Wednesday, December 31, 2003

a laundry list of all my wrongs

Tonight was a good time with Holly, Dale, Rally's, Lord of the Rings, and John Mayer. (That's in chronological order.) It's been a while (Staind) since we three (kings) have been together. Good stuff.

So it's New Year's Eve. How 'bout that? I can't believe it's going to be 2004 in less than twenty-four hours. It would be really neat and things if I could come up with a list of fabulous things that happened this year, but I don't know what those would be. It's been an interesting year, I guess. A year of change. I think I've done a lot of growing up this year. 2003 was my first full calendar year in college. I turned twenty this year, so I'm not a teenager anymore. I've dealt with changes in an old friendship and had a ton of fun making new ones. Through a little friendly influence, I decided to try to play guitar. I don't know, I can't think anything else very significant about this year. Um, I had my first wreck. I got to go see John Mayer in concert. So it's been a good year, but I'm looking forward to next year. It's cliche' and all, the new beginning each year offers, but I like the idea. I'm not much on resolutions because I never keep them, but there is one little thing I'd like to work on. Being less afraid. Trying to go to sleep last night, I realized how much of a fearful person I am. I actually fell asleep listing to myself the things I'm afraid of. It went a little something like this:

I'm afraid of commitment.
I'm afraid of responsibility.
I'm afraid of having an opinion.
I'm afraid of making decisions.
I'm afraid of being vulnerable.
I'm afraid of being alone.
I'm afraid of change.
I'm afraid of rejection.
I'm afraid of failure.
I'm afraid of audiences.
I'm afraid of saying goodbye.
I'm afraid of being first.
I'm afraid of growing up.
I'm afraid of reality.
I'm afraid of the future.

Some of these I am more afraid of than others. And I know some of these are normal human fears, but I let them have their way more than I should. Some of them are product of each other. I'm afraid of making decisions because I'm afraid of commitment. I'm afraid of the future because I'm afraid of being alone. It is a sad thing, living in fear. It's paralyzing. It keeps me from moving forward. And it's sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Even if I'm afraid of doing something, the future is inevitably going to come, and I'm going to be left with exactly what I fear. Nothingness. I don't know how successful I will be at this, but I'd like to overcome some of these fears. Maybe I won't be able to do it in 2004, but maybe I can start there. It'll be a part of growing up, which I reportedly fear according to my list. But maybe I'll get over that, too.

Monday, December 29, 2003

i tell the truth 'cept when i lie

I ripped this off a friend who ripped it off a friend of a friend's xanga. Follow that? Yeah, me neither...

1. Copy this whole list into your journal.
2. Bold the things that you have in common with me.
3. Whatever you don't bold, replace with things about you.

1. I want to make John Mayer's babies.
2. I want a CD player that works all the time. Not just when it's 70+ degrees outside.
3. What the hell is a sheep umbrella?
4. I'm going to be in KY for Christmas break.
5. I love Rally's.
6. I don't know your mom.
7. I love computers.
8. I like driving.
9. I am not on anti-depressants.
10. I hate techno.
11. I have socks on right now only because my feet are cold. Otherwise, I'd be barefoot.
12. I am NOT obsessed with Mr. Bryant.
13. I <3 EASY finals.
14. I live with my best friend.
15. I broke an arm when I was three, but I don't remember which one it was.
16. Can I have my cake? Can I have you too?
17. I'm underage to drink.
18. Turtleneck sweaters make me claustrophobic.
19. I never had a boyfriend all through high school.
20. I drive a Buick.
21. This thing is cake compared to a 60pg. lab report.
22. My mom hates rap music.
23. I would rather watch a sappy movie than a fighting one.
24. I've never been out of the country.
25. I'm tired of having never been kissed.
26. I'm supposedly going to be a high school English teacher.
27. I think I want kids.
28. I was in gifted and talented classes in grade school.
29. TGI Friday's service is horrible.
30. I have a freaking car.
31. My eyes change colors.
32. Pets are cool, but I'm fine without one.
33. My dorm room does have carpet.
34. I have no living grandparents.
35. I didn't read cold mountain.
36. Libraries and book stores rock my face off.
37. I'm not a senior in high school.
38. My parents aren't divorced.
39. I cry during movies.
40. I've never seen fight club.
41. Shoestring fries are okay, but crinkle-cut are the best.
42. There shouldn't be Cracker Barrels north of the Mason Dixon line.
43. I haven't seen Marilyn Manson in concert.
44. I grew up on Roseann.
45. I really don't like being in pictures.
46. I think...way too much.
47. I can vote next year in the 2004 presidential election.
48. I've not lived in more than one dorm, ahem, residential college.
49. I wonder what cruel soul put an 's' in the word 'lisp'.
50. I hate kittens.
51. I do have a uterus.
52. But I'm not on birth control.
53. I liked Little Mermaid's hair.
54. Harry Potter is an okay fellow.
55. Ashley's fashion idol is another okay fellow, but he's cuter than Harry Potter.
56. I'm a college sophomore.
57. I've never been in a long distance relationship.
58. I'm out of high school.
59. I don't immediately delete answering machine messages.
60. My legs are hairy.
61. I like simple things.
62. I do care.
63. I don't miss high school.
64. My computer has miraculously escaped getting a virus.
65. I have hazel eyes.
66. I can SOMETIMES focus when I want.
67. I think I have OCD.
68. I don't like to sing solos in front of people.
69. Matt B's pizza and cheese bread gets two enthusiastic thumbs up.
70. I enjoy traveling.
71. I love road trips with my friends.
72. I hate people.
73. My mom ruled Dr. Mario on the original Nintendo.
74. I'm afraid to drive that extra 10 miles with my gas light on.
75. John Cusack films win.
76. I am Captain Nostalgia.
77. I've had both blonde and red highlights.
78. I'm not cool enough to be on scholarship.
79. I think I don't always know when to give up.
80. I watch VH1 way more than MTV.
81. High school me and college me could have a civil conversation.
82. If I had exboyfriends, I'd keep their letters, but vow to throw them all away when I really fall in love.
83. I don't have glasses or contacts.
84. I talk to myself.
85. I have nothing but each ear pierced once.
86. I was not a high school athlete.
87. I have one sister.
88. I have treated a hard boiled egg as a child for one week.
89. I want to be loved. Badly.
90. I've never been arrested.
91. I'm a hopeless romantic. Someone sweep me off my feet.
92. I've flown in an aeroplane.
93. I play a little guitar.
94. I live in a little house on the "highway."
95. I care what those who are close to me think of me.
96. I love the smell of gasoline.
97. I usually talk myself out of buying stuff that I want.
98. I'd really, really like to get some flowers.
99. The best place to buy t-shirts is Goodwill.
100. Though I haven't heard it yet, I'd put money on the prospect that Ben Harper's live album makes the best love makin' music.

Saturday, December 27, 2003

i've seen fire and i've seen rain

Life sure is boring when all you do is sleep. I've been stuck in this house since Christmas Day, and I've had it. I've seen too much TV. I saw about 150 of the VH1's 200 Greatest Pop Icons, or whatever they are. I've also been listening to some of the music I got for Christmas. Right now, I'm listening to Nickel Creek's This Side. Why, oh, why did I wait 'til now to get this CD? I really enjoy them. Of all of the CDs I got for Christmas, this was one that I didn't previously know a song on, but I knew I'd still like it. I was definitely right.

Despite the crapity of how I feel, I'm dragging my butt out of this house and going to Dale's in a little bit. We're renting the first two Lord of the Rings movies. He says I'm going with him to see the third one, so I guess I better get up to speed, huh?

Well, with the lack of interest in my life, it's time to end this post. I'm just going to end with this little bit of information. Having seen more TV than any human should ever see in the past 48 hours, I've seen lots of infomercials. Have you seen the one for the James Taylor CD? (Yes, KS.) There are some shots of him when he was younger where he was absolutely beautifully hot. He may be bald on top with some huge eyebrows now, but there was a time when was quite a hottie. I thought y'all should know that.

Friday, December 26, 2003

i got a disease, deep inside me

Yo, yo, what up, dawgs? It's been several days since I've posted. For the first day or two, it was because I was just doing the busy holiday thing. Now it's because I feel like poo. I guess I've just caught what's going around. And it sucks. Wah wah, right? Yeah, I guess so.

The holidays have been good to me. I think Dale and I officially went to all of each other's family things. Santa was nicer to me than I expected him to be since I had already gotten all kinds of stuff. But Mom insisted that I ask for something, so I compiled a list of CDs for her to pick from. I figured she'd get me two or three, but she got them all. That was fun. So I've got plenty of good music to be listening to.

*sigh* I don't know what else to say. I'm tired. And I want to do is go to bed. I miss all of you people out there.

Tuesday, December 23, 2003

you can hug scooter

As I told Holly earlier, I just wish someone would rip my arm off and hang it from the rafters of Heorot. It's popping and grating (as calls it) like a million little wing'd mankeys. I guess I need to go to the doctor. Boo. I don't like them people. Maybe if I ignore it, it will go away. Or fall off.

I went Christmas shopping with Dale and his sister today. That was fun, though I didn't really get much shopping done. Actually, I only bought one thing. It's a Wonderful Life on DVD for Mom. But for the most part, I just kinda hung out with them while they did their shopping, which was cool. I got to meet Dale's managers at Best Buy. And I finally made a decision on my gift. I got the Love Actually soundtrack. I'm excited.

Tonight, instead of being a non-existent child, I went with the family (Mom, Dad, Wade, and Day) to Jeri's in Clay. That was a good time. We sat with the owner and his son at the booth because our normal round table was taken. (That's what I love about WebCo.) Anyway, they are both so cute. The little boy is two and just precious. Kids like him make me want to have children.

Well, since tomorrow, the 23rd, is my family's official Christmas shopping day and I sure haven't accomplished much so far, Mom and I are going to go get 'er done. Or at least try to. I can't believe Christmas is almost here. It always sneaks up on me like this. And before I know it, it'll be gone.

Monday, December 22, 2003

feels like the end of the world this sunday night

Well, I didn't die, though I felt like I was going to. I sang and played. Yep, I sure did. I think it was the scariest thing I've ever done in my life. I guess it went well, but I came home and cried. I don't know, I guess it was just a build up of emotion being released. I was so nervous. And then after it was over, I felt vulnerable. That's the only word I can find to describe it. I mean, as soon as the thing was over, I grabbed my guitar and went to the car. I got home, and I couldn't explain it. I just crashed face-down on the couch and cried. And it wasn't because I felt like I did a bad job. I felt like I had professed my undying love to someone, and they didn't return the favor. Does that make sense? Because it's not an accurate analogy. I mean, sheesh. All I did was play a song. Musical performance has an adverse effect on me, I suppose.

That's about all I have to say. I'm tired, and I'm going to bed. All this anxiety and catharsis has down-right worn me out.

Sunday, December 21, 2003

it's colder than it looks outside

When I opened this page, there was something I really wanted to say, but for the life of me, I cannot remember. (Ah, yes. The Verve Pipe. I was wondering where that came from...) I think I was thrown off by the fact that I started a post last night but was too tired to finish it, so I saved it as a draft. Now it's not there. Oh, well. It wasn't much or I guess I would've finished the thing. A few highlights, if you want to call them that, I remember: I hate Evansville. Hanukkah gifts are coming from this side of the Ohio. I went to Dale's family's Christmas thing. Good times. I think that's where I fell asleep at the keyboard.

Well, all you people out there, hold on to your seats. Guess what I'm doing tonight. I'm singing and playing at our little Christmas thing at church. I know, I know. I'm as scared as you are. And I know you are scared. Anyway, I'm singing "What Child Is This?" It's my favorite Christmas song, and it's just four little chords (Am, C, G, E). But I can't sing, so I don't even know what I think I'm doing. I keep telling myself that it's not going to be so bad. I mean, it's not a formal thing. It's basically a bunch of people sitting around, talking, eating, and what not, and people get up and sing or play or whatever they do. They can't laugh too hard at me, can they? Oh, well. I'm not doing it for them anyway...

Alright, dawgs. I guess I need to practice or something. I'll keep y'all posted on whether or not I survive. Or if the people listening survive. *whimper*

Saturday, December 20, 2003

i've these dreams i'm walking home, home where it used to be

Well, it's been another nothingful day. I slept a lot later than I meant to. I shall not concede to the time of my awakening. All I know is that I jumped up, might've mumbled a few expletives, and went and got me some Honey Bunches of Oats. As I ate my wonderful cereal, I thought of the dreams I had. They involved a convenient store, my FFG mom's car, some tornadoes (there are always tornadoes in my dreams), some clapping Santa Claus lawn-ornaments, me and Ryan in some cheaply made medieval costumes, and an appearance by a man who looked just like one of my late uncles but said he was "just a friend of his." I'm not sure what I smoked before I went to bed, but it didn't mess.

So Mom wouldn't let me be social tonight. On a Friday night. What'd I do wrong? I couldn't figure it out either. So I accompanied her and Dad to Wade and Day's. This is the first time in my life I've been to their house this close to Christmas without the tree being up. That's kinda sad.

I came home and confirmed family get-together plans with Dale for tomorrow. I've been talking to my B/F/F/ (yes, I typed that right) who has finally returned from the dead. Talked to Justin a little. I miss them boys. :'( Anyway, I haven't done much of anything else. My existence is nothing short of boring. But I'm going to bed. My head is about to implode, and Mom and I are supposed to go to Evansville tomorrow morning. Maybe I can get some Hanukkah shopping done. I guess I need to, huh? It's getting down to the wire.

Friday, December 19, 2003

i think i could stay with you for a while

I just got through talking to Becca on messenger. I miss her. I have a hard time thinking of a time when we've been together and not laughed until we hurt. Sheesh, so much stuff changes. It's been a year since we were roommates. In that year, we've completely grown apart. But not in a bad way really. I guess we're going to be those kind of friends that can go forever without seeing or talking to each other, but can pick up right where we left off. Maybe we weren't the best of roommates, but she'll always be one of my best friends. She's got a boyfriend, and she's so happy. And I'm so happy for her. I need to meet this guy. I told her that we need to get together some time over break. It's crazy that we have to come home to see someone we go to school with.

So all this relationship talk with Becca and some other things have me wondering. When's it going to happen? I see people like Becca who are so happy because love fell out of the sky and whapped them in the face. I see other people who are desperately searching to find it and only come out broken-hearted. I guess I'm going to keep doing what I've always been doing. Nothing. Waiting. Living my life hoping that one day I'll trip over it and fall face-down in it. I really don't see any sense in hunting it down, tying it up, and beating it with a stick until it agrees to come home with me. Something about that just doesn't seem right. And maybe I'm just too idealistic. A hopeless romanitic. Or maybe I just have too good of a time making metaphors and personfications of love.

Thursday, December 18, 2003

and another sound rushes through my mind

So I'm not doing a good job of keeping up with posting on a regular basis. Wah, wah. Yesterday was too depressing to blog about. It was Meme's funeral. Seeing Arenda that upset just really got to me. I hate seeing people cry like that. It makes me cry. And then Richard, my brother-in-law's dad, was scheduled for prostate surgery tomorrow, but he had a heart-attack last night. So he had a heart cath (what's that?) today, and they are talking about a double or triple by-pass either later in the week or next week. See. Yesterday wasn't good blogging material.

Today, I slept in as usual. Did my normal nothing and then went to Dale's. We went to Fazoli's again so that turkey submarino could rock my world again. Then we went to the movies. Since I hadn't seen the first two Lord of the Rings movies, we didn't see the third, though that's what he really wanted to do. We ended up watching The Last Samurai. It was actually pretty good. Tom Cruise is all grown up. It's weird thinking that actors that we've always thought were hot (although I'm not much of a Tom Cruise kinda girl) are getting older. It's like Robert Redford. My mom used to talk about how good looking he is, but until I acquired that sick attraction to old men, I didn't understand. To think that future generations will only think Tom Cruise is hot if they like "old guys" is just crazy. Mmkay, that was about a random spiel, huh?

I've started this paragraph three times, and every time I think I've something to talk about, I decide it's not worth it, highlight it, and delete it. Oh, remembered something. I got my grades, and I made all As. Yeah, my socks were knocked off. I had at least three classes that I could've had Bs in, but somehow I managed to narrowly escape. So what did I learn this semester? How to cheat and lie. I never read Possession, but I faked my way through a final exam that was all about that book. I did two out of twelve hours of observation for EDP, and apparently, Lewis bought my BS on those other ten hours. Now, I did nothing but my best in creative writing, and I think I'm most proud of that A. And I guess BarbCobb didn't eff my world up too bad. And what can I say about Spanish? I'm practically Mexican.

Alright, well, I'm tired and out of things to say, so I'm callin' 'er quits. Nite.

Monday, December 15, 2003

feels like home to me

Mmkay, I'm going to try to get back in the normal groove of blogging.

Today hasn't been much, but days at home usually aren't. When Mom and Dad got home, we went to the funeral home to see Meme. It is so weird to see a bunch of people from that family that I haven't seen since we all were kids. Now, it takes us a full thirty seconds to recognize each other. A lot of that has to do with the baby in their arms or the kid hanging on their leg. It is so weird, this growing up thing. And the awkwardness of a funeral home always gets me to thinking about it. Life and death. Anyway, once Mom and I finally dragged Dad away from the poor people he was torturing, I mean, talking to, we decided to do a little Tumbleweed for supper. (What did I ever do with those "I Need The 'Weed" stickers that Arenda and I stole from there a year or so ago?) It was Margarita Monday, and Mom decided she needed two. Heck, they were 99 cents. I don't blame her. So when we got home, Dad and I left her in the car for a little bit (I don't think she noticed) while we looked at the stars. You know, I don't think you can see the stars in Murray. I really don't know if you can see a celestial anything. I never remember seeing stars, the sun, the moon, or even clouds. I don't like that. But tonight, it is so clear. I haven't seen this many stars in forever.

Well, I'm talking to Ashley about her Nyquil addiction. It's good to know that both of my moms have been under the influence tonight. I take comfort in that.

I do miss school a little bit. But I think I've come to realize the feeling of home. Yeah, I guess home is a place. Like WebCo, or whatever. But home is also people. A feeling you get when you talk to them or are just with them. It just feels right. You can't just find that anywhere. Or in anybody.

get low, get low

Word, dawgs. I haven't blogged in a month-a sundies. I had an alright weekend. Friday night, I went shopping with Dale. After making three trips around the mall and a stop at KB Toys, he finally got his shop on and came out with three sweaters, a pair of jeans, and some awesome shoes. I think I love guys' clothes. We did a little Fazoli's, which I'm usually not too crazy about, but that turkey submarino about rocked my face off. We also rented The Italian Job, which was pretty good as well. And I made it home by my curfew for that night--with two minutes to spare. 12:58 am. (Just so you know, my "curfew" tends to change according to what kind of mood Mom and/or Dad is in, what day of the week it is, and of course, the weather.)

Saturday. I don't remember much about it. Well, yes, I do. I woke up somewhere around 11:30 to hear that Meme had passed away. That's my cousin Arenda's grandmother. And it was Arenda's birthday and the day before her college graduation. We were supposed to go to Berea for the graduation, but we knew the weather wasn't going to be good. The whole situation was/is kinda rough. I guess I'll be going to the funeral tomorrow. Arenda's getting to come home for the funeral, but she's missing finals. (Yeah, she has finals after graduation. Weird.) But they're letting her make them up. Just so y'all know, I love my cousin Arenda. That's what we call each other. She calls me her "cousin Sassy." We're retarded. No, really, we are.

Yesterday, after church, we went to Harbor Freaking Freight in Evansville. It's this huge kinda hardware store thing. Mom and I bought Dad a drill and an awesomely cool level with a laser on it with Dad in the store. I had to hurry my way through the checkout and get it in my car before Dad saw me, but it didn't work. He saw me at the checkout, but he just turned his head like a kid who'd just been caught, and pretended he was looking at some three-piece set of cutting boards. It was kinda cute. When I was wedging all this crap in a Journeys shoe bag in my trunk for inconspicuous safekeeping, I somehow scratched the fire out of my hand. It still hurts. *sniff sniff*

Last night, I went to Dale's again. We went to Best Buy and got him a video card for his computer. Then we were supposed to go get me a Christmas present. Yeah, he told me I could pick out anything I wanted from anywhere and he'd get it. I panicked. Is it terrible that I couldn't think of something? It's not that I couldn't really think of anything, but I didn't want to just pick anything. I don't know. I never came up with anything. Feel free to give me any ideas. Then we went and ate at Johnny B's. We went back to his house and I watch him play some computer game for an hour or so, and then we just went riding around on random roads until it was time for me to go home. I was so proud. We were in straight up BFE. Neither one of us knew where we were at for quite some time, but we kept making turns. (Such the smart thing to do close to midnight when it is freezing cold.) And then I recognized some, I don't know, trees or something and realized that we were in Zion. He's supposed to be Captain I'm Never Lost, but I identified our surroundings first. So the score is something like: Dale - 23,734 Cassidy - 1 . Anyway, I didn't make it home by my "curfew" last night. It was supposed to be 12:00. But the way I look at it, if I call and say I'm coming home by my curfew time, I'm okay.

Okay, I apologize for this monstrosity of a post that is nothing but what I've done for the past couple days. I could easily avoid this situation if I just posted more often, huh? Yeah, well, I'm going to go play a little guitar and then get in the shower. Gaw, I love being home.

Friday, December 12, 2003

they said she died easy of a broken-heart disease

Well, I'm home again. I likedtonotta got out of Murray. After I drug my stuff down the stairs to my car in four loads, I realized that I locked my keys in the room. Luckily, Jessica didn't make me officially check out the key. I had a good trip home and all that kinda thing. Haven't done much since I've been here. Played a little geeter. Talked to Mom. I don't know. I've been here for ten hours and I don't even know what I've been doing. That's a great feeling.

But I do have a story for the what, two of you who don't know it. 'Round about 11:17 today, I was driving to Faculty Hall to drop off my Notations stuff at 7C. There was what appeared to be a road-blocky-thing up there by Hester where they normally conduct those things. When I pulled up, a police-officer-lady asked me if I had time to spare and if I wanted to be in some video. Granted, I looked like crap and had to be back from this little trip by 12:00 for our Back Yard Burger excursion, but I'm afraid of law enforcement people, so I agreed. So me and two police officers faked a little thing they call a "safety check-point," but the officer who was giving me the spiel could never get his lines right. He was a cute old man, but I think the camera-man was not happy with his acting skills. Of course, I had only one line: "Thanks." Because that's the appropriate response for when an officer thanks you for wearing your seat belt... But I didn't argue. Anyhow, the woman officer noticed while she was "inspecting my license plate" that I'm from Henderson County. Turns out, she's from Robards, right up the road from me. So I don't know if me and the Buh-yoo-ick are going to be famous or anything. They'll probably use it for an officer training video, or maybe a traffic school video. Hmm, I'll ask Ashley if she sees me on there...

I plan on sleeping much of tomorrow away. I'm supposed to meet Dale at Best Buy at 5:00. I think we're going shopping. How funny is that? Maybe I'll buy some Hanukkah. And then Saturday I'm supposed to go to Berea for Arenda's graduation that is on Sunday. But there might be weather. They're calling for two inches around here, so no telling what it'll be like up that way. There's no way Dad would let us go. He's already freaking out, telling me that I'm going to die unless I'm home by 10:00 tomorrow night. Apparently, at 10:01 pm the road is going to freeze up into a solid sheet of ice and I'll end up upside down in a ditch somewhere. But just like Dad told me tonight, if I ever get pinned in my car like that, the first thing I need to do is kill the engine. If I can get out of there, I'm not supposed to worry about my purse. If I run back to get it, the car might explode on me. This is the point where Mom and I both yelled at Dad and told him to shut up with his safety tips. He's real good at that, you know. I remember one night when I was in high school, he sat me down and told me atleast five ways I could die going down the road. One of which did include overturning into a deep, deep ditch of deathly icy water. Atleast two possibilities included deer. (Saw the 293 Deer today, by the way.) One had something to do with the deer knocking my headlights out and me needing a flashlight to shine down the road as I drove. Another involved the deer jumping through my windshield and kicking me to death. Ladies and gentlemen, never again wonder why I am paranoid schizophrenic.

Sheesh, I am tired. But I feel like a kid who has just been told that just for tonight, they don't have a bedtime. I'm fighting sleep, but I don't know why.

Well, I sat here for something like five minutes trying to think of something clever to end off this blog with. No dice.

Wednesday, December 10, 2003


Nothing quite puts you in the Christmas spirit like selling books back. I don't know if I've ever left Bradley Book Company a happy, or even content, person. But atleast I wasn't irate like I was last time they screwed me over. I left with $45.25 this time. I think that's the most I've ever gotten back. I coulda got more from the University bookstore if my humanities book wasn't jacked up. I ponder exactly what I could do with it. I already had planned to throw it at something, and when I returned to the 2E, there stood Lesil, who got to sell her book back. So I threw it at her. I might've broken her hip.

Well, school is done for. We had that humanities final this morning. It doesn't matter that we had a three hour hardcore study session last night. BarbCobb effed up my world, let me tell you. But I don't even care clip.

So now we're on the downhill slide. All I gotta do is pack. Nothing left for school. So maybe it resembles something more like a cliff rather than a hill. A cliff I could jump from, maybe? Nah, I don't feel the need to jump off one anymore, but had you pointed me towards a cliff anywhere between 8:00 and 9:30 this morning, I woulda come a-runnin'.

I gotta submit my short story and poetry to Notations, too, but that's no big deal. A matter of printing this stuff off and taking it to the seventh floor of Faculty before noon tomorrow. I really hope I get something published in there. I would like to see my short story in there, but most of all, I just want "Children of a Melancholy Mother" to make it. Ann, my poetry professor, despised that poem and I don't know why. I really liked it. It would make me ecstatic to see it published in there just prove Ann wrong. But truthfully, it's not that great of a poem. It would just be a nice little gesture of literary revenge. Hmm, as a matter of fact, I should probably go submit that stuff right now. I don't want to have to mess with it tomorrow, though I don't know what time Faculty Hall closes during finals. I guess there are still finals for night classes going on.

Alright, well, I'm out.

Tuesday, December 09, 2003

a hundred bad guys with swords

I am always so happy after finals. I mean, I still have two left, but the weight of two has been lifted off of me. So much so that I walked back from Faculty Hall with Janitha singing Disney songs. I am fully aware that makes me a homosexual seven-year-old, but what can you do? I took our picture. I also took Lance's picture on the elevator this morning. It's a sad time, those two going to Spain next semester.

This afternoon, Justin's gonna come over, and we're going to "study" for our EDP final. That ought to be fun. The "studying," that is. I'll be so glad to be done with that class. It was definitely the worst. It was just a burden having to go to a class so late in the day and worrying about all those observations that I never did. But as time wore on, I realize ol' Lewis ain't that bad. After all, he is god.

My sister called while I was out partying--I mean, taking finals. She wants me to call her back. I hate calling her at work. I feel like I'm intruding and it's some uncover operation because she whispers and stuff. Strange times. But I guess if I was a patient at the gyno, I wouldn't want to listen to my nurse talk to her sister either.

Monday, December 08, 2003

making friends with shadows on my wall

I don't if I have anything to blog about, but it's in the one o'clock hour of the morning and: I'm not too tired. (Have I even been up for twelve hours yet?) Nobody's online to talk to. I don't want to study for my finals, even though that's probably the one thing I should been doing.

I love school and all, but I am so ready to go home. And think most people would agree with me in saying that all of us just need to get out for a while. Of course, a month is a long time. But for mental health purposes, it's time for some new scenery. I miss going out with my family. And just knowing what's going on. Being away at college just completely puts me out of the loop. Not just with home, but the world. I should really start watching the news or something. Ha. The theme music from CNN Headline News reminds me of being home, actually.

So I started this out saying that I wasn't tired, but now I'm yawning all over the place like a mankey. And all this yawning is making my head hurt. There's nothing else to do and I don't have anything to say really, so I think I'm going to go to bed. And lay there and think about things.

Sunday, December 07, 2003

if it ever gets bad, i mean really bad

So the Freak Suite Retreat was good tonight. And by good, I mean depressing. Good lord, after Love Actually, I couldn't find a bridge, a cliff, a pit of poisonous snakes, a pit of quick-sand, a seat in Lesil's car fast enough. It's nice to know that love actually is all around us, or whatever the theme of that movie was, but it also did a nice job of pointing out that love actually is one thing I really wish I had. I mean, I love people, and I'm sure there are some people out there who love me, but love. A lot of people like love stories because it reminds them of what they have or what they will have or whatever, but of course, it reminds me of what I don't have. But even worse, it makes me fear what I may never have. I think I would be okay if I knew that one, five, ten, thirty years down the road, I would find the love of my life, that person that will make my world complete, that person who I will share the most perfect bond with. But nothing guarantees that. And that mortifies me. I know I am being pessimistic, but you know, what can you do? I have a problem with logic. I have this idea in my head that because I've never had a boyfriend, my chances of falling in (mutual) love are considerably slimmer than those who have had relationship after relationship. Maybe that's the biggest fallacy known to man, but the only way you can convince me otherwise is by showing me the moment when it happens. And my problem comes full circle.

Friday, December 05, 2003

with the likes of lloyd and stacey may

This has got to be about the most depressing thing I've ever seen. I was wasting my life away at Quizilla, and I took this quiz that is supposed to tell you what movie you'd most likely be in. I was really cool with the "What Kind of Soul Do You Have" quiz that said I have an artistic soul. It was flattering. But this?:


What movie Do you Belong in?(many different outcomes!)
brought to you by Quizilla

blindness & kindness, there's no difference in the two

Today has been pretty relieving. Skipped HUM, so I'm done with it except for the final. I'm going to miss creative writing, but I feel so good to have my final draft of my story done and turned in. And I got everything out of the way with EDP. That final will be a joke. Now, I just have to muddle my way through another class of English pretending I've read more than three and a half out of twenty-eight chapters of that mutha-friggin' book. I'd like to stick Possession square up Marcie Johnson's aaaah, I think I'll be a good girl and not say that.

We did a little B-Town excursion tonight. We sat in the Bonus Room and looked at Marshall County yearbooks. Why are we obsessed with yearbooks? And we can't just look at them. No, we have to critique them Cat-Dawg style. That woman'll leave a scar on your life in more ways that one. Anyhow, there's nothing like going out as a family to look at Everything You've Ever Wanted (Or Not) For Your Car With Flames On It and Christmas lights. God save the Queen.

I'm not one to toot my own horn, right? And I don't think it's the Christmas spirit. But you know, I do some nice stuff every now and then. Like, I got a 96 on a PowerPoint presentation. ;-) So what if the person who gave the grade was giving a favor, too? And I gave Courtney my "them cookies." Merry Christmas, papi.

Tomorrow is the last day of class. I'm sorry, I just can't express my excitement enough. Like some broken-a** Tupperware, I can't contain myself.

Thursday, December 04, 2003

on an evening such as this, it's hard to tell if i exist

I could go to sleep right now. Much of today seems hard to remember. This week is slipping by, and before I know it, Christmas break will be here. All the stress of school will be on a four week hiatus. Four weeks sounds so long. So much can happen in a month.

So I about have all my stuff done. Tomorrow will begin the end. By the end of the day, I will be finished with three of my classes--one in which I don't even have a final. That's creative writing. I'm going to miss that class, that group of people, so much. I'll take my camera, just in case the opportunity to take a picture presents itself. So I have to finish revising my story, collect my portfolio, and pick out a poem and a passage of my story to read. We're having a reading party. Whoops, I forgot to buy food. Eh, oh well.

I have noticed that I don't begin to appreciate something until I see it walking out the door. I have done this a lot. I realize just how cool certain people are right before they are about to be taken out of my life, and I only have a few moments to spare. Today, I realized how much I'm going to miss Eric PrePharm in my Spanish class. He's just too cool. And Michelle from my English classes. And what about that Bill guy from EDP? Where've these people been all semester? Good question.

Though I'm not really sure what I've been thinking about, I feel like my mind has been working over-time to get something sorted out. I feel like I'm trying to understand something, have an epiphany of some sort. I feel like I'm on the verge of grasping the meaning of life or something. Okay, maybe that's a little drastic, but I just don't feel settled. Like I need to stop everything I'm doing and collect my thoughts. It's chaos up there in my mind. And it doesn't look like it's going to get a chance to chill the eff out for a little while. I'm looking forward to that moment, when I breathe a sigh of relief. But from what? I'm still figuring that out...

Tuesday, December 02, 2003

won't be the first heart that you break

Why do I feel like I haven't blogged in a month of Sundays? I really do not know. I blogged twice yesterday. Eh, it's been a long day.

For starters, we got HUM. Bleh. Then there was the four hour delving into EDP work. I finally got it all done, but I missed an entire hour of creative writing. I waltzed in with fifteen minutes left, and I got there just in the nick of time to do the one thing I wanted to do. Rip Kelli a new one. Gaw, that was fun. They had already workshopped Don's story AND gotten past the "positive comment" portion of Kelli's. This hate in my heart will probably send me to hell. Where am I going and why am I in this handbasket? After EDP, I dropped in on the Sigma Eta meetings. Ashley keeps yelling at me for coming in late, but I don't get out of class until 5:15 and the meetings are at 5:00. Sigma Eta and Lance Lee (I mean, the Foreign Language Club...) keep screwing me over. But atleast I promised to be in Sigma Eta, but really, I just should've promised to eat Sigma Eta food. That's all I really do. Show up to the meeting after the "meeting" part is over and get some pizza. But today, I had a special treat with my pizza. Hopefully it was my hair.

Well, we gave the 231 an over-haul. We almost got 'er done, but I thought I'd take a blog break while Holly took a Real World break. I gotta figure out what I'm going to do with my books. I guess I could put them on the bookshelf. What a novel idea! Even better, I could use them. But that's just not cool.

Monday, December 01, 2003

you can't take the honky tonky, take the honky tonk, out of the girl

So everyone's doing another one of those survey things, and of course, that makes me want to do one to. But I thought I'd be all different and do another one. So I went to ForwardGarden and got this one:

1)If you had to choose any word or combination of words to be your new name, what would it be?
Hamartia Peripeteia Anagnorisis Sophrosyne

2) When was the last time you told someone how much you appreciated them?
In a round about way, I basically told my mom this weekend. I love my mommie.

3) Should that have been more recently?
That was actually pretty recent, but I don't tell a lot of people that as often as I should.

4) Where do you feel most happy?
I feel happy at school with my friends after I've been home for a long time, and I feel happy at home with my family when I've been at school for a long time. You know how it goes...

5) Do you subscribe to an organised religion?
Oh, look. The author is British. Anyway, I don't particularly care for the way this question is worded, but I am a Christian, if that's what we're getting at here.

6) Did you make that choice as an informed rational decision?
Huh? What? Oh, yeah. Somebody strapped me down, injected me with anesthetics, and made that decision for me. Sheesh.

7) Does it matter if you didn't? why not?
Okay, apparently I didn't read all these crazy questions before I decided to do this survey.

8) How old do you feel?
Well, I'm twenty. I don't know that I feel like it, but I do feel older than I used to. I guess that's normal and healthy.

9) Can you change the world?
If I could be king. Even for a day.

10)Red or black?
Hmm. This is hard. I used to really dislike red, but it's growing on me. However, I'm going to stick with black.

11) Republican or Democrat?
I prefer not to associate myself politically. As a matter of fact, I just don't like making decisions.

12) Conservative or Labour?
Huh? Okay, yeah. Whoever made this is not an American. Can anybody tell me what this means? Anything like conservative and liberal?

13) Why do questions always come with only two options?
That's funny, 'cause this one didn't.

14) What do you enjoy above all else?
I've always loved music, and over the years, through a lot of friendly influence, I've come to appreciate it a great deal more. It's one of the greatest artforms. You can manipulate music, and music can manipulate you. That's powerful.

15) What makes a good song?
Well isn't this convenient? I think it depends on your state. Sometimes, all it takes for a song to be good is a good beat. But more often than not, it takes lyrics that make you say, "Man, I know exactly what this guy/girl's saying. Why couldn't I put it into words like he/she did?" What it boils down to is a nice balance, a sophrosyne if you will, of both. That's the beauty of it. It's boundless.

16) Is money the root of all evil?

17) So what is?

18) What is evil anyway?
The absence of good.

19) If you had to teach people something you knew about, what would you want to teach them?
I don't know anything. That's why I'm going to be a teacher.

20) Why are you taking this survey?
Because I'm wasting time. As usual.

21) Are you a thinker or a doer?
Definitely a thinker. That's not good is it?

i mean, c'mon, it's not like we've known ourselves that long

Boy, how I'd like to take a nap. But I have too much stuff that I should be doing, and blatantly taking a nap would just make me feel guilty. However, I have no reservations about squandering away my time by blogging. It's always the same story, folks.

I got my research paper back. I got an 88.5. What kind of grade is that? Point five? She's a strange one. Anyway, I'm happy with that grade considering I didn't even come close to meeting any of the requirements. She basically said I'm a good writer, I just don't write enough. Maybe she should ask me to write about myself. I seem to be able to do that at a lengthy measure, huh? Next time, I'll be sure not to write a research paper on a poem that has been critiqued for a million years. Sheesh.

Lesil is over there listening to John. That warms my heart. All the little beebies are growing up, listening to John. She said something that really got me here *points at heart* last night. See, I burned her a CD of Heavier Things and the other essentials: Tracing, Love Soon & Sucker, and the triad of Why Did You Mess With Forever, Man on the Side, and Covered in Rain. Last night she said something to the effect of this, "What number do those extra songs start on? Eleven? Yeah, those songs are awesome." I could've cried. Like Ashley the day I bought my Vera.

I'm a dork. (As if you didn't know already.) But I have a picture of me and my uncle Wade sitting here on my desk. It's such a fun picture, which is wild because I'm in it. I don't even know what I'm doing with my mouth, but I think I'm laughing out loud. Anyway, I love him. I miss my family. Like aunts, uncles, and cousins. My mom's side of the family (which is basically all of my family) is a ton of fun. They're loud and hilarious. I look forward to being able to hang out with them over Christmas. I can't wait, really. I miss being at church too. A lot of those kids are really fun. John Michael's about a retard, but he's precious. And I noticed yesterday, his hair is getting so curly. He could possibly have the hair to mouth ratio.

It occurs to me that I haven't had a good cry in a long time. And I feel one coming on, though I'm not sure why just yet. All I know is that my tear reservoir is full and needs a sweet release.

Sunday, November 30, 2003

the same black line that was drawn on you was drawn on me

Well, I'm back in Murray. Pretty good times. When I was about five minutes away, the girls called me wanting to know when I was going to be back. That was exciting, so I kicked up to about 70 MPH. I didn't get a ticket like some people. (I heart you, mami!)

I guess home was good. It was good up until today atleast. Leaving is always hard. Not because I don't want to, but because Mom and Dad make it so I feel like getting out of there as fast as I can. After church, we went to Evansville to get me some shoes. (I'm so excited. I got a pair of Vans and a pair of Sauconys. I'm such a poser.) I made the mistake of driving. It's always crazy with Dad in the car. Of course, I couldn't do anything right, and then the stop we made at Thornton's was the straw that broke the camel's toe, I mean, back. I got all disoriented and thought my gastank was on the other side of the car. (It was like that on the ol' Taurus.) Then I couldn't find an open pump. Dad kept yellin' at me, so I stopped the car cross-ways in the Thornton's lot, put it in park, screamed something about "not doing this anymore," and got in the backseat. How's that for a hissy fit? But I can only take so much harrassment. Anyway, that's never a mood to leave home on.

Being back here is cool, but I can't believe we only have a week and a half yet. Finals really don't scare me that much. The way I look at it, they are tests. If I do good, I do. If I don't, I don't. Whatever. But papers. Eh. I have to sit down and make myself do it. Not fun at all. But that's what I'm going to try to do right now. Maybe.

speak kind to a stranger

I spent all day at WalMart. Atleast that's what it felt like. We were there three hours, for real. We got my tires rotated, my film developed, and we got new cell phones. That all took forever. But it's all cool. The Buh-yoo-ick's a smooth ride, I got some good pictures, and I'm loving the new cell phone. For the first time, I have caller ID. So now I'm going to start ignoring your calls.

I have also been to the Pizza Place twice today--which is more than I've been there in the past year. The first time was with Mom, Day, her sister, and her niece. I had some cheese bread. Then when I got home and was all trying to figure out my phone, it rang. Thanks to caller ID, I knew it was Mommie, I mean, Ashley. Her, Holly, and Val were going to the Pizza Place and taking a movie to Ashley's, and she wanted to know if I wanted to join 'em. So I went to Sebree for the second time. We went back to Ashley's, talked to RhinoMo, Meagan came by, and we didn't watch the movie that we rented. But that didn't keep us from getting mad when the DVD kept messing up and wouldn't let us watch the end.

That's about what my day consisted of. Not too interesting. I really should've been home all day doing homework, but what kind of fun is in that? Check back with me when I fail all my classes.

I don't know. I feel like I don't have anything to say, but all the things bouncing around in my head tell me otherwise. But they are questions that can't be answered. At least right now. Kind of things time and hindsight take care of nicely.

Friday, November 28, 2003

exit: light

Well, it looks like I am the last person out of our little web journaling group to post about Thanksgiving. That's weird. I'm usually a bloggin' fool.

So we went to Shoney's. You know, it wasn't bad, but I didn't eat much anyway. I had to save room for supper. That's right, I went with Dale to his Thanksgiving Day family function. He asked me to, so that was cool. I had never been to somebody else's Thanksgiving get-together before, but this was a pleasant first experience. I really like Stanley's family. They reminded me a little of my own and told me they hoped to see me at Christmas. That was a little strange. Me and Dale are strange. For instance, when we left his aunt and uncle's house, we went to Evansville to see a movie. That'd be only the second movie we've seen "just us." He bought my ticket, but informed that I was going to buy his meal at Steak 'n Shake later. Well, Steak 'n Shake was closed, so we went and ate at Jerry's. Yes, the equivalent to the Culver Family Restaurant. I think it was the first time I've been there without my family. Hmm, it was a night of firsts. By the time we left Jerry's, it was something like 2:45 am. Dale talked me into spending the night at his house. He didn't have to pull my arm--I was tired. But we stayed up for another hour or so while he sold me service plans, Norton's Anti-Virus, and SysOps for Best Buy. You know, he's a pretty good salesman. He about had me sold and I wasn't even buying anything. I fell right asleep and was awoken this morning by Dale's computer starting up and my cell phone ringing at the same time. It was my mom. She's out of control. It doesn't matter that I'm twenty years old and that she believes I'm "all grown up." When I'm home, she's got to have a handle on me every second, but she was glad I stayed at Dale's. Mom would rather me spend the night with him than be out on the road up in the wee hours of the morning. Then again, I think she wants me to marry Dale. But as Mom and I have decided, Dale and I are like a couple that has been married for thirty years and is on the verge of divorce. We are just weird.

I kinda miss Murray. I kinda don't. Of course I haven't done a lick of my homework, including reading that retarded book, so I don't want to go back and face academic reality. I just want this semester to be over with. But it sure is going to be wild not being with the Murray crew. Crew like the rowing team. Geri Valesqueza.

Wednesday, November 26, 2003

it might be a quarter-life crisis

Mom and I went with Day to pick up Arenda in Bowling Green today. Her boyfriend brought her that far before he went on home to Alabama. He's cute. But I don't know if I can have her marrying him. Isn't it weird to lust after family?

It's weird being home. Not talking to anyone. It's not so bad though. It's just different than being at school. When we're at school, the only "adults" that we really interact with are professors and the old ladies in Winslow. Everybody around is a kid. Even the people in charge are kids. You know, like RAs and stuff. But then it occurs to me: We're supposed to be adults. Weird times. Can we go back? Like I always say, it blows my mind that at my age, my sister was already married and working full-time for the Journal-Enterprise (such a major publication). I mean, I'm hardly responsible enough to wake myself up in the morning and go to class. And being married? What the world? I've never even had a boyfriend. That's so weird. I am twenty years old, and I've never even casually dated someone. And it's not that I don't want to. I guess I'm too timid to pursue anyone (and I have a hard time even finding someone to pursue), and I don't give off a "hey, look at me, I'm somebody you want to date" vibe. And then I look at people who are in relationships who seem to just be constantly torn apart, and I think to myself, "Do I really want that?" The answer? Yes. I do.

Tuesday, November 25, 2003

and under your bed lay a picture long forgotten

Well, I'm home. Things are good. No signs of the 293 Deer. Been talking to my Creole, playing my geeter, and watching John dig. He went to creative writing with me today. He was good fish in class.

I'm really tired, and I don't think I have a whole lot to say besides just kinda checking in. I'm yawning like a mankey.

Ah... A commercial for the Hadi Shrine Circus just came on. Those are some old school memories. I remember being a little, little kid and knowing that the circus happened every Thanksgiving. One year I talked my mom and dad into taking me with just enough time to get to Evansville to see it. That was awesome. The elephants always made me have an asthma attack, but it was always worth it.

Monday, November 24, 2003

maybe i'll sleep inside my coat

Last night I posted my short story Gravel. That was Justin's idea. Anyway, it's not really done. I've been working on it, revising it and stuff. I'm just afraid of reaching the point that adding more is too much.

Oh, yeah. I have once again tried to finagle [I actually looked this up on It's right.] a way to get comments here on my blog. This time, thank you to, I think I have a keeper. The HTMLGear thing didn't work, so I hear. The Chatterbox thing was a joke. Oh, but my SquawkBox. You people better use it. How many times do I have to tell y'all that I'm jealous of the kids with Xangas?

Tomorrow is home thirty, and it's about time. I'm excited. I have a lot I'm supposed to do as far as homework goes, but my true nature will set in and I won't do any of it. That's okay. Maybe I can do it all Sunday and Monday night when I get back. That sounds right.

Well, winter has finally set in. Or wait. Isn't it supposed to get back up in the sixties by the end of this week? What the heck is that? But either way, I got to wear my coat and gloves and hat today. That was fun. I'm not normally the hey-let's-bundle-up type, but today, it was a good time. It wasn't too cold that I had to layer a pair of sweat pants under my jeans. Although that wouldn't have hurt.

Blogging will probably take on a new nature while I'm at home this weekend. Hmm, I hope I have the internet still. I'm sure we do. I signed up for a forty-day free trial from EarthLink. It's been about six months. They still haven't sent us a bill. We'll probably get a bill in a year or so for about eight thousand dollars. That won't be cool. But while it lasts, this free internet sure is.

Sunday, November 23, 2003


My hand was on the horn, and if Hap didn't emerge from his doorway in three seconds, I was going to let it blare for all the neighbors and their dogs to hear. We had been going on these midnight excursions to the abandoned feed-mill on Jack Bailey Road ever since we were kids, and this was the first time I had ever had to wait on Hap. Usually, I only had to stop the truck long enough for him to slide into the seat next to me grinning like he always did when he knew he was doing something he shouldn't. That night, I wondered if maybe he had done something wrong.

. . .

Fowler's Feed Mill had always been mine and Hap's place. We first became mystified by it when we would go there with our fathers. It was still open then. We were maybe six years old, and as any pair of mischievous six-year-old boys would do, we would always sneak off and play. It was a perfect place for hide-and-seek. When that got old, we didn't even have to built forts. We would just cower behind enormous sacks of feed and shoot each other. When one of us, usually me, would accidentally-on-purpose rip a hole in the bottom of a sack and let a pile of grain form on the floor, we had something better than any sandbox. Just as soon as Hap would get all but my face buried in feed, his dad would find us.

"You boys better get out of there." Dragging Hap by his collar and looking back at me, "C'mon, Gabe. Fowler doesn't want kids in here for a reason."

Fowler closed the mill down not long after our dads started bringing us along. Maybe we emptied too many sacks of Sweet Feed.

Hap and I rediscovered the mill the night I talked him into stealing his dad's truck just for kicks. We were fourteen, and Hap had no business driving. I thanked God every time we made it past a pair of oncoming headlights, but when he whipped onto Jack Bailey Road, never hitting the brakes and barely missing the road-bank, my life flashed before my eyes. Frantically grasping at the slick dashboard and fighting the urge to pee down both legs, I convinced him to pull off into the gravel lot of the feed mill. "Here, Hap! Stop here! Now!"

After the dust from the gravel settled and our hearts went back to where they were supposed to be, Hap finally spoke. "Hey, Gabe. Isn't this that feed mill that our dads used to bring us to? Remember, we'd run off and get into trouble." The lettering on the sign was weathered, but I could still make out the name.

"I believe it is."

We told ourselves it was for old time's sake when we got out of the truck to see if we could get inside that shell of a feed-mill, but it was more a matter of keeping our minds off knowing that we'd surely be beat within an inch of our lives when we got home.

I've noticed something in my thirty-one years. When guys experience any kind of emotion at all, we tend to express it by throwing something. If we score a touchdown, we throw the football at the ground. If a girl rips our heart in two, we throw any object we can get our hands on. Then there is the obsession with throwing rocks because they are there. We skip rocks. We forget the skipping altogether and just see if we can clear the river or lake. And if there are old windows that have yet to be broken out, we're bound to chuck rocks at them until we've left our own personal holes in the glass.

Between the two of us, we had to launch something like seven rocks from the gravel lot before we made our mark. After that display of masculinity, we did about the least adventurous thing possible. We opened the front door. It was unlocked. It was always unlocked. It always baffled me that there were no markings to warn trespassers. And for the next seventeen years, not a soul ever bothered us. No one threatened to demolish the broken-down building. It was almost as if there was some sort of cosmic understanding that it was ours. Finders, keepers.

From that night on, any time we'd come across a pack of cigarettes that needed smoking or some firecrackers that needed to be set off, we'd walk out there and take them with us. As we got older, if there was a party that needed throwing, we'd send everyone out to Jack Bailey Road. Hap and I sowed all of our wild oats in the dirt floor of Fowler's old mill. But the mill was more than just a place to wreak havoc.

As we became men, the mill became more of a safe haven. Since Hap's house was between mine and the mill, I would normally come by, pick him up, and we'd head out. About once a week or so, we would go out there just to get away from it all. There were no crying kids or leaky sinks at the mill. There were no bosses to please or townspeople wanting to this, that, and the other. There were just gusts of the night air that rattled the tin roof, asking for nothing more than for me and Hap to stir in the musty mill.

As I headed out the back door one night, I could feel the rusty screen of the storm door on my fingertips and the concern in my wife Sandy's sigh on my shoulders. When I looked over my shoulder, she was drying her hands with the dishtowel and looking at me with curious eyes. "Just what do y'all do out there?" Maybe she didn't believe me when I told her that all we really did was sit out there for hours telling stories, telling lies, and telling the truth. Maybe she thought I was running off to the next town to meet up with a lover. I guess it is an odd habit for two fellas to keep. I kissed Sandy on her forehead, told her I loved her and that I'd be back later, and slipped out the door to go get Hap.

Every once in a while, one of us would cry. When we were kids, those moments were few and far between, but as time passed, things changed and so did we. Caroline Yates broke my seventeen-year-old heart, and I broke Sue Ellen Ramsey's. A long line of girls on the cheerleading squad, yearbook staff, and academic team broke Hap's, but a waitress from the Whip 'n' Dip named Debbie stole it. Hap and Debbie married, and for years, they tried to have children. When the doctors found the cancer in her body, they stopped trying. Sandy and I brought more than enough kids into the world, and if Hap really wanted some, I would have lended him a few. My mother made me promise her, just moments before her tired lungs pushed out their last breath, that I would keep an eye out on Hap. "That boy's going to need you." I guess she was right. He needed me more than he needed my kids. For all of these reasons, salty tears slowly nourished the feed-mill floor.

During those long months when Hap's wife was in the hospital, when the walls of her room started closing in on him and the space of the house was intimidating, he would call me up, and I would spend all night just listening to him tell me about her. As she grew weaker every day, we began going to the mill every night. I didn't do a whole heck of a lot of talking those nights as he told me all of this. I would sit with him on the old counter. I would listen to Hap fall apart. I would listen to the counter creak and groan, threatening to collapse beneath us every time one of us shifted our weight.

He told me how her frail body was almost unrecognizable, lying in that impersonal jail cell of a hospital room. He told me about how he would bring fresh flowers to her room every morning. Even though the tubes seemed to drain the life out of her rather that replenish her, she was able to muster a smile of appreciation. When he spoke of that smile of hers, I was almost able to see it on his face. He loved her, and she loved him. She just couldn't say it.

He told me that as soon as any of those flowers began to wilt, show the slightest sign of giving up, he would quietly whisk them out of the room and into the dumpster behind the hospital. He would bring more in the morning. He prayed, as he tossed each vase of feeble flowers into the dumpster, that he could have one more day to buy flowers.

He stopped buying flowers just three days after Hap and I sat there until golden hints of morning peeked in at us through the cracks in the mill walls.

For several nights after her funeral, Hap didn't want to go to the mill. I can't blame him, but it worried me, him being in that house all by himself. But I didn't push the issue. It just seemed to me that when something was wrong, or something was right, we'd go out there, have a beer, and grow old. So sometimes I would go by myself, but I couldn't bring myself to go in. I'd never been inside without Hap, and it just didn't feel right. I would sit in my truck and watch the chickens. Even though the mill had been shut down for two decades, Wilsey Gaines' chickens from down the road still roamed that vacant lot pecking for corn, but all that grain must be long gone, all pecked away or decayed. I think they just pecked at the gravel. I remember my grandmother telling me that once, that chickens swallowed bits of rock. It helps them digest.

Within a month, Hap was ready to go back. "Gabe, it's time. I can't keep myself holed up in this old house too much longer. I gotta get out. Can you be here in just a few minutes?" I assured him that I could, hung up the phone, and grabbed my keys.

Going out to the mill was like clockwork again. He was so eager to get out there, to find that familiar comfort in aged lumber of the mill walls, I suppose. Every night at 10:35, right after the Channel 9 Nightly News went off, I was in his driveway for no more than two seconds, enough time for him to hop in. He never missed a night. Sometimes, I wished that he would. Those every-night trips almost became a burden. Sandy's sighs kept getting heavier when I'd get up from my recliner and turn the television off. I knew instead hanging off at a run-down mill every night, I should have been at home with my wife and kids, but instead, I remembered what my mother had said and kept an eye out on Hap. He needed me. He needed me to keep him company.

. . .

I went ahead and honked, examining the warm, yellow light that came from every window in Hap's little house. He was still keeping all the lights on to fight the loneliness, but there was no sign of his lean shadow stirring. Where on earth is he?

I killed the engine. Hap's driveway crunched under my boots. It was late November, and we were a couple weeks past the first frost. The gravel and grass glistened in the glow of the security light. Frozen stillness. I neared the house, expecting to feel the warmth that seemed to radiate from it. Despite the cold, I was surprised to see my breath when I called out his name. I ascended his frosty back steps and knocked on the door. "Hap?" I listened, but all I could hear was the buzzing of the security light. I tried the door, but it was locked. It finally occurred to me that he wasn't there. I hadn't noticed that his truck wasn't in the barn.

Before I even neared Jack Bailey Road, I could see the glow. I wasn't quite sure what was going on, but my heart dropped with my foot onto the accelerator. And for a split second, as I swerved onto that country road, I was fourteen-year-old Hap driving his daddy's truck with fear pumping through my veins. I slid into the lot, paralyzed by the hungry flames that had already devoured the feeble old feed mill and were licking the sky, begging it to quench her thirst.

After my heart returned to its normal place and the news went off, I drove out to where the ashes of my wild oats, my tears, and my best friend had finally settled. I threw some rocks from the gravel lot. At nothing in particular. Isn't that what we do to express our emotion? I believe it is.

hair clip

I'm on something like my seventh round of Spider Solitaire. That's a good ol' time. I've been kinda chillin', cronchin' on my leftover ice from Sonic, and talking to Dale. You know, I can really get aggrivated with him sometimes, but in times like now, I'm glad to know he's there. He had just took a break in his hibernation to get some food, and I just happened to catch him. I do miss him. He kinda falls into that category of people I kinda lose track of. We're probably gonna hang out a little over the Thanksgiving break. And he'll probably end up ticking me off somehow. Or I'll have a really good time, and then the first time I talk to him online when I get back, he'll ruffle my feathers. It's inevitable, but he's really one of my best friends.

I am not myself tonight. I straightened my hair for the first time since chili was a nickel tonight. This mess is long. I need a trim atleast. Or maybe I'll get it all cut off. I'm not really sure why I have all this long hair. But I don't know what I'd do with it if it wasn't. Hair. Such a dilemma.

Saturday, November 22, 2003

happy birthday, blog

Woohoo, Winslow waffles. I'm about to pop. And as soon as I get through rambling here, I'm going to hop in the shower. I feel like I have a layer of rodeo on me.

So I just talked to Mom. They're getting ready to go to Nashville to see my aunt, my dad's sister. And she also informed me of a change of plans as far as Thanksgiving goes. I was all prepped to hear that I was indeed going to have the traditional meal, but no. Instead of eating at Cracker Barrel in Calvert, we're going to be eating somewhere in the Henderson-Evansville area. But looking on the bright side, the 293 Deer can enjoy his holiday in peace, without us threatening his life. Mom also told me that she received the John Mayer CD I sent her in the mail and that, if they can figure out how to change discs in Dad's player in his truck, they're going to listen to John on the way to Nashville. How cute is that? My nearly-sixty-year-old parents riding down I-24 in a Ford pick-up listening to John Mayer. I miss 'em. If Murray wasn't quite so out-of-the-way, I would have them stop by on their way down or on their way home. But I'll see them on Tuesday.

I guess I need to call Sissy. She called me last night while we were trying to decide somewhere to eat. Before I knew it, we were going in to ol' August Moon, so I told her I had to hang up. Being the thoughtless, self-absorbed person that I am, I didn't realize that the whole point of the phone call was so that Victoria could talk to me. When I was talking to Mom wallago, she told me that Victoria really wanted to talk to me. I guess it's a going-off-to-college thing, but I have a hard time keeping up with people that aren't here. It's almost an out-of-sight-out-of-mind situation, and I'm probably gonna burn in hell for that. I really need to make more of an effort to keep in touch with those people I love, but don't get to see too often. Like I mentioned a post or two ago, those are the people who are most important to me. Why do I just let those relationships fall apart for these four (coughcoughormorecoughcough) years I'm in college? Because as time passes, it is definitely not going to get easier to mend fences. Just so you know, this has been very revelational for me just now.

To end on more of a celebrative (yes, I made that word up) note, as my title suggests, this is my blog's one month birthday. What a month it has been. Let's look back on my life one month ago today according to my blog entry: It was the first night Justin and Ryan came over and we took a little ride in the back of the Camino to WalMart. That seems so long ago. Who knew...

i want an arena-pro

It has been another pretty good day. Went to class. Winslowed. Hibernated. Shuttled. Rodeo-ed. Been hanging out. I think those are decent ingredients for a recipe for a good day. The rodeo was fun. I wonder how hard it'll be to get this honking "EXPO" stamp off my hand... Ne' was there 'cause Derek rode and she's got the hook-up with all the MSU rodeo alumni. She sat with me the whole time she was there. Drove me nuts. Am I bad? I mean, this woman really just needs to grow up. It's just weird, and I don't like her stalking me like she does. She always gripes about people not leaving the past behind, but I really feel like she is a constant pull to the past. Maybe it's bad that that's what she seems to be to me, but I don't know how to deal with her. As a matter of fact, I've never really been good with dealing with much of anything.

Friday, November 21, 2003

i succumbed

An edited version of what Justin might say in my situation: Screw a bunch of A.S. Byatt. That'd be the author of this stupid, stupid book I'm reading. Yeah, so I'm supposed to have six chapters read by tomorrow. I'm still in chapter four, the chapter I was supposed to have read through for Wednesday. Oh, well, I guess if I just get the idea of the book down before the final, I might be okay.

All this talk of wanting to go home and Thanksgivingy things made me realize something on the way to humanities this morning. Okay, first, you have to know that I've been professing my love for my sister's sweet potato casserole for something like a week now, anticipating it's Thanksgiving Day appearance. But as a craving for Cracker Barrel hit me on the way to class today, I remember. Yep. We're observing the holiday at the new Cracker Barrel in Calvert City. I do love the CB, but what the world? Maybe I'm being a selfish, mindless, college-aged ingrate. But isn't there some sort of law somewhere that states that if you move off to school, you get the royal cornucopia treatment 'round the holidays? But maybe if you aren't pictured in the family portrait, you are exempt from that right. In that case, I would indeed not apply. You know, the BSU does this thing where you can take a foreign exchange student home for Thanksgiving. Do you think I could sign up for that? You know, somebody could take me home?

Okay, please know that I am completely not serious about any of the above. It is true that we are eating at Cracker Barrel. It is true that my family took a portrait without me, but it was under extenuating circumstances that I wholly understand. I'm sure as soon as I get home, I'll wish I was back at school because Mom and Dad will argue over something petty. It always happens. And then I'll get mad over something. And Mom will say that she wishes the dorms hadn't closed so I could've just stayed in Murray. And the gettin'-up-and-goin' to Sissy's on Thursday will inevitably be a big up-roar where Dad threatens not to go, and Mom and I will sit in the driveway, knowing that as soon as he gets his crap together, he'll be in the car in a few seconds. For each of those twenty deadly miles, Dad will be on the look-out for the 293 Deer and swearing that if Mom (or me, if I get the guts to drive) doesn't speed up, slow down, ride the white line more, or ride the yellow line more, we're going to die a deery, deery death. When we roll into Calvert, the fun begins. The variations of somebody-versus-somebody else will ensue immediately. Those battles are all kinds of fun. Or not. I'll be ready to come home come Sunday. But despite every bit of this, and more, I do love my family. Family has always been very important to me. I was never a friend-oriented person until a few years ago. But it seems like so much changes. And sometimes I feel like I'm missing out on my family these days. I love my friends and all, but as sad as it is, they oftentimes come and go. But family is a different story, at least for me. I know some people's families really aren't much to be desired, and their friends are the only family they have. I'm glad to say I have both. But I have this fear of losing both, too. It's so jarring to me that someday, my parents will be gone. And I really don't know when that will be. I do have older parents. But they don't seem that old. Well, at least my mom anyway. My dad might as well be eighty for all the griping and carrying on about the weather that he does, but he's in pretty good health for an almost-sixty-year-old dude. But my mom is still very young at heart. We are really close. She's always been my best friend, in a mommie-sort-of-way. And I don't know what I'd give if I could just sit and talk to her right now.

(Why all the depressing blogs, folks?)

Thursday, November 20, 2003

love's great...when you're not in it

Today has been quite alright. It's strange. I normally don't care so much for Tuesdays and Thursdays, but they've kinda been good lately. Humanidades always sucks, but there's nothing quite as fun as drawing our little comedic renditions of people and suicidal states on notebooks, folders, and the pages of Western Literature. I took my Spanish oral exam. I rocked it pretty darn hard. And can I mention how much I love my creative writing class? Today, we decided that we need to have ENG214-02 reunions next semester. I would so be up for that. As long as KT and DH aren't invited. EDP was, well, eh. The best part is that we got out fifteen minutes early, but I didn't get back to the room until about five minutes later than I normally would have because I saw Michelle on the footbridge. We stood there and talked about sexy Hovie for like twenty minutes. I do think I'm going to send her a Fresh Ink card when she graduates. She's kinda my mentor. She's a senior English major, so she's always hooking me up with advice.

I have to make a very embarrassing confession. A couple minutes ago, I was in here by myself 'cause Mary was braiding Holly's hair over there on the other side of the toilet. I was getting ready to wash my hands, and "The Middle" was on Holly's RealPlayer. Well, there for a couple seconds, I decided to get-down on some air guitar. As I was striking one serious chord, I cracked the knuckles of three of my fingers on the sink. Boy, did that hurt like a mankey. It didn't really help that those are the same three fingers I shut in the bathroom door yesterday. I'm about clumsy.

I got my Michael Peterson CD today. I'm so excited. First of all, I love mail, especially packages. Second of all, I bought the tape after I saw him in concert (opening with the Dixie Chicks for Clay Walker) back freshman year of high school. It was an awesome tape, but I really don't have a clue what happened to it. A week or so ago, I got this unresistable urge to get the CD, so I ordered it off of for something like $3.50. That's including shipping. The CD itself was just a dollar. How amazing is that? And it's flawless. It wasn't still wrapped, but there isn't a single scratch on it anywhere. Yay,!

Well, I guess I'm gonna crack down and read that stupid book for English. I told Holly I can't go to her tournament game because I have to read. And I really do. So besides the fact that my professor is expecting me to have read it, I better keep my word to Holly.

Wednesday, November 19, 2003


It's Wednesday, right? That means it's productive day. I came back from lunch with every intention of being productive. I was going to do my web visit for EDP, read the people's short stories I'm supposed to read for tomorrow, and study for the Spanish oral exam I have tomorrow at 1:30. I sat down, seriously, to do it all, but what did I do? I laid down and took a three hour nap. So my day's been productive, wouldn't you say?

Okay. Here seems just as good of a place as any to write about this kinda flashback I've been having lately. It's one of those very vivid memories that you don't realize you have until you remember them until nearly fifteen years later. I'm guessing it's either been fifteen years or a couple less:

I'm a small kid like I said, probably more like six or eight years old. I'm sitting in the back of my dad's little, rusted-out, yellow Toyota pickup truck. It's parked under the hickory nut tree. This is at the "farm," as we call it. I guess it's a farm. It's surrounded by our farmland. That's where I lived until fourth grade. So I'm sitting in the back yard in the back of Dad's truck under this tree, and I'm listening to some old, old, old Judy Garland tape (it was a white tape--I remember) on my headphones. Of course, the only song on it that I knew was "Over the Rainbow," so I just keep rewinding the tape and listening to that song over and over.

It's a strange little memory. But just the other day, I remembered it so clearly. I was basically an only child because my sister got married when I was seven. I never had playmates at home, so I always entertained myself in strange ways. I was always partial to trees and vehicles. Weird, I know. I mean, I never climbed the trees or anything, but I would always find one in particular to sit and play under. The one at home was the hickory nut tree. The one at Nana's house, I don't even know what kind of tree it is. But we, me and her grandsons, called it "heaven." It's funny to me that I could go up to either one of those boys and mention "heaven" to them, and they would know exactly what tree I was talking about. And about the cars. I don't know. During temperate weather, I would go and sit in my mom's car or in the back of my dad's truck pretending. I was a big make-believer. I guess I had to be.

But I just want to say that it is somewhat of an eerie feeling to suddenly have childhood memories, ones that you didn't know were there, but as soon as you remember, you know without a doubt that it happened. I do that a lot. I guess what makes it weird is that I never really know what I might remember.

goo daddy

Today has been alright. You know, besides all the tornadic activity and having to traipse through the four and a half feet deep lake that is Murray State University's campus. It didn't really hurt my feelings too much that we didn't get to BarbCobb's class until 10:00. Forty-five minutes of her is plenty. I swear. And then Hovie gave me my short story back. He gave me an A for the first draft. I'm really excited about that. Justin says I should post it on here. Maybe I'll do that after I do my revision. Orrr [cue light bulb above my head] I could post my first draft on here and then take suggestions on revision. Ah, yeah, right. I'll post it eventually. Maybe.

Tonight we rolled out to Ben Ton. That was a barrel of mankeys with Pizza Hut and the bonus room. Never lets ya down. Isn't that a slogan for beer or something?

I should be reading four chapters of Possession for ENG221 for tomorrow. That book about equals suck. On the back, there's a quote from a critic that says something like "One of the year's best books!" It must've been the only book he or she read that year. Maybe I'll post & publish and then read a page or two ('cause that's as far as I'll get before I gouge my eyes out) of that book before I go to bed. Or maybe I'll just go to bed.

Tuesday, November 18, 2003

don't stop, get it, get it

I have a headache out of this world. And I ask myself why I am sitting here staring at this bright computer screen posting. It really helps matters. But somehow, I don't think the computer screen is the cause of the headache. It could be the immense heat in here. Or it could be these words: In the hot tub, bubbly.

I feel so very carefree right now. Okay, that sounded about like the gayest thing I've ever heard. But I just really don't care about much right now, and I don't feel too guilty for it. That's a first. I am oftentimes apathetic, but not actually. It's more like procrastination, but that doesn't keep me from worrying. Yeah, I might not be doing my homework and furthering my life, but that doesn't mean I'm not worrying about it. But this very moment, I'm not feeling too stressed. "But this morning, there's a calm I can't explain. The rock candy's melted. Only diamonds now remain." Okay, not really, but that's the lyric that popped in my head.

So I'm not feeling too wordy. I don't have much to say, but I'm all addicted to this blogging thing (I keep wanting to call it xangaing, but then I remember, I don't have a xanga). Therefore, even if it's just a few lines, I have to post. So here it is. In all its crappy glory.

Monday, November 17, 2003

los pollos de mi cazuela

Today definitely qualifies as a better day. I turned that piece o' junk research paper in, so now it's out of my hands and no longer hanging over my head. I scheduled my classes. That went surprisingly well. I called as soon as the lines opened for my group, got through, and scheduled without a problem -- all in ten minutes. That, in and of it self, is a reason to go party. Then I went to Spanish where I learned I got As on both my test and my in-class composition. And after lunch, I came back and took a really long siesta. It's a great day to be a Mexican.

Sunday, November 16, 2003

32 ways to kill time

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME? Cassidy.
3. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Whatever is on PBS. It's still on from where we watched Austin City Limits.
4. WHAT ARE THE LAST 4 DIGITS OF YOUR PHONE NUMBER? Home is 6457. Dorm is 4869. Cell is 1994. Take your pick.
6. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Bittersweet. Do they still make that color?
7. HOW IS THE WEATHER RIGHT NOW? Nice and cool. Good for my window to be open.
8. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? My creole to make sure she didn't fall asleep during ACL.
9. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX? Eyes and hair. Don't know what the deal with hair is. There is also the shoe-to-pant ratio (a lot like Holly's hair-to-mouth ratio, which also can be important). And then there is this wrist fetish I often get accused of having... But truthfully, eyes and hair.
10. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT YOU THIS? Well, I'm ripping off Justin. Yes, I like him. Didn't I declare tonight that I like retarded people?
11. HOW ARE YOU TODAY? Strange. In denial of the stress I should be experiencing.
12. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE DRINK? Sweet tea, Mountain Dew. Those are probably my top two, but I'm not picky. Oh, I'm all about some chocolate milk. And English toffee cappucino.
14. FAVORITE SPORTS? I'm sure you would never believe this, but I don't play sports.
15. HAIR COLOR? Brown.
16. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? No, and I was just commenting the other day on how I am so surprised that I don't.
17. FAVORITE MONTH? October, and not just because my birthday's in it. I love fall.
18. FAVORITE FOOD? I never know what to say to this question, so I'll just say what wild and crazy food my taste-buds have just taken to: cottage cheese with pineapple.
19. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? Yesterday afternoon I put The Count of Monte Cristo in, but I fell asleep halfway through. I can't believe I missed the sword fight at the end...
20. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR? I don't know, but I'm going to throw out there that holidays aren't my favorite. There is something so surreal about holidays that I don't enjoy them like most people. I think I try too hard to think "Hey, I'm supposed to really be loving this day!" that it's over before I've really had a chance to enjoy it. Does any of that make sense?
21. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT? Put simply: Yes. That could explain a lot, I guess.
22. SCARY MOVIE OR HAPPY ENDINGS BETTER? Though I don't necessarily see these as binary opposites, I'm gong to go with happy endings. I'm not much on scary movies.
23. SUMMER OR WINTER? Winter, I guess, but I'm more of the non-extreme-season type. Spring and fall, right here.
24. HUGS OR KISSES? Hugs are good. Kisses would be nice.
25. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS? Never really had either, but I'm putting my money on relationships.
26. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA? Either, but I've been on a chocolate kick here lately.
27. DO YOU WANT YOUR FRIENDS TO WRITE BACK? (I'm just going to answer these questions according to who will post it on their webjournal, mmkay?) I love reading other people's responses to these things.
28. WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Holly might do it. I don't know.
29. WHO DO YOU THINK IS LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Ashley because she's a slacker and doesn't do her xanga anymore.
30. LIVING ARRANGEMENTS? Reppin' the Springer 2E in the 231 half of the Freak Suite with Holly Nicole.
31. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING AT THE MOMENT? The College English academic journal. Atleast that's what I need to be reading for my research paper.
32. WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? I don't have a mouse pad technically. It's a laptop, so it's a touch pad. But if you want to know, it's all greasy and dirty. Lord-only-knows what is embedded in my keyboard...

Saturday, November 15, 2003

talkin' 'bout good things and singin' the blues

If you ever want to feel like you are in a fine combination of a time warp and an alternate universe, go to Waterfield Library on a dark, rainy Saturday afternoon. It'll work every time. I would almost rather not turn in a research paper and fail ENG221 than spend another minute in that place. I had to get out of there before I went nuts. I know it's a library and all, but it was so dang quiet. I need some sort of noise, I guess because all we do around here is listen to music. (Or maybe I can blame it on Dixon Elementary.) I swear, I started making copies of periodicals just to hear the copy machine run.

So Justin came by tonight. Always a good time. I finally played a little guitar for him. I get all nervous about playing infront of anyone who has the least bit of guitar-playing skill because I feel inadequate or whatever. I know, I have no confidence at all. Anyway, we got all mesmerized by watching Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion, and that somehow prompted a good ol' Webco yearbook lookin'-at. It's always fun when non-Webcoians look at the yearbook and point to who they think is hot. You never know what to expect. Adrienne and Michael Smith ring a bell?

I've been eating at really strange times. Today? 3:00 and 11:30. What is that? I guess if I didn't sleep half the day... Anyway, after running through McD's, I was walking back into Springtown from my car I heard a curious yet familiar noise coming from the Hester slash College Courts region. I looked up and there was the biggest gaggle of geese I have ever seen in my entire existence flying south, or more like southwest. I guess this comes from my mom's thing about thinking honking geese are precious combined with being friends with Dale, but I just think they are beautiful.

I'm listening to a little SRV right now. John Mayer was on Austin City Limits with Buddy Guy and Double Trouble tonight. [Note: It was taped the night before the concert we went to.] That prompted me to dust of my Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble CD, but I'm listening to Life By The Drop at the moment. I really love this song. It's one of those that kinda makes you reminisce and stuff. It's also one of those that makes you want to learn how to play it. According to Justin, I shouldn't play other people's songs, but shoot, I don't know how to write music. Maybe I should try. Maybe I will right now. Or maybe I'll just look up the tabs to Life By The Drop.

Friday, November 14, 2003

blogging: what i do when my roommate's not here

So I got this really cool idea to blog in rhyme, but you know, that's much more work than I'm willing to put forth. Maybe someday.

I went to ESO's poetry reading. I didn't realize it was raining. Walking from my car to Fine Arts and back was a little cold and wet, but that always makes for nostalgia. The reading was good. Boy, there are some interesting people out there in the world of English. And I wonder, do I belong? Eh, probably so. Speaking of weird, when I got inside Fine Arts, I hopped on an elevator, and I was glad to hear another girl asking me to hold the elevator for her. It's a little creepy being on the elevator in Fine Arts. By yourself. At night. So we only make it up to the second floor (we were going to the sixth), when the car stops and some fellow reminiscent of Norman Bates steps in and asks us to hit seven. The elevator door proceeds to close, but just as it gets closed, it opens again. The other girl keeps hitting "Close Rear Door," and it keeps closing. And opening. And closing. And opening. We were already late for the reading, so we thought, anyway. The guy gets off and goes I-don't-know-where. We get off and get into the other elevator, with a fully operational door, that stops on the third floor where a foreign maintenance guy thinks he's found the elevator that needs working on. We inform him that he's got the wrong elevator, he thanks us, and we finally make it to the sixth floor.

I love walking into that art gallery. You can smell the art. And I mean that in all seriousness. I don't know if it is the smell of pastels, charcoal, oil paint, and linseed oil or what, but art has a smell. It's a very comfortable smell to me. I have just diagnosed myself as utterly weird.

Anyway, I saw something tonight that made me want to do the post in rhyme, poetry, something. But since that didn't work out, I decided to haiku it. Seeing as she is the be-all and end-all of poetry, I'm going to take Ann Neelon's word for it and claim that even though this doesn't fit the traditional 5-7-5 form of haiku, it is still haiku.

Twenty-five miles per hour
Yellow lights flash in beat
With Bigger than My Body

no way november will see our goodbye

[10:38 am]

I really hate not being able to blog, so I'm sitting upstairs with the periodicals in Waterfield writing this in my ENG221 notebook. On my way back to this secluded corner I'm sitting in, I stopped by the newspaper shelf. I spent something like ten minutes just looking at the past month and a half's front pages of The Gleaner. Now I have soy ink up to my elbows. I miss home. Not really in a homesick sort of way, but more like having the strange realization that life at home still goes on without me. I guess I think there is this little sphere that kinda follows me wherever I go and that's all there is to the world. But no, there is a little place called home that still exists, and I miss it. I love it. It's really weird. When I think about being home, I think about going to Henderson. And when I think about going to Henderson, I think about WalMart. Maybe it's because it's one of the few old-school, completely un-super WalMarts still in existence. But by the time I graduate (six, seven years from now), there'll be a Super WalMart out on 60. People in Henderson are fighting like mad to keep that thing from moving in. Why?, I ask myself. Super WalMart is the stuff. But then again, Hendo's regular WalMart has to be the coolest of the uncool. I will indeed miss it. I might shed a tear.

So in my old age, I've learned that I space out a lot. Like remember when we were kids (because we aren't still?) and you're all looking at somebody and they ask you if you have a staring problem? Yeah, well, I think I do. Seriously. I have these little seizures, as Val calls them, all the time. It's particularly bad when I'm walking to and from class by myself. I was walking between Fine Arts and Oakley [insert universal sign for that sidewalk], and Rosemary broke me out of my gaze to say hi. I don't even want to know what retarded look I had going on my face.

Okay, I would like to mention how incredibly ridiculous I am. As I am hand-writing this, I'm going back and editing it, with little arrows and brackets and all. I should probably stop before I hurt myself. But before I do, I want to comment on how weird I am about being prophetic. That's not really what it is, I guess, but I experience "paranormal coincidences" all the time. What provoked this was me noticing the American Speech-Language-Hearing Association's Journal. Just yesterday I heard of ASHA, as it is called for short, for the first time as Lesil was explaining her CDI research project to Ashley. Now, how weird is it that of all the journals in this library, I chose to sit directly infront of that one? Hmm, what are some of my other examples? I have this really creepy thing where I think about people less that thirty seconds before I see them. In the past couple days I've done that with "Amy Ramage," JT Fuhrmann, Lauren B., and Bo. That's a strange assortment of people. THEN, there's the whole Atticus/Finch/Atticus Finch phenomena that is just too confusing to explain. See, when I think about these things, I don't realize that they are going to come to pass until they do, so I can't prove anything. But it's some scary crap. I've always done it, but it's been happening A LOT this week. Hmm. Wonder what that means?

Anyway, I've been sitting here half writing and half staring off into space, and now it's time to go to Spanish. Maybe I'll find out how I did on that test.

[PS - No. I didn't get my test back. It'll be Monday.]
[PPS - I saw Kenny Cat "walking" today. He was putting his Celebrity Limited Edition in the back of his van. I may have been earning me some hell points because I do think he needs that thing.]