit. In my story, that's kind of like the last straw though Tuesday does it pissily. I like anger better than depression, hands down. Two weeks is an eternity, especially when you're waiting for something you've created in your mind. Like two weeks before Christmas, knowing full well the presents from "Santa" are in your parents' closet.
I should be reading Madame Bovary, but that book sucks. I hate it when people call a book "the best" because it inevitably means it's going to suck ass. Realism is a bitch. In any case, I meant to write about Audrey's Dad.
If, for some reason, Audrey, you are reading this, know that you shouldn't be. Audrey has an extremely strange relationship with her mother and father. Dad & Mom live in the same house, but they are separated. Mom sleeps downstairs. In fact, Mom & Audrey are planning to leave Dad as soon as possible and are even saving money in a bank account (known or unbeknownst to Dad, I don't know). Dad stays because he thinks Mom will take him back some day. Strange, to say the least, but an American family nonetheless. Mom seems mostly indifferent to him, treats him like a roommate (or at least, the day I was there). But Audrey is flat-out bitchy to him. She constantly calls him names of all sorts, snaps at him, insults him, etc. All I can think is that this is a product of Mom laying all her problems on daughter. And the Dad is so sad. He's a cute little dark guy and he's really nice (or at least, he was when I was there.) It makes me think about my father and how mean I was to him (and sometimes still am) and it's just leftover animosity from their divorce. I love my father. It makes me really sad to think that that guy has to put up with it all the time. I almost wish I could take over the daughter role and be really nice to him and watch movies and go places with him and stuff. He looks so nice.
I'm rocking out to Pete Yorn right now. Music for the Morning After. I'm giving it a B+. It's infectious and happy but it's really mellow, like a better version of Semisonic. Yeah. That's good. In any case...I'm almost ready for Sac. I've been researching our bill (that mandates voter registration) and it looks like it's gonna cost more than we originally thought, which sucks. It's okay though. People can handle the word millions. I hope.
Kelly and I were supposed to go to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art today, but, of course, she stood me up. I was going to call Liezl and tell her to go with me, but my room could use some serious cleaning and I have a lot of laundry to do. Oh, speaking of which. (The next's load's in.) I don't have any real topics to analyze. My literary inspiration is going right down the drain. I haven't written anything in ages. I haven't really felt anything worthy in ...ages. It used to be such a big deal to me. Check out the date on my last poem. Yeah. It's been a while. Lazy Monday.
God, this is such a great song. On the way back from Bob, it came on the radio and the whole fucking bus was singing it. Bizarre. Like on Almost Famous with "Tiny Dancer." Shit, I wish I could write like this:
the freshmen
When I was young I knew everything
and she a punk who rarely ever took advice
now i'm guilt stricken, sobbing with my head on the floor
stop a baby's breath and a shoe full of rice
I can't be held responsible
cause she was touching her face
I won't be held responsible
she fell in love in the first place
For the life of me I cannot remember
what made us think that we were wise and we'd never compromise
for the life of me I cannot believe we'd ever die for these sins
we were merely freshmen
My best friend took a week's vacation to forget her
his girl took a week's worth of valium and slept
now he's guilt stricken sobbing with his head on the floor
thinks about her now and how he never really wept he says
We've tried to wash our hands of all of this
we never talk of our lacking relationships
and how we're guilt stricken sobbing with our heads on the floor
we fell through the ice when we tried not to slip, we'd say
My brother's watching "Real Life: I'm a Midget." I'm cracking all these funny-ass jokes (I think they're funny) and he's freaking the hell out and telling me I'm "hella messed up." For instance: "You know, if I was a guy, I'd want a midget to fuck. I'd just set that bitch on my dick and tell her to go at it." Jerm said "They'd gang up and kick your ass." "Yeah...bite my ankles," I said.
FOR ALL MIDGETS READING THIS: SORRY. I have nothing against midgets but y'all have to admit you're funny.
In any case, there was this new guy in Creative Writing today. I always find it odd when guys write poetry, but this guy just walks up in the house and rattles off this heart-crushing, incredibly good poem about how lonely he is and how he's looking for someone, anyone to be his girl. Oh, it was so depressing. Normally, it's Ryan with his hideously boring science fiction, Pleather Girl with her dark, bizarre goth shit, Jackie with her horrible love poems, Phil with her wild romance stories (or Daughter's of the American Revolution essay, like today), and me, with whatever random shit I managed to write / bring in. Today, for instance, I brought in The Diary of Anais (an-eye-iss) Nin and read a random excerpt. In any case, this guy, Brian is a new addition. We'll have to see how this plays out. I feel really bad for the guy, but then again, I bet everybody else feels bad for me...sometimes. Okay, never. I, personally, feel bad because (note: Jerm says DSL stands for dick sucking lips) we were at Weaselboy's New Year's party two years ago. The boy rode in my car to go get pizza and I still don't know who he is. I remember the trip but not the bloke. I came in and Phil's like: "We have a new member." I said, "Hey, what's up?" and he tells me, "I know you" and from then on, I was like...damn. I dunno...am I really supposed to remember everybody? He seems like a cool enough guy. Great vocabulary, anyway.
P = Fd / t
= (ma)d / t , (ma)d / time -- Made this to get to class this morning. I have the power.
Grateful for mother, which doesn't happen often. She got me the Sundance Channel. Pulled a couple of strings at work (AT&T employee). Woo-hoo. Watched "SUND 505" for the first time today -- "Getting to Know You." Entertaining but uneventful movie about a couple of people at a bus stop. I would recommend it. A B. My brother's watching one of my four favourite movies right now. He said "I'm watching a cool movie" as if I didn't know all the words. It's Dazed & Confused. My other three favourites are, in no particular order: Trainspotting, Wayne's World, Contact. I love many other movies, some of which are: Dirty Dancing, Joy Luck Club, Clockwork Orange
note: Stepdad walked in, short exchange of words.
Him: "You're not dead. Good."
Me: "Not yet."
I think I'll end with that thought and not another list of crap you don't care about.
I'm at school right now in AP Physics. This is the level of content that the class provides. In fact, I probably shouldn't even be here. Did I mention in the past that I hate Macs? Well, I do.
Econ is horrible. I cannot think of a worse way to spend 100 minutes of every other one of my days. (Wanting something interesting to say).
In other news, I'm sick. But I got back from Bob II (or Re-Bob) on Sunday. Bob was fairly cool. The square dance was neat. For the long one, I danced with this really hot guy from CCY. His name is Jimmy Hall. Isn't that a nice name? There were some pretty cute guys there but one has to keep in mind that they're cute in Y&G standards and not normal standards. People aren't actually attractive there, they're attractive in contrast. In any case--I'm all geared up for Sac. Can't wait to go. Thrifting is my weekend pursuit for Saturday. I have to find some skirts and "blouses" that I can wear on the BO-smelling streets of Sacramento.
I wish I graduated in 1967. I would give my right nut to hear Jefferson Airplane play or see Joan Baez wail. I miss the past. I've never been there and obviously, I never will, but I still desire that kind of freedom. Yeah, they were all fucking up their bodies and minds but it was one big party. Both my parents neglected and wasted their time there. I would have been partying til the cows came home. I'd be fucked up now, but it would have been great then. My dad, especially. He said hippies were stupid assholes. Sometimes I wish I could be dead, just if I could go back and live then. Damn, I want that so bad.
