Earth Angel

I drove my friend Angela's car a bit last night. It's been quite some time since I've driven an automatic, and it was quite interesting to do so. Getting out of the parking lot, I kept braking, having to remind my foot that it doesn't need to do anything. The ride was smoother after that, but I kept wanting to shift very badly. I think that when it comes time for me to buy a car, whenever I actually have money, so probably not for a good amount of time, I will purchase a car with manual transmission. Automatic is boring. A gentleman that works downstairs is celebrating his retirement today. I was told there was ice cream. I went there, signed the book, got some ice cream, and headed for the door. I'm classy like that. In all fairness, I was told by a number of people that I should go over there and that there was delicious ice cream. I found this to be true. They had pre-scooped vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, and I think the last was pralines n' cream. Vanilla, with hot fudge and caramel and a bit of whipped cream. I have to start planning/packing for the trip to California this week. I read in an interview with Ben Gibbard that there is a restaurant in San Francisco which he frequents everytime he is in the area. So I need to determine if this restaurant still exists and where it is so that I can go there and meet him and he'll immediately fall madly in love with me, but I'll say "No, I can't be with you, but we'll be great friends." And we will be and then he'll give me a job where I'll start out as just doing odd jobs for him and the members of the band, but soon I will move up and will eventually direct music videos for them and learn how to produce a record and it will be how I break into the industry. So here's hoping that I go to that restaurant and that he is there. Anyone have any other suggestions for San Francisco spots not to miss?

Everyday Is Like Sunday

Man, I wish I was photogenic. Oh well, another one of those things that would be nice, but probably isn't all that important in the grand scheme of things. I went and saw The Devil Wears Prada tonight and then went to the bar and became surprisingly drunk from relatively little alcohol. I'm well aware of the double standards that exist in our society, but I often don't think too much about them or am not really bothered by them. But, in watching this movie I was reminded of one in particular that I don't like, particularly because it has directly to do with me as of late. The whole thing with guys hitting on girls with boyfriends being seen as suave and charming and of course she should date this guy because look at how suave and charming he is. And then if a girl hits on a guy with a girlfriend, she is a compete harlot, whore, slut, every name under the sun you can think of, and should no longer be a card-carrying member of the human race. C'mon, this is such bullshit and horribly horribly unfair and fuck it. Another serious thought running through my head in the movie (which was alright, especially as a movie seen at the cheap theater, but one that I don't have any particular yen to see again) has to do with a decision I made what, about four years ago now. I'd been moving closer and closer to living in the real world among actual people, especially since getting to college, but very much especially since I started dating huge douchebag. It was during this particular time that I consciously made the decision that I would in fact join the world of everyone else and try to be with and be close to actual people rather than people I interacted with solely through pages, speakers, screens, etc. And when I fell in love with him (aww....) this became very evident. Since then I've watched films that dealth with being with someone and felt more empathetic with the characters as I now finally had some experience to back up connecting emotionally with them. I had always been able to empathize with characters, but I began doing it with a much greater understanding. When I was dumped for the final time, this was very much evident as well. Now, whenever there's a break-up scene in a movie, I'm acutely aware of the pain of the situation. I had always felt bad, but now I feel exactly as I felt when it happened to me, with all the intensity of emotion. And it makes me wonder if I made the right decision when I chose to live in the real world (though I know I did). But anyway, enough blathering on, I should probably get to sleep. That's where I'm a viking!

Times Like These

I was about to meet Dan Castellaneta in my dream last night when I awoke to my mom calling me. She then proceeded to call me about once to twice an hour for three to four hours before I began ignoring the call. Fucking Christ. Little Miss Sunshine is now in New York and L.A., but won't be in Chicago until August 4th, a day which I'm told will have me in Joliet packing and getting ready for the big road trip. So it looks like I won't be able to see it for a while and when I do see it I'm sure it will cost less money, but oh, I want to see it right away! I just watched the video for Title and Registration again. It's not at all like the video I pictured in my head when first listening to the song (I will direct music videos someday), but it's still very fantastic and features Ben Gibbard looking particularly wonderful I think. I also watched a video on a friend's former students' blog which was pretty well-done and amusing. I mention it here since one part featured a guy eating a bowl of Tic Tacs, which, when in mass and collected in a bowl look like a bunch of pills and I was reminded that the sight and/or thought of such things now make me feel nauseous. This is especially noteworthy since I've never really had a physical reaction to the thought and/or sight of anything in my life. I almost couldn't watch that part of the video and that is the first time I've ever said (or written) anything like that. Hopefully this isn't a permanent effect since I don't like feeling nauseous or not being able to watch something. Anyway, I recently listened to Sufjan Stevens' cover of What Goes On, and I must say that I kinda like it. I think it will go on my very short list of acceptable Beatles covers. Alright, more reporting on the exciting news of Jill-town later.

The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us!

So I'm leaving for California on August 5th and I just realized 'Holy crap, that's pretty soon!' I also just found out that I won't be allowed to drive over 70mph for the whole trip. This whole thing will be ever-so-much fun. I'll just have to keep repeating to myself "I'll be in the same room as Ben Gibbard." And I was thinking the other day that I've been in the same room as three members of my harem so far! Anyways, I've been inspired today to list three of my pet peeves.
3 Pet Peeves:

1) Drivers of vehicles yielding to me when I'm crossing the street. Listen people, it's much easier and makes so much more sense for people to navigate around cars rather than cars navigating around people. I'm planning my movements based on the fact that you and your speed will remain constant, when you do not (however good the intention may be), everything is fucked. Whoever came up with the whole pedestrians-have-the-right-of-way thing should be dug up and shot, and then run over for good measure.

2) People who keep their hand on the door as they're entering a building even though I'm holding the door for them. You don't need to touch the door, I'm holding it for you, that's the whole point. There are two levels of this though, the people who do this but say thank you are much better than the fucksticks who do this and don't acknowledge the gesture in any way whatsoever.

3) Large groups of students and their parents touring campus who take up the whole sidewalk and refuse to budge even an inch to let me by, especially when I'm going the opposite direction. I'm also irritated by small groups of people who refuse to move and stay in a cluster rather than going single file to ensure that the sidewalk can serve its purpose of being a two-way route, but I've run into two touring groups today. Why would you not move to allow someone to walk on the sidewalk?! And usually I'll give in and walk on the grass, but no more! I'm going to keep walking and keep my shoulders square, and if I'm not in a good movie, maybe throw an elbow out as well. I really don't like you people, you're fucking ignorant and inconsiderate.

On a happier note, I found some very good poems today (which always makes me happy) while searching for one that Bonnie may want to have read at her wedding. So I will share these now, along with one I wrote:

At the Office Early by Ted Kooser
Rain has beaded the panes
of my office windows,
and in each little lens
the bank at the corner
hangs upside down.
What wonderful music
the rain must have made
in the night, a thousand banks
turned over, the change
crashing out of the drawers
and bouncing upstairs
to the roof, the soft
percussion of ferns
dropping out of their pots,
the ballpoint pens
popping out of their sockets
in a fluffy snow
of deposit slips.
Now all day long,
as the sun dries the glass,
I'll hear the soft piano
of banks righting themselves,
the underpaid tellers
counting their nickels and dimes.

Corners by Stephen Dunn*
I've sought out corner bars, lived in corner houses;
like everyone else I've reserved
corner tables, thinking they'd be sufficient.
I've met at corners
perceived as crossroads, loved to find love
leaning against a lamp post
but have known the abruptness of corners too,
the pivot, the silence.
I've sat in corners at parties hoping for someone
who knew the virtue
of both distance and close quarters, someone with a
corner person's taste
for intimacy, hard won, rising out of shyness
and desire.
And I've turned corners there was no going back to,
corners
in the middle of a room that led
to Spain or solitude.
And always the thin line between corner
and cornered,
the good corners of bodies and those severe bodies
that permit no repose,
the places we retreat to, the places we can't bear
to be found.

The Heart's Location by Peter Meinke
all my plans for suicide are ridiculous
I can never remember the heart's location
too cheap to smash the car
too queasy to slash a wrist
once jumped off a bridge
almost scared myself to death
then spent two foggy weeks
waiting for new glasses

of course I really want to live
continuing my lifelong search
for the world's greatest unknown cheap restaurant
and a poem full of ordinary words
about simple things
in the inconsolable rhythms of the heart

They eat out by Margaret Atwood
In restaurants we argue
over which of us will pay for your funeral

though the real question is
whether or not I will make you immortal.

At the moment only I
can do it and so

I raise the magic fork
over the plate of beef fried rice

and plunge it into your heart.
There is a faint pop, a sizzle

and through your own split head
you rise up glowing;

the ceiling opens
a voice sings Love Is A Many

Splendoured Thing
you hang suspended above the city

in blue tights and a red cape,
your eyes flashing in unison.

The other diners regard you
some with awe, some only with boredom;

they cannot decide if you are a new weapon
or only a new advertisement.

As for me, I continue eating;
I liked you better the way you were,
but you were always ambitious.

A Day In the Sun
Laughing like a couple of kids
who just bought a well for a village,
walking into the sunset like the heroes
of a mining town, when those streets
were dangerous to walk.
Carried off like a damsel in distress
after the fire-breathing dragon is slain.
These are what we witness, gathered here
with promise of a plate and a dance.
Oh, we'll be in the presence of a love
so deep that even the most experienced
swimmer will drown, not wave
and we'll glow by the soft light
of a radiant bride, all in white.
But we won't all have our own wedding
night, pretending to be nervous,
like they used to do it.
None of us will be carried across
the threshold to start a new life,
similar to the old, except now it's official,
sealed with rings and a kiss.
We'll be only the bystanders, well-wishers
and you'll be the happy couple,
arms and everything linked
like hypertext on a website which proclaims:
'We have neither pride nor prejudice,
we have happiness.'

*Further comments on this poem and corners in a future post

I'm Still Your Fag

Hey, at least I can cry again, and that's a good thing. Oh, my ego needs boosting constantly; it's a very needy entity. But I did just write this, which I think may be at least decent, but we will see how it holds up under further examination. I'm not quite sure about the title.

HD Perspective
riding away at the most absurd speeds,
but I never felt unsafe, you told me
everything would be alright and I believed.
walking into the night when the danger was
stirring, but I just needed to hold your hand.
I never knew about the underbelly until
we met and I never knew I could hurt
someone so much until we fell apart.
the tentacles kept us together, but they couldn't
reach that far south and I couldn't
reach that far to shore.
they wanted us to be the lighthouse, but I
have further seas to travel. they needed
us to be the buoys, waving to the coast,
and I waved my goodbye.

As always, any and all feedback is very welcome. And let's end this blog on a positive note (I would reference Mel Brooks here, but that gag works only with sound). I've been contemplating lately the degree of attractiveness I hold, and while I understand that on a purely physical level, I'm not anything to write home about (though I have noticed that people I consider less attractive than myself receive much more attention and get hit on so much more than I do, which confounds me a bit), I have a fantastic personality; I'm tons of fun. Well, I have fun--I amuse and entertain myself. I don't know if other people have the same amount of amusement and entertainment around me, but I'm happy and that's the most important thing. [Insert laugh here]. But anyway...someday everything will come together. "It's a shoreline, and it's half speed. It's a cruel world, and it's time."

July, July!

I'll be working full-time this week and the assistant lady to the boss guy is on vacation, so the task of making boss guy's coffee in the morning has fallen on my shoulders. You'd think after working for over a year at Starbuck's, I would be well-equipped to handle this task. And you'd be wrong. He has a Mr. Coffee and really, I have two-tenths of an idea of how to use the thing. I don't drink coffee and know only what I learned and needed to know to work at a coffee shop about the bevarage and its preparation. I've never actually used a coffee maker thingie in my life, so I'm very nervous this morning about the coffee issue. Eep!
In non-coffee-related news, I told my dad about the whole Ibuprofen incident. It went fairly well, except that I could tell I made him sad, and that's not good. It's dawned on me that I'm very quickly approaching the point where I have no money at all, so I'm a tad worried about that and will step up the not-spending-money (or at least putting everything on my credit card that I possibly can) and trying-to-find-a-second-job efforts. Although working full-time this week should help a tad. But, the best news of all time (or at least of this past weekend) concerns the Decemberists. They have recently signed to Capitol records and will be releasing their fourth full-length album (titled The Crane Wife) on October 3rd (incidentally two days before both Colin Meloy and Carson Ellis' birthday, which I find amusing (in that they have the same birthday)), followed by a US tour!!!! Even better, while no release date is secured, there will be a DVD that includes a live performance, backstage footage, all of their videos, and a video for The Tain!!!!!! I think I came just a little bit after reading about this.

"But it was still me who had all the good ideas."

V for Vendetta (Spoiler Warning!!)
This is, I suppose, my thesis: Much like all good adaptations, the two works cannot really be compared and contrasted, but rather viewed and analyzed as two separate and distinct entities. That being said, I first started to read the graphic novel around the time the semester was ending and summer was beginning. Having seen the film, reading the book was atop my list of things to do over the break. So, I went to Barnes & Noble, sat in the cafe finding all the other comfy chairs taken, and began reading. I didn't get far before I was disappointed. In the book, Parliament is blown up right away (6 pages in). To me, it worked better as the climax, since it's fucking Parliament (!). I'm guessing that Roger Ebert would also not get far into the book after his beloved architectural masterpiece was eradicated. So, I didn't read much of it before I put it back on the shelf and went home (probably to watch the Simpsons). My second attempt proved more successful and fruitful. And this is where we come to my thesis. There are very many differences from page to screen and while I will comment on some of them, I think it's important to understand that a strict they-left-this-out, they-added-this is pretty pointless. The tone and essence are captured in the film, and the rest is moot. I can't say which version I prefer (though part of me edges toward the film, most likely because I saw it first and thoroughly enjoyed it); they are both pretty incredible, impressive, thought-provoking texts. I have finished reading the text of the graphic novel, though I am still reading an article that follows written by Alan Moore, the writer of the series. So far it is very enlightening and highly entertaining (and I very much recommend), but I also have a fear of losing everything that I've written here so far by a glitch in blogger, so I'm trying to finish this as soon as I can. One thing I noticed, and I'm well aware that this could be just a failing of myself as a reader here, there were times when it was a bit difficult to distinguish which character was in the frame and also how he/she fit into the world represented in the novel. I think it was a bit easier to follow who everyone was and what their characterization was in the film. Also, while the Guy Fawkes theme is heavy in both, it seems to me that the film emphasizes it a tad more, or at least gives further attempt to really draw together the past of England with its present and future. I'm not saying that the novel is incohesive, but the gut feeling I get in thinking about the two (and granted, it's been a little while since I've seen the film and I only saw it once) is that the film has a more cohesive feel to it. I think that I like Evey both as a character and her role in the whole better in the film. There is an interlude in the book featuring a song entitled "This Vicious Cabaret" that is truly inspired and perfect. So, I guess I've lost a bit of steam in my train of thought in analyzing V for Vendetta, both as a film and a graphic novel, but I have to go make another round and deliver a file, so...please comment if you've experience one or both because I think this is a piece of work that merits much discussion.

"Nothing's gonna stand in our way, not tonight..."

I have found myself coming across several statements today that I felt I could respond to starting out, "After spending three days in a psych ward..." I have not actually responded with this, but I have thought about it. And I think one of the most interesting things about this is that my expectation for people's reactions has not been an uncomfortable silence where they are thinking "Why should I listen to this person who is obviously crazy because she just spent three days in a psych ward?", but more of a hushed reverence where they are thinking "Ah, we must listen to the wisdom she gleaned from "observing" a psych ward for three days." I now feel that when my mom gets on one of her rambling goes-nowhere stories about the men she works with at Caterpillar that while I have never really met any of them, I feel pretty comfortable thinking are at least somewhere in the vicinity of the category of redneck or white trash, or whatever colorful epithet you prefer, I can say, "Yeah, I spend three days with some of those people in a psych ward."

So, anyway, here's the scoop. The whole and real story for anyone who is curious about some part or cluless about all of it (I don't know how many people actually know what happened to me this weekend right now). Saturday night I had a party at my apartment which went swimmingly, up until the point that I went away from all of my guests and laid down in my closet for some reason (and I apologize to all of my guests that I ignored and left to clean up the trappings of the soiree). You see, lately I've noticed that when I have an "episode" of depression, it's different than it used to be. Before I had some event to point to as the catalyst, and whether that event was really what I was sad about or not, at least I could recognize it as a trigger and know why I spiraled downward. As of late, I honestly don't know why I start feeling bad and it tends to come out of nowhere. Like Saturday night. I've also noticed that instead of crying and wallowing in self-pity, I now become angry and frustrated (again I'm not sure the reason behind these emotions) and cut my arm and throw things in my apartment. So, after everyone left my place, I did both of these things, but really trashed my place (hence the last blog). I then hung out with a couple of people that were still at the front of my apartment building, tried making out with a friend of mine (which I've been tending to do a bit, and again, I'm not really sure why other than it is a challenge because he persistently refuses), drove around town a bit, knocked on a friend's door (thereby freaking out his girlfriend I learned later), came back home (all while barefoot and wearing a camisole and pajama pants mind you) and took the rest of the Zoloft I had (three 100mg pills) and four or five handfuls of Ibuprofen. I then went to sleep, woke up some hours later to vomit on the area of my carpet next to my bed, stayed in a half-asleep, half-vomiting, half-snot-infused-sort-of-daze, all while feeling really shitty. My friend called me (I was supposed to attend another friend's bridal shower), I told her I thought I should go to the doctor (so maybe I could feel not shitty), she came over, saw the remainder of the Ibuprofen on my kitchen table, took me outside and called an ambulance. Two police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance all arrived (the ambulance being the last on the scene), and I was carried off, with an IV in me and all my vitals monitored to the Kishwaukee hospital. I was in the emergency room for a couple of hours while they ran blood tests and gave me a tetanus shot and then I was admitted to the psych ward. As this blog is getting pretty long already and as the totality of my experience in this ward is probably good for a whole other blog or two, I'll cut this story short, and get to my explanation.

My explanation: okay, I can't really give a complete and accurate reason since I'm still not sure what actually caused this chain of events (because, if I do say so myself, it was a pretty kick-ass party at my place, although being really drunk off of Everclear-infused punch most of the evening may have had something to do with it). But I thought about it a bit while sitting around in a confined space and think I have a good grasp on at least a partial reason. I have thought about suicide and had it as one of my options for a long time now, basically as long as I can remember, but especially since I was a freshman in high school (my first absolutely clear memory of thinking about offing myself). I think I needed to come closer to actual suicide than I ever had in the past as a way to finally really deal with those thoughts and what lies behind them. I think I am now revoking my 26 rule. I don't want to say that I experienced one of those I want to live! moments, because I didn't. I knew when taking the pills (the thought of any pills now make me pretty nauseous, and I don't think I'll be purchasing any Ibuprofen for quite some time) that I had a chance of dying, but also knew that the likelihood of that happening was pretty slim (these were basically the cheapest, OTC pills I could find when I bought them and have used three instead of the recommended two whenever I had a headache). So, I didn't have some life-is-great epiphany, but I also am pretty sure that in the future, I will no longer think of killing myself as an option. So, while I may have regrets about this weekend (and feel really bad about my three great, sweethearts of friends cleaning up the huge mess that was my apartment), it looks as though it did produce something worthwhile. Speaking of which, another good, sweetheart of a friend came to visit me and brought me the graphic novel V for Vendetta, which I am almost finished with. I may have to wait until tomorrow to write a post about it, though, since I have actually been pretty busy making deliveries and such at work today. Oh, one more thing, it seems my flower precedes me. I have had several indications of this in the past, and another one today. I went to a professor's office seeking his signature, and the first thing he said to me was, "Oh, I recognize you because of the flower. What's your name?"

Here Come Loose the Hounds

I'm officially a rock star. Woot.

We Looked Like Giants

I suppose I should be surprised at how quickly I can pass from mood to mood, but I'm really not. And lately, as in the past six months or so, I really have no control over my emotions whether they're good or bad. And I've noticed for a long time that I have no control over the bad ones, but lately I have nothing over the good ones either. I'll walk down the street fucking giddy and laughing and I don't even know why. "I don't know about you, but I swear on my name they can smell it on me, and I've never been too good with secrets" This is one thing that I think happened earlier tonight, though I could be wrong. The girlfriend of the guy I'm fixated on came into the bar after I'd been there for a while. She passed me, we made eye contact, I smiled politely. I got caught up in another conversation. Then, one guy that I was talking to me, who I had told the situation to, tells me that this girl kept giving him the eye and smiling, as if she thought I was with him and wanted to make me jealous. Now, I don't know if this is what actually happened, but if it is...it amuses me endlessly. Too bad I didn't end up in a good mood to enjoy it. Instead I'm in more or less a very confused state. Since I just dropped this guy off. The last time I did this, he made out with me (I didn't know how to not respond) and I ended up in trouble since I was inadvertently making out with one of my friend's boyfriends. So, now he is no one's boyfriend, and I found myself in the same situation. And instead of just explaining that I didn't want to make out with him, I found myself once again doing nothing and just kind of going along with it. I don't know why I do the things I do. Hopefully, some day I'll at least figure part of it out. Oh, Ben Gibbard, when will you be mine? Oh, Jill, when will you learn?

Brass In Pocket

Okay, so a couple things I've been thinking about today. And I might say realized, but I know I haven't, but I've been thinking about these things quite a bit and especially today. And the song in the title I've heard twice and think especially meaningful. But, to get one thing out of the way...au jus is really fucking good. And Molly's barbeque sauce is good as well, but not like anything special good, just pretty good. Anyway, I've been pretty fixated with one person lately, and I fully realize that I don't have much chance with this person, but that hasn't stopped me from trying. And I'll say one thing that I especially thought of driving home this evening. While I may get discouraged from the lack of hope of me actually dating (or at least having sex with) this person, it's so much much more depressing to think of not having someone in mind. And for a long time I didn't, but now that I do, it's so much more sad to think of not liking this person, even if this person is oh-so-happily involved with someone else. At least I have a goal, and as long as I have that, at least I have something. And while I once had a keen finger on the other thing I was thinking about, perhaps I don't. It's probably something I've rehashed time and time again. So, to sum up, Molly's beef rolls are very good, with both au jus and barbecue sauce, and my eternal thanks to Chris for bringing me that today (I'll make it up by bringing you some of the best spaghetti sauce ever soon), and I wish I could not feel guilty about things, but very certain things in particular, and while I have ever so many great qualities, I don't have the quality of having someone that I want to have. In the wise words of Fiona Apple, "oh well".

"This is the end of the road Galvatron!"

It looks as though me and the high school kid that also works in this office are having a desktop background and theme war. Yesterday I left a wonderful picture of the Decemberists up and had the standard Windows XP theme and mouse pointer. Today I come in and there's a jungle scene featuring a panther as the background and some crazy, annoying look-at-how-cool-this-font is theme and annoying neon, some-guy-swinging-on-a-vine-or-else-a-snake to replace the pointer and hourglass. So I retialated with standard theme and pointer and this picture as the background. It also commemorates my dream from last night. I was in prison, only it was very lax on the rules and such. More like a boarding school than a prison, especially since it included inmates that didn't seem to have a reason for being incarcerated. And it was co-ed. So I get there and they give me my prison uniform, only it looks more like scrubs and I have some of my own clothes as well. There's this big bald guy that keeps giving me shit and we're all going to the cafeteria when a fight breaks out between the two of us. I beat the crap out of him and this gets me awe and respect in the inmate community since this was the big bully guy that no one messed with. So I go and eat my lunch with an assortment of people I knew as a kid, people I know now, people I've never seen before in my life. And George Clooney is there, and I talk with him a bit and talk to other people about how I beat the shit out of this guy, and then he comes over and we decide to call a truce and everything's gravy. Then, lunch is almost over and I see that Ben Gibbard (and the rest of Death Cab for Cutie) are at another table next to Colin Meloy (who later kind of disappears). So I talk to Ben Gibbard and he doesn't believe that big bully guy will not retaliate, and mostly it's just me flirting with Ben Gibbard, and that was pretty much the end. Oh, it was so nice. So I'm going to stay there for the next couple of days or as long as that can carry me. Romantic sigh.
Last night I watched Transformers the Movie. And first of all, it's great. Completely holds up, though I guess that could also be since I watch it fairly often and it's maybe been two years since I've seen it last. But one thing I noticed this time that made me feel kind of sad, or I guess a bit old, was that at the beginning the narrator is explaining the situation and the war between the Autobots and the Decepticons over Cybertron and he says that the year is 2005. Wow.

"...we don't stand a chance..."

I just set this picture of the Decemberists as the background on the computer I use at work. I'm pretty excited about it. See? It doesn't take much to make me happy. Staying that way on the other hand...
Speaking of, my recent posts and more recent deletion of said "angsty" posts have caused quite a stir on the comment wall, and by quite a stir I mean two comments have mentioned this. I thought it best to erase the record of me yelling at and feeling sorry for myself (at the same time, that's how talented I am), since a) it does smack of teenage yuppie angst, and b) it doesn't make for interesting reading (not that any of my posts do, but this one has a really good picture!). Okay, in talking to a good friend of mine, I've decided that after I get my degree, I'm moving to Bloomington/Normal, getting a decent-paying job, learning how to play piano and guitar and starting a band with a group of my friends called Stitch This, Jimmy. Let's see, what else? Dekalb puts on good fireworks and has strange people residing within its borders who marry their sister and collect kernels of corn in their beard. House is a damn fine show. I am ever closer to finishing part one of my CD project. I'm hosting my first party ever at my apartment this Saturday. We still need to finalize plans for a Great America trip. And I'm going to see Little Miss Sunshine on July 26th (which happens to be Kevin Spacey's birthday).