No, you're absolutely right. I shouldn't be such a lazy bastard. This hasn't even been a difficult week for me. Neither was last. But next isn't lookin' so hot (what with initiation and plenty of psp events) and after that the pre-finals testing begins, complete with two spanish presentaciones, a test and an entrevista oral, as if it weren't hard enough just to learn to speak the language. And of course there's testing in my other five classes and two labs. Nevertheless, I will continue to truck on.
Nothing of any importance has happened to me recently (i.e. no boy action). But we're gettin' on the summer and I certainly wouldn't want to deal with long-distance romance before things could even get brewin'. I wouldn't mind a good fuck here or there, though (ha, kidding... kind of).
I did recently finish Lady Chatterley's Lover which means that I'm now in the middle of only three books (off the top of my head and a quick glance at my bookshelf). It was pretty good but I fought with D.H. Lawrence the whole way through and decided that no man understands a woman. Not even D.H. Lawrence. We're really doomed, ladies.
Oh! And I made a test. It's a test about my lovely, lovely hometown of Antioch.
I don't really know what to say about all this, so I'll just go with "Amber's Wartime Speech" straight to you from my away message (I swear I'll quit this soon):
I participated in a prayer circle today. Most of you know that I am an athiest. I did this for an imporant reason which I will share:
I believe in karma. I believe that what you put out will come back to you. I also believe that just by being of a certain type of mind, you change the energy around you and, consequentially, the energy of the whole world. As individuals, our actions are important by only a smidge, yes, but important nonetheless. Being of a pure heart, wanting peace, perhaps not bashing our president who is inevitably going to represent our country -- these things all matter. While naivety is never to be desired, optimism is. I think the best thing we can do now is want peace, and actively think about it. If you protest, do so with love and not hate. Everything matters.
On another note, it's completely overwhelming and I'm doing my best to think about it in very small doses.
Rejection is such a bitter, bitter pill to swallow. You won't see my name under "Orientation Coordinator." But I did haggle seven points out of my math teacher this morning, so that was fun. On a more positive note, I now have a much longer summer.
I take it back -- D.H. Lawrence and I have serious beef. I need to get back to female writers. It's just an incontrovertible fact of nature -- men don't know what women want.
This has been in my AIM profile for a while but it's just too old at this point and there's no room for it but it's the perfectly bitter, lovely, poetic statement that I took artistic liberties with in quoting my good friend Stephanie:
"Yeah, but there's something wrong with all nice guys: either they have a girlfriend or they're gay or at midnight they turn into a werewolf."
I now have two Greek organizations: Phi Sigma Pi, my honor frat and Duh da duh-DA Pi Alpha Phi Delta (Pi Delts). My good buddy Stephanie founded it tonight and immediately Lara and I joined. And then we put Erin in it. And Chris is our little brother. You don't know these people but it's no big deal. So we're four-strong and we're going to talk our friend into being a pledge. So we'd probably forget about it by tomorrow but we found twenty dollars on the ground on the way back from the greasy-ass Rat. So go Pi Delts and long live Stephanie!!
In other news, I've been having mid-terms up the ass this week (four total). Chem was bad. Diversity of Life was pretty good and the lab wasn't as bad as it could have been. Still got Calc to go. I need to get a good grade so I can keep my A. Who would ever have thought calculus would be my strongest subject? I guess I'm better at math than I originally thought.
Moreover, Jessie (my roommate's) boyfriend Jonathan is here and it's starting to bother me a lot. I want my room back. I want it back right now, goddamnit. So I'll leave you with the poem I wrote for Erin and Lara's fridge with the magnetic words:
Infantile love kissed your body.
Try to walk into the roses
and become water.
I can't sleep.
I never could.
United I am still.
It rains when I cry and
my laughter did nothing for the gloom.
SapGirly: so I saw my baby on TV last night!
grkoukla: oh right
grkoukla: how did he do?!
SapGirly: BRILLIANTLY!!
grkoukla: very nice!
SapGirly: He is my angel, my star. He's coming here to marry me, you know, as long as Javier stays in his coma.
Mardi Gras is over. Lent has begun. "Losing my Religion" is playing, again. For being my favourite song, it sure does depress me. But I still have to close my eyes and disappear for 4:28. I don't think I ever published this:
I find myself crying about scrambled eggs.
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.
It's not something I'm currently feeling. It's not something I was feeling when I wrote it in January. It's only after I've separated myself can I really write about things that hurt me so badly. If I wrote them at the time, it'd tear at me. Now I want to remember because it was so important an experience to have. I've always wanted to remember -- but not to reexperience. No "that was just a dream." And it does seem like a dream, like a nightmare. So I want to get it down and write it and keep it with me always because what was the point if I wasn't going to gain? Of course I couldn't appreciate this at the time but I kind of knew I'd be sitting here some day writing about one day after. You know what I'm still angry about? The fact that now I have to shop at the other drug store in town. Goddamnit. I've always been a Longs girl.
The aforementioned drinking binge has me way partied-out. The fact that I'm "this close" to being sick doesn't help either. I should be having a crazy-ass Mardi Gras right now but instead I'm hanging out at my computer with a fat caffeine high because Jessie and I are giving up soda for Lent so we had to finish the cokes in the fridge. I could be up all night.
Last night I was inducted into the world of drinking far too much. I've been a member of the Drinking Too Much For My Own Good club but last night, I was introduced and shook hands with the You Are An Alcoholic crowd. So, apparently, I was blacked out on the toilet for two hours, vomiting occasionally. I remember few parts of this. I do remember taking those tequila shots when I was already pretty much gone. Again, I say, tequila is bad. I was never supposed to drink it again. Now I'm never going to drink it again.
Moreover, I've discovered the joys of vomiting when drunk. It's a much less terrible experience than vomiting sober and there's a much slighter hangover. Much slighter. But at this point, I'm very much Phil -- partied out. It's time for hot cocoa and spaghetti and jesus I wish I had some freaking vegetables and sleeping in and watching movies. I'm staying the hell away from that stuff they call liquor. And today is Lundi Gras. No big deal. Fiona Apple will take care of that.
So it's Mardi Gras here in Crescent City. Parades parades parades. I have more beads than I could ever possibly need, ever, for any reason. I'd go into disgustingly long detail but why bother? Suffice to say for the most part, I'm having fun and I'm getting all kinds of useless junk I don't need. Peace!
