far from fabulous | Talking Heads
Ow! I hurt myself jumping on the bandwagon!
Let's Play A Game!
The game: ASK ME ANYTHING
Here's how we play:
- Ask me 3 questions. Any 3, no matter how personal, private or random.
- I have to answer them honestly. I have to answer them all.
- In turn, you post this message in your own blog or journal and you have to answer the questions that are asked of you.
I'm ready. Hit me with your best shot! (That's what Tina said...)
sad | the cranberries
Everytime I go to write something I backspace it. I'm never pleased with just rambling...I don't have a specific direction for this entry...or life.
Warning: Rambling Ahead, Proceed With Caution.
- Everytime I get enough motivation to go look into a college that I may be interested in, I feel like I've been kicked in the lungs. I know it doesn't have to be that big of a decision...it's not like I'm...picking out a college. Hmm. That old adage seems to have failed me this time. I went to a friend for advice, but found it more unsettling than anything.
Friend: "Having a Bachelors degree doesn't ensure you a good job anymore. A Masters does."
'Spose I didn't realize the shelf life of a 4 year degree. Whats next? Can't be a janitor until you have a PHD? Gimme a break.
For a long time, it was the money that bothered me about going away to school. I've always planned on going to a state school since its cheaper (and since my parents spent my college fund on my brother and his inconvenient lifestyle choices) and I even got accepted to the one I thought I really wanted to go to. But I went and visited and hated it.
My friend goes to a University that I really liked when I visited. Trouble is, it's well over $30,000/year. And as much as I would LOVE to be in debt the rest of my life with a yellowing piece of parchment saying I've had the proper training to sit on my ass in a cubicle all day and get paid for it, I still cannot get myself to get the ball rolling here. I applied once two years ago and got accepted, I just have to reapply now and send my transcripts and $40 for some unknown reason. This education bullshit is really quite the expensive ordeal. If you ask me, I think it should be free for everyone so we all have the equal opportunity for the same good ol' American education. But that would mean that everyone would be the same. And there's always some prick in the group that has to be better than everyone else. Ladies and Gentlemen, Capitalism.
But I digress.
Soooo anyway, the thing is...do I dig myself an early financial grave by going to the school I really want to go to (basically for the atmosphere) that doesn't have a strong concentration in my intended major OR do I suck it up and go to a crappy state school that hasan alright department in whatever it is I decide to do with my life (because you have to define it early on...is there a major in LIVING? Because that's all I really wanna do with my life) ?
How do I even go about trying to decide what I want to do? I know the first and foremost important thing to me is travel. Do I want to be a stewardess? Negatory. How about a travel agent? Nope.
I'm not good with computers, I could care less about the stock market, I hate children. I like antiques, food and art. I've taken the computerized tests that give you different options of which career path to take. My dreams of becoming a professional cabinet builder have been shattered by the wretched truth that I am not a skillful craftsman.
And working in a craft store isn't exactly rewarding. If the only other option to being treated by customers as a slave to retail is going to school, then so be it. I'll go to school.
In speaking of retail (did somebody say Hell?) when did the entire world get their panties in a bunch? Okay, maybe not the entire world. Just the crafty sector. And when did it become okay to yell at a cashier for not having a sale ad out this week? Last time I checked, a 20 year old girl in Utica, New York wasn't in charge of printing fliers for a store based out of Texas.
How insanely stupid are people? ( insert personal accounts of many here).
Stuff like that really gets to me. It's not like I want to work. Especially for people that I don't like. This isn't what I want to do. And, I'm not gonna lie, the ONLY reason I have that job is so my mom would stop nagging me about getting one.
I could live without earning a measley $8.00/hour. If I really wanted to do nothing and still have a meal three times a day and a roof over my head I'd commit a crime and become a permanent resident in the clank, resting comfortably on many fine citizens' tax dollars from their shitty jobs that leave them feeling unfulfilled and regretful of their paths not chosen.
But it's getting late and I'm getting increasingly more sad and bitter.
Day 4 is soon to follow, although I'm not sure when. Eight straight days of retail hell and crabby customers awaits me. At least it's a good reason to procrastinate deciding on which institution to sign my life over to.
Life.
Sorry I missed it. I was at work.
sleepy | Wedding Crashers soundtrack!
June 3, 2005
At this point, I had not slept in two and half days. I wasn't even tired anymore. I was just...existing. Harles and I planned the day around our meals. We'd get up, join the group for continental breakfast (aka a fancy array of bread and mineral water, very "continental" jackasses) and hop on a random bus in hopes of getting lost in a foreign country. Everyday was a new experience. We never knew where we'd end up...or if we'd ever find our hotel again.
On this particular evening, Harley, David and I were laying in bed, unable to sleep AGAIN. We had no clocks in the room and not one of us had a watch, even. Nights seemed endless. If I wasn't trying readjust and get comfortable laying between the cracks of two single sized beds, I was staring at the ceiling. David sang dirty songs to me to try and entertain me, but I just got progressively irritated. At one point I rolled over and saw Harley snuggling with a pair of jeans.
My insomnia and boredom were interrupted by a knock on the door. I was nervous, so I made David get up to answer it. It was Amanda, one of the girls on the trip with us. Apparently she couldn't sleep either and was wondering if any of us wanted to go out. Oh, hell yes.
We figured out it was 2:30 a.m. We all got dressed in the dark and quietly walked down the stairs into the lobby and I snuck a purseful of truffles for the road. We decided we all wanted food so we put together our Francs and (made a frankfurter!) headed toward the train station, hoping something in there would be open.
The four of us circled around a vending machine trying to decide what to rot our American teeth on when a voice from behind us echoed "You speak English?"
We turned around and saw two girls sitting on a bench, one was sleeping in the others lap. "Where you from?" She asked.
"New York."
"I'm from Minnesota. And she's from California." She motioned to the now slightly awake girl in her lap.
"What are you guys doing here? Vacation?" We asked, walking over to the bench. I was so happy to find English speaking people that I walked away from a vending machine full of American candy.
We sat and talked for about an hour or two. They were backpacking through Europe as a graduation present to themselves and had been all over. Switzerland was their last stop before home. They explained to us that they had missed their train and that there wasn't another one until 6 in the morning, so they had been waiting there since 9 or so for the next one.
After a while of more talking, the four of us, sans our new friends, decided to go out and explore some more before it got even later. Walking the empty streets we realized it was going to be damn near impossible to find anything open. We walked through the park and past the big cement wall of teacups and saucers and found another little Kebap shop with a little beam of light pouring out the open door. We have arrived! Food!
If you can't sleep, eat!
We walk in and order our food and sit at a booth in the back. In fact, the entire wall was one booth and we were sharing it with everyone else in there. I sat next to a southern looking lady who wore too much makeup, but smiled at me when I sat next to her. We watched the Swiss version of MTV and I was mesmerized by all the energy these Europeans have in their music videos. It was insane. Everything was so upbeat that you'd wonder whether or not any of 'em ever had a bad day in their life. Not to mention, obesity is not really an issue for non-Americans, so that explains the energy level, I suppose.
Other than the music, the four of us were quiet while we ate. I could feel myself getting increasingly more tired, yet I knew no matter what I tried, I wouldn't be able to sleep. We walked back through the park and toward the train station where wanted to make a little delivery before going back to the hotel. We brought the girls some food for their trip home.
When we got to the room we changed back into our jammies and put on the TV. It was rumored that you get 10 minutes or so of free porn before they start charging you for it. Turns out, moaning is universal. Just wanted to clear that up.
10 minutes of free foreign porn and the Swiss version of Mannequin starring Kim Catrell later, the sun was rising and it was time for another cruddy breakfast compliments of the Weiner Salon. (I kid you not, that was the name of the resteraunt in our hotel. And if food is their business, I suggest they stick to weiner hairdressing, as the name implies.)
For our last day in Basel, Harley and I thought we'd try something new and - - -shop. Again. So we hop a train without knowing where it's headed and hope it's not to a slum. We end up on the other side of River Rhine which is also shopping central. At first glance, this part of Basel has a strikingly similar feel to SanFransisco, with the cable cars and the close, parallel streets lined with shops and cafes.
We shopped for a few hours, most of which were spent in the extremely large H&M. I hit about 20 shoes stores, on average. Around 2, Harley and I finally felt like we could sleep. We hopped a bus back to our hotel (that's a lie. We hopped the wrong bus at first and ended up somewhere that was not our hotel. So we actually hopped 2 buses to get where we were supposed to be. I am no conquistador.) and I slept! For 4 whole hours! Not bad for 3 days!
We woke up around 7-ish and Mama had yet another hair crises. Mama's chi was still seemingly broken and I was getting really good at convincing him that nobody, other than himself, cares what his HURR looks like. So around 8:30 we left the room and hopped another bus to hopefully a resteraunt somewhere.
I'm not really sure where we ended up but something tells me it was the Manhattan of Basel. Designer stores, fancy resteraunts...I was home! We settled on a place to eat and Mama and I shared a nice meal together. We had $22 antipasto. And the best ice cream ever.
Trying to get back to the hotel again was another project in and of itself. Apparently the trains and buses stop running at a certain time. And apparently bus drivers are accustomed to abandoning ship without checking if people are still on it. For long periods of time. Yeah.
Mine and Harley's conversation on the back of the bus can be described like this: "You say something." "No, you say something." "Oh my God. I'm so scared. What are we gonna do?" "Do you think that guy looks like Dustin Hoffman?" "Yeah, a little."
Finally by the grace of some unseen force, the bus starts moving again. I don't know if it was the driver or if it was some random dude off the street, but I didn't care.
When we got back to the room, David was nowhere to be found. I decided that I didn't want to share a bed with him anymore. Waking up with his arms around me was enough to make me gag at this very moment just thinking about it. The sleeping arrangements needed an adjustment, quick, before he got back.
Aha! We would sleep in the bathroom! Capital idea!
So we take our feather bed and some blankets, pillows and a lamp and set up shop in the loo! This ought to teach him, we thought. He can have that whole bed to himself and we'll sleep on the cold tile floor!
"Girl, mama is not comfortable."
After all our hard work setting up a master suite in the master bath, we both realized that, while sleeping in the bathroom is funny, it's not the most comfortable. So we came up with a better idea.
We pretended to be asleep on the bed when David came in. And when he peered over at me, on his side of the bed, drool POURING out of mouth, he decided it might be better to sleep on the floor. So thats what he did.
I never slept better in my life.
politcally disgusted | Green Day
My thoughts on the matter : AOLNews Prince of Pot Seeks Support
-Doesn't America have bigger issues to be dealing with? Aren't we at war?
Here's a list of the negative effects of pot smoking from : WebMD
What they inherently fail to mention is that these side effects can also be found in alcohol and cigarettes, both of which are LEGAL.
It is said that marijuana is the source of moral decay of today's society. But that's bullshit. People are the moral decay of today's society. People that are power hungry and have their own self-serving interests in mind not that of their fellow people and of their country, are the moral decay. People trying to teach limmericks from a million year old book as a basis for a modern world, are the moral decay. Regular, ordinary, everyday people shooting each other and raping each other and stealing from each other are the moral decay of society.
No, it is not POT that is ruining the world.
And I know it's hard to believe, but there are more important things going on in the world than a coupla' kids getting stoned. Besides, can you blame them? Look at this hellhole we live in. Is it such a crime to want to escape it once in a while?
It outrages me everytime I see a nonsensical topic being tossed back and forth between newscasts. But I realize it's only being done in lieu of showing the real news; innocent American soldiers and Iraqis being blown to bits for no reason at all, appendages laying in the debris of battleground, rotting for no good reason. If they showed that stuff on TV instead of Jennifer Aniston's broken love life, I think we'd have a better shot at a revolution.
But there's no telling these days. It's so easy to lose hope.
AND FURTHERMORE! Who cares if it gives you cancer! Everything gives you cancer! I'm sure all of the people who are rollin' up a fatty realize what it's doing to their lungs, just the way those who can't live without a bottle of booze in their fist know what it's doing to their liver. Thanks for all of the ink and breath wasted on the constant reminders! But really, it's unnecessary.
Marc Emery, baby, you've got my support. You are so money and you don't even know it.
perfectly fine | Led Zeppelin
It's been one of those days. My first day off since Tuesday (haha) and I've just been relaxing all day. You know, taking a break from the lunches out and shopping trips. My life seems like a never-ending vacation sometimes...can't complain.
My mom is on vacation for two whole weeks and I am lost in sea of housework! Now I know why I gag a little everytime someone mentions marriage! Yuck! I even baked a pie in order to lure my brother to come over so he could take out the garbage. I am so bad.
I drove off as he was coming down the driveway, recycling bin in hand. "You're a serf!" I yelled, "A serf!"
Hahahhaa.
Work's been kinda crappy as of late, been doing a whole bunch of store duties wrong and making my boss's ears turn red. *sigh* I can't be a people pleaser ALL the time. It's a demanding job.
Sean left for Florida a week ago and I really really really miss him. He was my buddy. But what can you do? (I know! Buy a ticket and go on yet another holiday! Duh!) We used my truck to move him out one night, looked like we were robbin' the place. Good times.
Looking into schools, trying to decide which one to enslave myself to for the next two years. Hopefully one with a good atmosphere and awesome people. Maybe a Salvation Army or coffee shop nearby. And a cowboy or two, strollin' down the street. ...Now I'm getting too idealistic.
My Wedding Crashers-athon is continuing tommorrow night...this makes five. One of my friends works at the movie theater and gave me a Wedding Crashers poster that I got framed at my lovely place of employment. That was a good day.
My brother and his girlfriend and I decided to have an impromptu garage sale next weekend in which I am cleaning out all of the random things I acquired throughout my 20 year life. It's all going, sombreros, beaded curtains, dolls with missing extremities- - -it all goes!
Oh- and I'm gon' be an aunt. Brother and his new chick are p.g. He couldn't even wait 'til the divorce was final. Kids these days.
Aside from the aforementioned, nothing else is new. Day 3 is on its way...
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
dreadful | Sheryl Crow
June 1, 2005
Due to the lack of sleep on the flight in combination with too many alcoholic beverages, by the time our plane landed in Zurich at 11 o'clock local time, I was exhausted and sick to my stomach.
In the airport, I searched high and dry for the nearest bathroom. First culture shock: unisex bathrooms. I had zero problems popping a squat next to my fellow group leader, Scott.
We grabbed our bags (mine adorned with a last minute hot pink thong to differentiate between everyone else. Really, how common is a black suitcase on wheels?) and headed to yet another way too air conditioned bus that would drive us an hour away, to Basel, where we were staying.
We arrive, I'm too tired to be impressed and become overly unenthused when the non-English speaking Swiss hotel clerks inform us that our rooms will not be ready until 2 o'clock. I begin making a checklist in between popping complimentary swiss truffles into my grill.
- I am tired, cranky and hungover.
- Contemplating overdosing on free truffles. Stomach ache ensues.
We finally get our rooms and to our dismay, Harley and I found out we would not be rooming together. So we go to our respective floors and:
- Get to my room. Tries to jump out the window after discovering to single size beds pushed together with a huge blanket thrown across it. This is where I sleep?
- Attempt to shower, keyword being ATTEMPT. Now I know why Europeans have hairy armpits...a handheld ONLY showerhead makes it near impossible to shave while getting a sufficient amount of water.
- Shortly thereafter, I move in with Harley and his roomate. This makes 3 people in the makeshift sleeping quarters, Harley and I and David, the kid who sings dirty songs in a dutch accent.
I rested up while Harley aka Mama took a shower. I opened the windows and felt a nice breeze come in. We decided to go out for a little while, exchange our money and grab something to eat. Our hotel was right next to the train station, which had little shops and food stands and a bank inside.
Mama decides he needs to straighten his HURR before we go hit it up Switzerland style. So we tear open the package for the adaptor we bought and attempt to plug it in, every which way. It has like 80 different prongs, none of which match up to the ones in the wall. Finally, we find a suitable connection. He tries to plug in his ultra expensive Chi but to no avail. It appeared that Mama would not be straightening his HURR that day. But he didn't give up that quickly.
Before I knew it, it was nearing 4 o'clock. Thats 2 hours of hair crises. He tried my straightener. He tried sticking his hair between two books. I was becoming beyond infuriated. IT'S HAIR! I wanted to scream. CAN'T WE JUST GO?!
I finally finally finally got Mama to leave the room. We walked outside into beautiful weather and headed towards the bank. It was at that moment that I seemed to have misplaced my ability to speak Swiss.
I don't know what I was thinking that I never bothered to even learn a WORD of Swiss or Dutch or German or French. And if I thought about it, I wished I had used my Italian while in Switzerland, seeing as none of the people there understood English except for the term AMERICAN, which, upon hearing, made them treat you badly. (Sad, but exceptionally true.)
After almost 2 days of nil food, I was feeling like a bottomless pit. Harles and I toured the train station, figuring we were in position to venture off too far on our first day, and I decided on a little middle eastern run Kebap stand. (Kebap is a psuedonym for a Gyro, in Swiss.) I'm not sure the Kebap man spoke Swiss and he definitely didn't speak English. I figured I'd just point at what I wanted.
But he insisted on talking.
It took me close to 10 minutes to get a damn kebap, or whatever its called. It was one of the most frustrating and unnerving events in my life. And he wasn't even sympathetic to my "situation" (being American, that is.) He was mean. We named him the Kebap Nazi.
So I gather up my food, throw some francs his way and peace out. We find a place to sit and eat outside of our hotel. Apparently this too was not such a good idea. A blonde lady with a ginormous braid (stereotype) comes over and starts talking to us like we understand. Harley and I thought it'd be funny to talk back - - -in a made up language - - - to her.
Swiss Lady: BLAH BLAH BLAH LOOK AT MY BRAID BLAH.
Me: Dingle dumbledorf raisin bran triggle-y diggle-y lee dee! *takes HUGE bite of KEBAP*
She throws her hands above her head and walks away.
I am so American. I am evil at my very core.
- Less than 4 hours in the country and I buy a pair of shoes.
We decided to try and get some sleep around 7 p.m. That way maybe we could get into a normal sleep pattern. That wasn't the case.
Stay tuned for Day 3, or, the Art of Pointing.
nostalgic | Pink Floyd
May 31, 2005
After 5 hours on a way-too-air-conditioned bus, we arrive at JFK, 11 days worth of luggage in tow, passports in hand. Harley and I had entertained ourselves for the duration of the busride by doing impressions of ex-Pres, prestigious peanut farmer Jimmy Carter, reading random bumperstickers (who lit the fuse on your tampon?) and reading a gift I got the day before on my birthday, AMERICA by Jon Stewart. Dig the irony.
At JFK we are greeted by 3 floors of escalators, one of my worst phobias (it's right up there with vending machines and cheesesticks). After a teeny-tiny panic attack, I ditch my bags and head for the stairs. Some heavy breathing and asthmatic threat later, I am reaquainted with the group and my bags at the customs gate.
Customs Gate = Legal Rape.
It's not long after we arrive at the terminal that it's time for departure. We took SwissAir which dons the Swiss Symbol on its sides. I kept referring to it as Air911. No one thought it was funny
. 
I was seated in the aisle seat next to the bathroom. Initially, I scoffed thinking "what a shitty flight!" but later I would be thankful that the bathroom was sooo close. Next to me, in the window seat that I would happily give an extremity for, was a Romanian man named George that would become my good friend during the 8 hour flight.
I flipped through magazines, sipping wine and occasionally glancing over George's shoulder to see the view. The sun was setting behind us and we were flying into dusky pinkness. I turned my head to look out the other side of the plane and saw that it was already pitch black. Unbelieving, I looked over George's shoulder again and still saw the glowing orange ball slip away into the distance. It still boggles my mind.
Over dinner, George and I began to talk. First about our food, next about our destinations ...and then he told me stories of his life in Romania and how different it is in New York City where he works as a doorman. Over wine, he told me about his children and their lives and asked me where I thought mine might lead to. The stewardess came and took what was left of our food and our empty wine bottles (all six of 'em!) I excused myself as I got up to use the bathroom and it was then I realized, "Damn! I'm drunk!"
When night finally hit, they turned out the lights on the plane and I grabbed up a pillow and a blanket and leaned onto George's shoulder to try and sleep. I drank all the wine hoping it would put me to sleep the way it does on dry land, but to no avail. I was drunk and awake on a plane of sleeping people. Luckily, I wasn't the only one. About 6 other people from my group were having the same problem and we decided that we should throw a party in the back of the plane in celebration of, what else, my birthday!
So the oh-so-trusting stewardess brings us underagers a plethora of mini bottles of alcohol. We popped 6 champagnes (or champagni?) and toasted to the wonder that is me. (And they just met me!) We played a game of virtual Who Wants to be a Millionaire, complete with Regis Philbin speaking Dutch!
Wie Wil Millionaire Zijn? Ik!
Before we knew it, it was morning again. Nightime lasted all of 2 hours.
Sleep: 0
Alcohol: too much
Me: not feelin' so hot.
I nudged George awake so he could get some good shots (he's a photographer in his spare time) as we flew through the Alps. It was amazing. There we were, above the clouds and poking through them were the tips of the Swiss Alps. You could barely tell the difference between the clouds in the distance and the snow covering the jagged rocks of the Alps. Despite my impending hangover and jet lag, I smiled. Just then, a day after my 20th birthday, I saw something that many people never get to see in their whole lives. And it rocked.
sleepy | Duran Duran "what's gonna happen tomorrow"
"...we try not to show how frightened we are..."
rated: PG-13, Parental Guidance suggested.
I've realized that its much easier to make lists of things you want to do, things you should do...than to actually do them.
So much has been going on around here lately and I find myself becoming increasingly numb to it all. I'm losing my direction and focus...ah, what focus? Never came up with one yet. Talk about procrastination...
For a long time now I haven't been able to write poetry the way I used to. I've become a dry well, so to speak. It wasn't until recently I decided that I've just merely switched my creative outlets from a pen and paper to an online journal.
Friends are coming and going, new friends are being made unexpectedly and old friends are moving on. It's a time of change.
I got to meet Amber earlier this week. We spent 3 days together, thrift shopping, antiquing, being moviegoers, hangin' at the DUGOUT. We made s'mores, yelled at kids in the lazy river, got anal raped by a waterslide, watched Amber on Jenny Jones circa 1998, had a breakfast bbq, listened to Blink182 & Social Distortion, stunk at bowling, took pictures inside of Paul Bunyan's crotch. You know, the usual vacation stuff.
I loved her. Very sad to see her go.
There are so many things I need to do. But everything seems so pointless sometimes. I'm getting sick of work, I think I need a new atmosphere. People are getting too close, I'm becoming suffocated.
I'm also beginning to question whether or not I'm a good person. I think real deep down I am, but on the surface I'm smudged just like everyone else. Bitter and jaded.
A big part of me wishes cellphones were never invented. It's just another excuse for the general public to be rude.
I feel like I'm just passing the time, watching it go by. Waiting for something. Always waiting for something.
Maybe one day I'll stop waiting and start living.
R.I.P Sal, until we meet again... 08.02.05
frustrated | "adam's song"
I wanted to share this piece of wisdom from Kathleen here:
Comment from: Kathlyna22
i saw this and thought of you...
"Women are like apples on trees.
The best ones are at the top of the tree.
Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because
they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead,
they just take the rotten apples from the ground that
aren't as good, but easy.......
The apples at the top think something is wrong with
them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have
to wait for the right man to come along, the one who's
brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the
tree."
To Marissa, a tip top apple
Kathleen
