once upon a time

There was once a girl who used to talk shit to her clothes.
They revolted and refused to be worn.

ELLEN'S THEORY ON PATCHOULI

Patchouli is an essential oil, derived from the flower of the Patchouli plant. It is commonly associated with "hippies," also known as "longhairs," "flower children," or "DAMN HIPPIES."
Patchouli is known by most hippies to be the one and only scent that fully masks the scent of Cannabis Sativa, commonly known as "Marijuana."

Now, I have a theory about patchouli. Back in the day, hippies used to wear real patchouli oil. Real patchouli oil now is as extinct as the dinosaurs.
The current process for the manufacturing of patchouli is as follows:
Neo-hippies, wishing to be fully legit in their hippie-ness, obtain the ashes of the real hippies from back in the day. They proceed to mix the ashes with scent-free oil, purchased from your common supermarket. Next, the ashy bits are strained out. The neo-hippies massage the oil into their skin. They break out in pimples, and possibly hives, however, they have achieved the scent of a true, unwashed, bathed-in-patchouli, non-conformist hippie-douchebag. Great job, faithful free spirits!

Over-break logic.

Fact:
This break, the only time food made me feel sick was Thanksgiving. Then, it was because I was extremely full.

Fact:
I do not have a weak stomach, nor am I picky.

Fact:
All food does not make me sick, only Wege cafeteria food, and Corner Cafe food.

Statement:
In consideration of above facts, I do not want to eat food that makes me sick.

Resolution:
I will no longer eat the food that makes me sick, i.e., the food provided by Wege Cafeteria and the Corner Cafe.

Issue:
Wege cafeteria and the Corner Cafe are generally my only options for dining, because I have a limited amount of expendable income.

Conclusion:
Therefore, I will only eat the food at Wege cafeteria and the Corner Cafe that I deem safe and healthy for consumption. I will not eat food I expect to make me sick.

opportunism

A friend of mine, Brian Clarkston, told me tonight that he believes me to be an opportunist.
The Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary defines opportunism as, "the art, policy, or practice of taking advantage of opportunities or circumstances often with little regard for principles or consequences."
This definition makes opportunism sound somewhat negative. However, in my case, it holds less severe connotations. I do try to take advantage of every opportunity, in the sense that I never say no. I try to experience whatever I can and take chances, even when I am afraid or nervous. I generally consider the consequences and keep good principle in mind, but they usually do not stop me.
The guide I use to my opportunism is simply, others. I never take an opportunity that will severely, negatively affect other people. I do not want to hurt anyone else in any way, ever.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Talking about money frustrates me.
Especially because I have none...
I almost cried for no reason, while discussing money with my parents.
I NEED A JOB.

Jesus God, why am I so stressed?

Cheesecake Champ!

I just made a cheesecake by myself and didn't ruin it!
I'm so happy!
It took me a little while, but I paid attention, followed the recipe, and didn't get distracted!
I did make a mess.
BUT I STILL DIDN'T MESS UP THE RECIPE!!!

Thanksgiving.

The one thing I hate about Thanksgiving is cooking.
I mean, I love it when my mom cooks.
I love it when someone else's mom cooks.
Pretty much, I love it when someone, anyone else is cooking.
I don't cook.
Sometimes it can be fun... I guess... but a high-stress cooking situation is definitely not my idea of fun.
For one thing, I am an awful cook.
I always make a mess, and I always screw up the recipe.

Thanksgiving Day:

I hide out all day to avoid cooking. My mom finds me. Brings me into the kitchen along with my grandma, aunts, and cousin. I am instructed to cook something. I make a mess, or ruin the recipe. My aunt Tracy, a real hyper lady, gets mad because I made a mess in her kitchen. My mom has to figure out what to do with my variation on the recipe.
I run away and hide out again for as long as possible.

GOOD, GOOD, GOOOOOOD MORNING AMERICA!

Well, last night I decided to go to bed at ten o'clock at night, six or seven hours earlier than I usually would... AND I FEEL AMAZING! I woke up this morning at nine a.m. and I don't have class until twelve fifteen, so I got ready slowly, and decided to go to breakfast. When I walked downstairs, I looked outside and the snow was STICKING. It still is snowing and STICKING. It's not even that cold, either! I called my mom and brightened up her day with my excitement. I'm glad I was able to do that. I just finished an excellent breakfast and I'm now ready to go outside and play in the snow. By myself. I can't wait until friends start waking up.

A typical attitude.

I know this is really a typical smokers' attitude, but here it is:
I can quit whenever I want.

The issue is...
the simple concept of wanting to.
I don't want to,
so I will not.
I will not quit until I truly want to.

I do have a basis for this attitude, however. It's not just based on simple confidence in myself.

Here is my basis:
1. I have the ability to psyche myself out to deal with small amounts of physical discomfort. For example, last winter, I was able to survive the cold in just a light coat. Sure, I was cold, but I didn't let myself shiver or react to the fact that I was cold.
2. I have previously quit obsessions and habits. I can change aspects of my personality fairly easily. I do have a strong willpower, and a good ability to focus on what I really want, and more importantly in this situation, what I do not want. When I really want something, I go for it.

A fellow smoker.

I talked to a man today as I stood outside Wege smoking a cigarette with some friends.
He was smoking, too.
He was wearing a t-shirt in the cold.
He was an older man, probably in his fifties.
As he walked inside, he stopped.
He turned.
He looked at us and said, "Never let anyone tell you who to be. Make your own ideas, decide who you will be and what you will do for yourself."
He is my new hero.

Kids.

I don't think I'll ever have kids, but I might.
I don't really want kids, to be honest.
However, if I do, for some reason, end up having kids, this is my plan:
My kids will be educated about drugs, drinking, smoking, and sex.
I will not be one of those mothers who lets her kids drink at home because it's safer. That's just stupid.
I will, however, have an open door policy. My kids won't get in trouble for drinking, doing drugs, having sex, or smoking, as long as they don't lie about it or try to hide it from me.
I plan to share with them all my knowledge, so that they know their personal limits, especially when it comes to drinking. I don't want one of my children to be the kid who does not know his limit and gets alcohol poisoning his first time drinking.
As for smoking cigarettes, my plan is to tell my kids that if they ever want to start smoking, to tell me, and I will buy for them. I'll buy them packs of Bugler, and tell them if they can stomach smoking unfiltered cigarettes that they will have to roll themselves, they may continue to smoke. If they can't handle it, hopefully they'll realize that they don't really want to start smoking.
If my kids are going to smoke, they better be badass about it.
Basically, all I will require as a parent is honesty. I'll teach my kids to be good people, and to think for themselves.
I really hope I never have kids, though.

Lucky Day

Yesterday was overwhelmingly lucky and productive.
I discovered I can make up my math test.
I received my french test back and got an A.
I found out that I don't have french class next week at all.
I scheduled my classes, and am so excited about them. I have the history of jazz, and American Indian society in Michigan, as well as some other interesting classes.
I had a car, got to drive around.
I got to go to the gay bar and club.
I went to IHOP and got blueberry pancakes.
I also met some people who were drunk and had a fun conversation.
Then I slept.

run on.

I am happy
and I'm tired although I thought I got enough sleep
and I want to take a nap
and I am happy
and I know that it is because I got to dance last night
and I should do that more often
and also I had a car
and that made me happy
and we broke the door
and the door is tied shut with yellow rope
and it's alright, I think it's alright
and I don't think it will be a big deal
and I am happy.

Rumors.

Last night I went to the gay bar and club, Rumors, on Division, in order to work on my anthropology project. It was an amazing experience. What delighted me the most about it, and indeed, what delights me the most about all clubs, is the homogeneous quality of the dance floor. It does not matter your age, race, family background, career, sexuality, gender, outlook on life, or political views. All that matters is that you are a person, surrounded by other people, a massive blob of constant movement.

The will to dance brings everyone together. The driving need to express yourself and let go of emotional and mental barriers, allows you to live and breathe the moment. We all can leave behind our hangups and just let go. Dancing is a beautiful and perfect release for those who are willing to throw insecurities aside. You are free to do whatever you want, be whatever you want, uninhibited. It is a beautiful and perfect thing, living in the moment. I love the sense of unity, the sense that everyone has of being there, together, to share this piece of time. There's no need to feel self conscious. Nothing matters.

November 9th. thoughts.

I have the need to share everything about myself
Every thought
Emotion
Physical sensation

I want someone to know.
Even when I am writing,
I really want someone to read it.

I don’t want to just talk to myself
I need to communicate
I am willing to listen
But you need to listen to me, too.

Why am I so desperate for that?
For attention
It’s pretty fuckin pathetic
But I do not know how to change it

mmmmmmhmmm.

Restless from a life of fright—a fright of life—and feeling light, she lights a cigarette, at the pause of a stoplight.

I feel very strange lately. I know this is transitory, but as always, I am wrapped up in now. There is no future for me, only this moment, and what has led me to this moment.

Life is not a pleasure, only a necessity. The bright times plus the ugly ones do not add up to the sum of a whole—there is a hole.

Morning Star Bathroom, the clap

The door of the Morning Star bathroom says,
"NOT a bathroom,
especially if you have not bought a drink."
A sign above the door is pink decorated with hearts and handwritten reads, "YOU NOW HAVE THE CLAP."
I'm not afraid, and I did buy a drink, so I enter.
Inside, on the walls, on the cabinets, patrons have written words.
My favorite is in the middle of an empty maroon wall,
"Embrace the Woods. You will never defeat them."
I thought it might be a selection of song lyrics, but upon further investigation, it seems to simply be a statement.
And I love whoever wrote it. I love that piece of his or her mind that generated a statement of such beautiful, simple truth.

4:42 in the morning. Sunday.

The brain is filled with gaps as if ecstasy really did eat holes in it
Snap crackle & pop
I should focus
I should start working on my projects but
Now at 4:42 in the morning on Sunday it just seems so futile
Strange thoughts… I just, for some reason, missed Adam. Probably because at this point I’m idealizing his memory and I have pretty much forgotten the searing psychological pain he caused me.
I wonder what Joel is writing about.
I wonder what Joel is writing about.
It occurs to me that so much of my life is based on fear
Fear that I won’t survive long enough to do what I want to do
Fear that people won’t like or accept or listen to my words or care
That’s what’s really getting me right now
People not listening
I listen
I always listen
Listening is so important especially after fight club how they spoke about people really listening, not just waiting for their turn to speak
After I read that book and saw that movie and heard and read the words I strove to really listen, to really care, to give my friends and the people around me true attention
Lately I’ve been straying from that and I am disappointed in myself
Ever since I realized that a lot of the time no one listens to me I have caught myself not listening
Or listening and not comprehending or paying attention
It disgusts me.
I am so disappointed that my friends don’t listen to me though a lot of the time.
I know I talk kind of a lot
But I mean it’s a basic human need to be heard
And maybe if someone tries to understand it’s really nice
And if someone does understand it’s even nicer

“it's interesting how your words change me
and
how this music makes me tap my foot
i will always remember that”
thank you, Frank

11-11-2008

So many sounds under the electric lamps here at eleven thirty
Doors opening and closing
Guitars shouting out
Mechanical humming of the heating system
Cars ripping by
& disjointed sounds of speech and laughter, too far off to define

I don’t fabricate I describe
I would like to learn how to do both simultaneously
Write meaningful lies & truth

I wish the sky was not so dull
Gray-pink-brown and starless
Light pollution is a bitch(!)

11-10-2008

Well it is nice to have some alone time finally
I was getting a bit overwhelmed though I didn’t realize it
At least I had the sense to come outdoors
Though it’s cold
The air is clear and still and I can think

If I live too long, I'm afraid I'll die.

Have you ever noticed that the majority of songs either have gorgeous musical qualities and shit for lyrics, or beautiful, insightful lyrics, paired with substandard music?

Tonight was a strange one, indeed.
The snow defined my mood. It created a overwhelming sense of euphoria in me which still has not dissolved.
My faith in my friendships is stronger than ever.
I planned to sleep, but then, when I got to my room at 4:30 a.m., time passed more quickly than I thought it would. By the time I had time to go to bed, the time was almost 6:00 a.m., and time had run out for me to sleep.
Instead, I hung more pieces of magazines around my room.
Now, in addition to,
-Marc Jacobs boys in trendy dresses,
-Woody Allen looking pensive,
-an Andy Warhol exhibit advertisement,
-Hlep Kdis Raed,
-a man on an old bicycle, the kind with the huge wheel and the tiny wheel,
-a rainbow girl,
-Cig Smoke For OBAMA,
-and a U DECIDE poster,
my walls are hung with,
-a Hunter S. Thompson biography advertisement,
-a Ralph Lauren suit model,
-a man seated outside a blue hair salon,
-a Swedish Fish advertisement I found particularly clever,
-The Clash,
-a girl and a boy in a van,
-Indian artwork,
-and a hand-drawn picture of a man with two bloody knives, surrounded by his victims.
Immediately following the decoration festival, I walked to Family Fare to purchase some groceries.
A man stopped his car as I walked and offered me a ride. I politely declined. He offered again. I declined again. A third time, he offered; a third time, I declined, maintaining a relaxed and polite tone. Finally, I convinced him. I wonder at his intentions. His very young son was in the car, and he seemed to be an honest man, but you never know. Was he a good person? I have never developed any skill that allows me to perceive people for who they are based on first impressions. Our society is so largely based on self-sufficiency and mistrust of strangers, that we have no reason to develop such skills. We simply stay safe, and alone.

A horrible legal drug experience: SALVIA DIVINORUM.

The drug came on with a hellish intensity like a serial killer moving on to his next victim. Most drugs take over the brain gradually, and assimilate each cell and nerve to the new state with care and compassion. This one rushed in, and sadistically twisted every cell and nerve simultaneously, bent them all to its will, with gusto. The first two minutes of the experience were laced with pure terror, and exhilaration, which led to a complete lack of mental control, and psychologically induced paralysis. Following that, a light body buzz and slight intellectual incapacitation, as well as a lack of self awareness. Curiosity led me to try it, but it left me humbled and nervous. I doubt I'll ever sample it again.

I miss last fall and winter.

The time here passes too quickly.
I have been enjoying it, but the thing is, I really don't have anyone exactly like my friends at home.
I have close friends here. People I can talk to. People I can be with.
However, they are nothing like my really close friends at home.
I don't get individual time with anyone here. And I really miss that aspect of my life in LO. That kind of relationship is so valuable to me, I wish I had it here.
I miss being serious.
Goal: start getting really close with people. Relating and discussing more, not just goofing around.

Mother

My mother was so happy last week to hear Cynthia, Linz and I mocking each other's choice of reading material. Cynthia loves Bukowski, Linz loves Harry Potter, and I have a healthy appreciation for both. Linz began the argument by rawly imitating Bukowski's style. Cynthia retaliated by picking out JK Rowling's writing flaws. I contributed my minimally clever comments to whichever side I saw an opportunity within. My mother was shocked at first at our brutality, but soon that impression dissolved into hesitant delight.

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