Neurotic Film Student

and you are starry, starry, starry

2008-07-22T20:03:00.000-07:00

Again, I'm still here if you're still here.

So my life goes on with Christian Dior on my face, Versache on my wrists, and Steve Maddens on my feet; Maybe I don't know how to label me or anything that surrounds me, so I might as well put a label on what I own. An expensive, vapid label.

I don't believe that this is the same reason why so many people buy Coach merchandise.
(It's ugly, and it makes you ugly by association.)

Money is tight and we're trying to paint the rooms of this apartment and I'm trying to call this home and the words don't come anymore like they used to and I'm smoking too much and I look bad in fluorescent lights and sleep doesn't come like it used to and I think too much about things I could never write about.

It felt good to be there again surrounded by the scents and scenes that provoked the kind of memories that made you want to make more right away. And it has to be tonight. It always has to be tonight. Because if it's not tonight, then it has to be never and never just won't do.

See what I mean? It's all just nonsense now. Someone fix this.

"All the angels want to know / Are you lost or treading water?"

2008-06-25T16:49:00.000-07:00

Don't worry, I'm still alive.

I think that my writing has slipped into a coma, though.

The words just aren't coming out like they used to.

I would do anything to fix this.

Just another day in the Naughton/Quyle household...

2008-06-02T07:18:00.000-07:00

I'm still proud to be tappin' this.

"Now you can be the man you always wanted to be!"

2008-05-26T21:13:00.000-07:00

Busy, busy, busy.

Tonight is Josh's last shift working at Motel Suites. This means that he will no longer have to work overnight, which has its pros and cons. The good thing is that he will be on a normal sleeping schedule, which means that we can now start actually spending time together during the day like normal people! Yay! The bad thing is that I have to share the bed again. Lame.
I am now a full-time employee of Dior. The job is at the cosmetics counter at the Macy's in Castleton Square Mall. It's amazing, because the pay is good, and I get awesome hours. I win, you lose. Ha. Ha.
We are apartment-hunting again. We thought we settled on Marcy Village, but according to a few apartment rating sites, it's notorious for mold infestations. Ew. So, I decided to start all over again. I want to live somewhere in between Castleton and downtown Indy, and we've found a few places to investigate over the next few weeks. I will keep you updated...
I am officially poor until the end of time.
It's really hot in our apartment. Super lame.

There are so many more things I could talk about, but I'm at such a verbal roadblock, that all I can think to do is post videos I found on YouTube. So, here you go; Shia Lebeouf repeating "No, No, No" in three different movies:

"What I did was your fault somehow."

2008-05-20T21:32:00.000-07:00

Strange people have been visiting my dreams lately. Over the past few years, I've ended a lot of relationships (both friendly and otherwise) very violently; I'm really not one to fade out of peoples' lives gracefully.

It started when I was out in Wyoming, and it followed me home. It has caused me to do a lot of thinking about why I did a lot of the things I did, and I almost (keyword) felt regret for leaving so many issues unresolved with so many people.

However, thinking about it now, that almost feeling of needing to reconcile is immediately replaced with a rejuvenated anger over all the reasons why I burned so many bridges. It's amazing how betrayal has such a long shelf life in the heart; it's a bitterness that never softens.

So, in the spirit of bitter hate, I present two videos that encapture this very spirit of the plain and simple "Fuck you". The second video is a response to the first, and it's my favorite.

Enjoy.

The Only Living Girl in Cody, WY

2008-05-13T09:50:00.000-07:00

So, I got fired from the Elephant Head Lodge.

It's a really long story, and I'm sick of telling it. Just know that I was screwed over, and I'm much happier now that I'm gone.

Early yesterday morning, I was dropped off at the Carter Mountain Motel in Cody, WY and was told, "you're on your own now, kid". So, here I am. Yesterday morning, I had no money, no car, and no idea what to do next. This morning, however, things are a little clearer.

My step-mom put enough money in my account to buy a plane ticket home, and I will be out of this God-forsaken place on the second flight out tomorrow afternoon. Until then, however, my time is devoted to wasting oxygen in Wyoming. Ick, ick, ick.

So far, I've eaten a few times, taken a lot of walks, and bought a magnet. My life is just too exciting sometimes.

My current situation has allowed me time to reflect, and that's been...neat. I was taking a bubble-bath earlier, and I just felt ridiculously and insanely attractive. I was reaching across the tub to grab my loofah (weirdest word ever), and I became strangely aware of how good I looked. Not in a vain way...more of a self-confident kind of way.

This sudden self-awareness brought me back to a conversation I had with Jess late last night. She's not a shy girl, but her modesty almost goes too far. She asked me how I could feel so comfortable with my body when she felt that she constantly looked horrible. And now that she's starting a new relationship, she was having trouble feeling secure that this guy thought she was pretty and blah blah blah...Jess is just a very pretty girl who had some bad experiences with guys, and she's never had anyone convince her that she was beautiful. Unfortunate, I know...

I tried to explain it to her as best I could: When I fall in love with someone, they become the most attractive person to me in the universe. It doesn't matter what they look like, they are hott stuff; I would never think look at a fold or a freckle in distaste. I feel this way about Josh, and Jess agreed that she felt this way about her new man. I then explained to her that it's the same deal on the other side. When someone loves you, you are ridiculously attractive to them. They don't think you need a nose job; they don't think your thighs are disgustingly huge; they don't think you're having a bad hair day. They think that you are disgustingly gorgeous, no matter what.

And from that philosophy, I derive my confidence. So sitting in the sudsy bathwater in the Carter Mountain Motel, it finally sunk in that I am ridiculously hott. Sure, sure, my body can claim tons of imperfections, and there are times that I can feel insecure about a freckle or a fold...but I know that Josh loves me, and at least he thinks I'm sexy. Kind of.

So, yeah, there goes my girly post about believing yourself and blah blah boring blah blah...in case some of you are feeling nauseous or bored or both by this post, then check out this video of small children getting injured:

"I'm a modern girl, but I fold in half so easily."

2008-05-10T11:33:00.000-07:00

Wyoming. What the hell was I thinking?

I'm finally here, and I have no idea how to begin describing my new life.

My days consist of three square meals separated by hours of scrubbing cabins. And yes, it is just as glamorous as it sounds. The lodge is not officially open yet, so we're trying to prepare the cabins for the beginning of the season. Right now, the only people working on deep cleaning all 15 cabins are us three girls. And we clean all the fucking time.

More help is coming next week, but until then, it's tough work.

I'm just cranky and disappointed that I'm not working in the office. Cleaning cabins is not my element. I am most at home when I am on the phone making small-talk with people wanting reservations. And since I am 3,000 miles away from home at a higher altitude in a completely different climate, I'll take what I can get for familiarity.

The people here are interesting, and I should have a whole post about my co-workers soon.

As for now, I am cold and cranky.

I can only hope that it's all uphill from here.

"And I feel nothing, not brave."

2008-05-02T22:20:00.000-07:00

Long time, no write. I know. I'm already over it.

Right now, I'm at a hotel in Salt Lake City with two strangers. All three of us girls are leaving very early tomorrow morning and heading up to Cody, Wyoming to work all summer. My body is aching with exhaustion after my long day of flights and airport shuttles, but since I don't know when I'll next have an internet connection, I want to update.

So much is running around in my head, and even though I'm terrified of how much my life is going to change tomorrow, I feel much more at ease than I did yesterday when I was home. I suppose that I was just dreading this big cross-country jump so much that now that it's over, my fear has turned to relief.

However it happened, I feel alright. And I'll take what I can get at this point.

I'm in love.

It took a while for me to accept it, but it's the truth. And the beauty is that it was accidental. I didn't want a relationship, and in some ways, I still don't. But I want him. It's the kind of longing that patiently waits for a time when it no longer has to wait. I already miss our time, and I still have a long way to go. It's unusually difficult to write about this, and I think it is because there is nothing to work out about it in my mind. Normally, I write about something to pick it apart--to figure it out. With Josh, there is no mystery. It just is whatever is, and whatever it is, it fills me with a wordless knowledge of is presence. And it just feels so nice.

Tomorrow, I will be arriving in the Elephant Head Lodge, and I will make my home for the next 3-and-a-half months. None of us know what to expect, and it terrifies us. Some might think that's a bad thing, but I think that the fear is what makes this trip so great. Adventure is very important to me, especially now. Right now, I'm young and, for the most part, unattached to any crucial responsibilities that would stop me from dropping everying in my life and leaving for the summer.

Do it while you're young, and you don't care.

I'm doing what I do best--and that is running off--because I know that life will be better when I come home. With a new perspective, I'll be refreshed for another mind-numbing semester at IUPUI. I'll be monetarily ready to move into a two-bedroom apartment in the Marcy Village with Josh in August.

Everything has been happening so fast recently, that it's about time that time stood still for a few months.

Be prepared for pictures and long updates the next time I scrounge up some internet.

Why I need a cigarette at 4 AM:

2008-04-20T00:53:00.000-07:00

One of the worst parts about being a woman is the fucking self-image.

Even the smartest of our kind occasionally have no choice but to bow to extreme lows in self-esteem.

Now, on most days, I think I am ridiculous hot. It has NOTHING to do if others agree with me or not; I believe that beauty comes from within, and if you exude confidence, then you will be more attractive. So that being said, I'd say a good 70% of my time in public is spent with me thinking I am insanely attractive.

But sometimes, all it takes is just one comment, or one bad picture on Facebook to ruin your image of yourself.

What the fucking fuck, I want to think that it's no big deal. I want to think that it shouldn't matter, BUT IT DOES TO ME.

Other people, who don't know me, are going to see that picture and think that I am robust with a bland fashion sense.

Well, I am fucking GORGEOUS and ATTRACTIVE.

So fuck you, Facebook. I win.

In other news: I am switching my major to Communications. Discuss amongst yourselves.

Why I Don't Dance.

2008-04-17T12:45:00.000-07:00

So, it's 12:14 AM on a Thursday, and I'm awake in Josh's apartment.

I'm sitting at his computer wearing these new, blue lacy panties I bought today. Every few seconds, I'm pausing to gulp my third St. Pauli's out of a glass stein, and I wish my other hand was occupied with a cigarette.

I can't sleep.

Josh can, and he's doing so quite well.

My mind is time traveling again, and it's stuck on something.

Last July, I was in Munich. What a beautifully boring city, I'd thought at the time. Germanface and I had been around Europe enough to think that this place was a bore. The family we stayed with was interesting...they were distant relations of Germanface, and they insisted on having long meals together.

Every morning, bright and early, I'd awake to Germanface's cell phone telling us it was time to get ready for a 2-hour breakfast with the Herr and Frau of the family. Now, I'm not staying that the food wasn't delicious, because it was...I believe I was on a Cocoa Krispies kick at that point in the month, and I paired the German version of that with some toast and orange juice. It was the conversation that killed me.

The Herr was a smart man; bearded and dark-eyed, he loved to talk with us about everything. He was an Economist, and he had experienced a lot in his travels. However, his English was not very good; Germanface had a blast with him, but I was completely lost. That didn't bother me so much, because at that point in the summer, I was very accustomed to smiling and nodding when Germanface shot me a look and put his hand on my thigh; these things happen when you fall in love with someone foreign.

No, what struck me the most was the Frau of the house. She too was foreign. Slovak, to be exact. Her English was even worse. When she thought I wasn't paying attention, I could feel her eyes sizing me up. During our short visit with them, I always wondered what she was looking for--was it because I was a woman? Was it because I was American? I guess I'll never know...but I felt connected with her in a way I hadn't felt with anyone else in that country. She, too, had fallen in love with a German man, and she, too, did not speak his language very well. Oh, he spoke hers...the room they put us in had bookshelves lined with Slovak-German dictionaries and countless Slovak phrasebooks. It seemed the Herr prized language along with his economics...

But that's not the snag in my time travels.

In our time in Munich, we reserved an evening for the exploration of the night life. (okay, we wanted to get drunk and go danciing) This was not our first German metropolis, and we were not easily impressed by most clubs. The night went on, we were completely sober, and we still hadn't found a place "worthy" to waste our time in. A bar noted on our tourist map caught our eye, and we headed out in search of its low prices and side-street location.

We didn't find it. The street number it claimed residence to didn't exist, and we settled for a bar right next door. "Black and White", it was named.

Imagine, for a moment, one American girl and one German boy stumbling into the ONLY Jamaican bar in all of Germany.

Yeah.

His hand squeezed tighter around mine, and I said that the place was fine. I just wanted a drink, and the music was good. Germanface agreed, so we sat down in an isolated corner. I had never felt more eyes on me than I did that night. The bar woman approached us to ask what we were drinking. There was some 5 Euro special on some drink I can't pronounce, so I ordered two. Germanface got a Red Stripe. Our isolation didn't last long, because I wandered over to a corner-couch occupied by three Jamaican gentlemen; they were all sitting, talking and laughing with Red Stripes in one hand and cigarettes in the other.

It turns out they spoke English, and I was thrilled. I was one of TWO women in the bar at the time, so they paid close attention to me as I made conversation. It was exhilarating; my whole summer in Europe, and no one even gave me a second look with Germanface always glued to my hip. These men saw him, but took no notice, and I was grateful. We spoke of everything from beer to weed to Africa--in English, too. Trying his best to ignore the cigarette smoke, Germanface just sat stoic next to me.

Then the music got me.

Some Shakira song started up amidst the Bob Marley, and I just had to get up and dance. One of the men followed me; Germanface did not. I wasn't drunk, I just wanted to salvage the night. Getting up on that empty dance floor with that Jamaican man, I felt braver than I have ever remembered. The song kept playing, and I scrounged up every memory of every MTV video I had ever seen, and I tried my best to dance.

Hips swaying and body twisting, I was feeling good. The Jamaican man kept his gentlemanly distance, and danced in front of me. I knew everyone was watching--I knew Germanface was probably angry. But I didn't care. Not only was I having fun, but I was making cultural connections that you only see in movies. I felt worldly and young and alive.

Until I looked at Germanface.

He just scowled at me. From my spot four feet away from him, I could see the distaste upon his face. And I didn't understand. This man wasn't touching me...I had offered to dance first with Germanface...he had said no...I wasn't doing anything wrong....and then I thought, maybe he's embarassed. Maybe I'm a horrible dancer.

He hates the way I dance, my mind continued to race. I probably look ridiculous, and he's trying to hide his embarrassment from me. I should have known I'd look stupid...I can't dance at all, I look ridiculous, I should stop.

And so I did. The song was almost done, but I thanked the Jamaican man and headed back to the couch with Germanface. My blood was pumping cold, and he said nothing. A few minutes later, he finished his Red Stripe, and we were out the door--despite many protests from the other Jamaican men on the couch.

We headed home with little conversation. The train home was crowded, and we sat a bit aways from each other. Some young German couple picked a bug out of my hair when we were almost to our station--the night just couldn't get any worse.

Ever since then, I've been terrified of dancing. Though the music hits me, I still have so much trouble dancing in public. I still feel that distaste glaring at me from across the room, and that same insecurity resurfaces. So, I try to avoid it.

Maybe this memory has no relevance at all...but I felt it was begging to be written about.

So perhaps this will explain if you ever see me at a party, and I do the robot in the corner, instead of dancing like everyone else. It's because I can't get over that night in Munich; it's why I don't dance.

Delicious Chicken or Our Time on Gay Street

2008-04-12T18:55:00.000-07:00

Recently, Josh and I had the pleasure of visiting Columbus, OH to celebrate his stupid birthday and to get our faces rocked off at a Third Eye Blind concert.

We stayed at the Residence Inn downtown located on 36 E. Gay Street. Yes, you read that right. Gay Street. This street name amused us throughout the entire trip. What was even better was the cross-street just one block north of the building...

If that wasn't enough, the street another block east of High St. was Long St. Yes. Who the hell named the streets of Columbus? Long, High, and Gay? That's pure brilliance. That man or woman deserves to win the Nobel Peace Prize. Street names like that can stop wars. Oh yeah, and that is Josh standing underneath the street signs. He may or may not be both high and gay.

After we arrived on Monday night, we made a booze run up to a Giant Eagle grocery store, where we made two wonderful discoveries. First of all, Giant Eagle has an insane selection of beer/wine/other awesome things. Really. Holy crap.

This was only ONE of the five thousand million wine aisle they had, but you get the idea. And yes, that is Josh looking scared and confused in the corner. Poor guy. The other discovery that Josh can lay claim to is finding a Cane's chicken on our way back from the grocery store. He nearly pooped his pants when he saw it, and he immediately insisted that we go the next day for lunch. I wasn't too excited, because it just sounded like another greasy emporium of fried things that make you feel gross. And since I am normally right, I hid my disdain as to not hamper Josh's excitement.

That was me hiding my disdain; I do it well, no? So, the night went on, and we ended up passing out in our bed, drinking Jimmy Buffett beer, and watching Jim Gaffigan's stand-up.

What a wonderful way to end a day...getting drunk and laughing at a pale, fat man. So, the next day dawned, and it was Josh's stupid birthday. I think he turned 12 or something...whatever age he is now, he assures me that he is a big boy now. He was so grown-up that I even let him use a real knife at breakfast!

Aw, look at that...that's going in the scrapbook. Nothing eventful happened for the rest of the morning/afternoon, except for a shower and a nap. (note these events did not occur simultaneously) Before we knew it, it was after 3 PM, and thus time to venture out to Cane's chicken. I took some pictures a long the way, because cities are exciting-looking. (note that most cities only portray the illusion of excitment. columbus was no exception)

That last picture I hastily took of a gallery named after me. I know I'm famous, but to name a gallery after me? We soon found ourselves in the general area where Josh spotted the chicken joint. Little did we know that it was located right across the street from one of the main buildings of Ohio State University. It was an understatement to call it a clusterf-ck, but we managed to navigate our way to a parking spot with only murdering an unforunate few. Accidental manslaughter happens, we got over it, so should you.

Once we got to Cane's, Josh started freaking out. He had ordered some crazy fatty maniac meal that only fat people order, and I got the #1 with extra fries instead of coleslaw. When the guy with the pink hat behind the counter called out Josh's name, I swear he pooped a rainbow. Josh returned with this so-called "life-changing" chicken, and this is what I had:

Doesn't look too exciting, does it? Well, this was one of the rare instances in the universe when I am wrong. This chicken was amazing. I'm surprised that they even give you fries in the first place; after you taste the chicken+sauce, the fries taste like a carboard box. Hell, even prime rib would taste like a dumpster after Cane's chicken. Each bite was like a party in my mouth, and all my friends were there. For a good 10 minutes, Josh and I said nothing. We communicated by glancing up at each other with dreamy gazes while chewing; it was our way of saying, "I could never love you as much as I love this chicken."

So to review, Cane's chicken is delicious. I actually think the full name is Raising Cane's Chicken Fingers, and there are no locations in Indiana. Bummer. Since it was Josh's birthday trip, we ended up going again the next afternoon before we headed home, and it was just as delicious. The only bad thing I have to say is that it will devastate your intestines. After the first meal at Cane's, we had to rush back to the hotel and spend a good 10 minutes in the bathroom each--if you catch my drift. The second time was fine, though. Maybe the chicken is just testing you...it tries to push you away, to see if you'll come running back.

I could take that chicken joke farther, but I'm just going to leave it as is.

The whole point of the Columbus trip was to go to a Third Eye Blind concert, but I don't want to bore you with ridiculous amounts of detail about it. It was just like every other concert that anyone in the entire world could have attended. It was sweaty, the opening band sucked, and everybody sang along to 3eB. No biggie. But, here are a few pictures, in case you were interested.

This guy was slightly entertaining. I insulted him within the first 30 seconds of meeting him by saying how much I hated OSU. We later made up and became best friends.

No zoom features here, my friends. I was this close. And the people in front of me were fat, ugly bitches. I could write a whole other blog entry about how horrible the people in the crowd were.

Here we are, walking back from the show to our hotel. At this point, we were sweaty and exhausted. All we wanted to do was get back to our hotel and drink ourselves to sleep. And that we did. However, on the way back, we couldn't help ourselves...

Josh had just mailed in his subscription to "Balls In My Mouth" Monthly. Hee hee.

[/fin]

'It also says that you are adopted. So that's funny, too."

2008-03-31T16:00:00.000-07:00

Let it be known that I'm not a gamer.

Not that I don't like video games, because I love them. There are days when nothing makes me happier than to sit back and watch someone else play cool video games. I enjoy watching rather than playing, because I am horrible at gameplay; it's not fun at all to watch yourself either roam around a game for hours trying to figure out what to do, or die every five seconds. Not fun at all.

Josh introduced me to the game Portal a few months ago, and I was intrigued.

As a student of New Media, I'm appreciating digital creativity more and more, and this game really impressed me. If you want to know about the game's synopsis, check out it's Wiki I linked to above. Aesthetically, it's a pretty game. I like pretty.

So what makes this game exceptional besides its awesome concept and pretty graphics is the computer. As you go through the levels, you are being observed by a chatty computer who at first is friendly and helpful--and slowly turns sarcastic and murderous. My favorite computer moments are at the very end of the game when are you working to destroy said computer. Someone was kind enough to go through this final boss fight slowly enough to let the computer crank out all kinds of funnies:

Nice, huh? I know that Portal has been around for a while, but I don't care; I tend to be the kind of person who gets to the party after everyone has already drunkenly passed out, and the sober people have already written obscene things in Sharpie on those sleeping. Josh is really good at knowing about these kinds of things; I can barely even talk to him about anything movies or games, because if it exists, then he's already read a thousand articles about it--and he read them a year ago. So, he wins.

Also, I found another good video on YouTube that's portal related. Check out their nerd humor:

Well, that's all I've got on Portal. I love me some comments, if you haz them.

"Ooo, girl, you like Jet magazine!"

2008-03-30T00:14:00.000-07:00

It's 2:12 AM, and I am waiting for Parky McFarster to get home from his Night Audit shift at the Motel Suites. He's house-sitting for his parents all this week, and he was gracious enough to share the wealth of space with me.

Space--who knew I'd miss it so much? It's only been about nine months since I moved downtown, but apparently, it's been long enough to make me residentially clausterphobic. Just being in a big house with stairs and a basement and a garage and a backyard makes me loathe the thought of my dorm room.

Downtown is just so stressful. Even when you're putzing around, leaving your abode is like entering a battle ground. On the roads, you have a fair mix of city veterans who drive like maniacs because they're assholes, and you also have the people whose driving just screams, "ZOMG, WE ARE DOWNTOWN, IT IS A WHOLE NEW WORLD, WE SUDDENLY FORGET HOW TO DRIVE." Parking is equally annoying and can be difficult and expensive at times. And then when you get out of the car, it could be raining or snowing or just windy enough to make you wish you stayed home to watch endless reruns of Scrubs on the five channels it's on now.

So after all of that, returning back to your abode after braving whatever elements you crossed just feels fabulous; and it makes you want to never leave again. Maybe downtown makes you value your living space more, but it sure can make you frumpy about everywhere else you go.

But I'm not downtown for now, and it feels nice to get away. It may feel even nicer in a month when I'm living out in Wyoming, but Indy's suburbs will do for now.

I have so many pictures and even more stories to tell. When will I find the time to post them all?

"Spread the love, Hugo!"

2008-03-29T23:27:00.000-07:00

Josh thinks it's funny to text me fake Lost spoilers when I work on Thursday nights.

And Mexico can fucking wait.

2008-03-28T23:31:00.000-07:00

I think I'm beginning to find my place here in Indianapolis.

The past few months have been a crisis, but it seems that spring always renews, and with it has come a better understanding of my role in my own universe here in the city. For a while, I thought that starting over somewhere else was the only way to alleviate my terror; it's what I always revert to, fleeing.

Somewhere amongst all the moving from town to town and switching between my mom and dad every other weekend, a nitch was set in my soul that makes it impossible for me to sit still. I simply cannot stay in one place for too long, and it is a blessing and a curse. Though the ambition it brings is great for my career, it makes it incredibly difficult to get a good foothold wherever I am. When something goes wrong, I tend to just give up on the whole thing. I was almost ready to give up on IUPUI, but I think we worked something out...

We did some green-screen recording for N240 last week, and our group (Straight Chicken) rocked the green casbah. We could do whatever we wanted, so we decided to imitate the Head-On commercials; but instead of pain medication, we are shamelessly plugging ourselves.

Straight Chicken; apply directly to the forehead.

We are straight badass, and we own the night. And by night, we mean Mondays from 3-5:40 PM. In the IT building, not the whole world. Let's not get greedy here...

Josh and I made quesadillas the other night and watched No Country for Old Men. This was the exciting view of the fridge before we began cooking. It was slightly emptier afterwards, as were our souls. The picture above it is of me helping make the quesadillas...exciting times. Those were amazing quesadillas. Oh, and the movie was good, too.

One final thing to show you before I'll wrap up this entry. I saw this one day on Facebook, and I found it slightly amusing. Two people with the same profile picture:

It's almost like Mike is in the middle calling the shots during an all out war that puts twin against twin.

...

No?

Okay, fine.

"But when I get to the doorway, there's no one inside."

2008-03-26T11:23:00.000-07:00

Something's going on with me.

I know, because I'm having very emotional, lucid dreams nearly every night; I'm also talking in my sleep. My parents have told me that they always knew when I was under a lot of stress or going through something emotional, because I would scream things in my sleep for nights on end. And now I don't need anyone else to tell me that my nightmares are not just a coincidence.

For the first time in a while, I had begun to think I had everything under control, like I'd reached my next stage of Zen for a while; but apparently, my subconcious is telling me I'm wrong. So what is it? What did I miss?

Maybe I should start with the dreams themselves.

Last night's was intense; I dreamt of a huge casino-like place that had the kind of carpets you find in hotels (bold, continuous patterns), except the casino was just one big version of Great Times. (Great Times is a big arcade for kids that has a putt-putt and Go Karting outside.) In this dream, it was understood that I was there with a lot of kids from school for a school trip. There were so many people running around, and I recognized a lot of them. My two younger sisters were there, too, and it was understood that I was there to take care of them for the weekend. Everyone was running around, talking and playing video games. One of my favorite games, Rule of Rose, was there as a virtual reality gig,and I was really excited about that. At one point, I lost my sisters, and I started to panic. That was when I ran into Flo, and we started fighting. We yelled and yelled, and I may have started crying, and he was more than cruel to me. I understood that I didn't want to fight with him, but he refused to talk to me anymore, and he ran off. I felt devastated, and I tried to stop crying as I went off to find my sisters. There were some Go Karts, and I saw a lot of my friends from last year's Advanced Acting class in line, so I joined them. Eric Overton and I got into a kart together, and he drove; it was really fun, because the karts went insanely fast. We were playfully racing our other friends, and I was sad that we didn't win...

Then, as I was heading back over to play more of Rule of Rose in another part of the building, I ran into "Steve". He seemed upset with me, too, and just the way he looked at me made my chest tie up in knots. Even though I was dreaming, I could actually feel my gut wrench and my insides ache. He insisted that we go outside to talk, and after all that had happened in the lucidity of the evening so far, I didn't protest.

"I don't get it," he had sputtered. "I don't get you."

"It's not what you think," I replied in protest. "Let me explain, please..."

And then I gushed everything. I gushed how sorry I was for confusing him, how I was sorry for even talking to him again after all I had done and said...I was crying, and the sobs shook my entire body as I kept talking and talking and watching his face turn a shade of calloused understanding. And the thing was that I truly was sorry. Even when I'm awake, I'm sorry about it all. And it hurts, but I guess that since I don't have time to deal with it when I'm awake, that my brain takes care of it while I'm asleep.

That's just what I was getting at, I suppose. I can deal with nightmares, but it's when my dreams deal with real people and real things that I'm feeling that I start to pay attention. Dreams really are a reflection of your subconcious, and it shouldn't be ignored. When I used to be a worse(r) person, I would always have nightmares about being naked in pubic. Research told me that those dreams meant I had something to hide that I was terrified to let people know. And I did, then. But now that I'm trying to sweep out the skeletons in my closet, I'm not going to ignore issues left unresolved. Because who wants nightmares every night?

"I wanted to shout it...from a mountain-top."

2008-03-23T18:48:00.000-07:00

With no desire to be cryptic, I'd like to officially throw it out there that I am definitely and 100% tappin' this.

And we've never been happier.

Fo' realz.

Ooo...that's a Beatle Burn.

2008-03-22T16:40:00.000-07:00

I would really like to write all about how much things have changed over the past week and how different life is now....but that wouldn't necessarily be true. The equation that life has been writing the past few months has finally yielded a solution, and the solution feels goooooood.

So take that for what you will.

What I was really excited to write about was the events of last night/wee this morning. I was working the 3-11 shift over at the Motel Suites (do we still remember that this is a fake name?), and my auditor was late. As I was walking out to my car around midnight, I noticed a guy in a Sgt. Peppers T-Shirt taking pictures of the skyline; I started up conversation, and it turned out that he was part of a Beatles Tribute Band that had just played in Conseco Fieldhouse during the Pacers game Friday night. (Since I have not mentioned it before, let me say now that I am a huge Beatles nerd. It is almost frightening how much I love them.)

More conversation led us to spontaneously deciding to stage an acoustic performance outside on the canal....at 1 o'clock in the morning. We are so fun and smart. [insert a sarcastic tone on the word "smart"]

We decided to have the impromptu show on the balcony overlooking the canal. This guest was drunk and really wanted to tune my tiny travel guitar. Needless to say, he failed.

Now we're getting serious, haha. They busted out the keyboard along with its amp.

The Paul of the group; he appropriately calls himself Chris-Paul, haha. I just love the bass. Mmm...

Josh was working Night Audit at the time and came outside to join us in our short-lived rebellion.

About halfway through "Let It Be", we got shut down; a hotel guest stuck her head out of her window and informed us that this was a hotel and that people were trying to sleep. Fuckin' bummer.

After that, we packed it up and headed inside to talk over coffee/tea. It felt so good for the nerdy Beatles fan inside of me to talk about obscure Beatles shit with people. Normally, I just read books and then write about what I read in Beatles fan forums, so you can imagine how I felt when I had three other people discussing with me. It wasn't until 3 AM that I finally got home, and I stayed up well past that...bad Lindsay, bad.

Chris-Paul gave me his business card, and it seems that he's also a part of another tribute band by the name of Brit Beat. They're website was pretty cute, check it out if you're interested. Also, the gentleman playing the keyboards for us on the balcony is also part of a Lennon Tribute band by the name of Strawberry Fields Forever.

Since I'm currently at work, I was paid to write this. I win.

Time. Truth. Hearts.

2008-03-17T14:05:00.001-07:00

Excerpt from my black thought pad,
Written Saturday, January 5, 2008:

"It's becoming more apparent by the way I don't even know what month it is anymore. Another year? Funny how slash/slash/08 feels so different this time, when just last year saw a seamless slide to the infamous slash/slash/07. Last year when I counted down with people I barely knew and most certainly did not care for. When my cup kept refilling and I even started spilling over my own top with a sense of freedom I hadn't felt before. And I was kissed as the clock turned, and I felt that was reason enough to smile and drunk dial. Oh, the people I talked/slurrrrrrred to that night...I had wanted Greg. Wanted him more than the awkwardness Andy always offered.

Alliteration always makes me want to vomit.

Fast forward a few milestones to slash/slash/08 when I am sucking back cosmos and canoodling with someone I practically despise. Something has changed. Something has always been changing in one aspect or another, but this time the change was less of a slight of step but more of a tectonic shift. It's him again, and it's always been him him him him, and I'm spending so much time daydreaming about running away with other people, but I can't--because it's not fun after I've ruined someone.

After him him him--his name would be too redundant--all I can think about is ruining people for the pleasure of productively passing time--even if it is just one big pointless circle. I am a guy, I am a guy, I am a guy. And I am calculating exactly what touch/look where and when will get you to kiss me. And the kicker is that I don't even want to; I just want the power of a first kiss to even show up on my empty heart's radar. It's always the same body shifting in the front seat of my car and all the right awkward silences. All the wrong conversations with the wrong people at exactly the right time. And this feels like a normal evening to me---EXCEPT NOW, I CAN'T DO IT.

Him again.

A block like Benadryl blankets my nervous system, and suddenly my limbs are holding a suitcase and a perfect palm. And they're stroking a stomach or counting Euros or clutching the perfect glass of dry, white wine. And then it's only my body left in the present--when my senses slide back to some place and time when more things made sense ONLY because they were uncertain and exciting---but now that I've been there and now that I've seen this, baby, I've gotta tell you that there was no reason to cause a fuss over what was just the next step in the so-called natural progression of my life plan.

So what tortures me now is that this next step also doesn't involve you. And it won't for a long time, and that scares me. Because I can time travel all I want, but lucidity in the sunshine can't go on forever. Or if it does, then I'm afraid of managing the present and the future when I'm constantly subconsciously pulled out of heart and mind.

But it's him, and I want to.
And I must.
And I will.

Promise.

But for now, could we just make out? I've always been strangely attracted to you, and we could make it work for a few minutes if you want to. This could be functional, because I don't need this anymore than you need additional internal conflict. I only want to build you up just to rip it all to pieces with avoidance and denial.

So that's why I love him. What a romantic concept...to realize your love for someone by saying, "I know I love you truly, only because you're the only one I don't want to ruin."

[/excerpt]

Thank you, Tarot.com.

2008-03-15T22:36:00.000-07:00

Gemini horoscope for Sunday, March 16:
"Even your most serious feelings won't hold you down long as your moods change often today, pulling you back and forth without giving you much time to adapt to each shift. Don't project your instability, frustration or anger onto anyone else. No one is out to make your life any tougher. Accepting full responsibility for your own state of mind now will make a big difference in your life."

As always, you are right.

Oh.My.God

2008-03-14T09:11:00.001-07:00

The fact that I am in love with Judd Apatow's movies should not stop you from watching this amazing trailer for his new movie, Pineapple Express. This movie trailer has given me one more reason to live.

(I have been told that this video has been taken down...go here and you can see a better quality version.)

Enjoy.

You can has cheeseburger, Eli.

2008-03-14T03:12:00.000-07:00

There's been a lot going on recently, and with the seasons changing and the ice melting and whatnot, I feel nearly compelled to go along with the trend and let the past be past, even if this "past" was just last month. So things happened, I reacted, and then said things passed. But don't worry, you'll still get the Ben Folds pictures/videos soon. Promise.

I leave for Wyoming in less than two months. Holy crap. I've been planning with my family, and we've decided that I'll fly out there on the first of May, and my step-mom will drive out to pick me up in August. So, I'll only be shelling out around $250 for a 7-hour flight out there. Not too bad. I'm really looking forward to just getting away from everything for a while. Yes, I know that this place is in the mountains in the middle of Nowhere-ville, but I think it's kind of endearing. My free time will be spent hiking, exploring, horseback riding, chillaxing...what more can you ask for in one summer? Not to mention all the interesting people I'm going to meet.

In other note-worthy news, I totally face-raped my German midterm last week. Yesssss.

So, I'm on Spring Break right now, and it's been productive. I've been catching up on sleep and trying to get some much needed self-reflection before my cluster-fuck of a summer begins. My friend Josh joined me the other evening, and we took had a jolly good time.

There's me, enjoying a chocoalte milkshake. This was taken in response to my recent sighting of There Will Be Blood. I drink your milkshake, Eli.

Josh refuses to look normal in any picture.

The State Capitol building is exciting, right? Nah, I was just on my way home, and felt compelled to capture the view from my passenger window. I'll miss living downtown.

Indiana may have fallen in Mother Nature's good graces for the time being, because we've been getting beautiful weather. It's beeing cruising well into the 60's with sunny skies and even sunnier depositions all around. On Wednesday, I got a call from my friend Kody who was in town for the day doing some video work for some evil company. He had a break and wanted me to join him in his downtown wandering.

Monument Circle makes anyone feel important. We sat with our legs over the ledge of the dried-up fountain and talked about our futures. His perspective was very cleansing to me...I love hearing the input of others.

It was such a short afternoon; I didn't want to go back inside.

I bought a guitar that afternoon, too. I don't remember the name of it, but it's awesome. That's all you need to know for now. I'm bringing it with me to Wyoming, so that explains the sudden purchase. Those plane tickets should be bought soon, too...so much to do before May 1st...

I've started watching Dead Like Me, because I need something to distract me while waiting for new episodes of Lost. Yes, I am one of those people. Yes, I am disgusted with myself.

There are a few exciting things in development that I'm afraid to talk about...afraid I might jinx it. So for now, I'll throw it out there that I may have something to talk about later...

It's past 3 AM, and I am allowed to be vague.

Oh, one for the road...

You are much more than a supplement.

2008-03-03T01:49:00.000-08:00

So, it's almost 5 AM, and the door to my room is still open. Normally, it's tightly closed and locked to prevent anyone in these wretched dorms from coming into contact with me. This evening, however, gave us our first taste of the upcoming spring, and it inspired me to leave the window open with the fan on and the door open.

Ooo, and I'm drinking hot tea. Honey Vanilla White Tea Chai. Just the name alone is a mouthful...it's delicious, though.

I know I need to hash out a full account of what happened this weekend, but I just don't feel up to it yet. However, let me say now that it was somewhat eventful, and I DO have pictures AND videos. But that's all just too much right now.

A few hours ago, I finished a mood piece I had to do for the midterm for N240-Intro to Digital Video; it's such a lousy class, but I'm proud of what I made for her stupid midterm assignment. We were supposed to make a 60-second mood piece, and we could choose whatever we wanted. (Her examples were wimpy like, "A candle-light affair!" and crap. Pssfh.) After much deliberation and almost two months of NOT working on it, the idea for the piece FINALLY came to me the night before it was due. (Don't you just love how creative process works sometimes?) I chose guilt.

Guilt seems to be this season's motif for my life, so why not cash out on it? I based the piece around a real event that happened to me a few months ago. The scenario went something like this:

One morning, I was strangely awoken in the middle of the night for what seemed no apparent reason. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I decided to get up and check my e-mail. (Great idea, right? Who ever heard of the computer being a useful sedative?) So, I click my mouse to get rid of my screensaver, and as soon as I do, I get an IM from my friend Zach. All it says is, "guilty". And as soon as my eyes read the word, my nose started bleeding really badly. It took a few minutes to stop it up so I could go back to sleep.

Weird, right?

I always wanted to do something with that experience, because it was such a strange moment. And the weirder thing is that nearly every time that Zach IMs me, I get a nosebleed. You can ask him; I swear I'm not lying. I even told him about it, and he thinks it's amusing.

So, I rounded up a friend to help me with the camera work, and we filmed the whole thing in less than an hour. We never use tripods, and our "moonlight" was two computer screens and the TV turned onto the Animal Planet channel. Haha, it goes along with my favorite saying: "Improvise to Survive". I've never needed fancy equipment...

It's been three hours since I stumbled out of the 24-hour IT lab, and this is the fruit of my labor. Enjoy.

(I promise to have the Ben Folds Weekend post up soon.)

She remembers her youth as...

2008-02-25T17:54:00.000-08:00

I posted two new videos to my YouTube account.

Amazing what you see in Europe, really. That day was first full day I spent in Germany, and it proved to be the most entertaining.

A video art piece by one of my favorite artists, Rothstauffenberg.

Enjoy.

"Though the language is dead, still the shapes fill my head.."

2008-02-24T18:49:00.000-08:00

Who else likes The Arcade Fire? They make the kind of music that just gives you the chills. Take this, for instance:

It's videos like those that make me want to forget about making movies and move over to video art. For as long as I can remember, all I've wanted to do with my life was to make sure that whatever I did had meaning. I don't want to waste peoples' time with whatever I do. It doesn't have to be important...it just can't be mindless. Well, I suppose mindless is okay, if mindless is what I want...but still, video art intrigues me more than movies.

A few months ago, I tried my hand at creating a piece that tried to be the lovechild of Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five and Gondry's Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I wanted to take the choppy narration from my mind and combine it with images and my own memories to create an almost dream-like time jump. This is what came out:

I have no idea about its quality, because the only ones to critique it have been my friends. What do you think? Did it come close to its lovechild intentions?

Lately I've just been in one of those "what does it all mean" moods, and I'm questioning/criticizing everything in my life. It's not depressing, because I have a lot to be happy and thankful about. I just feel a bit lost, and I'm 100% uncertain that I'm even doing the right thing or that I'm even close to the right track. I may not even want to be a film-maker. I'm not very good at it, and my brain is too scattered to try to work on my own little projects while I'm in school.

I know it all comes down to initiative and passion and yadda yadda...that's why I'm taking off for Wyoming this summer. It seems that every year, I feel trapped enough that it's necessary for me to get away for a while to clear my head. Is that so wrong? I have the ability and capacity to just get up and go if I need to, so why shouldn't I? Atleast that's my philosophy for the moment...

I'm good, though. I really am good.

But in the meantime, my mind is flashed with this images that I can taste. Images of a dripping faucet and images of my mouth trying to catch those tiny drops and the feeling that I'm very, very thirsty. Memories of a hand resting on my knee during a dinner with his grandmother somewhere in Germany and too drunk to say anything intelligent to his relatives who are telling me all about their adventures in Australia. Remembering the way the buses and subways felt like velvet while they purred us onto our destination.

And then on top of that, I want for "Steve" to give us another chance.

My horoscope is saying good things, so one can only cross their fingers and hope.

Oops, part 3.

2008-02-12T10:32:00.000-08:00

Damnit, damnit, damnit, damnit.

I'm so angry with myself for not being able to keep up with this blog.

Please understand that I'm trying really hard...

And I think that I'm done trying to make sense or structure out of anything in my head, so this blog will probably be crap just like everyone elses' blogs. And I don't care.

My internship with Children Without Limits is becoming more of a root canal than a side job. It's slowly painful, and I'm just trying not to freak out. Right now, only ONE group of students is even CLOSE to being finished with their film. And, I was thrown an extra side project to a promo video for a local dance studio. WTF? Oh well, at least I get to edit it on the company MacBook. Even though I hate iMovie...icky.

School is so confusing, and I'm falling behind in a few of my classes. And when I say "falling behind", I mean that I just magically "forget" that assignments even exist. "Hey, Lindsay, did you do that website evaluation? It's due in five minutes." NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! That's been my life recently. Oh well, I'm sure my head to reposition itself eventually.

My other work is still chugging along well. Tasha quit, and that has made the office a lot quieter. And things are neater, more organized. However, it's a lot less lively. The office now has to rely on the dry sarcasm of Josh and myself; what a bleak comedic outlook...Oh well, ob-la-di ob-la-da, right?

Friday, I went shopping and spent way too much money on clothes. It felt very good.

Oh, just another quick tidbit...I'll be in Wyoming all summer. I accepted a position as the Office Manger/Front Desk Clerk at the Elephant Head Lodge. My contract dates are May 2nd through August 18th. Yes, that is a damn long time, and I don't care. I just felt like I couldn't stay here all summer and be refreshed for another long school year. And who doesn't deserve some time out west? The lodge is 11 miles east of Yellowstone's east entrance, so there'll be plenty to do on my time off. Everything's all set as of now except for how I'm getting out there. Dad and I are debating between a train or me taking my car out there. I vote car, he votes train. Arguments occur. I'll keep you updated.

So I think that this brings us up to me sitting in the 24-hour IT Lab rejoicing that my 3 PM class has been canceled due to the ridiculously inclement weather outside. Rain/sheet/crap rains from the sky, and it is cold as balls. My 3 o'clock class was canceled yesterday, too, so that makes a good week so far, haha. There are many things I could be working on, but the things on my mind now are getting food for my grumbling belly and when I want to watch Little Black Book tonight.

Is anyone out there? I'm curious if anyone is reading this. If you do, leave me a comment to alert me of your presence. I want to know my audience.

Jump.

2008-02-02T17:01:00.000-08:00

Drunkface Lindsay emerged yet again last night.

The party had a 90's theme, and we danced for hours to nostalgic hits like "Mambo #5" and "Bye Bye Bye". I actually succeeded to drinking Keystone Light the entire night! My snobbishness with beer is fading, so that's a plus, right? There were so many cute faces to flirt with, so many cute guys to dance with...it was heaven. It was exactly what I needed after my ridiculous week.

The evening ended on a slightly awkward note, because I have a complicated past/present with a current frat brother. Let's call him Steve (name changed). It's a long story, and it really would bore you with angst and redundancy, so I'll just tell you what's been going on recently...

The last frat party of his I attended, his girlfriend was really cheesed that I was there, and I spent the entire night having to avoid hanging out with the ONE person I knew in the house. It wasn't a disaster; I adapted, made friends, etc...but still, awkward and annoying. She had left

early, and around 2 AM, Steve and I were alone in his room. Really, honestly, truthfully, we just talked for hours. And that's what drives me crazy about Steve; he's just good. Like whole-grain bread or something, he is honest, wholesome, AND nutritious! (rimshot? ...no? oh well.) Around 4:30 AM, he walked me back out to my car, and I blurted out before he turned away that I was confused about why I wanted to kiss him so badly. Turns out, he was having the same dilemma.

Ever since then, I feel this strange, unspoken revival of our past, and it's something I can't explain. I don't want to do anything about it, other than just tell him that it exists. And I did, and he kind of understands. He has his legit GF, and I'm not about to break up a happy home. I think that we'll just harbor this ghost until opportunity tells us to do something...or we'll just do nothing, and this whole issue will just fade into obscurity.

Steve just makes me want to be better. As bad of a person as I've been over the past few years, he is the only one who I'm completely honest with, because I respect him. And there have been people in my life who I've cared about, but felt no qualms about lying to them. If he were any other guy, I wouldn't care about his other relationship; I would try everything in my power to seduce him into cheating. Because the results and his guilt would entertain me. Horrible, right?

Yeah, so the latest drunkface evening ended up with a conversation in the laundry room, and some more familiar expressions of this unspoken thing. It was the same song and dance of stalling and awkward silences and that little tug you feel in your chest when you know you have so much to say and no idea how to say it. However, this time, I slurred to him that he was the only "one" I ever had legit feelings for (hence the respect thing), and as I was leaving and after our fifth hug, he threw out a verbal gem that would only keep me awake at night for a few more weeks:

"You are my favorite. Really."

I am his favorite. Really.

So what do you expect me to do? The same thing happened that happened before and will probably always happen; I went home with a drunken stagger and an aching heart. As I fell asleep, I thought only of what he had said, and just like last time, I felt foolish for doing this to myself all over again.

And after loads of careful consideration, the closure I can get from this will come from sticking to my new discipline regimen. I'm changing myself, making myself better, and maybe later on, something good will happen with someone who's good for me.

So until the day that I become as honest, wholesome, and nutritious as our beloved "Steve", I can at least get drunkface and hold on to the kind of girl I used to be. Honest, wholesome, and boundlessly loving.

E-Mail to "Steve" from Lindsay
Sent: 9/25/05 6:56 PM
Subject: I AM SO HUNGRY RIGHT NOW

[name removed]!!

First of all, I'd like to say that this "Fantasy" perfume from Britney Spears still smells so fantastic...I'm going to save up and get it, because I smell gooooooooood right now. ^_^

Anyway, onto my response:

I know! Wasn't yesterday just amazing? I was so nervous that something would go wrong, but everything just orchestrated perfectly enough for us to get away with it. I still can't get over the fact that you faked sick just to see me...that really is the sweetest thing that anyone has ever done for me, not to mention original! (Extra credit for creativity!) Wow, okay, I'm realizing now that I'm using a lot of the same words that YOU used in YOUR e-mail, and it's making me feel like a loser. But you know what? I don't care! Too bad! If you want big, fancy words, then you can...I dunno, eat a dictionary. I heard that they're quite tasty with soy sauce-- but that's a totally different subject. I think that we value our crazy situations because we both appreciate the more "unique" things in life. We have interesting stories to tell about the time we've spent together, because we're interesting people! Our dates are different! We're not your average, run-of-the-mill, "take my girlfriend to steak N shake and the movies every weekend" kind of couple, if you haven't noticed already. We're the "let's drive backwards on a stopped-up interstate" and "let's go vandalize something" kind of couple. Don't you just love us? (and I mean that in a very non-conceited way, I promise!) Anyway, I like the Pirates/Herpes idea. LET'S DO IT. (and when I say "do it", i mean, go to PF Changs) ....(and when i say that i meant to say "go to PF changes", of course, I really mean not)

[name removed], don't even worry about that song. I'm not demanding that you write me one. Yes, I would love it so very much, because you make such awesomely hilarious music, but that doesn't mean that I cry myself to sleep every night for not having a song from you. I know that you want to make it amazing, but please know that anything that you could ever write me is more than amazing in my eyes. Really, a plain techno beat with a rap of "Lindsay is kind of cool...sometimes...maybe...she's alright...sometimes..." would be SO RIDICULOUSLY HILARIOUS AND FUNNY, AND I WOULD SERIOUSLY PLAY IT IN MY CAR EVERYDAY FOR EVERYONE TO HEAR IT. And I would tell people, "YEAH, [name removed] MADE THIS FOR ME!! ISN'T HE SO SO SO SO SO FUNNY AND AWESOME?!" I understand that you're feeling intimidated by great musicians like The Mars Volta or The Beatles--but understand that to me, you're BETTER than any old Paul McCartney, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You are amazing. Let me hear you say it.....are you saying it? You better be. Say: I, [name removed], am amazing. Now, if you copped out and didn't say it, then I will have Beth shave your legs while you're asleep.

Haha! I really really laughed at the "yes or no" questions part. You are hilarious...But yes, I have noticed that you've mellowed out a bit around me lately. It makes me really happy to know that you're feeling more and more comfortable with me, because I want you to feel that way. I don't want us to feel insecure about our relationship. I may or may not get more goofy as time goes by...I don't know what my tendencies are, cos I'm just obnoxious all the time , haha. If you think that I'm being annoying or overly goofy to the point of obnoxiousness, just call me out on it. My tendency is that I try to be the center of attention, and sometimes, I'll do/say anything to keep that position when I'm in a group setting. It's definitely one of my tragic flaws, so, yeah, whatever.

You made a "Love List" about me? I swear, you are too good to me. Stop it this instant, young man. No more of this "nice" business! Start beating me NOW, or I'm OUTTA HERE! Haha, just kidding. No, really, you amaze me everyday, and sometimes I still don't believe that you're mine. So, I'm going to make MY OWN "Love List" ABOUT YOU!!! Why? Because it's a good idea, AND because I'm not feeling creative enough to make up something of my own. In MY list, I am going to list random things that I love about you AND things that really matter. I'm making this up on the spot, so it will definitely be out of order, but here I go:

[name removed]'s Snuggly List

I really like the way your hair swooshes. I've always loved your haircut, and I think it looks great now. You scenester, you.

Hugs. Did you know that you give really good hugs? It's nothing short of amazing everytime you hold me close and wrap your arms around me. It's great that we can be so close to each other in that one moment...It makes me want to keep you locked up in my closet, so you can give me hugs anytime I want. ^_^

The way your voice changes when you're saying something serious or meaningful. Not really sure if you've noticed this, but I just love the way your voice sounds when you say, "I love you, Lindsay" or "Aww, I love you, too" or something else incredibly adorable like that. You say it like you mean it, because you do. And I mean it, too. No "I love you" that comes from me to you is ever half-assed.

Your dedication. It's amazing just how loyal and dedicated you are to everything that you do. Whether is family or [school newspaper], you're just always there. You're dependable and just....man, I can't even describe it, because you're just that awesome. I'm starting to lose the ability to transcribe the way I feel into words, haha.

Your hott "bod". As you know, I'm only dating you for sex, so of course I'm going to love your hott bod. Haha, just kidding. But really, you are extremely handsome, especially with your shirt off. You don't have to feel insecure about your body, because I love it. I love every inch of you. You're amazing on the inside AND the outisde, so with abs like that, you can feel confident. ^_^

You are so funny! How many times have you said something that's made me nearly pee my pants with laughter? I can't even count them...I know that everytime I talk to you, you're going to make me laugh. I tell everyone that my boyfriend is incredibly funny, because YOU ARE.

You got SKILLS! You're so talented in so many different things, it's ridiculous. Guitar, techno song-writing, video making, club organizing, amazing essay writing, NOT TO MENTION YOU'RE REALLY SMART, YOU BIG CALCULUS JERK. I love you!

Okay, if I try to list anymore, I'll end up spending HOURS writing this to you. If none of this e-mail made any sense to you, then just know that I love you, and you are nothing short of amazing. Every hour I spend with you replays in my memory over and over until I see you again, and we get to make new spontaneous memories! Ahh, every day is such an adventure with you, and I can't wait to see what else is in store for us...

I love love love love love you,

Lindsay

Don't fail me now, astrology.

2008-01-31T18:20:00.000-08:00

There's this strange itch I get beneath my palms from time and time, and I believe it is the source of my restlessness.

I simply cannot sit still.

I haven't produced any short videos in a while, and I'm craving the lights-camera-action of it all. Next weekend, I might be involved in a short produced by the guys over at The Beeftrain Incident. I've known them for a few years now, and I've never owned the pleasure of appearing in any of their productions; however, a few days ago, they approached me for a role in their most recent script, and needless to say, I am pumped. It gets me thinking more that I need to produce something soon. My goal is to have a new short up on YouTube by Spring Break, so that gives me about a month and a half. Maybe I'll even post some script ideas on here...who knows?

Thinking now that this post should be a mix of various things, I'd like to share with the world possibly the greatest video ever to grace the YouTube interface:

If you did not just poop your pants with joy, then we can never be friends.

There's a party on Friday night at Purdue, and since I don't work again until Saturday evening, I believe I will be there drinking my face off. My camera will be there, so hopefully I will get some snapshots to post up here. Friday nights off doubled with Saturday evening schedules almost always mean drunk-face time.

My horoscope has been saying some interesting things. Today's has been my favorite:

"You are on target today with your charm and wit, manifesting the most likable part of your personality. You can accomplish a lot if you work at a high enough level of efficiency, but it might take too much effort to swing into action now. Even if the first steps are uncomfortable, you need to start walking toward your goals. Good times are ahead, but don't lose track of the more mundane responsibilities."

Even tarot.com knows that I'm awesome.

My internship with Children Without Limits is going really well. Since the beginning of the semester, I've been working with the CEO Larry at various high schools to help him with the video aspect of their Film Literature classes. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday mornings, I drag my ass out of bed and sludge through the freezing morning air to walk inner-city kids through the process of making a film. Funny how I'm taking classes on the same thing, so they're always just a few steps behind me on whatever I'm teaching them. Regardless of if I'm qualified or not, Larry believes in me 100%. We'd been having some complications with the classes (students not showing up, conflicting film schedules, etc...), but he, another intern, and myself all worked through it the past few weeks, and he sent me an e-mail of gratitude:

"I want to thank you - and Byron - for making my life a bit easier than I thought possible. Both of you have a great ability to roll with the punch and deal with adverse circumstances. I admire that characteristic - it's more powerful than what most people realize.It's a pleasure to work with the two of you. I'm already thinking what might be done for the Summer months."

Woo hoo!

Update: So, I wrote this on Thursday, and I'm posting it on Friday. My friends and I got into the list party, and we are going to get drunkface tonight. Yes, you heard me right. I AM SO EXCITED I MUST TYPE IN ALL CAPS AND MAKE GRAMMAR IRRELEVANT

Paint's Peeling

2008-01-28T01:15:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I just don't understand the way of the universe.

A few days ago, I got a message from someone I can barely call a "former flame". I had a schoolgirl crush on him when I was a sophomore in high school; he was a senior, incredibly attractive, and I was just excited that the attraction was temporarily mutual. This all happened before I met Flo, back when I actually thought that I was capable of loving someone, and the thought of someone like him loving someone like me just blew my mind.

Like so many other women, I have some image issues. Besides the run-of-the-mill "OMGZ, IM SO FATT" insecurities, I also always have the feeling that people don't want to be around me. This probably stems from never having a best friend or a set group of friends in my life. Up until high school, I was ridiculed and such, so I've never thought of myself as someone pleasant who other people would want to be friends with. Especially when it comes to relationships, I always fear that it's one-sided and that whoever I'm interested in can't stand the sight of me.

Stupid, irrational, I know, I know. I'm working on it, okay?

So, when I first met this "former flame", Jacob, I was taken aback by how attractive he was. You know those people who just have a perfect face? That winning smile? That dress just right? Yeah, that was Jacob. He was quiet, decently well-known, and knew some people I came to know. I actually forget how it started, but we began casually dating. And in this time frame, dating was spending hours talking on AIM and holding hands in the hallway. Does anyone remember the butterflies of having someone meet you at your locker between classes? That's certainly a feeling you never get back.

We never kissed, and if my memory serves me correctly, we didn't even see each other outside of school. I didn't drive, he didn't have a car...whatever. He ended the relationship over the internet a few weeks later, and I was more humiliated than sad. I remember feeling silly that I thought I could have a successful relationship with someone normal and likable. Normal teenage angst followed for a few days, we didn't talk much, and we generally moved on.

No thoughts lended to the memory for three years until just a few days ago when I get this message:

Hey Lindsay, I have a question. I'm sorry if you think I blew you off when we sort of dated. I really meant it when I said maybe we can get back together later. You so far have been the most repsectful, honest girl I have met up with. I keep wondering how you really felt about me. I don't really know if you have a boyfriend or whatever right now, but I hope not. I think me and you could lite up some sparks. I'll ttyl.
In case I don't see you, good afternoon, good evening and goodnight;
Jacob

First of all, what the fuck?

Secondly, I find it ironic that I am the so-called "most honest and respectful" girl he's dated. He would probably be disappointed to know me now. That subject is a whole other novel...

Lastly, I'm decently positive that he's in a serious relationship with a girl, and they're shacked up. Homewrecker much?

I look at his Facebook, and I see the comments from her cooing, "I'm so happy it's our first Christmas living together...love you!" and just a few days ago, she posted, "Happy one year and a week! Love you!"

I wonder if she knows that her baby-faced lovey dovey is sniffing around for her replacement.

It makes me sad, because she might have no idea.

So, what to do? It's an interesting offer, and normally I would probably pounce on the opportunity. At this point in my life, I would kill for anything normal. I crave the cliche. Just give me something familiar to feel while I can figure everything else out.

But why me? Why now? Why does he feel so compelled as to go behind his "lovey dovey" girlfriend to seek me out? Did he send other girls the same message?

And that's what stops me.

God, I don't know anymore. What's wrong with people? Why is everyone so eager to do the wrong thing? Whatever happened to wholesome anything?

I'm definitely not the person to be talking about morality, but I really am trying to change. I've cheated and lied and lied some more and used people and stolen things both tangible and abstract and manipulated and I used to think it made me powerful and in control. However, I knew that the lifestyle was temporary and that I would eventually have to give it up for something. I was cheating myself the whole time, and I'm getting it now, and the pain and guilt are coming in chunks at at time, and I'm working my way through the whole thing.

I'll be level soon. Steady is just beyond my fingertips.

On my right hip, I have the phrase "do i dare disturb the universe?" tattooed in my skin. A year ago, it meant something completely different. Last year, it meant exciting times and adventures and doing one thing everyday that scared you for progress's sake. It meant dating a guy and then dating his best friend behind his back, and neither of them knew what the hell was going on. It meant spending a lot of time crying over things I lost. It meant destroying my world just for the sake of redecorating the place. It meant all kinds of bad things.

And now it means something more hopeful.

Now it means that I'm shaking things up and dusting out the old sin built up in my heart. It means clearing my conscience and moving forward. It means starting all over again after I promised myself twice that I wouldn't start all over again.

Because I really am back at square one. My life plan, my goals, my dreams...they're back at ground zero, and I'm free to imagine a new future. I'm free to write my next disaster, and I have writer's block.

I don't know what I'll come up with next or who'll be with me for the ride. Maybe I'll give Jacob a try, maybe I'll tell him to stay disappeared. Maybe I'll still go to Germany, maybe I'll find another part of the world to explore.

The universe just has this funny way of evening everything out. Karma is alive and it's well and it never forgets everything you did and didn't do. So be on your best behavior, and keep a clean mouth, because you never knew when the universe will decide to disturb you.

Service with a Smile

2008-01-26T17:35:00.000-08:00

This entry comes to you from the lovely office at my even lovelier job. I am getting paid to write this, and it feels good. Where do I work, you might ask? I'm employed by a large hotel company whose name I won't disclose; legal matters could manifest, because I in no way, shape, or form represent the company I work for. And the last thing I want is to lose my job over a hasty Google blog search done by one of our wonderful general managers. So for the sake of my job security, let's call my company Motel Suites. Original, I know, but it's generic and therefore safe.

Anyway, I work as a Guest Service Representative at said Motel Suites, and it's a pretty good gig for a part-timer. Mostly my shifts fall Thursdays through Sundays, because I have copious amounts of classes the rest of the week. I'm paid $8.50/hour to kiss ass for eight hours at a time at the front desk; and since I'm a part-timer, most of the "complicated" paperwork is overlooked from my responsibilities because I'm not here often enough to need to know everything. Nice.

The dynamics between coworkers at the Motel Suites are...interesting. I realize that everyone thinks that they have the most ridiculous job with the funniest coworkers and the wackiest situations; "I swear, my job is just like The Office on TV!" I hear so many people claim.

Yeah, sure, whatever.

If any workplace deserves its own reality show, the Motel Suites would at least be in the running. Working in the hospitality industry offers countless opportunities to meet so many insanely rude and nasty people. Sure, sure, we get our fair share of awesome people,but they are much more sparse compared to the bitches that walk through our front door.

The most recent example of this occurred just a few weeks ago with a woman staying for us for a few weeks for training with a major insurance company downtown. The following conversation took place over the phone: (please note that from the moment she started speaking, her tone was dripping with attitude and contempt)

Me: Front Desk, this is Lindsay.

Her: Um, yes, hi Lindsay. This is _____ in room 419, and I have a major problem.

Me: How can I assist you?

Her: I went downstairs to do my laundry, and someone else is using the washer. I need to do laundry, and that's just ridiculous that you would only have ONE working washer. How am I supposed to clean my clothes? Should I wash them in the bathtub??!!

Me: I'm terribly sorry that the washer is occupied; how would you like me to resolve this issue for you?

Her: There's nothing you can do!! I can't just go down and take this man's clothes out of the washer!! I know who he is, and I can't believe he would just take the washer after I have soooo many clothes to wash. This is just ridiculous; I hate this hotel. Ever since we got here, it has just been one horrible thing after another. You guys were cleaning the carpets when we arrived, my room smells, I saw bugs in my friend's room...and now I can't clean my clothes??!!

Me: Ma'am, right across the parking lot is our sister hotel, and they have vacant washers in their laundry facilities. If you'd like to stop by the front desk before you leave, I will give you the quarters to pay for your laundry. Would that be alright with you?

Her: You don't understand. I'm not staying at that hotel; I'm staying here, and I want to do my laundry here.

Me: Well, ma'am, I think that you may have to wait to do that. But again, I can offer to pay for your laundry if you'd like to use the other Motel Suites on the other side of the parking lot.

Her: That's the wrong answer, Lindsay. That's just the wrong answer. You know, I used to work in customer service, and that is not the right answer.

The conversation went on, as you can imagine, and that's just a recent example of the snooty, contemptuous behavior we encounter pretty often around here. The funny thing is that most people who stay with us have a direct bill account so that their company pays for the entire stay; this means that they're not complaining about getting their money's worth--they're just being assholes for the fun of it.

It's just people, I guess. You're always going to get people who love to get on power trips and yell at people serving them in any line of work. Yes, I am a Guest Service Representative, but I am not a servant.

So if rude customers wouldn't make an entertaining enough show, then the interaction between associates could carry the show. We have all the right characters for a perfect blend of reality TV goodness:

Tasha: As Motel Suite's token black girl at the front desk, she could have her own show if she could. Also nicknamed "Tashi" and "gigglebox", this girl is ALWAYS the guest's favorite. Nearly every comment card or e-mail we get will always mention something about her. "Oh, Tasha at the front desk is perfect for the job. She is the model for what customer service should be! Don't ever let her leave the company! Promote her to management! Give her a raise! Oh, and the rest of the front desk staff was pretty cool, too." Literally, people write that. Every comment we get. Tasha, Tasha, Tasha. Haha, I promise that I'm not jealous, but I will admit that her image was a little intimidating when I first started at Motel Suites. Tasha deserves her recognition, though, because she is great with our guests. She always calls people "sweetie", "darling", "sugar plum"...the list goes on. Her laugh could wake the dead, and nearly everything has its own dance. Everything from eating chocolate to talking about sweaty balls gets some kind of unique jig out of her, haha. We love it, and we love her. She could be the TV show's obligatory minority, and she would become more famous that all of us put together.

Patsy: Everyone needs an angry lesbian in a jumpsuit; we are no exception. Patsy is one of our maintenance engineers, and she reminds me of a "wacky neighbor" character. She fixes things in the hotel all day with a radio on her belt, her iPod blaring in her ears, and a coffee cup glued to her hand. With spiky hair and a grouchy demeanor, she's one of the most entertaining people to talk to around here. She's always eager to tell you what's been bothering her recently about whatever, and there always seems to be some eye-rolling crisis in her life. (example: most of her family is in prison for being accessories to a homicide. i told you.) I love her, because she's always willing to listen to you AND she's got a wicked sense of humor. Definitely wouldn't be able to carry the show without her.

Terry: Old and gay Night Auditor. He doesn't say much, and I only see him in passing, but what does come out of his mouth is golden. Mostly, he's apathetic about everything that goes on around here, and he wears wicked ties.

Connie: Your obligatory Nazi. This lady is sweetly demeaned, but she cares way too much about her job at the front desk. She will definitely rat you out for having your cell phone in the cash drawer or taking a water out of the gift shop. And if you forget to fill out a section of paperwork, she'll photocopy it, write a note on it, and stick it in your mailbox to show you your mistake. We generally try to stay out of her way and hope we never have to work with her. She could be a mini-villain in the show. You know, just someone to generally get in the way of everyone else's fun.

Becca: Our favorite supervisor. Her leadership skills are inconsistent and bipolar. One day, she is your best friend hanging out with you in the office when the desk is slow. The next, she is complaining that no one respects her and that she can't be our friends anymore. She's friends with all of us on Facebook, but I know that at least I limited her access to everything on my profile. Her grumpiness could stem from the fact that her bachelor's degree from Purdue in hospitality landed her a job as a Front Desk Supervisor banking $10.50/hour; she could also be perfect for the token grumpy boss role.

Josh: Josh could be the male version of me, but he's a lot funnier and smarter. I actually recommended him for the job, because he's been my friend in passing for a few years. We didn't start hanging out regularly until he was hired here, and now I can say that he is my only good friend that I see on a daily basis. This is almost a scary thing to imagine, but it's true. When it comes to the Motel Suites, Josh tries to slack off as much as possible. (this is how we are alike) When he works night audit, he brags about his hour of work followed by six straight hours of gaming on his PSP. Nice. Our friendship outside of work is a strange but functional relationship. We're disgustingly comfortable with each other that he even told me when he used his eucalyptus shampoo as lubricate and how it made his junk tingly for the rest of the day. We go to movies, share sex stories, stay up late playing Grand Theft Auto, drink beer...stuff like that. I imagine Josh as the eternally witty, sarcastic character who only lives to ridicule others.

Jonathan: Token gay guy. Works in sales. Very effeminate, and not very bright.

There are a few more characters in the housekeeping department who would deserve plenty of screen time, but I don't want to bore you to death.

The show would be carried by the characters and the events that happen daily. We could do an entire season of convention weekends when we're called "racists" for charging $12 for overnight parking. (that actually happened) Is anyone else convinced? Maybe I'll CC this entry over to the major networks and see if anyone's interested. Hell, they're all scrambling to fill up the airwaves with ANYTHING new after this writer's strike. Did anyone else see the promotions for "Clash of the Choirs"??? Haha, that crap is golden.

Well, my shift is almost over, so I guess that's a wrap for today's daily drama. Cut and print.

The End of International Boy

2008-01-25T09:20:00.000-08:00

Today's blog comes live from the set of my college algebra class. For how much money everyone's parents are paying for these classes, it's amazing how many people aren't paying attention. Right now, I count four other laptops clicking away and probably checking their Facebook. Three other people are blatantly reading books; I mean this in the way that they brought nothing to class but themselves, their hoodie, and the latest book from the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants monstrosity. Atleast us laptop folk try to fake it; most of us have a pad of paper to occaisionally scribble "notes" when we sense that the professor just said something important. Slacking off should only be left to the pros.

Today's topic stems from somewhere a little further off-campus: my...heart? Soul just seemed too tacky, and I already used "psyche" in the last entry. (You'll soon find out that vocabulary is a high priority of mine.) Well, let's just say that my "heart" is what defines the emotional area of my existence. So, my heart it is.

Recently, I was dumped.

And this isn't your typical college girl craze of, "oMgZ!!!!11/1! he lyke definitely dumped me for some blonde skank from delta delta delta and OMGZ lets go throw eggs on his car!! the sexxx was sooooo bad and im too hottt for him newayz but im still soooooo sad!!!"

I threw up in my mouth just from writing that.

In respect to everything that my recently relationship meant to me, I'd like to think that the end was just as unique as everything else that happened. On and off for almost three years, Florian and I were young and in love. We dated for a few months when he was an exchange student near my high school, and we unspokenly "separated" when he flew back to Germany that summer. He may have left, but my heart was certainly on that plane with him.

The old days. I was 15, he was 17.

Since that year I turned 16, it has always been about him. Every long song on the radio, every romantic movie, every Valentine's Day, New Year's, and Christmas. Him. We would accidentally go for weeks without speaking sometimes, and then I would get a surprise text at 12:01 AM on New Years Day that just said, "It is 2007, and I still love you. Your Florian" Those texts would bring me to my knees, even when I was in another healthy relationship with someone who had no idea why I had to run off into the bathroom to cry for 20 minutes after receiving a text message.

I think that my other boyfriends knew...It would be disrespectful of me to assume they were stupid enough to believe my lies about my "really good friend" from Berlin. Yes, they probably knew, and they also knew that there wasn't much to do about it. As long as I was still the same girlfriend they thought they loved, what did it matter? And I tried my best to recreate in America what I knew was waiting for me in Germany many, many times. I even thought that I fell in love twice during the two years that Flo and I were apart. Of course, the relationships didn't work out, but I felt that it was very important for me to test my love for him. The love was one of great inconvenience, and I wanted to be sure that it was something to be reckoned with before I started making plans.

And that's where I made the mistake. I made plans.

Shortly after my last semester of high school, I saved up every penny I could earn with two part-time jobs and flew 5,000 miles away from Indiana. It was my first time in Europe, and it was my first time flying alone; it was also my first time seeing Florian in two years. I was terrified. I remember the plane's descent into Berlin's Tegel airport and how I felt like Uma Thurman at the end of Kill Bill II; I was hysterically crying and laughing at the same time. The flight attendants were speaking in German as we soared down through the clouds, and I was going to be reunited with the love of my life. What wasn't there to be hysterical about?

My five weeks spent in Europe with him still wears the title of being the best time of my life. We experienced the country together, spending countless hours on the road and every moment together. Of course, there were times of irritation and squabbling, but for the most part, it was bliss. Every morning, we'd wake up to the sounds of sheep grazing just outside the bedroom window. He lived in a beautiful commune just outside of metropolitan Berlin, and we were surrounded by quaint countryside and fresh German food. Heaven.

Heading off to his Abiball.

Incredible views.

Coming home was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. My last day in Berlin was rainy and cold, and I couldn't stop shivering. I stayed by his side until the very last second, until the airport security guard informed me that it was now or never. My body was racked with sobs, and that last feeling of his skin on my fingertips nearly broke me in two. But regardless of how I felt, I had a job and a college waiting to throw me back into the daily grind. The descent into Indianapolis was a little different than my arrival into Berlin. The clouds were still there, but the flight attendants spoke English, and I felt cold and hollow. My family recalled to me later that I seemed in a daze, and I talked about everything but my trip. I think it was the first time that I reached for Flo's hand and met empty air that I couldn't bring myself to think about what I left.

Fast forward a few months to Flo's arrival in the United States to kill some time with me in Indiana. He was waiting to do some volunteer service in France, and he had a few empty months, so why not fill that with time spent with your favorite American girlfriend? It was surreal to have him back, and it almost felt awkward at times. All of my old boyfriends were also surprised; one of them was even a "current" unromantic beau who I accidentally ignored to the point where he texted me, "What are you and Flo?" Haha, oops.

Meeting him at O'Hare.

The time was good and too short and yadda yadda...I had spent a lot of the time in anxiety about him finding out everything I didn't tell him. Like the fact that I had "one or two" boyfriends in the two years we were apart. Or the fact that I only slept with "one of two" of those boyfriends. Ha. Luckily, he either didn't notice or didn't want to speak up, and I was able to keep things in balance. He left right after Thanksgiving, and I went back to my normal, American existence.

Now he's in France until July, and we were enjoying long chats over our webcams for a bit until a few days ago when he dropped the bomb. My friend Andrew and I were putzing around in my room when Flo asked to speak to me alone on GMail Chat. He broke up with me over the internet. I was appalled, angry, and strangely not sad.

Though a very important relationship ended, it almost came as a relief. Not being in love with Flo means that I'm now free to love someone else if I wanted to. My heart was leased out for so long, and even though I would much rather extend the contract, it might do me some good to keep it empty for a while. Even as I write this, I still don't know exactly what I feel, but I do know that things feel a little lighter.

Not better, just...lighter.

To be in love with someone for so long, and through so much...I used to be terrified of the day when it would happen, and now that it's done and over with, it just feels like the same beginning of a strange new chapter with an unidentifiable genre.

Is my book a comedy or a tragedy?

Until I can figure that out, all I'm left with are the dead memories of what I used to think was the only thing in the world that made me happy and the promise of a different future.

Again; not better, just different.

Something to blog about?

2008-01-23T22:16:00.000-08:00

For weeks, I've been trying to start this blog. Something told me to wait for some kind of poetic pause to give me a reason to start writing. A poetic beginning, if you will...but maybe I'm over-thinking this whole blog thing. I'm caught up in trying to make sure that each entry has that essay formula that everyone uses in standardized testing. I'm sure you remember the attention grabber comes before the thesis...transitions...at least three paragraphs...conclusion paragraph that restates your thesis...yadda, yadda.

Well, forget that.

My blog will follow no formula, and it may end up being about nothing. Hopefully, it will do as I intended and share with the world the imagery of my daily experiences. However, I'm not going to make any promises. I'm writing this, because I'm in a very powerful and important time in my life. The things I do today are shaping what I will become and who I will be for the rest of my life. Not that I'm not leaving room for change, of course. I embrace change as everyone should, but you can't deny that being 18 leaves traumatizing scars in your psyche.

So, instead of living my ridiculous life only to share it with my closest of friends and my black journal, I'm inviting all of you along for the ride.

I hope you all brought the booze. We might need it.