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Friday, December 26th, 2003
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12:20 am
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I figured this would be a nice sort of non-survey to create and fill out, since everyone lately has been all "I HATE BOYS" or "DATING SUCKS" or "RELATIONSHIPS GIVE YOU NOTHING BUT PAIN."
Ok, well. This is two years of relationships that were at least a month long. Maybe Gabe's and mine was shorter. But I really recommend doing this, especially if some of your past relationships left you feeling a tad bitter. It clears the air and makes you go "Huh, well. I hope they're doing all right."
So!
Three good things about my relationship with Jason:
- He saw me the way that I see myself.
- We shared a sense of humor.
- I truly loved him.
Three good things about my 'relationship' with Nick:
- It was very passionate.
- We both understood how casual our "thing" was.
- We were both free spirits, a little wild.
Three good things about my relationship with Gabe:
- He made me laugh.
- We did crosswords together.
- He gave me the flutters.
Three good things about my relationship with Geoff:
- We got along famously.
- He was so hilariously himself.
- He was extremely thoughtful.
Three good things about my relationship with Nate:
- He was attentive.
- We got to be friends first.
- He was a really sweet boy.
Three good things about my summer romance with Josh:
- We made an excellent pair of lovers.
- He was super spontaneous (waking up one morning and saying "let's go see fireworks in California!")
- He knew himself very well.
Three good things about my relationship with Steve:
- He was incredibly intelligent.
- He was incredibly giving.
- We laughed nonstop whenever we chatted. Man, I need to call him.
Three good things about my relationship with Matthew (may he rest in peace):
- He was amazingly creative.
- He was an old fashioned romantic.
- Without sounding trite and cliche, we really did click.
Three good things about my phone .... thingie with Quinn:
- He *always* listened.
- He'd read to me whenever I asked.
- We truly connected (or so I thought/think).
current mood:  peaceful
current music: The goddamned annoying chimes from next door.
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(comment on this)
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| Thursday, December 25th, 2003
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11:33 am
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| Tuesday, December 23rd, 2003
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8:03 pm - Thanks, Susane (I forgot all about NadasFyre, but what was the Boca one?)
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THREE GREAT PLEASURES
1. While shampooing my hair, scratching my scalp aaaaalll over, with vigor!
2. Being full and sleepy with someone rubbing my back.
3. My dog, Beauregard.
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE ME
1. The deep ocean.
2. Losing my parents.
3. Ok, in apartment complexes, being on a floor with a floor above me, and taking a bath or shower, cause all I can think of is the bath above me crashing through the ceiling and crushing me to death. In fact, when I moved into my own apartment and I realized for the first time that there was no one above me anymore, I literally danced around in the shower, I was that happy.
THREE THINGS I DON'T UNDERSTAND
1. Suicide.
2. Mortgages.
3. Rape.
THREE THINGS I AM WEARING RIGHT NOW
1. A white bathrobe.
2. White boy briefs.
3. White socks.
THREE THINGS ON MY DESK
1. A tall cup of water that I've carried around the house with me since my tonsillectomy (yes it's fresh water and yes the cup has been washed).
2. A cup of painty water with three paintbrushes in it.
3. A takeout menu for a thai restaurant.
THREE THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE
1. Get my PhD.
2. Live in Chicago and Manhattan.
3. Publish my writing.
THREE THINGS I KNOW ABOUT LOVE
1. When it's real, it's comforting, confidence-building, and rather thrilling.
2. When it's false, it's crushing, nerve-racking and painful.
3. It's better after years of knowing someone.
THREE THINGS I KNOW ABOUT MARRIAGE
1. Even for those who claim to love its sanctity, it has slowly become just a legality, a different tax bracket.
2. It rarely works these days because people are unwilling to follow through with their decisions, or take enough time to make the right ones.
3. What a drag, man!
THREE WAYS I WANT TO BE REMEMBERED
1. As a good teacher/writer.
2. Loving.
3. Always there for friends.
THREE GOOD WAYS TO DESCRIBE MY PERSONALITY
1. Hilarious.
2. Sharp.
3. Intelligent.
THREE BAD THINGS ABOUT MY PERSONALITY
1. OCD-like tidiness.
2. Sometimes I cannot take that which I dish out.
3. Bossy.
THREE PARTS OF MY (Genetic) HERITAGE
1. French.
2. Scottish.
3. Black Irish.
THREE THINGS I LIKE ABOUT MY BODY
1. The locations of three darling little moles.
2. My perfect little boobies and my pert little butt.
3. Uh... hard to narrow it down to just three... my long fingers.
THREE THINGS I DON'T LIKE ABOUT MY BODY
1. Love handles!
2. Blind as a bat!
3. It's way too goddamned pale!
THREE THINGS MOST PEOPLE DON'T KNOW ABOUT ME
1. I'm very sensitive.
2. The number of guys I've slept with.
3. I am not the open book I make myself out to be.
THREE THINGS I SAY THE MOST:
1. "--insert any cuss word except C U Next Tuesday--!"
2. "Oh my god, I'm so broke."
3. "Can I have a cigarette?"
THREE THINGS I NEVER SAY:
1. "I'm going to be alone forever, I hate being alone."
2. "Babies are so cute! Awww!"
3. "I loooove chintzy holiday decor!"
THREE PLACES I WANT TO VISIT
1. Greece.
2. Iceland.
3. Africa.
THREE LANDSCAPES I LOVE
1. Big cities.
2. The desert.
3. Tennessee wilderness.
THREE QUALITIES I ADMIRE
1. Self respect.
2. Loyalty.
3. Puctuality.
THREE NAMES THAT I GO BY
1. Jiliane
2. Jil
3. Jilli
THREE SCREEN NAMES I HAVE HAD
1. Nfiltrated
2. MormonDuck
3. XLadyEliseX
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(7 comments | comment on this)
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11:41 am
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I would not wish this on anyone. I would cry if it didn't hurt so badly. It feels like my throat is being slowly, continuously, endlessly slit from the inside out. This is horrendous. I had a strong reaction to the medicine Sunday night and spent most of it hunched over the toilet throwing up bile which, let me tell you, hurts a whole hell of a lot worse than crying. What a marvelous birthday, what a splendid holiday season. Home alone except for visits from my dad which of course are heaven. Well, he's going to stay over tonight and sleep in Nicole's room. At least I'll have company. I am so lonely. I wish I had someone here.
current mood:  depressed
current music: Park, caterwauling for food.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Friday, December 19th, 2003
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9:19 pm
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I am twenty four now. And instead of tonsils I have two greyish, extremely painful, nearly scabbing places on the back of my throat. I am also recently single. I am also done with school for the semester. I now have broadband instead of dial up. Um. I think that's all.
current mood: Pained and drugged up.
current music: Sex and the City in the background.
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(3 comments | comment on this)
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| Thursday, December 18th, 2003
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2:54 am
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In six hours I will be having my tonsils removed, which will consequently be the first official thing I do on my birthday.
That's really all I have to say about that.
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| Tuesday, November 4th, 2003
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2:25 pm
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I saw Liz Phair. She was so awesome. She only played four songs from her new album, all the others were old favorites. I cried when she got on stage. After the concert, we waited by the back entrance, and I got her to sign two of my cd covers AND the back of my shirt. So wonderful. I cried when we got into the car, I was so fucking happy. I waited ten years to see her, and I'm so psyched that I got to.
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| Monday, November 3rd, 2003
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3:33 am - Go west, Liz Phair!
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I'm going to see Liz Phair tomorrow night. I have no idea how to express my sheer happiness, and FUCKING THRILL at the idea. Shit shit shit! Too good to be true. I don't even care if she sings all those crappy new songs, or if she sucks live. I've loved her for a decade, and now I finally get to see her. Bliss!
Speaking of musical bliss, the PIXIES are getting back together for a tour, starting sometime around April. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOO.
Life is feeling differently, lately. Lots of new changes. Of couse, all know now that I've been accepted back at the UofA for spring, and that I've declared a double major and minor that excite me. I'm also back together with Jason, mister shortstuff, and it's going so wonderfully. A year or so apart gave us a lot of time to put our lives on track, set ourselves right. I'm in love, and for the first time, it feels safe, comfortable, confident, and actually rather fun, which I never associated with love. But anyways. The house is still so remarkably beautiful, and I love the neighborhood. I live in Armory Park, a historical district. It's safe, so now I walk Beau for a mile each day, to Hotel Congress where we have water and popcorn. The weather is FINALLY turning autumnal, so the breezes are cool and the sky has a little more variation to clear blue with a scalding sun. God, I just love where I live.
The roommate situation is going well, for the most part. I get annoyed every now and then, but I'm sure she does too. It's only been a couple months, and since we haven't even fought yet, I know it's just going to get easier. The cleaning thing is what gets me mostly, just because I cannot Stand dishes idling in the sink, or the trash piling up to the top. We just talk it out though, and it's all copacetic.
I'm getting my tonsils taken out right around my birthday this winter break. I'm kind of bummed, because it's going to be a real weird holiday. I'm going to be all sore-throated and tired for Christmas, and Nicole and Jason are both going out of town. But Jason delayed his plans until after Christmas, so that's nice. Plus, dad is going to stay at the house for the first couple days to keep me company and to help me back from the hospital. It's outpatient, so I'll be drugged up. And hey, I'll lose a little weight! I asked the doctor if they could localize it to the love handles. He politely stated that he wasn't going to go there.
Tomorrow I'm getting that colposcopy, where they check out those pre-cancer cells in my uterus. I'm nervous even though I know it's a routine, uber-common thing that happens. But you know, the second you convince yourself it's okay, it's suddenly terminal.
Halloween was ultra-fabulous. We had a blast. I went as Roxie Hart from Chicago, wore a short blonde wig, a black slip, above-the-knee stockings, a calf-length jacket with a faux fur stole, and a flapper-esque hat. Oh, and I had a couple long strings of pearls and a looong cigarette holder. Fun! Nicole went as a cross between Jackie O and Audrey Hepburn, in this marvelous vintage dress that is inexplainable, big sunglasses, cigarette holder, and a mini-beehive. We have HILARIOUS pictures, this one guy dressed like Christine Aguilera in the "Dirty" video. Too good.
current music: Roseanne, on Nickelodeon.
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(comment on this)
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| Tuesday, October 14th, 2003
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6:27 pm
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Man, I've been busy.
Update:
I GOT INTO THE U OF A, WOOOOHOOOOOO. I'm going to double major in English and creative writing, and minor in history. Then I will get my MFA in creative writing.
WOOOOHOOOOO.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Thursday, September 4th, 2003
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11:02 pm - Uh, yeah.
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So, moved into the new house with Nicole, all is well. Actually, the house is fucking badass, and biiiiig. We're all unpacked, except for a few boxes (mostly Nicole's stuff, I think she owns more things than I).
The things that suck:
- I have strep throat, and today was absolutely retched, especially since half of our electricity went out again, including the swamp cooler, AGAIN, and I had a fever and was miserably hot.
- There are apparently abnormal, pre-cancer cells on my cervix. I have to get microscoped and then biopsied and then have them removed. But luckily, the NP explained how this was easy breezy no big deal, after I started crying.
- Nick is an asshole, I told him not to call anymore. How do I know he's an asshole? Because he hasn't called. I know it sounds like a cheap, petty girl's trick, but it was his last chance to show he really cared, and obviously he doesn't, because he gave up so easily.
Note to guys: DO NOT obey when a girl says don't call me, unless she follows up with "... or else I'm calling the cops!" or "... if you don't leave me alone I'm getting a restraining order." It's just that fucking simple. ALL the romantic comedies out in the world explain how This Is What You Do: Pursue, Pursue, Pursue! God. It's not like we've kept it a secret. Women like to feel wanted, needed, desired, and they like to be chased, hunted, etc. It makes us feel good. We like to feel good.
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(6 comments | comment on this)
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| Saturday, August 16th, 2003
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2:03 am - Oh, my.
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| Sunday, August 10th, 2003
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12:49 am - Booyah
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So like, Nicole and I got a house! WOOO. We're in Armory Park too, which is one of the historical barrios just south of Downtown. It's two bedrooms, one bath, wood floors, faux fireplace, gigantic fenced in yard, garage, storage, a washing machine, and all these cute perks due to it being an old house. PLus, it's semi furnished, with a dining room table, and this hundred year old phonograph/radio cabinet. The phonograph still has a packet of needles that comes with it. !!!!!!!!!!!!! Rent is only 750 (it was seven hundred, but we offered fifty bucks more just to make sure we could get it). WE ROCK.
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| Sunday, July 20th, 2003
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1:55 pm
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| Wednesday, July 16th, 2003
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1:32 am
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I am so exhausted. I got home at midnight from the bookstore cause Greg counted the money by himself and it took for-fucking-EVER. And I have to do homework to turn in tomorrow, but I don't think I'm going to; they're only bonus points, and I can't think straight, and I don't have work tomorrow so I'll just do math all day to prep for Thursday's exam.
On a humorous note, I posted a scintillating argument against this asshole who used to be on my friends page, who was calling black people darkies in the same breath he used to bitch about blacks being racist agains whites. His comeback? He shot back with a most intellectual retort that I must be a stripper. ROFL. I love winning stuff.
It finally rained, the fire is almost completely contained, but this fucking 110 degree shit has got to stop, man. Fuck.
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Saturday, July 12th, 2003
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11:36 pm - ROFL
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| Sunday, July 6th, 2003
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12:19 am
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The fire is crawling up and over the Southern lip of the mountains. You can see it now, at night, like an angry glowing scar ripping through the forests. The flames are over fifty feet tall, according to an eyewitness. The village up there, Summerhaven, is gone, nearly every business and most cabins destroyed. The trees are ruined. They won't be the same in my father's lifetime, not even my own.
Yesterday afternoon, the sun was a neon blood red because of all the smoke, which poured off the mountaintop like a volcanic eruption. But the sun, jesus, it was apocalyptic. Take a red light off a traffic light, enlarge it, and throw it into the sky, and that was our pre-setting sun yesterday.
The fire has swallowed over 60,000 acres.
My fridge broke.
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(4 comments | comment on this)
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| Saturday, June 28th, 2003
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2:34 am
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So, wow, I just did the coolest little project that was in the new issue of JANE. I had to alter a few of the details to make it work for me, but hey, that makes it, technically, my idea. You take old slides lying about, mine were of art from high school, take a holepuncher and punch holes in the top and bottom of each slide, then take two or three inch pieces of string and tie them together. Then you tie each length of slides to another piece of string and hang them in front of window.
Now, my version:
I hot-glued the string to the slides, since they were plastic and not cardboard. Then, I hot-glued loops at the top slide on each strand (take one piece of string, put the ends together and glue them, for the loop), then hung the loop on a nail over my door instead of getting a piece of string and having to do all these knots so the strands stay in place. I don't have any available windows with good enough light, so I decided to do the ole "I hate running into these fuckers every time I leave the room!" shtick like with door beads. Anyways, so I have five strands with ten slides on each and they look SO FUCKING COOL. I'm super.
Other news: I finished Harry Potter 5 the day after it came out. Waited three goddamned years and I was done in like, forty hours. Dammit. But it was quite a dark little tale, this go round. Harry acted like a completely annoying and angsty shit, so I guess it's plausible as far as pubescence goes.
I got to visit hell in the vehicle of some really bad ass strep throat this week. Came down with it Sunday, late night, and by Monday I had a 102.6 temperature. It took me til TODAY to feel better, when usually I can be social after this long. I stayed in bed (except for classes) for four fucking days. Feeling like shit. But the good news is that to keep my mind and hands occupied, I got back into the swing of making friendship bracelets. I've made like, seven or eight. I will make more! They're fun, and are SO back in vogue now. Everyone I've given one to is like "::HAPPY SQUEAL:: Yay, I remember these, these rock!"
So. Yeah. I am so hip, I'm not.
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(comment on this)
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| Thursday, June 19th, 2003
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12:04 pm - Hey. I like red. Dammit.
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| Wednesday, June 18th, 2003
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1:35 pm
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I stole this idea from, originally, Jo, and most recently, M. Nine folks from the LJ:
1. I wish we still talked. You are such an amazing person, and hilarious to boot. I also wish you'd reply when I posted to your LJ.
2. We need to meet, we need to party, we need to be sitting in the girls room.
3. I love you so much, you will always be one of my very best friends, even though we haven't seen each other in ages, and even though we rarely speak over the phone. I am so unbelievably thrilled over everything you've accomplished, and can't wait to see what you do next.
4. Everything is going to be okay. Life can be so incredibly difficult at times, but if you take a moment to review, it is always good, somehow. You are an amazing person. I hope so many good things for you. NOW GO GET A COLLEGE EDUCATION. :)
5. You have such a beautiful soul, such beautiful words, and such a fierce loyalty to your friends. I just wish sometimes you could step out from under the clouds, and see that while it seems beautiful to self-destruct, it's a much lovelier sight just to see you, being beautiful. Don't let the man get you down.
6. You know, darling, you haven't even proposed. Get on that. Now.
7. You impress me with your strength, your sweetness, and your ferocity towards living. You are a girl who will go places, you have trophies with your name already on them.
8. We hardly ever talk, but I always read your posts, and I think you are a fascinating woman. You are so strong, you always keep going. I admire that, I hope to be that.
9. Last but not least, I have, and always will, hold you in my heart. You are always there for me, and I hope I can always be there for you. I wish I could touch your face, hold your hand.
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(8 comments | comment on this)
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| Monday, June 16th, 2003
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11:19 pm
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Two weeks ago, I found out that an old boyfriend of mine, an incredible artist Matthew, had, last September, killed himself. He went missing and then his body turned up in California, in the shirt he said he'd do it in, with his registered gun. Corby, a friend of his, told me in an incredibly thoughtless way. I had no idea. There was a benefit for his family at Congress. I had no idea. I had no fucking idea.
I cannot comprehend this. I cannot believe it. This boy was in my bed, in my arms, we went swimming together, drank wine together, watched Wild at Heart together. His phone number spelled out his name, he was hilarious, his answering machine said "LORDY, LORDY, LORDY" in a gruff voice. He wore pointy boots, had burns and spikey black hair. He had beautiful eyes, an infectious laugh. He had a good brain. We met at Congress, I asked if he wanted a piece of gum and when he said yes, I kissed him and gave him the piece in my mouth. He came with me that night to an afterparty, and we kissed a lot. He drew a picture of me the next day in his art class. He only smoked at night. He had two cats, Nimbus and Candela (I think; whatever her name was, it meant Candle in Spanish). He lived by the train tracks and when I'd sleep there, it felt like I was being rocked to sleep. He worked in a sign shop, and loved the number nine and made shirts with nine-pointed stars on them. He had a tattoo of nine slash marks across his shoulders. His good friends were Rick and Reuben, Cake and Corby. He and his mother had a good relationship. Once, when she came to pick him up, we had slept late so I hid under his white goose down comforter while he got ready with her in the doorway. When they left, he pretended that he had left something so he could run in and kiss me one more time. On our first date, we went to a hottub with Espree and her man. We made out in the tub, we had a picture, and because I throw things away, it's gone. He liked how bright the sunlight was, in the morning, streaming in through my window. His favorite boat in the painting above my bed was the orange, white and green striped one. He would have me time how long it'd take him to bike from his house to mine. He made me a wrap one afternoon. Then we took a cat nap. His shower curtain was vivid, either yellow or orange. Once, we were out with our friends, respectively, and we saw each other on the sidewalk at 4th Ave and 7th St, right by Che's. I screamed his name and ran to him, leapt in his arms and wrapped my legs around him. He held me and spun me around. It was winter. He made me a mix tape with Nick Cave songs on it. I found it tonight.
Reuben painted a picture after Matthew died, of he and Matthew drinking in Matthew's tiny kitchen. Reuben was sitting on the counter, pouring liquor into Matthew's cup. Matthew was in color, Reuben in black and white. There was an X-ray box over Matthew's chest, showing open ribs and a heart. He was wearing his pointy boots. It was his exact face, his exact posture. I cried when I saw it last night. I got home and cried until I fell asleep. I woke up, went to class, started crying again, cried all the way home, cried on my mother's lap until I showered, cried in the shower. He was such a lovely, lovely man, and was loved. But he's gone. His posture, his face, his body and sweet mouth, his laugh, his kissing, his art, it's all gone, it's all dead. Sometime between that winter and last September, things were so horrible for Matthew that he threw it all away, he threw away his mother, his friends, his art, his brain.
I. Cannot. Comprehend. I am so utterly heartbroken for his friends, his mother. I am so utterly devastated that no one will get to love Matthew anymore, that he won't make more art, that he won't laugh or dance or wear those boots anymore. I used to always half-hope I'd run into him again. In fact, the night at the MOCA when I found out about this, I saw Corby's art and my heart jumped, because I thought that definitely Matthew would be there. I just don't understand. I don't. I can't. I miss you, though, Matthew, I always thought about you, always wondered how you were, what was new, if you thought of me. And I'm so mad that you did this to yourself, to your future, your family, your friends, your art. I'm so mad, I'm so broken right now for you.
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