14 December 2006


So my superboss came out and told me that someone from Marie Claire magazine has been contacting him to verify information in her article on hairstyles. Really. Hairstyles of a tribe in Africa called the Himba, his line of study. If you know this man, you also know that he's not exactly the glamourous type of guy. I wouldn't be surprised if when the magazine comes out, he welcomes it by pulling out his oversized rubber stamp that says "rubbish" in big, bold, red letters.

"I do hope my name isn't attached to it! I'll make sure of it!" - Dr. Africa, spoken with his foreign accent. Where the accent is actually from, no one can identify.

Also, "Any other questions or obnoxious comments?"

05 December 2006

please, please, please

There's simply too much stuff. All over the place. Let's reduce, recycle, and reuse. Here's an idea: for the upcoming gift giving season, let's only give gifts that serve two purposes-- functionality and sentimentality. If it helps simplify life, good. [Example: a spoon.] If it makes you feel genuine happyness, fantastic. [Example: An inside joke.] Let's just skip the kitsch. Oh, and bonus points if your one gift can replace fifteen things the person already has. [Example: I don't even know. Surprise me. And then make me get rid of those fifteen things...] Oh, and if you can just skip material things altogether, you get an extra dozen points. [Example: Something small to let someone know that you were thinking about them. Maybe a postcard. Or an email. Or an hour and a half of NiceTime. The possibilities are endless.] Oh, and if you can give someone a person as a gift [Example: new friend or something] that's even better. I think.

30 November 2006


Today, my astrological forecast said that My Number for Today was 5. In congruence with the Teapot's recent superstitious posting about numbers of profile views, I will announce mine as well: My MySpace account has now been looked at 5000 times. It's my lucky day, no?

Strangely enough, My Tarot Card for the Day was The Lovers: "May commitment bring out your best." Deck: Chinese.
"Although it has taken on a strictly romantic revision of meaning in some modern decks, traditionally the Lovers card of Tarot reflected the cha
llenges of choosing a partner. At a crossroads, one cannot take both paths. The images on this card in different decks have varied more than most, because we have had so many ways of looking at sex and relationships across cultures and centuries.
Classically, the energy of this card reminded us of the real challenges posed by romantic relationships, with the protagonist often shown in the act of making an either-or choice. To partake of a higher ideal often requires sacrificing the lesser option. The path of pleasure eventually leads to distraction from spiritual growth. The gratification of the personality eventually gives way to a call from spirit as the soul matures.
Modern decks tend to portray the feeling of romantic love with this card, showing Adam and Eve at the gates of Eden when everything was still perfect. This interpretation portrays humanity before the Fall, and can be thought to imply a different sort of choice -- the choice of evolution over perfection, or the choice of personal growth through relationship -- instead of a fantasy where everything falls into place perfectly and is taken care of without effort."

*To be honest, I didn't even read all of that. I just copied and pasted that blurb from some
horoscope site. Note the smallerish text. At this point, the astrologers can say 'what a cop-out!' and on the other hand, the cynics can say 'thank heavens!' Ironic, don't you think?


I spy something...
Man. Remember these things? I used to stare at these pictures for hours, scouring the frame for that long lost golden key or miniature dinosaur or the sneaky snake perfectly aligned with a bookshelf's shadow. My mind would reel just thinking about all of the hidden items that weren't even mentioned in the clever little poem at the bottom of the page. They snuck in little lessons [refer to that depiction of Bach] and probably some political propaganda, and tricked us into learning our numbers and letters. I loved the photos with themes: at the beach, in the garden, toy box or kitchen, on the shelves at the library, in the conservatory... [with Professor Plum and the wrench, perhaps?] ... but what I loved even more was when I found the really out of place objects like a baby bunny... a tiny jack hammer... or a secret pair of nunchucks.

My family used to tease me because I would have such an amalgamation of little, teeny-tiny things that had no relation to one another (in their unimaginative minds). On any given day at age three, you could see me walking around, strutting my stuff in my Wonder Woman swimsuit or underwear, with a tiny little fist wrapped around a marble, itty-bitty Barbie shoes, or whatever-else-have-you. Later on, after kindergarten, I would run rampant through the neighborhood with my partners in crime: Ashley, the cool girl with a miniature orange tree on her porch, and my boyfriend, Clark, who had a yellow lab that attacked the eyes of my stuffed animal dolphin. One of our favorite pastimes, aside from repeatedly climbing the magical tree in my front yard, was to locate a bottle cap from whatever drink bottle we found lying around, decorate it with leaves and flower petals and tinsel, and then capture a baby gecko and put the creature in the luxurious bed we had just fashioned for her.
Now, I don't get to do that as much. Sad. However, I was sent this a while back:How cool is that?! Maybe it doesn't involve pampering a little reptile, but it utilizes those long forgotten "I Spy" skillz AND music industry smarts! And really, look at those good looking Police!


I could really go for a plate of vegan food from the Hindu temple right now.

29 November 2006


As it turns out, we've all been wrong this whole time.

It was once thought that the earth was flat. Throughout history, scientists have debated this. Pythagoras first postulated that the earth was spherical, but not much attention was paid to this theory. Sailors and other nautical societies were cautious as they went on their voyages, fearing they would reach the edge of the world and simply drop off of the face of the planet. That would be terrifying. In actuality, the earth IS spherical. Proof can be found all over the place, including photographs from space! Now you can sail and sail forever and never fear falling off of our planet anymore. But to accentuate the excitement of having a world this shape, further evidence shows that the earth is actually hollow! [Please refer to the diagram]. Can't find a good vacation spot this year? Go to Agharta! Want to travel to Venus? Just hop on a spacecraft leaving from the center of the earth! Have an insatiable urge to find all of your missing socks? Now you know where to look!
As I am not an expert on this topic, I can only refer you to articles by professionals in this field. Check out their explanations at the following websites: The Hollow Earth, The UnMuseum, The Almighty Wikipedia.

Forget the zero degree forecast, I hear the weather's great there too.

28 November 2006


Last night was our first snow that stuck. It is beautiful. There's something lovely about walking through a little bit of snow, hearing it crunch and sigh,leaving little tracks only to be covered by layers upon layers of snow. I like drawing hearts on car windows with my fingertips. I like looking up at the streetlight's illumination of the falling snowflakes. I like seeing how they come down sporadically, yet have a swirling continuity. I like tricking my eyes into seeing the different layers of the varying speeds and sizes of snowflakes in relation to the rest of the wintry world around me. I like the deep, golden light that is reflected on the wet roads and glistening trees. I like when massive land formations disappear into a cloud of ice. I like when these mountains get swallowed up and the world seems much simpler without them.

21 November 2006


Major-geek point #3: Oops!... I Did It Again


Total-geek point #1: I opened a game of Hearts on a computer, and four hands later the score was Amazon-Zero, All three other players-104. That's right. I shot the moon four times in a row.

Total-geek point #2: This post.

18 November 2006


Heather was just right. Absolutely right. Absolutely.
She pulled her floss and toothbrush off of her shelf. Then she said "You can't put dental floss on this."
She's absolutely right. Absolutely.

15 November 2006

queen bee

Right now, I'm listening to a 14 year-old conversing on her cell phone. My heavens.
"...Are you going out with _______? Are you? OMG!!! Hahahaha! Hahahahaha! Ha! AHA! Hahahahaa! [more fake, raspy laughter. This is a terrible acting job.] Are you kidding?! OMG! She's so ugly!!! Really? O my gosh! Eeeew! Hahahaha! Then why don't you break up with her? OMG! Yeah? Hahahahahahah! Yeah, I don't think they know anything about ________ and I. Yeah, yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Well, yeah. Kill him. Omg, Kill him! Ahh. Eww. No, what? What?!?! OMG! Hahahaha, where are you going? Where?!?! AHHHH! OMG! Ah, ah, uh, ahhh! Yeah? [excitedly] AHH! Okay, yeah? yeah? yeah? yeah? Ahhhh, okay when? Ah. AH! Okay. Yeah. [at this point she has boarded an elevator. Oh wait, she's back up here.] Yeah, you probably hang out with me more than he does. Haha, that's funny. K. [silence]"
Is this what I was just six years ago? Is this what I was supposed to be like? Was I supposed to have a different 'boyfriend' every other day and trash-talk every girl? Just a few hours ago, this girl asked me for my opinion. "Amy, do you think this girl is pretty?" [In all of the pictures she's showing me the girl's face is obscured.] "I can't see her." She advanced the photos so I can see others. "Can you see her now?" "Yeah." "So do you think she's pretty?" [She wants me to say no. I can also tell that she's seething about something regarding this girl. She uses the mouse to highlight not so flattering areas of the photografs.] "Yeah." [With an ever-so-slight choke of defeat she says:] "Oh. Okay." In your face, Queen Bee.
Is this not a bit disturbing? I look back at ages 12-15 and wonder if I somehow missed out on a part of growing up. Which part? I don't know, maybe the "he-said-she-said-you're-a-*****, and even though we are bff, you really do suck, so don't even think about sitting with us at lunch anymore. oh, and my magenta-sequined mini? i'd want that back, except that it's touched your skankiness, so you can keep it" part.

14 November 2006

a-list only

I went to a Rockstar party the other night [in true Amy fashion, "the other night"was actually a week and a half ago. 04 Nov 2006, at least we're still in the same year, right?]. You were required to show up as a celebrity who deals in the music biznass, and my little Hilleryfriend went as Bjork. I helped her get ready and designed her dress: a swan made out of paper, of course. Our buddy Rachel went as Alanis Morrisette, Version Nude.0. Her brother Aaron showed up as that guy from Dashboard Confessional. I think his name features the letter C and R. Meh. I wasn't planning on going because my eye was flipping out, and thus my spectacles were whipped out to replace my contacts [And I had already been at another party, and I was hoping to return to it when my eye was restored to a healthier form]. But the ladies said that I looked like Lisa Loeb and we'd stop by that other party as well. So all of rockstars and divas and kings and queens of music poured into the livingroom. We had ladies and fellas from all genres of the industry and we all shook it like a polaroid photograf. It was fun to boogie down. Jungle boogie.

09 November 2006


"Amy: At age 69 you will be attacked by a pack of escaped lap dogs in your neighborhood and never be seen again."

A friend sent a link to a website that has been programmed to predict cause of death. I entered my info and that's the circumstance I'll find myself in when I pass away. Either that or all of the other situations I got when I entered my stats repeatedly. Read on:

Amy: At age 46 you will drown in a wading pool under mysterious circumstances. The only clue will be a small blue pacifier found around your neck. [Mmm, nope]

Amy: At age 66 a statue will fall over and crush you while giving your acceptance speech for the position of Governor.
[I'm not much of a politician, sorry Gov. Schwarzenegger]
Amy: At age 54 while showing your work at a major art gallery, you will be accosted and later slain by PETA activists. [Ironic... I'm a vegetarian and an animal rights activist myself.]
Amy: At age 64 you will be blown up by the pyrotechnics rigged at one of your "Still Not Dead" concerts. [Well, I -am- a bit of a pyro.]
Amy: At age 28 you will go down in a small raft, in your friend's pool, and subsequently drown. [I have a strict policy against using small rafts in pools.]
Amy: At age 28 you will become lost during a road trip and wind up living out the movie "Wrong Turn". Sorry for ya. [Never seen it, never will.]
Amy: At age 71 a group of children will text message you continuously for three years, eventually distracting you while driving and causing a fatal wreck; your fatal wreck. [If I'm still text messaging in 51 years, it's probably my time to go anyway.]
Amy: At age 28 a meteorite will strike you as you are walking to the gas station to buy a 40oz bottle of King Cobra. [I don't drink, nor will I ever, and I deserve that meteorite if that changes.]
Amy: At age 47 you will fall into a tank at a large aquarium and be eaten by suckerfish. [Not likely, 'suckerfish' primarily are scavengers and mostly eat bacteria.]
Amy: At age 40 you will die from a lethal overdose of methamphetamines. ["Drug free's the way to be."]
Amy: At age 67 you will die fighting the Global War on Terrorism in Mexico. [Global War? Terrorism? Mexico? Right.]
So I entered the information one last time and this is the one that seems the most probable:
Amy: At age 61 you will realize that you actually died three years earlier, and have been dreaming all the events since then.

Glamorous, no?


I'm being threatened internationally to write this post. It's funny how that can happen. So here's an intro to this criminal: Caitlin S. Giauque. Her alias is "Caitie". And the S. doesn't really stand for anything. In fact, that S. doesn't really exist in her name, but I think it sounds nice. At the moment, she's in London, England having a grand old time. Luckily, she returns in about a month, and I'm sure she doesn't want me to bring this up anymore, but it excites me. She's rad. She can play the violin like nobody's biznass and can make a mean dish of curry. Mmmm.

03 November 2006


I have five friends getting married in one weekend. Is there something wrong with this picture? This isn't even including the marriage next week that I've been invited to be in the wedding party. Position: Bridesmaid. Dress Color: Turquoise. Mental Status: Confused. I don't even know what this task entails. I think I just have to smile a lot.

02 November 2006


My brain needs a roadtrip.

31 October 2006

pity the fool

Huge gold chains. Thick strips of hair shaved off to resemble the icon. Jeans tucked into tall hiking boots. Jean vest and sports jersey. Gruff facial hair with an attitude to match. I just saw a kid on campus dressed in full Mr. T regalia. Needless to say, I pity the fool.

26 October 2006


This will be a regurgitation of ideas. Tonight, I went to a concert. I've been avoiding these. For good reason. But tonight was okay. Enjoyable. I saw "Monsters are Waiting..." and the Brobecks. They were both good, but meh. I don't care to talk about it. Well, I actually really liked the monster people, but it'll take another listen to them to see if I really do enjoy them. Whatev. I'm sitting on the couch next to Susanna. She's watching me while I'm typing all of this. It's rather odd. Sometimes she'll look like she's not reading this, but in actuality, she really is. Funny girl. So we were discussing curfews that were set on us in high school. Her curfew was 10.30 pm, even on summer nights. Eek. Understandable though, seeing as most of the parties and functions that were happening in Aberdeen, South Dakota dealt with alcohol. That's no good. "Not the ones I went to." "My parents said that they just needed their sleep." My parents had much more loose regulations. I was supposed to be home at a "reasonable hour". Sometimes this turned out to be four a.m. But only rarely. Hmmm. Kind of. Well, sometimes. They put a lot of trust in me. I mean, for all they knew, I could have been messing around with my boyfriend, getting drunk, and trying all sorts of drugs. But I never did that. And I think I attribute that a lot to the trust that my parents put in me. Susanna went on a date with Dan again. The only reason we found out is because of Katie. She wishes that he were older. Because he seems a little immature. That's kind of the case with guys lately. We've converted Susanna to sushi. Ah, the beloved school of sushi. Yum. These days, I order crispy rolls without crab cake, but I replace it with cream cheese. Mmm. The cucumber and avocado work well with it. And they're crispy, which means they're warm. Or hot. That means they're exxtra tasty. Yeah, with a double x. So VanWilson is in my bookbinding class. Honestly. Well, maybe not so honestly, but hear me out. I was sitting in my seat, minding my own business, and through the door, an oddly familiar face walks in. This face was attached to the shaggy blond hair, the rockstar body, and the wardrobe slightly reminiscent of the early 90's grunge era, characteristic of VanWilson. Ah. Turns out, he's fairly nice, not creepy, but is a slacker in attending the class. So now it's monday morning. I came into the anthro department and Jason was in here with this scarf that has a hood attached. We marvelled at it and I gave it a name: scood. Then he called it a 'harf'. And then I called it a 'harfenscood'. Jason said that it sounds german. I'm not german. The end.

[Fini à: 11:12 am {...douze heures après le début.}]

25 October 2006


I'm almost always in a state of 'anywhere but here' syndrome. I’d love to be in a distant land with foreign faces, streets, and cultures. I want to explore and learn among others and practice languages I think I know, but really have no grasp of. I want to pack a small bag containing only the bare minimum supplies required for touring the state, country, and world. I’d like to hug and kiss my family and friends goodbye and board a train, a plane, or a boat in order to set off on a journey. I’d love to join a diverse crew of folks who want to do the same. I want to help serve people, make lives better, and see lives change. I’d wish for a post office to be close enough so that I’d be able to drop a few postcards and letters into the mail for the loved ones I’d miss.

‘Tis the season to be wistful.

first winter sighting

It just started snowing.

17 October 2006


I had a strange dream the other day. I was performing in the rock concert circuit with the likes of Chris Martin and Youth Group. We sang a little duet and as I was mingling with the audience afterwards, the main topic of conversation was this huge concert happening the next night in Vegas. This was going to be a massive festival, including superstar, big-name VanWilson, but I wasn't planning on going to it. I was moving throughout the crowd, chatting with friends, when I noticed this guy that was eyeing me from across the room. He was rather tall, with slightly shaggy, unkempt blond hair. His outfit included fitted jeans: worn and torn, a loose, white button-down shirt, and cowboy boots. Not exactly my type. I noticed him, but I kept moving farther and farther away. Then, the next thing I knew, the charming man was standing right next to me, looking at me rather temptingly. I was puzzled. He reached out his hand and said "I'd love to see your lips at the concert tomorrow." Eek. I pulled away, and he started laughing hysterically, head thrown back, foot stomping-- the whole bit. Just as I was about to push away into the crowd, mystified out of my mind, he laid his hand on my shoulder and explained "No, no, no! Not like that!" Then he went on to excuse himself and properly introduce his name to me: VanWilson. Apparently, this celebrity was quite a practical jokester, and wasn't asking me to do shady things with him but was, in actuality, asking me to perform with him in Vegas the next night.

Thank heavens.

30 August 2006


Yesterday at work, I kept having little bouts of free time. I did this activity a few times throughout day. My friend sent me these questions, and I set my iTunes on shuffle in order to get the answers. Some are fantastic.

How am I feeling today?
Under the Walnut Tree: Keane (8:20)
The Coldest Heart: The Classic Crime (9:50)
Under the Gun: The Killers (12:12)
I’m a Wheel: Wilco (3:23)

Will I get far in life?

Sorry or Please: Kings of Convenience
Lullaby: Bed Folds Five

Such Great Heights: Iron and Wine
November: Duncan Sheik

How do my friends see me?

Strangers in the Night: Frank Sinatra
Part of Your History: Blue Merle

Originality: Thievery Corporation
Take Me Out: Franz Ferdinand

What is my best friend's theme song?
Little Thoughts: Bloc Party
The Mirror: Phantom of the Opera

I’m on Standby: Grandaddy
Embraceable You: Billie Holliday

What is the story of my life?

Homesick: Kings of Convenience
Prison Food: Ben Folds

Breaking my Heart: Aqualung
Made to Run: Blue Merle

What was high school like?

All You Want: Dido
You and Me: Lifehouse

Ordinary Thing: Stevie Wonder
Late: Ben Folds

How can I get ahead in life?
Baby Body: Youth Group
Toxic Girl: Kings of Convenience

Deal With It: Frou Frou
Gravity: Embrace

What is the best thing about me?

Yes & No: Venus Hum
Stardust: Nat King Cole

L-O-V-E: Nat King Cole
I Put Myself Together: Charles Brown

What was today like?

Take My Hand: Dido

My Apartment: Ben Kweller
Blue Moon: Billie Holliday
Miniature Disasters: KT Tunstall

What song describes my parents?

Don’t Panic: Coldplay
Another Sunny Day: Belle and Sebastian

Don’t You Worry ‘Bout a Thing: Stevie Wonder
Songbird: Coldplay

How is my life going?

Darling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup: Nat King Cole
Learnin’ the Blues: Frank Sinatra

Dance, Dance, Dance: The Beach Boys
Title and Registration: Death Cab for Cutie

What song will they play at my funeral?

Nature Boy: Natalie Cole
Try a Little Tenderness: Michael Buble

Skeleton Jar: Youth Group
Consolation Prizes: Phoenix

How does the world see me?
Emotive: Chicago Transit Authority
That Old Black Magic: The Rat Pack

Fever: Peggy Lee
Through the Dark: KT Tunstall

Will I have a happy life?

Love is a Battlefield: Pat Benatar
Do you want to?: Franz Ferdinand

Falling out of Love: Aqualung
All You Need is Love: The Beatles

What do my friends really think of me?

Little Hands: Duncan Sheik
Tout Doucement: Feist

Everything Changed: Aqualung
Gone: Ben Folds

How Can I make myself happy?

Para Vivir: The Latin Pimps
Walk in Fire: Doves

Pussyfootin: Rye Coalition
Return to Me: Dean Martin

What should I do with my life?

Headlock: Imogen Heap
Could you be loved?: Bob Marley and the Wailers

Good Vibrations: The Beach Boys
Jamming: Bob Marley and the Wailers

What will my children be like?

I Can’t Help Myself: The Four Tops
If You Wanna Be Happy: Jimmy Soul

Piece of Wood: Youth Group
In the Misty Moonlight: Dean Martin

What will the person you marry be like?
I’d Rather Dance with You: Kings of Convenience
I Will: The Beatles

High Hopes: Frank Sinatra
Midnight: OK Ikumi

Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend?

Mess: Ben Folds Five
Come See About Me: The Supremes

Saddest Vacant Lot in all the World: Grandaddy
Debate Exposes Doubt: Death Cab for Cutie

Will you have a fulfilling life?
Embrace Me: Gabriella
Death of an Interior Decorator: Death Cab for Cutie

You Can Feel It All Over: Stevie Wonder
Her New Disaster: The Heart Strings

How will you die?

Cheek to cheek: Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong
Cry Me a River: Ella Fitzgerald
The Way you Look Tonight: Tony Bennett
Brick: Ben Folds Five

29 August 2006


For some reason, this site isn't showing my most recent posts, except to myself. What the heck?


My mom found something that looked like a dried, black pod on the kitchen counter earlier yesterday. She threw it away.

Then there was this crazy party at my house last night. I was chatting with my buddies from all over, and I glanced down for a second. In this short amount of time, I discovered something lacking. Fernando Dos. My little fish was absent when I called roll.

What happened?

Suspect #1.
Stella. She had been routinely drinking out of his home, without harming him really, so I would just refill the bowl daily. Was this the final straw? Naughty kitty.

Fernando II. Was this suicide? Maybe this was an unfortunate accident and he simply leapt out? Naughty Fish.

Mom. Not really. She just sent him to his grave. Mom, it wasn't a seed envelope. It was my fish.

In Conclusion, A Tribute: (Original Lyrics by ABBA)

Can you hear the drums fernando?
I remember long ago another starry night like this
In the firelight Fernando
You were humming to yourself and softly strumming your guitar
I could hear the distant drums
And sounds of bugle calls were coming from afar

They were closer now Fernando
Every hour every minute seemed to last eternally
I was so afraid Fernando
We were young and full of life and none of us prepared to die
And I’m not ashamed to say
The roar of guns and cannons almost made me cry

There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Fernando
Though I never thought that we could lose
There’s no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando

Now we’re old and grey Fernando
And since many years I haven’t seen a rifle in your hand
Can you hear the drums Fernando?
Do you still recall the frightful night we crossed the rio grande?
I can see it in your eyes
How proud you were to fight for freedom in this land

There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Fernando
Though I never thought that we could lose
There’s no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando

There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Fernando
Though I never thought that we could lose
There’s no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando
Yes, if I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando...

11 July 2006


Sometimes I do strange things. Those around me make me aware of this. I laugh.
Eccentricity #1: Last night, in order to ease Mom's troubled mind, I decided to try to find my passport, along with a few other carefully hidden [lost] items. I’m darned good at finding little special places to hide things; in fact, I’m so exceptionally good at hiding important objects that I tend to forget where I’ve put them. So last night, I set off to look for my passport. This turned into looking for my lost inking supplies, journal, and scriptures. Yes, naughty me. But this task proved to be tricky due to the fact that most of my things are packed away, and being the minimalist that I am (ha, yeah, only selectively), I stored the boxes in the tightest spot manageable, with no easy way to access them. I had spent hours and hours on this project weeks ago, getting them to be as compact and unobtrusive as possible. They were crammed into the very back of a long and slender closet, so I had to kind of squeeze past all of my clothes and was behind the door. My mom came around the corner and saw me and gave me this look and asked, “What are you doing?” Not wanting her to know that I was looking for my lost passport, I said “hiding”. Then this whole rigmarole ensued and I started laughing my head off at the ridiculousness of the situation, my mom looked on quizzically, chuckling now and then, while I shoved myself even further into the closet and taunted, “try to find me.” This was a very awkward and inane experience. She left me just in time so that I could try to find my cigar boxes the only way I could with them being packed so snugly: I smelled them. I started at the bottom and worked my way up and down the boxes trying to detect the faint tobacco and woodwork scent they gave off. I zoomed in on a box and then wrangled it, and myself, out of the space (a task in and of itself) to find that I had chosen precisely the right one. Fantastic. So after much ado, I recovered one frivolous cigar box collection out of the four rather important items I initially set out for.
Eccentricity #2: My mom came into the room again and there was a dollar on the floor. She threatened to steal it, and as she reached out to take it, I hid it. Quickly. Under my foot. I was so proud of my stealth and quick thinking only to be crushed by mom saying, “I can see it”. So I put both of my feet over it. [Cue second absurd situation.]
Eccentricity #3: I was looking for treasures at D.I. Coincidentally, this too was with my mom. Just before leaving, I found this globe. It was just a volleyball-sized Earth, strangely top heavy, with the old U.S.S.R. dominating Asia. The North Pole was a bit scratched up, missing a proper stand, and since it was obsolete, I started to set it back down. That was when I discovered it was magnetic. I giggled with joy. I fixed it to anything and everything I could get it to stick to. I still do. And I still giggle.


I went to the dentist again today. This time was just a check-up and cleaning. I liked it. I actually enjoyed going, sitting in the chair, and having them inspect my teeth. I loved when they scraped at my teeth and carefully poked, prodded, and flossed. I don’t know why.
I even liked taking x-rays and looking at how my teeth fit together. We even took one of the full-sized x-rays that show all of the teeth together, instead of just the little localized ones. They were all beautiful. It was like a little life history of my teeth. It showed the steps of growth, decay, and correction. I started thinking back to my dental childhood and the experiences with different dentists, remembering that I didn’t always dread it. In reality, I usually enjoyed it, and was fine the procedures.
The dentist asked me all sorts of interrogative questions and was really surprised that I never had braces. He told me I had beautiful teeth about a dozen times.
The only part that got to me this time was the sandy, mystery-flavored substance that they polished my teeth with, but only because it tickled. Yes, my gums are ticklish.
I was even content when we were talking about my wisdom teeth and how we should probably take them out just to be safe, even though we didn’t need to right away. He told me I was lucky not to have one on the bottom left. In actuality, I felt lucky to have the other three.

10 July 2006

lavish attire

The other day, someone asked me what my wedding dress is going to look like. I'm not getting married, therefore, I don't know what it will look like. However, she had me discuss it at length with her, and I decided one thing. When that day comes, I think it will be an elegant ivory color. It will be simple, and it may even be calf-lengthed. I look like a giantess in floor length dresses and I have nice legs.

More discussion on this genre of gowns to follow.

07 July 2006

faulty romance

The problem with reading things like "Bridget Jones's Diary", or watching films infused with sugary sweet love stories, is that you get sucked into the pseudo-dramatic, hyper-romantic irony of the stories and inevitably you fall in love with a Mr. Darcy. This dilemma wouldn’t be too bad, being on Cloud 9 all the time, except that this can only happen in Fantasyland. In real life, wildly mysterious, charming men like Fitzwilliam Darcy simply do not exist. Minds get pumped full of these ideas that somewhere out in the cold and lonely world, their perfect match is doing perfect things to make their serendipitous meeting perfect. The victims of these far-fetched desires become oblivious to how tangible relationships work, getting wrapped up in their own personal soap operas, and ultimately rejecting potential suitors because they don’t say that cinematically faultless phrase that is so longed for. Expectations shoot sky-high, and when the realization comes that these charismatic, witty, and thoughtful men are only figments of the imagination, all of those overfed hopes come crashing down. This results in the typical “bitter-against-everything-remotely-romantic-and-thus-will-spoil-anything-that-smells-of-love” idea.

So really, at the end of the day, what is the point of sappy, sentimental stories? Maybe they give fleeting bliss, a short-lived state of elation, but eventually that feeling wears off and the longing needy side rears its head. Maybe it’s fun to get this romantic high now and then, but maybe it’s good to keep your feet on the ground once in awhile too. For me, I think I’ll keep that hope in the back of my mind, but instead of expecting some knight in shining armor to come in and sweep me off my feet, I’ll be happy to get along in life, living my own, real life to its fullest. And if my Mr. Perfect-For-Me comes waltzing in at some point, I’ll be happier if instead of shining armor, he’s got a less ostentatious set of threads on.

And now, I’ll happily continue to go from listening to the likes of “Eleanor Rigby”, “The Scientist”, and “Cry me a river”, and then “Brighter than Sunshine”, “The One I Love”, and “Return to Me”, and I’ll have no qualms about it.

Que será, será, right?

26 June 2006


Last night, something felt funny in my mouth and as I reached up to investigate, a chunk of tooth fell into my hand. Frightened, I held it closer to find that fortunately it was just one of my porcelain fillings. I calmed down and thought, “Meh, I’ll get this fixed, no biggie.” I casually continued to do my laundry. It wasn’t until my mom mentioned an impending dentist’s appointment that the terror set in. I breezed through all of the psychological defense mechanisms before finally settling on repressing the thought of going to the eerily bright office with sickly sweet assistants, motorized hands, and fear-stricken, isolated patients.

I got a call at work. My mom announced that they’d be happy to see me in an hour and a half. Gasp. I suddenly felt as if I were in a gasless chamber, shrinking by the second. I started getting dizzy. It’s funny how the anxiety creeps in when you’re going to the dentist. This is the same feeling I get when I know I have to go inside Wal-Mart. Luckily, my dentist’s office is not housed in a Wal-Mart. To my knowledge no practices are contained in those dreadfully sad buildings. If mine were, I would either run for the hills or decidedly have a heart-attack instead.

The waiting room was empty of all life and the lights were dimmed to resemble a plush death row. The secretary’s desk had the creepy glow with its fluorescent light seeping into the dungeon.


I wasn’t sure if she had multiple personalities or if she was speaking with the royal we. Either way, I wasn’t going to ask for fear of receiving a beheading.

The walls seemed oddly close. I numbly reached out for some reading material. Maybe it was about Angelina Jolie. Maybe it was about India. Maybe it was just fluff to take my mind off of my impending doom.

After nervously brushing my teeth, I was led back to a well-equipped room, with the weapons conveniently stowed beneath the innocent cover of white cabinets; the interrogation light poised high over head. The chair was already in a slightly reclining position. If I didn’t know that this place was a certified dental office, I would be a little worried that this equipment would be used for black market organ operations or some other shady acts performed by dodgy characters only found in Dick Tracy comics, or the likes of Al Capone. Thankfully, this was just a maxillofacial torture chamber.

As the chair was positioned horizontally, I tried my best to settle in comfortably, but this was impossible. My eyes glazed over, appearing to be reading the magazine, only to have the mind behind them drift in a haze of confusion, fear, and disconnectedness. The classic dentistry walls were covered in a burgundy and forest green motif with depressing water colors whose hues had bled too much. The tunes being emitted from the ceiling were smooth hits such as “I just called to say I love you” and “Unchained melody”. These only furthered the ominous mood.

The procedure was to begin, my eyes firmly closed, along with my hands gripping tightly to one another. I crossed my legs and curled my toes, and was ready to be mummified. Many moments later the actual man in charge slithered in. I’m completely convinced that he was once a rambunctious Hell’s Angel, a fiery three-ring circus leader, or an ex-convict doped up on enough meds that he passed for a mellow guy. He simply had to have some sort of dark past that could catch up to him at any time. But he sure had a good poker face. Good enough to conceal this from the rest of the oral hygiene scene, but I saw straight through his slightly catatonic ways.

The anesthetic needle was inserted into my gums and I instantly froze. I had no desire to have this metal fang snap off inside my face. It also felt as though it just kept going further and further in until I could feel it in the tips of my little curled-up toes. I was promptly abandoned, left to wither in a most uncomfortably numb state.

He asked if it was okay to go on. I winced in reply. He proceeded. His hands moved swiftly as he put some cotton in my mouth. Then the metal came. The strange blue glow with an orange diffuser shone through my eyelids.

“Let’s have that condenser.”

Heaven only knows what that is, but I hoped this tool doesn’t hail back from his gypsy head-shrinking days.

And then Clay Aiken’s horridly disturbing song “If I was invisible” came on. In spite of my awful surroundings, I nearly burst out laughing as the drills and other attachments were performing their tasks. The circumstances forced me to listen to each stalker-related lyric as I sank deeper into the chair to subconsciously get away from it all. I had to bottle my timid giggles, else I’d be missing far more than one little filling.

16 June 2006

fix it up

Over the past few days, I’ve picked up a few new habits. I’ve been doing things out of the ordinary, which for me it probably means that these things are fairly ordinary. Point being, I got a haircut. Yeah, I don’t do these very often. I don’t need to. Yet I jumped into my friend Josh’s car and we headed to the stylist. I even knew exactly how I wanted it coifed. And as a cherry on top, my hairdresser found a solitary corkscrew-curly hair. (How did she single this piece out of the millions of strands? I don’t know, but I’m officially amazed.)

I also officially “worked out”. This happens rarely because I’m usually bouncing off the walls with energy anyway, spontaneously dancing and prancing about, so I don’t take the time to do organized fitness activities. I don’t know why I decided to do some honest-to-goodness exercise with boisterous music and a sports bra to boot, but I was invigorated. My kitty was terrified, as was Caitie a bit later. She told me that I wasn’t allowed to exercise if these would be the results. Boo.

On with the strange happenings, I cleaned my room. No, not like “look, ma! I shoved everything under my bed and you’re not going to notice” kind of clean. The kind of clean where boxes are stacked orderly, clothing is hanging in closets and shoes are even put into a confined space. Talk about strange. In my life’s status quo, bedrooms rarely get tidied, let alone deep cleaned.

There was a raccoon eating cat food on my side porch. I took a photo of it.

I was a nanny for four children and on a separate occurrence, I tended a baby. I haven’t babysat in years and I’m not a “baby-person”. Sorry, Gerber.

Instead of staying out at all hours, I went home early from socializing, and one night, I willingly didn’t even go out and play with friends. Fast times.

I’ve read ten novels in six weeks.

I resisted the temptation of calling a few people I shouldn’t call right now. And that’s how it goes. Good girl.

I went to some of my favorite stores and left without buying anything. This really happened. I promise. I didn’t even buy shoes. Really.

And last, but not least (but not really the last and maybe it’s not the least.) I’ve made goals. I’ve cleaned up my beliefs and renewed my passion for life. It’ll take a bit of work to keep this up, and I’ll undoubtedly falter. I’m okay with that.