the unexplainable absence

it's not like I'm any busier than I've ever been. I just haven't been in the mood to type here. But I'll be back on my daily regimen...I promise.

Two more weeks to the party, which I'm so excited about. Which means two more weeks to graduation and my daddy coming to visit. I'm looking forward to introducing everyone to my father.

I'm also looking forward to school being over.

I decided to resume my post at Siena Coffee in the meantime between Pete's departure and whoever is big enough to fill Pete's shoes. Even I doubt I can do that job.

I can't think of anything else that's worth writing about. I'll be back soon.

cheers,

stine

life

when life hands you lemons...

be careful not to get the juice in your eye.

sunny sunday sox game

Today Eric and I went to the Sox game. We were supposed to go with my brother Alan who's a big Sox fan, prior to the championship win, but he wasn't feeling well so I got to ask Deanna to go with us instead.

The game passed at an unbelievable clip, a sign that the Sox are playing a high level, since I can remember going to games and being bored out of my wits, at this game, it was all hustle and the Sox scored four home runs, two pairs of them, both back to back.

enter fireworks.

It was fun to watch the game and drink frozen margaritas and sit in the sun. I felt like this was the first scheduled day off time I'd had in a while. And I still managed to be working in the morning. Yes, I know, I am quite the workhorse. Usually when I take time off from work I don't do anything, I just sit around the house and do laundry. Not the same as sitting in the upper deck cheering for a home run.

It was the first Sox game for both Eric and Deanna, which I thought was interesting, mostly because Deanna is a native chicagoan, so I assumed she must have been dragged to a game at some point. I guess I'm lucky to have a brother who's so good at insisting I go to things with him; looking back on it, it's a nice memory we have about going to games together, and it was fun to be the expert (though I'm no replacement for Alan..."Um, no...Konerko's not a catcher. Or is he?") and know that a home run would elicit fireworks, that the margarita man would make his way up to us, that we could easily get there on the train.

Mostly what I fondly remember about going to a game is this sort of thrill, from being a small part of a big whole, from partaking the staples of summer, hot dogs, frozen drinks, beer, fireworks, sun, and from spending time with people you love all the while, knowing that there's no one else they'd rather sit next to for three to five hours than you.

evites

I just (finally) sent out all my invitations to my graduation party via evite.com.

The evite thing has me thinking...on the one hand I think it's an excellent idea, the ability to invite people via email, over the internet, but on the other hand, there's so many people I want to invite who don't have email, like my brother and his wife, or maybe they do and I just don't email them. I guess to me it's one more step in the direction of having our lives laid onscreen, online, in the digital world and it concerns me slightly.

I suppose it's a little ironic (or black pot kettle-y) that I'm even writing this online, but I am. I know I can reach five or so of you who read this and convey my thoughts to you. I could wait until we're face to face to say these words, but I might have to wait for a while in some cases.

Many people have wondered if books will become obsolete, and sometimes, when I realize how much I do online, I see the trend going in favor of online. And I actually don't think that books will be transferred completely to computers (the audio books still win over reading a book length's worth of words on a screen), but I do think people will eventually stop reading books because they're too busy with their computers to read, and there will be a movie of it anyway (i.e. popular The Da Vinci Code which was just released into paperback is closely followed by a theatrical version soon to be released) so why bother to read the book.

As a writer hoping to make a book someday, this is obviously a concern to me, but that is way abstract at this point. The truth is, I love reading books and I haven't read a book in over a month, and the last book I read was for class (Dorothy Allison's Bastard Out of Carolina) and the last one I read before that was a long time ago. Okay so having five classes a semester leaves me little time for reading, but some people have far more pressing things to occupy their time. The idea that the market for books might dry up in my lifetime and I will watch people turn to their televisions, movies, and computers for something faster, condensed and visual is sad.

I will be a bitter old lady, I think.

and the evite process was eerily easy and free of problems. I think it took all of an hour. hope you can make it!

thrifty junk

Today I took a break from work and snuck inside The Ark Thriftshop for an hour or so. I found a really cool wooden tray that had little dot drawings of birds and other animals, some glass vases and a weird teal/turquoise colored industrial glass piece that I had no idea what it once belonged to, but it looked cool on its own.

I have to admit, there's one thing about The Ark I quite enjoy, and he's not for sale...Luke is a really great guy from Australia who works there and remembers me each time I come. I guess as my friend Marilyn puts it, "There's not a lot of six foot girls with pigtails walking around!" He is very nice and has given me some good discounts on stuff, and even asked me once if I was an artist. I don't know why I loved that so much, but I found it very amusing.

Today when he got done discussing the price of a table set with a woman (she didn't like the price), he came over to me and we talked a bit. He looked over what I had already chosen, focusing on the bird tray. We talked for a bit about birds, which is a decorating thing I've noticed I subconciously gravitate towards, and he talked about how his aunt made bird aviaries in Australia. I wonder if he misses being there. Being a native chicagoan*, I wouldn't know what it feels like to be far away from where you once lived. I showed him something I had been given earlier today, a white travel makeup bag that I said I wasn't too sure about but I didn't want to throw it away. He said, "Oh, that's not really you." Then I said I was thinking of leaving it there, and he said I should be careful that my friend doesn't find it there and get mad at me!

The funny thing about me and thrift stores is that it's kind of in my blood. My mom's dad was a junk shop owner. In fact, he had a heart attack at work while loading or unloading a truck. I don't remember much about him, other than he had a mean temper, and he owned that junkshop. I often think of him when I feel the urge to pluck unnecessary things from the alley, or when I'm in a thrift store like The Ark, or when I rescue something from being thrown away. I think he would have liked The Ark, but it's a little too big and organized for him. I think he would have preferred the place that used to be down the block but is now gone, Betty's. That place was a maze of junk, piled as precariously high as it could be without toppling, and it seemed to spill out from each opening, onto the sidewalk, into a side lot, and it was no surprise that it caught fire and burned...

When I'm at The Ark, which I make a point to visit once a month or so, I manage to scour their three floors and find things that are perfect for me and even impress Luke. I can look into their shelves and shelves of glassware and pick out the one thing I want. And I have begun to see how they often place the same kind of thing in the same spots because they sold from those spots previously (to me in most cases), like this fluted vase that has a something almost like a paperweight on the end was in the same spot where I found one the last time I was there. Even Marilyn went there with me once and was impressed by my keen eye. There's always something I pass up, for lack of money (some of the things are on the pricey side there) or I wonder what the hell I'll do with it, and I tend to always regret it later.

The one thing I have truly regretted passing up was a beautiful tea tin that had all kinds of colors in it (which means it can go with anything). I'm not certain why I passed on it, but I do remember not two days later seeing a magazine about home decorating trends and that being on the list. I went back and it was gone.

Today I had to pass on an ashtray that was like a square chunk of stone with a polished concave circle in the middle that was absolutely beautiful and five dollars and I don't smoke and what am I going to do with it, put change and keys in it and there's already a million little things I have to put keys and change in and good grief...but now I am wondering when I can get back there to buy it; and it won't be til next week sometime.

If any of you thrift-like minded would ever like to go to The Ark, just let me know.

*speaking of being a "native chicagoan..." I finally typed up a new post about the Warhol exhibit at the MCA. Check it out and make sure to leave your comments/criticisms/praise. thanks.

"gonna see if I can't unwind..."

Was the best part of my day sneaking home to watch South Park? Even though it was an episode I'd already seen a few times (for some reason only certain brands of burned dvd's work on my laptop) I still laughed. I still thought it was funny. And after a big meal of Easter leftovers and a long day of work and attempts at homework, but before another stint of babysitting, I just wanted something I knew would be entertaining.

Funny thing is, I used to loathe South Park. I've come to realize that loathing was a product of my own inability to understand what the hell that show was about, or in other words, I was being an ignorant, judgmental ass. It would come on and I would leave the room. People would talk about it and I would change the conversation. I was really annoyed by people who said it was better than The Simpsons, which I only marginally appreciated anyhow.

Some might think Eric turned the tide for me with his steady digestion of all things funny and cartoonish, but no, it was my dad. The way it happened was kind of ironic actually. My dad's hard of hearing (on his side it's almost like being hard of seeing; happens to all of us eventually) so he often watches television shows and movies with the captions on. Suddenly, I understood what I had previously declared was "gibberish" and could see what the kids were actually saying and it was funny. I think the first episode my dad wanted me to watch was the spoof of the controversy over that Mel Gibson movie, Passion of The Christ. The first thing I laughed over was the title, Passion of The Jew.

Now when I watch South Park I am familar with the way the kids talk so I don't need the captions to translate for me, though sometimes I do miss some phrases here and there. And, I've found that recently, I enjoy talking about the latest episodes with anyone who'll listen, and I credit it all to my dad.

there's something about live music

So even though the venue was not the best, the sound was even worse, the people were just gross, I have to say it was still quite the thrill to see my favorite band JT & The Clouds on Friday night. Katerina's is nice because it's so small--while I waited outside for Eric and my friends, the lead singer came out to listen to voice mails and it was all I could to do keep quiet and from saying hello--but by the time I got there, the best seats were gone and it was impossible to see and harder to hear. The only thing I could see was this hippie guy who was totally into the music swaying back and forth in his gray t-shirt and side swung ponytail.

The Clouds were doing an acoustic set, which didn't start til late and by the time it did everyone was tired, so I only actually heard a few songs. They were pretty good unplugged, which didn't surprise me, since I think the first time I saw them play they played acoustic. With as many members that they have, they make a pretty big sound. They were a vast improvement over the muttering vocal stylings of whoever was lucky enough to open for them. He was either not singing loud enough, his microphone was too low, or no one really wanted to hear him and kept talking.

I think even though all the variables were pretty bad, except for the delicious desserts and the few songs I did hear of The Clouds, I realized that it's been a long time since I've gone out to see live music. I'm not sure if it's the same feeling you get from seeing movies in a crowded theater or if it's the thrill of being close to someone or the people you think are so talented. Whatever it is, it is pretty thrilling and satisfying.

So, not that I'm one to be ruffled by weird things, except I guess I usually expect it most times, but today in English class, this girl rushed in late in the clothes she'd slept in and then took off the t-shirt she was wearing, which she claimed, loudly, smelled like Nick (we presumed correctly that Nick is her boyfriend).

Underneath the smelly shirt she wore a gray colored stretchy tank top with no bra. I knew this because the top was a little tight and her nipple piercings (on both sides) were pushed up against the fabric.

On each of her shoulders, she had a tattoo. And I just kept glancing and her and the outlines of those piercings and thinking, holy moly, that is some crazy shit. I have to say I've never been that close to female nipple piercings and that's as close as I'd like to be.

It's not like this girl is some soft spoken creature who sits in the back row; she's got a punk girl look going on, and yet, no piercings in common places, like the eyebrow or the nose.

A friend of mine from Tower Records had nipple piercings and it was kind of perfect on him because he was gay and very sexual and he wore a fishnet tank top to show them off.

And maybe, I thought it was too painful for a woman to undergo, so I liked the idea of a man doing it.

Sometimes when I think about things like this I feel old and not with it.

sometimes I feel very tired

I have been so busy the last two days, with all sorts of things. I saw my favorite band play and went to the art institute's student show on Friday, yesterday I went to a friend's house to watch a Woody Allen movie on a projection screen, I worked, I ate, went to my math class, I laughed, I went from one thing to the next feeling brimmed up with life and vitality and went to sleep and woke up and did it again.

Today is Easter and we both have the day off and there will be a break in my busy life and I feel lathargic now, like I can't even get dressed and ready to go. Perhaps the demands of being around one's family are more daunting than twenty hours of a jam packed life, complete with organizing, factoring, determining, deciding, scheduling, etc.

I am already late for it, will make everyone else delayed by being late and I still linger, unable to find the joy that will bring through the day. Perhaps it will be the little ones with their open faces and easy smiles that will make today special.

myspace is amazing...

I just found the profile of a guy who I guess you could call one of my first roommates. Haven't seen him in ten years. He looks exactly the same except heavier, and according to his profile, he's married and a proud parent.

wow.

and I thought for sure he was gay.

oh well.

the +/- of intro to lit

[+'s]

I learned a new word. synecdoche. A figure of speech in which a part is used for the whole (as hand for sailor), the whole for a part (as the law for police officer), the specific for the general (as cutthroat for assassin), the general for the specific (as thief for pickpocket), or the material for the thing made from it (as steel for sword). [dictionary.com]

Today, I was the class expert on Emily Dickinson. Thanks to Eric being from Amherst, I've even actually been inside the room in which Dickinson spent most of her life, when Eric's mom (Amherst's head librarian) offered to spring for a tour of her home.

it's not the worst class ever.

[-'s]

Clearly, this is not the class a fourth year fiction writing major should have to take. I guess I should have taken it a long time ago, but I didn't really know it was a requirement until last year when I was "audited" for graduation and realized there was a lot of gen ed creds (that most people get out of the way at the beginning) that I had simply ignored.

When my teacher said to me, Are you a poet? I said no, since I'm not, though have been at some time, and then she said, "Good. I was afraid you might be. Having a poet in this class sucks."

I stayed up til two a.m. writing a five page paper, a one page journal reflection, and handwriting the definitions for the poetry section (a total of three and a half pages of double spaced words). She then said we should hang on to the poetry vocab and turn it in the following week.

She begins the poetry section by saying it's not a good idea to use the word always when it comes to poetry. She speaks about Dickinson's poems a mere fifteen minutes later and says they're always about loneliness, longing, and emptineess. She doesn't agree with my "she's chiding people, she's telling them what they're getting wrong..." theory.

The class always feels longer than nearly three hours...

my new soap operas...

Since I no longer have a post that allows me the luxury of watching television all morning and night (ah, how I miss the days of working at the dry cleaners) I have found that I don't really miss the soap operas I used to watch, not really, even when I see glimpses of the faces I am so familar with staring at me from magazines in the checkout aisles, or commercials on cable for the soap network, or even when I go into Siena on an afternoon that Val works (she's very much into the soap operas on Channel 7; which was the favored channel at the cleaners simply because it had the best reception).

I know that it's not really good for me anyway and there's no reason to like such junk, but like bad trashy novels, or a bag of chips, the lure of the soap opera drama still calls to me, and I still listen.

Imagine my surprise when it came online...I randomly checked out craigslist for a class assignment (I had to find three job leads online), and I noticed the section called missed connections. I was intrigued. Similar to something I've seen in the Reader; it wins by having the posts linked via a subject header, which means you can read whatever post that has the most interesting content (like this recent one: "You Gave Me Your Number - And Slept With My Friend - w4m") and skip the rest. Recently, I was captivated in searching for the origin of a cat fight between two college girls at UIC. What could this woman have said to make "Christine in 481" so angry? Just that she ought to stop acting like the class is such a waste of her time and maybe smile once in a while. By the end of it, the back and forth posts had them making fun of each other's breasts, "mine are classy, not trashy."

I don't care how highbrow you are, this shit is absolutely fascinating. So I have been trying not to read it everyday, mostly because there's so many other things to do, but the truth is, you miss a couple days, you could be behind a hundred postings or so and miss something...which is when I realized it's just like the soaps.

And, the funniest thing is, they even have their version of "Luke and Laura" in the form of "Dan and Elena," who apparently actually connected on the missed connection board and are getting married...someone recently flamed them as "exhibitionists who have nothing better to do with their lives than post about them online"!

Though the format's crude and there's not usually visuals, the truth is, it all comes out the same in the end, it feels just like being addicted to a soap opera, except it's whiny people who have too much time on their hands, and it's more "real" than "The Real World" and there's something oddly appealing about a bunch of anonymous people trying to find someone they saw in real life online.

pilot program

Today I got to join another English class that will not only be better for my schedule, but it's actually socially responsible too. It's a pilot program that is exploring how to raise awareness about HIV/AIDS. My role this late in the class (with a mere four weeks to go) is to stoke interest, lend my skills at editing and design the layout for the magazine that the class hopes to produce.

The teacher is the same teacher I have for my other English class (where we simply go through the rigorous work of writing one long essay style term paper that isn't scholarly and tells a story--not as easy as it sounds, but not too hard for me) and though she means well, she's kind of flaky. I found myself translating her directions to the rest of the class as I have done on many previous ocasions for my other class, and they all said, Oh, why didn't she just say that?

Today we talked about an event that they have been planning for all semester that just so happens to be taking place next week and is actually pretty exciting. They are trying for a three day bout of private testing for HIV +/-, but it looks like it might only be two days (one of which the college was already planning for). What is exciting about it, at least for me, is to be a part of something really big, something that we're going to try to get out to the whole student body, something we're going to rally outside for to draw attention to the testing and the issues surrounding the stigma of knowing whether or not you're infected.

Just being in the class today I learned so much that I didn't know. Two people who are infected that have unprotected sex together create a deadlier strain of the virus. AIDS can be transmitted through breast milk. The Student Health Center at Columbia does tests at least once a semester, sometimes twice.

Also, I found it interesting that the students in class participated in the rigor of taking the test together, as a way of learning what it was like for the two weeks when you wait for your results. I don't know if I could have done that...it seems kind of personal. And what if that was the way you found out you were HIV positive and you didn't even know before?

dinner at five thirty

Sorry for being away for the last couple days. The problem is that it is really a symptom of my being busy. I literally went from one thing to another with barely enough time to shower and get dressed.

Probably the most interesting and surreal thing that happened to me over the last two days was seeing a family I used to babysit for and generally hang out with. The parents were like surrogate parents to me and my brothers and sister, very kind and generous and there was nothing they had that they wouldn't share with us. They were the most wonderful people in my life at a time when I was growing up and trying to figure out who I was, and I miss them so much. They have three lovely children, all of whom I saw take their first steps. Imagine, that now, the oldest is going to be sixteen soon.

I'm sure there were times when they must have thought, why are these kids hanging out at our place and making more work for us to do, but they never showed it. And the truth is, I give them so much credit for who I am today. When I was eleven or twelve, they allowed me to have free access to their computer, and I wrote so many things, developed my "typing voice" which is tremendously different than my actual pen on the paper voice. I actually had to relearn how to write in a notebook during in class writing, because it was so ingrained in me to type at the computer.

The mom of the family was very special to me because she treated me like a friend more than some kid. She taught me, just by being herself, how to do and enjoy so many things, and it was all because she was passionate, intelligent and full of awe for the world. She always took the opportunity to laugh at a joke, always enjoyed everything around her, and never held back her emotions. The image I often sense when I think of her is her sitting on the couch talking, laughing, and scooping up one of her children who happened to be running by and giving them big wet sloppy kisses and tickling them and laughing.

They always had room for me, always made time for me, always welcomed some new thing that I happened to be trying, welcomed my boyfriends, my ideas, my thoughts. It didn't surprise me at all when they said there were friends of their kids who spent more time at their home than their own. There is so much joy in their home, even when it is not visibly present, it is the undercurrent of all that they do. They have an ease and love for each other that most families don't have, because most parents are too busy doing something else to pay any attention to their kids.

The saddest thing for me was when they moved away to the suburbs and it was like they moved halfway across the world, for they were always just a ten minute walk away, and then they were gone. It was never necessary to call or talk on the phone or meet, and suddenly there was so much to do in the suburbs and their kids were in school and growing, that we simply drifted apart.

But also, there is the kind of friendship you can have with a person that you know doesn't really expire during time lost, that when you meet again it will be like picking up where you left off, like no time has passed, so when it does pass it's not so painful, just kind of sad. So even though two years may have gone by, and the kids all look different and older and feel almost like strangers, we know that there is something deeper there that keeps us tied together and I am glad that they allowed me the gift of being a part of their family.

why living on my own someday will be nice...

So I really need to dye my hair. Desperately. It's been more than two months since I did it last, and I wanted to do it this afternoon but one of my roommates is home. It's not like I shouldn't feel free to do it, I just don't want the smell to bother him (he's making dinner) and the environmental sneer he'll give me for even using the stuff. I would use henna, but I need some coverage here, I am 50% gray! Plus henna is something I've never really used or seen available for purchase before.

I do think about the fact that I am so gung ho for the environment but then I use this vicious chemical concoction just to assuage my own vanity. The only thing I could find that is "all natural" was a company in Rome that makes hair color products with the lowest amount of chemicals. But who knows what the packaging is like.

I suppose since I only dye my hair once every two months or so, it's not the end of the world. But if everyone had that same attitude about everything, it would be...

I just thought about the idea of doing it in my room and then hopping right into the shower. I bet that would be doable.

One of the friends who treats this place like a revolving door is over, and he's used the bathroom twice since I started writing...so I guess it was good that I held off doing it right then...

here we go loop dee loo, here we go...

Wow. For the first time since I got really sick in February, I had a double shot of caffeine in my mocha in the afternoon, when I needed a brisk pick me up and got instead instant jitters and inability to maintain proper focus. Even now the parts of my eye that are not watching every letter form into words are lapsing into kalediscopic patterns and feeling very tired.

It should be noted that my coffee, was, in fact free.

At the Sbux, I immediately noticed that a man I had previously dated (not sure if we were serious enough to be called "ex-es") who--you who know me will be familar with the moniker Scotty and if you have read my journal for some time will remember that it was he who was outstandingly good at driving me crazy (primarily by not calling, constantly talking about other girls and how cool they were, and not being willing to go beyond dating every other week or so...).

It is interesting to me in that coincidences are interesting, that he has now shacked up with a girl he used to work with (ahhh, lonely Cassandra with her premonitious ways) that I often found snide, jealous (for what seemed like no good reason, for she was a "friend" at the time) and generally hateful towards me. They are going to get married in September, which I seem to have casually forgotten and will probably not be invited to.

The funny thing about Scotty and I is that we have so little in common that we often lapse into lamenting thoughts about our failed attempt at a relationship, and it arose today in our conversation that he felt sorrow for the way he was with me, when realizing he had forgotten that I had a birthday recently and wondered if he had gotten me a gift back then.

I said, in all honesty, that it was okay, that it was a period of growth and learning, and I had come out alright, so had he, so why fret?

I then told him of my news, that I was graduating this semester, and again, we had a moment of shared memory, for while I was dating him was when I had decided to go back to school and this seemed not so long ago, but alas, it has been nearly four years since. Perhaps because we dated so briefly that it seems not so far away, that it doesn't seem so long ago, we stopped dating before we wore each other out, before we tired of the other, and it saddens me to think that he is not tired of his current girlfriend, the love of his life, the woman he is due to marry, the girl I knew liked him all along.

Sometimes I wonder if I go through relationships as if it is a towel soaked through with water, wringing out all the joy, happiness, fullness, and leaving it in the sun to dry to a brittle thing that you would never want to come home to or touch or let touch you. Then I find the next sopping wet mess and fix it until it is a dried up skeleton of what once was.

But then I got home and Eric soon arrived and we talked and laughed and held each other's hands and there was a sense of duty, love, and admiration for the other that I have learned to give, that I have learned to receive and I know I'm home.

having pets as roommates.

So technically, I live with three people and two cats. One of the people belongs to me (in a way) and the cats belong to our roommates, though Eric was living with them when they got the last one as a kitten. The other cat could care less about me, and she only likes Eric when he pets her after she's long since been relaxing on the couch, but the younger one, Pablo, he has become very attached to me.

Honestly, I think he likes me because when he's hungry or bored and wants to eat, I sometimes feed him, even though I'm not supposed to. And after I got yelled at for feeding the cats (even when I was just shaking a tin can full of trail mix), I just give him a few of the dental nuggets, which they (the roommates) mix into the mostly diet pellets that Pablo only eats when he's really hungry.

Today when I was making sushi for my brother, Pablo came running when he heard the tin can opener and I drained the salmon juice into a bowl and flaked out a little salmon and he lapped at most of the juice. I know he remembers this from a previous time, because the other day when I opened a can of beets, he came running and did a cursory climb up the lower cabinets to take a gentle peek. He seemed disappointed that there was no fish to sample.

And I can truly say, the best thing about living here for nearly two years now is that I have become one with the Pablo.

In the morning, he's been awake for hours and just wants someone to play with him, or rub him, or usually feed him a little. When he sees me in the morning, he runs to greet me and sometimes makes a dive for the floor right in front of my feet so I am forced to pet him. I have never met a more manipulative cat.

When he wants to eat, he makes this happy noise that's between a purr and a meow and races towards his food bowl with great speed. When he realizes that I'm not following (especially ever since I got bitched at for feeding him), he comes and finds me where I am and sits with me until I move towards the kitchen again.

Today when Alan was having a smoke and we went outside to join him, Pablo ventured forward (even though he's scared of most people) into the kitchen and I saw him peering through the screen door. I opened it wide to let him out and he immediately ran downstairs. Eric went to catch him and I said, "Don't bother, he's just down there rolling around on the cement." I was right, he was.

When he comes into our room, I make sure to put out a flat notebook or folder for him. I don't know what it is about cats but they love sitting on papers; especially important ones. Not too long ago, he was sitting on my computer class folder that I set out for him.

I have also never met a cat that greeted me at the door when I came home. Pablo does this to all of us, actually and its kind of cute. I guess he's the most dog like cat I've ever known.

The good thing about this is I think it gets us used to the idea of having pets, or cats specifically, though it's not the full experience, I mean we get the best of the bargain, we play with them and don't have to clean up their shit, and I think when we move we'll be more likely to get a cat than we would have before.

Oh, but the kitten stage...it'll be payback for all the times we've walked past cat shit on the floor and didn't bother to pick it up.

No right to book cover judge

There is a guy who stands outside the Old Navy on Washington and State with a little speaker and a microphone preaching gloom and doom for those who do not believe in God. He also makes no allowances for gays, regardless of belief in God, because God brought down nothing but misery to those who copulate without the possibility of procreation.

Even though this man has every right to believe as he does, I feel that he has no right to literally harass passerby with his religious zealotry. For instance, I wanted to go to Old Navy with a friend of mine from school and she remembered the time with the man shouted anti-gay epitaphs at her. She was alone in a crowd of people and he picked her out and told her she was going to hell for being gay.

It was too late to change our approach as we neared the store, so I brushed this off simply by saying, "Everyone cool is in Hell, or going to be."

We laughed and sneered at the guy who was engaged in a conversation with someone. His instincts caused the microphone to raise to his lips when he saw us, and I almost leaned over to my friend and said, "We should make out in front of him, that'll get him!" But I didn't, I just walked by and let him be.

He's been standing on State street saying things like that for years, even as many as ten or fifteen. I guess it's his job, his mission, and he's not going to give up any time soon.

just beware if you're around there....

last night

We ate pizza with my mom and brother and watched some crazy over exaggerated Kung fu movie by Stephen Chow.

The saddest thing was when two characters meet as adults and then they realize they know each other and there's a flashback to the girl (who's deaf and mute) being rescued by the boy, who runs into this big gang of men. They kick him to the ground and begin peeing on him, calling him a loser. The little girl is holding a lollipop, which she has saved in a velvet lined box and when she shows the little boy, now a man, he swats at it and it hits the brick wall behind her with such violent force that it shatters.

it was a really cool movie. It was like kung fu meets Who Framed Roger Rabbit meets any Quentin Tarantino movie. hmmm, that doesn't sound so cool, but it is the best way to describe the film.

(sorry for not writing this last night!)

the argument for purple...

One of the problems about working with an image consultant is that I suffer the brunt of unsolicited advice that is presented with strong encouragement and almost always differs from what I have in mind.

For example, lately, I have begun to openly discuss my plans for my new apartment with Marilyn, mostly in passing or when we happen to be shopping, but never really because I want her opinion on things, just because.

One thing that I always try to keep in mind is that as much as we are similar, we have completely different ideas in other areas. And as much as I value her opinion, I have a feeling that no matter what I do with my apartment there's always something she would have done differently. I have a very juvenile style, with bright bold colors and minimalist arrangements, which is a 180 from her gothic, musuem-loft apartment that is packed to the brim with stuff. Her current color of choice? Green, of mostly the muted variety. Mine? Aqua, Turquoise, anything blue and bright.

She hasn't heard all of my ideas (mostly because I know she'll veto them instantly--"A Hello Kitty Kitchen?! Are you crazy?!") so I've only told her about my ideas for my living room, which are focused around the fabric and colors from a beautiful curtain (click the purple swatch) I saw at, of course, Urban Outfitters.

So my vision is to basically have those curtains, which I have been oogling for the better part of a year, biding my time until they go on sale--fret not, there is still a big pile of them at the Clark and Fullerton location. From the curtains, I'd like to have accents that are aqua and purple, like glass vases, lamps, etc, but I know it's going to be a little too dark or over coordinated or something or maybe I just things in threes, so I asked Marilyn what other color I should use, maybe for the furniture or what not.

She said white. Or metallics, like silver or gold. Both are good, kind of where I was going.

I guess I should have just trusted myself and not asked her...because a few days later, she said she'd been thinking about my apartment ideas and the purple just wasn't going to work. I showed her the curtains online, but she suggested we go to a fabric store and buy fabric to sew into curtains (yeah right, like that will actually get accomplished before the next millenia). And, she suggested a totally different palatte. Aqua was fine, but purple had to go. White and Brown and Aqua would be totally hot, she said, and if I got tired of one color, I could easily change it, but the purple and aqua thing together in the one curtain was too much to commit to. And that's why no one's bought this pile of curtains.

well. The lesson learned? Don't tell anyone anything unless you're willing to defend or defy the person at any costs.

The truth is, I have my heart set on it, no matter what she says, but she's a hard person to convince of anything. I will have those curtains and my vision and if I hate it in a year, I'll try something else. I still love my orange wall in my bedroom and that was sneered down upon by most people. So I don't know, I'm the one that has to live with it, right?