name: amber
age: 22
location: new orleans
aim: sapgirly mail work
January 31, 2003
Alright, so that survey was a bit much. It's gone now. In any case, I have been working on a new layout but somewhere along the way, I completely lost my ability to design. It's gone. The stuff I've been working with looks like complete crap. But it's better than this. You can't even read these links and that heart just glares at me every time I look at my own page. And isn't Valentine's Day barrelling down the road? At least The Vagina Monologues are being put on by our theatre department. I can get pissy bitch-mad and buy myself dinner. Yeah, I always have known how to take care of myself.
I felt like filling this survey out and posting it, mostly because it's more aesthetically pleasing than a lot of other ones. Don't read it if you don't want to. I'm not forcing anything. I stole it from this site. (January 31 -- it is now much cut.)
The Basics
[[ Birthday ]]- 2/28/84 (by the way, it's coming soon. Presents are always welcome.)
[[ Age ]] - 18
[[ Astrological sign? ]] Pisces
[[ Location ]] - New Orleans
[[ Sexual Preference ]] - straight, I guess
[[ Marital Status ]] - Single
[[ Current Hair color ]] - brown with a tinge of red. it was gorgeous two months ago.
[[ Eyecolor ]] - Blue
[[ Parents still together? ]] - No
[[ Pets? ]] - I have one plant, Mathilda. I have daisy seeds and a pot to make a sister for her, Sophie, and a mini-bonzai kit my mother sent me. The bonzai is more complicated to grow so I've kept it in its little box.
[[ In school/graduated? ]] - Tulane.
[[ What do you do for work? ]] - I don't work. Work is for the motivated.
[[How much do you make? ]] - My parents send me meager checks which I make stretch by being a cheap bastard.
HAVE YOU EVER...
*Kissed someone of the same sex: yes
*Been in love: yes
*Been so drunk you blacked out: never had that particular experience, either
*Kept a secret from everyone: yes -- but here goes: my underwear were inside-out yesterday and I was too lazy all day to flip them right side out.
*Set a body part on fire: uh...no.
*Had an imaginary friend: i was a lonely child.
*Called or seen a psychic: There was a "psychic fair" every month where I used to live. I tried numerous times to get my friends to go with me. They always refused and I wouldn't go by myself.
*Ever cried at a chick flick: yes -- Bridget Jones' Diary (shame, shame). The only other movie I've ever cried at was The Land Before Time.
*Had a crush on a teacher: yes, I suppose. Nothing big.
*Found a cartoon character attractive: No.
*Ever at anytime owned a New Kids on the block tape: Hello? Of course I did. If I recall, I got everything second-hand from my best friend at the time because she was cooler than I was and knew they weren't in anymore long before I did.
*Prank called someone: Some of the best laughs of my life.
DO YOU...
*Wear eye shadow: Occasionally.
*Have a dog: Two dogs at home, Desdemona (after a Jimmy Buffet song -- kill me) and MacArthur (after my stepfather's crazy dead aunt)
*Want a tattoo: No interest. Too permanent.
*Have any regrets: Try not to.
*Have a crush on someone: At the moment, no.
*Do you have a best friend: Not really, no.
*Who knows all your secrets?: My secrets are very spread out. You could probably figure out almost everything about me by asking the right people but you couldn't get all the dirt from one individual.
*Who do you cry with: Myself. I almost cried in front of my Spanish teacher the other day after I gave a very stressful hour-long presentation. I was walking back from Newcomb Hall saying "don't cry, don't cry, don't cry" to myself and feeling more like a girl than I have in a long time.
DO YOU BELIEVE IN...
*God/Devil: ...yes ... wait, no. Definitely not the Devil, in any case.
*Yourself: I try.
*Your friends: Stephanie wholeheartedly, because she is practically me.
*Aliens: I think it's incredibly selfish to believe that we're the only intelligent life in this uncomprehendably large universe.
*Love: What's there to believe in? It's a chemical thing. It rocks. Everything they put in all those stupid sappy love songs -- it's true. It changes everything and makes you totally, completely stupid.
*The Closet Monster: Our closets don't have doors.
*Soulmates?: Fuck no.
"I can't count the number of times things have become more or less significant because the right thing was playing in the background." -- Ned. For myself, it's more that the song suddenly becomes significant because of what's going on around it. How many times have events in my life changed the way I interpret lyrics. One day, they're happy and hopeful, the next dreary and depressive. I'm very confused by music with an upbeat temp and crushing lyrics, like "Band of Gold" by Bonnie Tyler. "All that's left of the dreams I hold is a band of gold and the memories of what love could be if you were still here with me" do wah do wah do wah.
Through all this attending class and doing homework business, I've been looking at school as this big struggle. I say I have to fight for my grades -- I have to work and work and work for them. Fight is the word I use over and over and over but then I just ... give up after a while. Because it gets too hard. Because I'd rather do a million other things. I can't go from practically crying in class right to my lab report and sum up paper chromatography. Fuck paper chromatography, I say, and have to stay up late again and work and work and work. ::sigh:: Then again, I could always do it tomorrow instead of taking the huge nap I was planning on. And "Soul to Squeeze" is absolutely killing me. "I'm gonna give you some of my good time..." This site needs a new layout. This heart shit is butchering my ...desire to write.
We'll suffice it to say that I just signed up for another leadership retreat. Okay, I'll add that girls can be a lot of fun sometimes and that leadership isn't always for dorks and that everyone there was crazy-nice, the kind of nice you can't teach but are born with and I just don't have it but it's nice to be around people like that...sometimes. Rock on, Newcomb.
The Newcomb Leadership Conference: An Exercise in Openmindedness. This is my one time where I'm going to say "maybe leadership isn't for dorks." On Sunday, I'll report back with my findings -- here I venture into the land of Angelina Malfitano -- leadership retreat ... am I really doing this?
So I suppose I should write something. Here's another piece of Spanish: Mi clase de espanol me esta matando. I know I don't have the accent marks or tildes, but imagine that estA has one and espaNol also. I have to give an hour-long presentation on US influence on Latin America on Monday. I don't want to do it. I think "If I was dead, I wouldn't have to give this presentation." But also, once I get it done, I don't ever have to do this leading shit again. Thank the Lord! And on top of everything else, I've got my goddamn Newcomb Leadership Conference this weekend which is basically a trip to the woods with a nouveau Angelina Malfitano. I don't even know why I signed up. Maybe because it's just something to do. ::sigh::
I've been a real crybaby lately. What I need is an all-out bawl. I need someone to really insult me to my face or something so I can get all this out. All these single tears and welling up at inopportune times is really irritating.
So, I've got a new layout. It's supposed to be funny and also kind of sad. It is not meant to be cutesy or lame. But, I figure, it's my own goddamn website and I will adorn it as I choose. The poem in the heart is Pablo Neruda and here it is in its incredible entirety. This is probably my favourite poem of all time. A translation can be found here, here and here (all slightly different):
Soneto 17
No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.
My favourite line is the last. Everybody's got a different spin on it. My six years of Spanish tells me it says, "So close that your eyes close with my sleep." It's beautiful, in any case.
Oh, what can't good friends, good food and good (bad) movies cure? Plus, the cute guy from Argentina on the way back from the restaurant sure doesn't hurt. Neither does Stephanie talking about her boyfriend -- thank god I'm not long-distance anymore. Maybe I'll ask Fitz (the extremely sexy guy on my softball team) to be my valentine. That'd be fabulous.
And now there's offically two movies I've cried at (don't laugh): The Land Before Time and Bridget Jones' Diary. Of course, a whole day of running around and people telling you you're lame definitely makes the part where he tells her he likes her "just as she is" pretty hard to swallow.
I am officially lame. So I came up with this "great" idea last night to advertise for a valentine. The last real valentine I had was in the 7th grade. I made up all these really funny posters (I thought they were really funny) and put mine and one of my best friend's phone numbers and names and we just spent an hour walking around and getting the male opinion. One guy of the 30 or so we asked thought it was funny. Everybody else said it was incredibly lame and that we should definitely not put them up. Tony came closest to what I really knew but didn't want to admit: The guys that think it's lame won't call. The guys that think it's funny will be too shy to call. So we're fucked if we do and we're fucked if we don't. Basically we're just fucked and we'll have to be each others' valentines, which is so sad. It's completely defeating, though, because the kind of person that would be good for me is the kind of person that would think those posters are funny and 1/30 are the most disgustingly bad odds. Moreover, those posters are a complete symbol for myself. I am those posters -- cheesy, careless, nerdy, stylish (yes, they were), funky (which one guy noted was an "outdated" word -- die die die), innocent and fun. Now those posters are in the trash. I think this is about as sorry for myself as I could possibly feel. Rock-bottom is so reassuring.
For the record, the posters each had a slogan and here they are:
1. Are you single? Girlfriend out of town? Are you looking for someone to spend that special day in February with? Look no farther. It may not be love, but you can buy us dinner.
2. Two single hot-mamas looking for Mr. Right-for-a-Day. Don't spend Valentine's by yourself. Pick up the phone.
3. Two eligible ladies with fabulous conversational skills looking for someone awesome to spend that day in February with. Now taking applications.
4. Two funky girls with one wide-open slot in their February calendars. Get your butt to the phone and dial.
Update on the dude I thought I had a connection with: bogus. He was looking at a friend of mine standing right next to me. See, I am nutty. But y'all kind of knew that anyway. And furthermore, why does everybody and their mom get to go to date parties and not me? I've never been to one and everybody's running around all cute and made up and going out with their little dates to their little date parties and I want to go too. Waah.
In other news, my bio lab is just a setting to play with lab rats and snails. Today, we tortured (much to my abhorrence) a tiny, cute little mouse. The "experiment" was supposed to judge which food the mouse liked best but it was either too scared to eat or not hungry. So much for science.
Because losing you is like losing everything.
Look how there's no stars in the sky.
Look how the leaves have all fallen off the trees.
You make everything taste like cardboard.
You make the sun disappear behind the clouds.
You run me into the ground.
You throw me against the wall.
I come up so short
and when I go to answer,
I've only been talking to myself.
--Today.
I'm working on getting rid of stuff I buried. Halfway through writing this guy, I realized that the first day after (I remembered this after having forgotten it) that I literally got sick after eating scrambled eggs because we used to eat scrambled eggs all the time. Isn't that ridiculous? I was listening to a song downloaded from a web acquaintance and I got upset at myself for not having written anything in a long time. For me, when things are happening, I can't write about them. They just hurt too much. I can remember crying over scrambled eggs and I'm literally embarassed for myself. But I have to start writing again. I can't let this just disappear and have it be something I used to do.
It's amazing how the most mundanely boring things can sustain my attention for so long.
Also, I have this habit of thinking I have connections with people I most certainly do not. For instance, during one the first days back here, perhaps a week ago, I saw a guy whom I found attractive. He looked up when I was looking at him so I just smiled and kept walking. This guy showed up in my chem lab and we looked at each other quite a few times. Of course, it's quite likely that he wasn't looking at me at all. I recognize this. I'm not completely nutty. I don't even know why I'm commenting about it but I do stuff like this all the time so I thought I'd just throw it out there. I create these attachments between myself and other people in my head. The only other one I can actually remember was someone I did end up having a relationship with (a non-romantic one, of course). Maybe I recognize that we'll know each other on down the line or something. Who knows.
And one last thing, I find it very amusing when I see people trying to place me. When I'm out being social I'm very fond of randomly turning to people and chatting with them. For instance, on the drunk bus I took this weekend, I met a guy named Jack who was standing up and who I offered a seat by offering my roommate my lap. He sat down and we chatted a bit. So I saw him walking today and I saw him look at me, look away and then look back, with a puzzled expression on his face. I love that. "I know that girl. How do I know that girl?" I myself tend to have an excellent memory and don't do the double-take very often. Or I just completely forget, as I've done on numerous occasions. I just re-learned the name of a guy I've been saying hello to almost every day for about five months. I'm so cunning, though: I'm not going to use his name still and he will think I just don't use peoples' names. Ha. I win.
I can be such a nostalgic, sad bastard. Time goes by and you don't realize how people are affecting you or how much you care about them. "What is Jared to me?" I said. And he's one of my dinner buddies. He's sarcastic. He wears black. He's my friend. It's always the same old 'you don't know what you got til it's gone.' It just sucks how everything always has to change. We can't all just stay friends or stay where we are. I guess if we always stayed where we are we'd never make any new friends. I wouldn't be anywhere near here if I was still with Joey. I just hate it when people go away. It's so depressing. Stress relief.
Alright, so there's this guy on my softball team that is pure sex. I have never met someone like him. From the moment I laid eyes on this guy, I've wanted to hump his brains out. Thing is -- it's not just looks. There's some quality about him that just draws me. Must be pheremones. My friend Stephanie feels the same way, she told me. If I hadn't been warned about this guy, I'd probably be fantasizing about hooking up with him. As it is now, it's like I have to remind myself, "What did Matt say?" But my god, he exhales sex. Jesus Christ. There's something primal and animal about it -- like built-it, as though I'm programmed to want this guy's nuts or something. Like on a biological level I want to have his babies or something. I don't think I've ever wanted anyone so badly in my whole life.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: I am a big fat supernerd. What kind of a person finds it necessary to post when they get in at 4 in the morning? A person like me. ::sigh:: I guess I'm just a computer geek at heart.
Okay, just for the record, drunk people should not be taking care of other drunk people. Especially mad other drunk people. Also, drunk people shouldn't be posting because it's unintelligible, what they say, right? Right? Like you don't want to read this right now, right? Yeah...drunk people should go to bed when it gets to be 4 am. Goodnight New Orleans!!
I may not have all the answers, but I know you. I know you better than you know yourself -- front to back, back to front. I know what you're going to say before you say it and when you cry, I can just look into your eyes and understand. I may not have everything you want but I have everything you need. I'll be the best for you without changing because we're so alike, you and I. It isn't magic: we're just perfect for each other as we are because this is who we are. I am what you want and you are what I want. It's simple and beautiful and logical and unbelievable, all at the same time. But believe it because I'm asking you right now. This is it. Right here. You and me. It doesn't get any better.
I have six classes this semester and twenty-one credits. I have done this for myself because last semester I had far too much free time. That means: ecology and evolutionary biology, chem II, calc II, spanish oral proficiency, introduction to latin american studies, introduction to religious studies. Yeah, I have homework now. In any event, Spanish is very weird in my mind because the teacher during the class did not say a word of English but when I remember the class, it seems as though she was talking in English. I go, "and she said 'No one is in this class so I can learn,'" and then I realize that she didn't say that, she said, "Nadie esta en esta clase para mi." I need to stop translating in my head and just absorb, I suppose. Hopefully I'll be a better speaker (and understanderer) by the end of the semester.
Well, it's not like I've had anything to say anyway.
However, tonight I am going to my first punk show in years and I'm excited. Not that I know the bands. But anything that I used to do and don't now leaves me feeling disconnected. So I look forward to connecting again. Now what in the hell am I going to wear?
Welcome to 2003. Believe it or not, I was actually at the Embarcadero (San Francisco) last night. And I met a guy that should have been very attractive to me but he wasn't. I guess even if you have style, an alternative lifestyle, play the guitar and half a dozen other things, sometimes personality just falls short. Really, though, it was the first time I ever met a guy that was "my type" that I wasn't interested in. Not that I wasn't hoping I would get to kiss him when the year turned over. No, he ran off when we were waiting in line for the bathroom. The year turned over right before we got in the stall. Happy New -- YES! We get to pee!! I knew that was going to happen.
