this is my first post from my new macbook air. i bought it refurbished from the apple site to save money. i told my friends that i would write more if i had a machine i actually liked to work on. so here i am.
i must say, I've been less than thrilled to write since the last post. last year. more bluntly, i haven't given a fuck. i haven't wanted to put my thoughts and feelings into writing, digitally or on paper. so my journal's last written entry dates from January 2012 when i moved out of the atkinson house where i lived with kyle, and moved back into the 4 bedroom 'brothel' on sunset lane, with three other girls.
i gained all the weight back that i lost in arkansas, like i knew i would if i moved in with girls that ate like normal girls do. its hard to keep it in perspective, that i don't look like a dachau refugee like catherine's father said i resembled when he saw me fall 2010. its weird to think so many people in my life have no idea what I'm talking about, either. they didn't see me looking that way, they didn't see me that august when i got back from arkansas, and this is the first time I'm writing about it openly.
well there ya go. its the thing that weighs most heavily on my mind, since, i dont know, forever. all things aside, if I'm not happy with my weight, then I'm not happy period. and I'm not happy with my weight.
this will be my last semester as a college student. incidentally, this is also the first time I've ever brought my laptop to a class. BECAUSE I HAVE A MACBOOK NOW BOOYAH. okay enough with the hubris. i haven't earned it yet. when I'm a professional blogger ill brag. until then, though, ill demurely say that no one will read this. except you, mom, and pablo and minna and a few others maybe, if i start hash-tagging things i buy, in hopes of getting free swag in the mail to continue the advertisement. everything aside, we are about to discuss irish literature in my Irish Literature class.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
comic rant
my weight is up and i am not happy.
they killed off johnny storm, the human torch. you know, fantastic four. the nytimes wrote an article about it. is it stupid and pretentious to hate that comics are getting like 23492305982049582495 times more exposure than they ever did, yet im still called a nerd when people see me reading them? whats worse, i don't want to bond with other comic readers.
i do not want to talk to you about whose side i was on in civil war, or what the april 2011 cover of uncanny x-men with cyclops dressed up as magneto will mean. you see, i truly believe your only mission in talking to me about it is it gives you the opportunity to go home and tell your dude-bros that you talked to a hot chick today at the burrito joint about comics for like an hour and man she was like totally smokin and had this awesome x-men tattoo and big boobs and a septum piercing and she knew what she was talking about and stuff man it was just so AWESOME, and still have some iota of truth to it. yeah im not going to give you that pleasure. instead i will squint my eyes and look right through you to the flashing open side on the front window opposite the cash register. i will pray that time will speed up, i will think about waxing my bikini line or maybe cleaning the grout in my bathroom, i will hope that that you will get the picture and not talk to me about comics, or anything really, because i read comics for my own pleasure, not yours or anyone elses, and i am not in the habit of talking about things that pleasure me so openly, at my job, and to pimply faced 19 year olds. i simply cannot be bothered with those things. its not that im not nice. im really nice, like super nice. i will put extra queso on your nachos and do my best to stop the cook for bitching too loudly about your execedingly annoying and complicated order (i only want the lettuce and onions if they are sauteed with the tomatoes and mild sauce on the side but hot sauce on it and only one ladle of queso please i am on a diet haw haw haw) and i will smile brightly and sweetly and talk about the weather and yes my septum piercing hurt and yes i have been working here a while and no you cannot have my name but i need yours for the order.
i am nice because i need the tips.
so does the cook.
but i wont go so far as to indulge your sick and twisted and probably juvenile and stereotypical nerd-tastic fantasy of bonding with and eventually fucking the hot chick comic-reader. i am not megan fox. i dont brag about reading comics. i rant about people that think its this big deal that i read them. or read anything at all, really. i don't ask you about your tattoos, or piercings, or car, or life, or your mom or your job or hair or major. i dont even talk to you. so why, then, do you feel the need to pry into my life? furthermore, what the FUCK about me gave you the idea i would share with you? the fact that i am human and that ultimately dictates some level of courtesy? of course, you are right. but if you read comics at all, you will see emma frost in my eyes and leave me the fuck alone, please, unless you shoot lasers out of your eyes, are devastatingly handsome yet cripplingly insecure, and are named scott summers.
they killed off johnny storm, the human torch. you know, fantastic four. the nytimes wrote an article about it. is it stupid and pretentious to hate that comics are getting like 23492305982049582495 times more exposure than they ever did, yet im still called a nerd when people see me reading them? whats worse, i don't want to bond with other comic readers.
i do not want to talk to you about whose side i was on in civil war, or what the april 2011 cover of uncanny x-men with cyclops dressed up as magneto will mean. you see, i truly believe your only mission in talking to me about it is it gives you the opportunity to go home and tell your dude-bros that you talked to a hot chick today at the burrito joint about comics for like an hour and man she was like totally smokin and had this awesome x-men tattoo and big boobs and a septum piercing and she knew what she was talking about and stuff man it was just so AWESOME, and still have some iota of truth to it. yeah im not going to give you that pleasure. instead i will squint my eyes and look right through you to the flashing open side on the front window opposite the cash register. i will pray that time will speed up, i will think about waxing my bikini line or maybe cleaning the grout in my bathroom, i will hope that that you will get the picture and not talk to me about comics, or anything really, because i read comics for my own pleasure, not yours or anyone elses, and i am not in the habit of talking about things that pleasure me so openly, at my job, and to pimply faced 19 year olds. i simply cannot be bothered with those things. its not that im not nice. im really nice, like super nice. i will put extra queso on your nachos and do my best to stop the cook for bitching too loudly about your execedingly annoying and complicated order (i only want the lettuce and onions if they are sauteed with the tomatoes and mild sauce on the side but hot sauce on it and only one ladle of queso please i am on a diet haw haw haw) and i will smile brightly and sweetly and talk about the weather and yes my septum piercing hurt and yes i have been working here a while and no you cannot have my name but i need yours for the order.
i am nice because i need the tips.
so does the cook.
but i wont go so far as to indulge your sick and twisted and probably juvenile and stereotypical nerd-tastic fantasy of bonding with and eventually fucking the hot chick comic-reader. i am not megan fox. i dont brag about reading comics. i rant about people that think its this big deal that i read them. or read anything at all, really. i don't ask you about your tattoos, or piercings, or car, or life, or your mom or your job or hair or major. i dont even talk to you. so why, then, do you feel the need to pry into my life? furthermore, what the FUCK about me gave you the idea i would share with you? the fact that i am human and that ultimately dictates some level of courtesy? of course, you are right. but if you read comics at all, you will see emma frost in my eyes and leave me the fuck alone, please, unless you shoot lasers out of your eyes, are devastatingly handsome yet cripplingly insecure, and are named scott summers.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Fail!
tonight i left rice on the burner while i went to the gym. i came home to a house full of thick wretched smelling smoke and burnt rice that fused to the bottom and sides of the sauce pan. i probably wouldntve enjoyed that rice anyway. now the house smells like smoke and kyle will come home:
K: what did you burn?
E: rice.
K: how?
E: i left the burner on while i went to the gym. for an hour. i left the pan outside on the porch.
K: you're lucky you didnt burn the house down!
E: maybe i wanted to burn the house down, kyle.
K: make cookies tonight.
E: what kind?
K: chocolate chip.
E: okay kyle, i'll make cookies tonight.
At least, thats how i see it going. it probably wont. itll probably be more like:
K: so what did you burn?
E: the rice.
K: eden what the fuck how are you still living? how how how how did you burn the rice?
E: i dont know kyle.
K: it smells like shit. make cookies tonight.
E: no fuck you. buy the ingredients and i will.
K: no fuck you. what do you need?
E: sugar...
K: and chocolate.
E: butter...
K: and chocolate.
E: eggs...
K: and chocolate.
E: KYLE LET ME FINISH!
K:...
E: and chocolate.
the banter of best friends living together for over a year!
i'm only taking two classes this semester. major figures in american literature and my article and essay workshop.
we aren't reading any female writers in my class. i guess there aren't any major american female writers.
K: what did you burn?
E: rice.
K: how?
E: i left the burner on while i went to the gym. for an hour. i left the pan outside on the porch.
K: you're lucky you didnt burn the house down!
E: maybe i wanted to burn the house down, kyle.
K: make cookies tonight.
E: what kind?
K: chocolate chip.
E: okay kyle, i'll make cookies tonight.
At least, thats how i see it going. it probably wont. itll probably be more like:
K: so what did you burn?
E: the rice.
K: eden what the fuck how are you still living? how how how how did you burn the rice?
E: i dont know kyle.
K: it smells like shit. make cookies tonight.
E: no fuck you. buy the ingredients and i will.
K: no fuck you. what do you need?
E: sugar...
K: and chocolate.
E: butter...
K: and chocolate.
E: eggs...
K: and chocolate.
E: KYLE LET ME FINISH!
K:...
E: and chocolate.
the banter of best friends living together for over a year!
i'm only taking two classes this semester. major figures in american literature and my article and essay workshop.
we aren't reading any female writers in my class. i guess there aren't any major american female writers.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Holy Shit!
Happy New Year!
Here's to avoiding resolutions to avoid disappointment!
I'm at Momo's Pizzeria stealing internet until ours is up at our house.
Minna is wearing super cute knee socks with her jean shorts tonight.
Kyle is wearing his standard toque.
It's been pissing rain all day. I've been waiting for it to stop since 3 pm
I finished reading a book. I started another one.
I'll post something more interesting when I'm not sitting in a crowded college pizza place.
Here's to avoiding resolutions to avoid disappointment!
I'm at Momo's Pizzeria stealing internet until ours is up at our house.
Minna is wearing super cute knee socks with her jean shorts tonight.
Kyle is wearing his standard toque.
It's been pissing rain all day. I've been waiting for it to stop since 3 pm
I finished reading a book. I started another one.
I'll post something more interesting when I'm not sitting in a crowded college pizza place.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Christmas Eve dinner > Christmas dinner
Appetizers:
Baked brie with sundried tomatoes and herbs
Pepper and herb rolled goat cheese
Crackers
Crudite.
Dinner:
Balsamic roasted asparagus
Tomato-bread gratin
Sirloin with pan sauce and persillade
Oven-baked onion rings
Pancetta-wrapped scallops
Grapefruit-glazed pan-seared scallops
Arugula in olive oil
Dessert:
Roasted chestnuts with salted honey
Cookies!
Booyah!
Also, fresh roasted chestnuts look and feel what I assume is similar to rat brains. Whole rat brains. So it was like honey-dipped rat brains. Delicious rat brains, though.
I have officially eaten to capacity. I will probably have to spend three weeks, at least, making up for it. Worth it? We shall see, we shall see. That last slice of pound cake wasn't entirely worth it. But hey, once a year, right?
Baked brie with sundried tomatoes and herbs
Pepper and herb rolled goat cheese
Crackers
Crudite.
Dinner:
Balsamic roasted asparagus
Tomato-bread gratin
Sirloin with pan sauce and persillade
Oven-baked onion rings
Pancetta-wrapped scallops
Grapefruit-glazed pan-seared scallops
Arugula in olive oil
Dessert:
Roasted chestnuts with salted honey
Cookies!
Booyah!
Also, fresh roasted chestnuts look and feel what I assume is similar to rat brains. Whole rat brains. So it was like honey-dipped rat brains. Delicious rat brains, though.
I have officially eaten to capacity. I will probably have to spend three weeks, at least, making up for it. Worth it? We shall see, we shall see. That last slice of pound cake wasn't entirely worth it. But hey, once a year, right?
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Cleaning and Packing
Chuck left today. I got home from Bandidos just in time to say goodbye and stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame with one knee bent, foot on opposite knee, arms folded, watching my little Chuck go off into the real world, to start work as a Lieutenant in Oklahoma, not knowing the next time I would see him, only vaguely aware that this isn't goodbye, really, just a very very very prolonged See ya, chick!
That's what Chuck called me. Chick.
Or Edna.
You never have enough time when friends visit. But we had fun. I got Chuck and Kyle free quesadillas and tacos from Bandidos. Me and Chuck sat around the house reading fantasy novels and playing Call of Duty: Black OPS (respectively) every night he was here, like he'd never left to go to Virgina for four months, like no time had passed between now and last August. He even brought balmy almost-August weather with him. He's the only other person I know that is completely okay with my preference to stay in, he doesn't question it. In fact, he stays in too, I give him an excuse to leave the bar early or never go at all, and then it would be me and Chuck, sitting in silence reading and playing and listening to rap music.
We went to St. Mikes and drank and played darts. We hung out at Lauren and Ryan's house where we watched the eclipse before I made Kyle and Chuck leave early with me because I had to work the next morning, and did not want to go on a block walk in 20 degree weather, eclipse or no eclipse. He went with me when I applied at Waterworks for the cocktail waitress position advertised on Craigslist because I have huge anxiety about going in and applying at places. He ordered a beer as I filled the application out, and talked to the only other person in the bar besides us and the bartender. Chuck is the most congenial and welcoming person I've ever met. He can strike up a conversation and befriend anyone, it's magical, I've seen it happen. It doesn't even occur to him, it doesn't register on his radar, to be awkward or self conscious or to think twice or doubt or over-analyze.
Then we stopped at the Cupcakery where he caved to the "Buy One, Get One" cupcake special of the day (two chocolates, please) and bought a necklace for his mother for Christmas.
Now he's driving to Illinois to see his family for Christmas, then to Oklahoma and his base, to get settled and start working his 80+ hour work week. At some point in the future he will be shipped to Iraq. I am dreading that day.
I am taking a break from cleaning the house and my preparations for my 6-hour drive tomorrow. Minna and I are carpooling to save money and gas, and for the support, obviously, and the ample time we have to divulge our deepest and darkest secrets and insecurities to each other, like we always do. Then it's sunny South Florida for Christmas and gluttony, which I approach with caution and disdain. Though the food my mom and I are going to cook sounds absolutely decadent and delicious, I have only been approaching it from a theoretical point of view. I haven't actually considered the fact that I have to eat everything we are cooking, that it is expected of me. I will have to factor in exercise to compensate for all that I am going to eat over the next few days. I've been feeling especially fleshy and doughy lately. I know I have gained weight, and I am not happy about it.
I made an appointment with my therapist this morning, then called and canceled because I was too nervous to go. Adulthood is nerve-wracking.
I finished The Magicians today. What an amazing book! I've been meaning to read it for months now. I regret not reading it earlier. I regret reading it too quickly. I am impatient for the sequel to be published, in April 2011. I bought a copy for Chuck, and will buy one for Minna for Christmas. I will post a review about it soon enough, probably after Christmas.
I am starting on Lorrie Moore's A Gate at the Stairs tonight. This literary gluttony I've been indulging in since school ended is amazing. I haven't read this much in ages. I feel like a kid again!
That's what Chuck called me. Chick.
Or Edna.
You never have enough time when friends visit. But we had fun. I got Chuck and Kyle free quesadillas and tacos from Bandidos. Me and Chuck sat around the house reading fantasy novels and playing Call of Duty: Black OPS (respectively) every night he was here, like he'd never left to go to Virgina for four months, like no time had passed between now and last August. He even brought balmy almost-August weather with him. He's the only other person I know that is completely okay with my preference to stay in, he doesn't question it. In fact, he stays in too, I give him an excuse to leave the bar early or never go at all, and then it would be me and Chuck, sitting in silence reading and playing and listening to rap music.
We went to St. Mikes and drank and played darts. We hung out at Lauren and Ryan's house where we watched the eclipse before I made Kyle and Chuck leave early with me because I had to work the next morning, and did not want to go on a block walk in 20 degree weather, eclipse or no eclipse. He went with me when I applied at Waterworks for the cocktail waitress position advertised on Craigslist because I have huge anxiety about going in and applying at places. He ordered a beer as I filled the application out, and talked to the only other person in the bar besides us and the bartender. Chuck is the most congenial and welcoming person I've ever met. He can strike up a conversation and befriend anyone, it's magical, I've seen it happen. It doesn't even occur to him, it doesn't register on his radar, to be awkward or self conscious or to think twice or doubt or over-analyze.
Then we stopped at the Cupcakery where he caved to the "Buy One, Get One" cupcake special of the day (two chocolates, please) and bought a necklace for his mother for Christmas.
Now he's driving to Illinois to see his family for Christmas, then to Oklahoma and his base, to get settled and start working his 80+ hour work week. At some point in the future he will be shipped to Iraq. I am dreading that day.
I am taking a break from cleaning the house and my preparations for my 6-hour drive tomorrow. Minna and I are carpooling to save money and gas, and for the support, obviously, and the ample time we have to divulge our deepest and darkest secrets and insecurities to each other, like we always do. Then it's sunny South Florida for Christmas and gluttony, which I approach with caution and disdain. Though the food my mom and I are going to cook sounds absolutely decadent and delicious, I have only been approaching it from a theoretical point of view. I haven't actually considered the fact that I have to eat everything we are cooking, that it is expected of me. I will have to factor in exercise to compensate for all that I am going to eat over the next few days. I've been feeling especially fleshy and doughy lately. I know I have gained weight, and I am not happy about it.
I made an appointment with my therapist this morning, then called and canceled because I was too nervous to go. Adulthood is nerve-wracking.
I finished The Magicians today. What an amazing book! I've been meaning to read it for months now. I regret not reading it earlier. I regret reading it too quickly. I am impatient for the sequel to be published, in April 2011. I bought a copy for Chuck, and will buy one for Minna for Christmas. I will post a review about it soon enough, probably after Christmas.
I am starting on Lorrie Moore's A Gate at the Stairs tonight. This literary gluttony I've been indulging in since school ended is amazing. I haven't read this much in ages. I feel like a kid again!
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Late Night Recollections and Reflections of the College Sort.
Late night. Not drunk, just tired. My good friend Chuck is in town for a few days from his Army Officer's training in Virginia. He graduated! Next step: Lieutenant school. How awesome is that? I am always in awe of the friends that I have, and feel truly blessed, and definitely perplexed as to why, they are my friends.
Kyle won the Beer Olympics tonight at St. Mikes Pub. Chuck came in a close second. Those two. Peas and carrots.
Kyle made his winning shot in beer pong after staring his opponents in the eyes, licking the ball, and saying: You're gonna drink my spit!
Then he made it into that damned red cup, and the place exploded. Only Kyle.
Chuck chugged a liter of beer and beat guys twice his size. I guess the army does that to you.
I scratched on the eight-ball in pool and lost to Joey after playing my best game in a long time.
I also learned how to play darts correctly. Once I master foosball and air hockey, I'll have all the bar games mastered, and a harder time dispelling the rumor that I'm a lesbian. I guess straight girls don't play pool, or darts, or foosball, or air hockey? Which I find bizarre. I was, and still am, under the impression that boys like girls that can keep up with them. Yet, when they encounter these girls, they are intimidated, emasculated, suspicious of lesbian tendencies. Weirdos.
Also, mastering bar games while a 5th year senior in a state school known for partying: commendable or shameful? Who can tell. I flipflop between the deep dark depths of despair at my social and academic stagnancy, at this state of arrested development I find myself, and the relief at knowing I'm simply taking the longer road, making it hard on myself and hoping for a better outcome. Mostly, I switch between the absolute-worst-case scenario, and the not-so-bad-could-be-worse-case scenario.
I tried smoking a cigarette tonight and was made nauseous because of it. Rejoice! I think I am finally on the road to quitting. Not quitting, per se, but drastically cutting back. I'll admit to liking it too much to actually quit. But I also like -- nay, love -- running, and the more I run the less I want to smoke. Novel concept, I know. Ha.
I am in a sarcastic kind of mood tonight. Sarcastic and apathetic, and fairly objective. Nonchalant. Very 'shit happens then you die'.
Also, hi mom! I love you and think of you every day!
This is me, signing out for the night to curl up with The Magicians by Lev Grossman. Think Harry Potter meets Narnia meets, I don't know, The Catcher in the Rye. It's good.
Kyle won the Beer Olympics tonight at St. Mikes Pub. Chuck came in a close second. Those two. Peas and carrots.
Kyle made his winning shot in beer pong after staring his opponents in the eyes, licking the ball, and saying: You're gonna drink my spit!
Then he made it into that damned red cup, and the place exploded. Only Kyle.
Chuck chugged a liter of beer and beat guys twice his size. I guess the army does that to you.
I scratched on the eight-ball in pool and lost to Joey after playing my best game in a long time.
I also learned how to play darts correctly. Once I master foosball and air hockey, I'll have all the bar games mastered, and a harder time dispelling the rumor that I'm a lesbian. I guess straight girls don't play pool, or darts, or foosball, or air hockey? Which I find bizarre. I was, and still am, under the impression that boys like girls that can keep up with them. Yet, when they encounter these girls, they are intimidated, emasculated, suspicious of lesbian tendencies. Weirdos.
Also, mastering bar games while a 5th year senior in a state school known for partying: commendable or shameful? Who can tell. I flipflop between the deep dark depths of despair at my social and academic stagnancy, at this state of arrested development I find myself, and the relief at knowing I'm simply taking the longer road, making it hard on myself and hoping for a better outcome. Mostly, I switch between the absolute-worst-case scenario, and the not-so-bad-could-be-worse-case scenario.
I tried smoking a cigarette tonight and was made nauseous because of it. Rejoice! I think I am finally on the road to quitting. Not quitting, per se, but drastically cutting back. I'll admit to liking it too much to actually quit. But I also like -- nay, love -- running, and the more I run the less I want to smoke. Novel concept, I know. Ha.
I am in a sarcastic kind of mood tonight. Sarcastic and apathetic, and fairly objective. Nonchalant. Very 'shit happens then you die'.
Also, hi mom! I love you and think of you every day!
This is me, signing out for the night to curl up with The Magicians by Lev Grossman. Think Harry Potter meets Narnia meets, I don't know, The Catcher in the Rye. It's good.
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