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Sunday, March 10th, 2002
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9:39 pm - the last frat party ever...
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So yeah, I was coerced into going to a frat party Saturday night. I had to willingly hand over $5 of my hard earned cash to bump up against a lot of people in a hot crowded room. I could have saved myself the $5 and spent the evening trying to pull my toenails off; it probably would have had the same effect. I decided prior to the party that if I was being forced to pay this money to go to this house, I would be getting something of value out of the evening. And I did. A stunning old leathery edition of the Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography, printed in 1880, complete with bookplate proclaiming exactly which Greek organization on campus used to own this musty old tome. It's not terribly hard to sneak such things out of a frat house when you aren't wearing a small scrap of fabric for a shirt. If any member of said Greek organization reads this and takes issue with my action, I beg to differ. I believe it is a fair exchange.
current mood:  satisfied
current music: Jane's Addiction, "Been Caught Stealin'"
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(don't leave me hanging)
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| Saturday, March 9th, 2002
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11:26 am - 'bout TIME i got a big envelope in the mail
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Dear Malia:
Congratulations! (that was all you needed to say, baby) It is my pleasure to invite you to Teach for America's 2002 interview day. (crap...that means there's still chance for rejection.) We hope you can join us at Cornell University in Ithaca, NY on April 02, 2002, for your interview. (I haven't left this place for more than a few days in years. I think I'll manage to be around.)
This is a small victory. Being rejected by this program would have really been a fork in the eye.
current mood: mildy encouraged
current music: Pink Floyd, "The Wall"
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(don't leave me hanging)
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| Thursday, February 28th, 2002
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9:35 pm - ginger rogers i am not
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yesterday's ballroom dance lesson: less than successful. Ry and I just didn't seem to have it together for the foxtrot. I'll place some of the blame on the finger, but honestly, I think last night was our night to get laughed at by the teachers. The best part was learning this one special foxtrot move in which the boy stays facing the same direction but the lady kind of changes orientation with a series of smooth steps. Ryan could not seem to swing me into one position without accidentally touching my chest. I could not stop laughing whenever he did this. Ryan then addressed the teacher, though sadly not loudly enough for the teacher to actually hear, "Um, Kurt? I can't do this move without touching my partner's breasts. What am I doing wrong?"
current mood: violated
current music: MC Hammer, "U Can't Touch This"
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(don't leave me hanging)
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| Monday, February 25th, 2002
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4:55 pm - this is getting ridiculous
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#1:
Dear Malia,
The Department of Astronomy has completed the review of applicants to our graduate program this year. We had a large pool of strong applicants and it has been a difficult task to choose students for admission (However, rejecting people like you is the fun part of our job). Although your application was not selected, we thank you for your interest in our department and convey our best wishes for your future plans in astronomy (or fast food service if this astro thing doesn't pan out).
#2:
As I passed Lisa David, the Collegetown transvestite, on the street today, I noticed she was playing Jimmy Eat World on the boom box she totes on the back of her bicycle. Has the whole world gone emo?
current mood:  crappy
current music: Jimmy Eat World, "The Middle"
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(1 high-five
| don't leave me hanging)
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9:29 am - Things that are hard to do with a sprained finger:
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1. Write.
2. Wash/comb/style hair. I'm looking pretty ragged this week. Not appreciably more ragged than usual, but we'll blame the finger.
3. Do dishes...dammit!
4. Pick up things.
5. Turn on/shift my car.
6. do/undo bra. Volunteers to help me with this task?
Things that are easier to do with a sprained finger:
1. Point. I point like a champ. I point all the time.
current mood:  weird
current music: Harry Nilsson's classic album, The Point
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(don't leave me hanging)
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| Saturday, February 23rd, 2002
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7:31 pm - wouldn't be "fun day saturday" without a trip to the emergency room!
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#1: a step in the right direction?
Dear Malia:
Our admissions committee has examined all the applications for astronomy graduate school, and has currently put you onto a waiting list. What this means is (we're only half rejecting you) that we have made offers of admission and support to several students (none of whom are you), and they are currently considering whether to accept our offers. If fewer students than expected accept our offers, then we will be in a position to offer admission to some of the students on our waiting list. This process will probably take several weeks, so that the uncertainty could conceivably extend as late as April 15th (we like to drag this out as long as possible). I will let you know immediately if there is any change in your status. (so please wait patiently for the other half of your rejection)
#2: Ithaca Chili Cookoff
Good times on the Commons today. Sampled six tasty chilis from various local restaurants (my vote went to Taste of Thai), ate a fried oreo - did you know you could fry an oreo? - and rode the mechanical bull. Molly wins the buckaroo of the day award for her stupendous 13 seconds atop the beast. I, however, fell of after 8.6 seconds and sprained my finger in the process. I went to the emergency room when my hand thawed from the blistering cold and I realized I could no longer bend the little guy. I sat in a waiting room for 1.5 hours reading a seventeen magazine that was two years old and listening to an exasperated mother scream at her five wailing children. The doctor asked me as he came into the room if I was the "little cowgirl". Some other guy came in with the same injury from the same bull, very bitter about the fact that he never got to eat any chili. I now have a splint on my right hand, type very slowly, have to reach over and shift my car with my left hand, etc etc. A sprained finger is the wussiest injury one can possibly sustain. Actually breaking something would have been slightly less embasrassing, but then again what else would you expect from me?
current mood: indignant more than anything
current music: Eagles, "Desperado"
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(don't leave me hanging)
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| Tuesday, February 19th, 2002
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6:22 pm - how my day went
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Dear Ms. Jackson,
Thank you for applying to graduate study in our department. (You're welcome. I hope you got a kick out of my application.) Our Admissions Committe has carefully considered your application, and I'm sorry (I'm sorry, Ms. Jackson. Wooo! I am for reeeal) to tell you that we have decided not to admit you ("not to admit you" is an awfully nice way to say "to reject you"; I appreciate their gentleness) for the academic year 2002-2003...
and it painfully goes on like this...
current mood:  rejected
current music: Belle & Sebastian, "She's Losing It"
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(1 high-five
| don't leave me hanging)
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| Monday, February 18th, 2002
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9:00 pm - start spreading the news...
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Notes from Saturday's trip to the city:
- Hayden Planetarium = Bad Astronomy. The Big Bang show with loud explosion sounds was disappointing, though the narrator with his swanky voice talking about the "cosmic ballet" did make up for some of the dumbening I felt happening.
- Tom Hanks is a toolbox. He should not be allowed to narrate planetarium shows.
- Evidently the Hayden planetarium also causes some people to faint- two people passed out during our visit. If you can't handle the excitement, you should prolly just stay home.
- Dioramas: one small step above arranging your beanie baby collection among fake shrubbery and a school photo background. One giant step down from actual live animals.
- If you provoke a cartoonish costumed bank logo person by waving at it, it may chase you to the end of the block. Be warned.
- Egyptian things will never stop being cool.
- I'm no longer afraid of the subway. Prolly because there were no drag queens pushing me out the door this time.
All in all: so fun...need to live there...
Mike: any notes of your own?
current mood:  happy
current music: Ryan Adams, Frank Sinatra, etc- your New York song of choice
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(3 high-fives
| don't leave me hanging)
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| Wednesday, February 13th, 2002
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6:08 pm - I ch-ch-choose you
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After finding those roses on my keyboard last night (haha...my keyboard of all places...classic) and getting the care package from my mom filled with conversation hearts, I guess I just can't ignore it any more. So...
current mood: not at all bitter
current music: Chet Baker, "My Funny Valentine"
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(don't leave me hanging)
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| Tuesday, February 12th, 2002
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6:29 pm - surrealism du jour
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If you were not within earshot of the chimes for today's 1:10 concert, let me tell you, you missed something amazing. I'm a big fan of the chimes, I even got to play them once- that fateful day when KYP partook of too much candy wine with her mac & cheese dinner at our apt...she was too tipsy to climb the 47,000 stairs to the chimes, but we dragged her up there anyway. I got to play the six o'clock chime, she played the six bongs (for lack of a better term) that follow the chime...
Anyway, today was some chimesmaster's true moment of glory, for the song that was played at today's concert was:
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BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY
The whole thing. Opera. Guitar solo. All played out on the chimes. It was masterful. That chimesmaster is my new hero, for he/she is truly a chimes visionary, someone who can think outside the chimes box.
I was late to work because I had to listen. Other people were walking around as if nothing was going on...some people have no appreciation for true genius.
current mood:  impressed
current music: ummm...Bohemian Rhapsopdy?
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(don't leave me hanging)
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| Monday, February 11th, 2002
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9:22 pm - color of the universe...not MY universe!
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So I don't know how many of you have seen the astronomy press release about what color our universe is, if it were to be seen as a whole from a distance. This is the color:
So can we do anything about this? This color just does not work for me. It totally clashes with my skin tone, and furthermore, what color shoes do you wear with a universe that color? Ugh. Putrid. Why can't we live in a universe that's a little more classic, something in a nice camel maybe? Camel is very in right now, and it complements my hair.
current mood:  cranky
current music: Kermit the Frog, "It Ain't Easy Being Green"
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(don't leave me hanging)
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11:15 am - i need to stay on dae-sik's good side
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So after figure skating today, I moseyed on over to the Space Sciences building to eat lunch, stow away my skates in my personal locker room (my lab), and do a little work. Lo and behold, the computers Nico and Vero deny my attempt to log in. My first thought was dang, I've been fired and they didn't bother telling me... Then I realized they can't fire me because I am a student and don't even get paid. Phew! So after a quick peek into the adjoining lab to see if Dave or Dae-Sik (grad students) have any ideas on how to remedy my situation, I mosey on down to Don's office (Don is the stoner astronomer/ Linux guru/ socialist from the angst part II entry). I tell him that I can't log into the computers, he starts typing frantically, then starts cursing frantically as he realized there has been some sort of computer catastrophe. He tries to fix one of the computers by doing something involving computer jargon I don't understand. He tells me to go back to the lab and wait for him while he gets coffee. I mosey back to my lab. Dae-sik comes over with a deadly serious look on his face.
"He killed my processes," he said in a hushed and controlled voice. This may be the most Dae-sik has ever said to me; our previous interactions have mostly involved me taking his post-it notes or me telling him that his wife is on the phone.
"Oh," I reply.
Short pause.
"One day, I will kill his processes....I will get revenge."
I got the idea he didn't mean so much "processes" as he did "family".
From now on, I'm going to be extra polite when I'm taking his post-it notes.
current mood:  scared
current music: Ash, "Kung Fu"
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(don't leave me hanging)
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| Friday, February 8th, 2002
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3:24 pm - Do you have an opinion, too?
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These past few days have had the running theme of people giving their opinions of both me and the things I do. I'm finding this all rather odd.
Wednesday:
- in figure skating class, the teacher tells me my ability to balance of the outside edge of my right skate and go in a circle is "excellent". Yes…
- Mika at the library asks me if I have a boyfriend. I say no, she says good, I say what? She says, "You should worry about your school first". I laughed and told her she sounds exactly like my grandma. She then says, "Well, it's true. You're a very pretty girl, and you're very smart, so you just wait and the boys will come to you." HA! (and by the way, why doesn't my grandma ever tell me that?)
- I run into Allison on the street, and she tells me how cute I look in my hat and scarf (made by me, of course). Wednesday was evidently National Compliment Malia Day. Did you compliment Malia on Wednesday? If not, there's still time. I'll accept late compliments…tee hee
Thursday:
I volunteered to have my short story reviewed in a class workshop. I'm still not sure if this was a mistake or not. Here's some of the highlights of the critique:
- I don't agree with this story at all.
- It reads like a TV pilot.
- It has a Vonnegut vibe. (If only I were so talented…)
- I thought it was hysterical.
- This would never happen.
- This would totally happen.
- This would never happen, and that's why I think it's so good.
- I find this story controversial and offensive. (Say what?)
- I think this story would be more believable if the characters were drinking when they had this conversation.
- It's intense.
- It's light-hearted and tongue-in-cheek.
So I guess I wrote a story no one can agree on. At least they all didn't hate it. I guess the opinion that matters most is the teacher's, and he thinks I should continue it and write a novel. Whoa, nelly.
current mood:  confused
current music: Weezer, "Surfwax America" (it was a fun show)
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(don't leave me hanging)
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| Monday, February 4th, 2002
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11:30 pm - if i see even one spore, heads are gonna roll
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News for the day: I have been slightly rearranged at the library. I now spend half my time doing the stickers and stuff I've been doing (I learned how to scan in barcodes Friday...I feel like a grocery checkout person...like Hayden at the P&C; maybe...mmm, Hayden...hee hee), and I spend the other half....drum roll please...opening the mail. That's right. Sub-basement, nitrile gloves. If anyone at Cornell is going to catch the anthrax, it's going to be me. At least they pay me well. (sarcasm- $5.35)
I know Vinny wrote about this place in his defunct diaryland journal, but I too discovered the pottery studio that lets you paint unfinished pottery. Had a fab time there Saturday making my plaid rice bowl that says "YUM" inside it as well as my postmodern tile that says "hi" and experiments with the themes of arcs and straight lines and my other mosaic-esque tile that says "M". The pottery studio was a fun fun time, watching the little kiddies eating pizza at their superfun hippie pottery birthday party, watching the adorable high school punk couple on a date, listening to the annoying sorority girls behind us psychoanalyzing their choice of color and design...we're definitely going back there...I will eventually have a plaid service for 12 and invite all my livejournal fans over for dinner. So Josh, Jeanne, Vinny: what do you like to eat?
I overused the ellipsis points in this entry...
current mood: still healthy, so far...
current music: that "my baby, she wrote me a letter" song
for some reason, livejournal wouldn't let me do that stuff the normal way.
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(don't leave me hanging)
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| Tuesday, January 29th, 2002
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7:59 pm - faux angst part II
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Wow. I know how to put images online now. Anyway, in a way long ago entry I wrote about getting my photo taken at the mighty Hartung-Boothroyd Observatory to be put in the paper. Well Patel IMed me the URL for the article, and it is complete with the "album cover" photo the dude promised us. This is it:
What album cover does this look like? How about that album by The Man, "Everything that is wrong in American Society"?
Let's look at this photo a little more closely, shall we? What's the first thing that pops out at us? Well the three biggest heads, Steve's giant face eclipsing them all, are Whitey's. Then we've got the two minority boys behind Whitey. (We had to write physical descriptions of ourselves alongside our name so that the photographer could match us up, and Patel wrote "The one who will appear dark in the photos.") Then, the smallest and most oppressed looking of the bunch: me, the woman. The Man is obviously trying to keep me down by making me look small in a world of men. Not only is this photo racist and sexist, it's ageist, too. Look at poor Jim, ostracized from the bunch, obviously because he's getting on in years. And who is all the way at the back of the photo? Don Barry, our stoner astronomer/Linux guru/socialist. His political agenda is a little too scary for the Man, so he has to be pushed back, too.
This photo is shocking in its racism, sexism, ageism, and blatant capitalism. Time for a revolution, my friends. Wise up, rise up.
It's fun to overanalyze
current mood:  enraged
current music: Bob Marley, "Get Up, Stand Up"
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(don't leave me hanging)
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7:56 pm - test
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| Sunday, January 27th, 2002
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5:24 pm - domesticity day
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Normally, I use this space to relate some strange or funny thing that happened to me. This time, however, I am using this space to blatantly brag about how cool I am. Why am I cool, you may ask? Well one of the myriad reasons is that I can make stuff. If you've ever stayed in Ithy over the summer, you know that there isn't much going on. After you've swum in the gorges, hiked around the gorges, played frisbee near the gorges, picnicked in the gorges, etc, you're going to be looking for something else to do. This summer, I introduced the summer astro kids, boys and girls alike, to the art/drug of crocheting. This is what happens when you have neither the internet nor television; you revert back to the days of yore. I inadvertently started some weird cult- who knew I had that what it takes to be a cult leader. As a result, you'll see me around campus sporting any of a number of hats and scarves of my own design. Today, however, I finally finished my piece de resistance- the afghan that took six months to make. Its approximately 23,000 stitches can keep a whole couch full of people warm, or I could use it during a picnic for me and 20 of my best friends. After finishing that today, I was motivated enough to make a sassy skirt out of an old pair of corduroy pants I bought at a thrift store a while back (the legs taper a bit more than is attractive). The skirt is adorable if you're looking at it from afar. If you're looking up close, you'll see the kind of sewing machine prowess that would make my old 4-H sewing teacher (yes I lived in a cow town and was in the 4-H club), Hennie Leerkes, spew scary and guttural Dutch curses. Whatever, I'm styling.
God, I just wrote about sewing and crocheting. I think I may be driving by youth-burg, south-central adulthood, and middle age city, and be heading straight for old lady ville. God help me.
current mood:  productive
current music: Beatles, "When I'm Sixty-Four"
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(1 high-five
| don't leave me hanging)
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| Friday, January 25th, 2002
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7:04 pm - here is where it gets interactive
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Today at the library, I was marking books with coworker Earl. We were sharing a desk. Normally, there would be two bottles of glue at this desk for purposes of gluing gift plates into the front cover of the books, but today there was just one bottle of O'Glue brand glue- straight from the Emerald Isle, I'm sure. As it turned out, both Earl and I had a lot of gift plates to glue today. Here's where things got a little hairy. When I was finished with the glue, I put it squarely in the middle of the desk, where both of us could reach it easily. When he was done, he kept the glue over on his side, sometimes hidden behind a stack of books. So every time I went for the glue, it wasn't accessible, and I had to go searching in his territory, which severely interrupted my library flow. This went on for the duration of my marking time, and my marking stats for the day were pretty lame. Yes, they keep stats. Like professional athletes, only nerdier. I should write on the spreadsheet "Earl ruined my flow with his utter lack of glue etiquette."
So here's the challenge, dear readers. I'm seeking your advice. What should I do if this ever happens again? I don't think beating up Earl is a viable option, but I'd love to get some input...
current mood:  annoyed
current music: Steel Wheels, "Stuck in the Middle With You"
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(3 high-fives
| don't leave me hanging)
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| Thursday, January 24th, 2002
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6:28 pm - the reason why i'm not going to nirvana either...
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I think it's pretty safe to say I've angered the Judeo-Christian God sufficiently, what with the blasphemy, the sinning, the lack of faith, etc. Now I seem to be moving through other world religions and getting myself condemned all over the place, and I'm taking people down with me. Today in the library, I had the tedious task of marking (library lingo for "putting stickers on") a truck (library lingo for "cart") full of Tibetan prayers for the dead. These prayers come loosely assembled in a box, and there were tons -o- boxes. Please, somebody, go check these little guys out of the library just to make me feel like my job's not completely pointless. Anyway, as I was attempting to find the call number for one of the boxes, I accidentally crammed a bunch of the prayers down into the bottom of the box. The rest of the prayers would not fit in the box anymore with the crunched ones...not that I was just going to let the crunched up prayers stay crunched or anything...but the box was too small to fit my hand in and retrieve the prayers. I handed the box over to Shirley, the adorable old old lady sitting next to me, to ask what she recommends I do. She starts thumping on the box in a most sacrilegious manner, to no avail. She then brings the box over to Kaye and Nancy, who also try to beat those dead people prayers out of the box. Pretty soon the entire library staff is trying their hand at smacking the box to get those poor dead Tibetan people unstuck. Pedro comes over to see what the ruckus is, and asks me what kind of trouble I've gotten myself into; he then waits around for his turn to wail on the box. As the insertion of yardsticks and long spoons fails to rescue the prayers, I try to devise a tape on the end of a stick apparatus (yeah, I used to be an engineer...) to aid the efforts. Just before I was finished, Nancy gave the box a mighty wallop, and the prayers were liberated from their musty cubbyhole. I think Pedro was secretly sad that he never got his turn. So as a result of all this I may have the spirits of angry dead Tibetans haunting me for the rest of my life. Sorry, guys. Honest mistake.
current mood: scared
current music: AD/DC, "Highway to Hell"
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(don't leave me hanging)
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10:35 am - i got the boot...
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Tuesday was my first day of creative writing. Thank you, Cornell, for rounding up the most pretentious bunch of pseudo deep-thinkers and putting me in a room with them. I think this class will get much better when we actually start writing, but for the first class we had to analyze poetry. The first poem was called "From the Book of the Boot". It's about a he and a she and what they do with this boot. Some of the lines from this poem:
He presented the boot at dawn filled with sugar.
She wanted to see how far she could throw the boot.
He saluted the boot.
A reputed boot in another country wasn't the boot.
And it goes on like this. I thought the poem was actually pretty interesting, but the discussion of what the boot is made me want to retch.
"The boot is the relationship between the man and wife. I assumed they were married."
"The boot is a national idea."
"The boot is patriotism."
"Can someone please kick me with the boot and put me out of my misery?"
Real World audtions in Ithaca yesterday. As much as I would like to live for free in some ludicrously expensive house, I think it's safe to say I don't have what they looking for, vis a vis I'm not the naive blond country bumpkin or the sloppy blond ho. So I didn't give it a try. My self-esteem is low enough, I don't need an official stamp of uncool from MTV.
Hee hee yesterday I had another figure skating class. We had to fall again (ow) plus I fell once on my own without being asked. Good for me! As I was arriving at Lynah, the zamboni guy was driving the machine out of the rink and through the parking lot. I just had this image of him taking that beast out for a spin around seeing what she could really do, maybe take it off road...anyway, time for class now.
current mood:  cynical
current music: Nancy Sinatra, "These Boots are Made For Walking"
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(don't leave me hanging)
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