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March 31, 2003
I don't think you understand the seriousness of the situation. The lyrics to Jet by Wings make no sense. They hurt my head yet I can't stop thinking of them. This is a problem, folks. There is not enough room in my head for such nonsense like "And Jet I thought the Major was a lady suffragette" WHAT? What are you on Paul and Linda McCartney.
Does no one else find this as confusing as I do? I will not let this rest until I know what the hell this song is about.
I know what the individual words mean but when I put them together it turns into gobbeldy-gook. Nonsense. Garbage.
I have papers to write but all I can think of is "Ah Mater want Jet to always love me...JET! WOOOOoooOOoooOOOoo!"
This does not make an effective story.
Perhaps that can be my story. A series of letters to Paul McCartney that get increasingly irate, begging him to tell the answer of Jet.
posted at 5:45 PM
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March 30, 2003
What in the HOLY HELL do the lyrics to Jet! by Wings mean??
GET THEM OUT OF MY BRAIN! IT HURTS!
posted at 11:22 PM
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I like answering questions that elementary school teachers use on their students to encourage writing skills. By doing this, I not only develop my writing skills but you'll be gaining valuable information about me and my views on the world, life whatnot etc.
First question:
What would happen if everyone lived in space? What type of houses would they live in? What type of clothing would they wear? What type of food would they eat? How would they travel?
I think that there would be a great economic divide if everyone lived in space. Would we be allowed to go down to planets? If so, then each family would live in a floating dome and take the jet car to work each day. We'd have communities of floating domes called "domerhoods"; some more expensive than others. The really low cost domerhoods, called the "domehettos". They would drive second hand jet cars that had really nice heat shields and maybe a gold crown air freshner in the back.
If everyone lived in space, we'd all have designer helmets and space suits. Each person would wear a spacesuit according to which part of space they lived in. Alpha Quadrant would be red, Beta Quadrant would be Purple, Gamma Quadrant would be Green and Delta Quadrant would be black. But this is only if you're out galavanting in space. If you're just living in your dome, hanging out listening to music, you could be wearing your stylish and sophisticated grey body suit. Or perhaps a pair of pants and a sensible and non form fitting top. It's relaxed in space.
Everything would be built around and designed to follow the prime directive . We would take lavish vacations to strange and unusual planets that were hosts to many strange and unusual creatures. They would make fun of us for living in space and we would question why they would want to live no a strange and unusual rock.
If everyone lived in space, we would first only eat "space ice cream" but after the space madness epidemic of 2538, we started to figure out way so that we could eat more than freeze dried ice cream and cotton candy. I think people would develop a way to build a dome-type barn (a "domearn") and it would have only cows living there. And one farmer to make sure the cows don't get mad cow disease.
We would freeze-dry the cows and then eat them. So we could have meat and ice cream.
Except when we would go to a strange and unusual planet, we could eat fruit and toast and potatoes. After the terrible scurvy madness epidemic of 2539, we figure out a way to genetically engineer vegitables, except in freeze-dried pill form. This saves many lives.
All of the domes of a space city are connected by a very strong string of blinking lights. This looks really pretty if you happen to be on the dark side of the domerhood.
And finally, of course, we would travel by jet pack and by jet car and jet plane.
Here's me in a spacesuit:
posted at 1:36 AM
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March 27, 2003
This story I'm working on revolves around a girl. A girl who is on a quest to find a boy. She goes here, she goes there and she's still not getting anywhere. In fact, I think I'm going to work it so that she winds up never leaving the state. You expect her to run all the way to the state where the boy is supposed to be living, but I think I'll change those expectations. She's going to meet an incredible amount of characters -- a lot from the mall where her and the boy used to work, some from her trials of trying to get out to the boy, others from just happenstance. It's, so far, a pretty good start on a story.
My workshop class really enjoyed it and wants to see more. I think I'll turn a more finished piece in for my final revision project.
In other news, I received a brand new (ie, slightly used) palm pilot thingie from my mom. It was the one she used to use and then couldn't figure out why the battery wouldn't charge and stay charged. It just went out on her one day and that was that. So she charged a new one to work and gave me the old one. Turns out the battery is just a rechargeable pack and you could put in two double As in instead. Yep. Simple solution to a silly problem.
I can't wait to call and laugh.
And in other good news, my dad won a HUGE award at work. He built this new tool for everyone to use while building the cars. I don't know quite what it does, but it saves a TON of time and a TON of money and does the job ten times better. He made it, using his hands and his mind. On his own. He's so smart. So this special tool that my dad built is going to be used by GM in its shops from now on. And he won a lot of lot of lot of money. It's crazy. I'm so proud.
posted at 8:07 PM
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March 26, 2003
Wasabi problems? I can help.
When you eat something that requires a lot of wasabi it has a tendency to get really, really, painfully hot. Like poker to the sinus cavities and brain hot. I have found a way to counteract this pain. You can either hold your nose shut...which only works half the time. OR you can breathe in really fast and deep through your nose, repeatedly until the pain goes away.
If this does not work either, smack the top of your head with the palm of your hand.
One of these solutions will work. I guarantee it.
Repeat as often as necessary...
posted at 4:10 PM
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March 23, 2003
I am glad I didn't listen to myself and get freaked out. Today's meeting was extraordinarly cool. The people are incredibly nice and I especially like Tom, the main editor guy, who seemed really nice. Nice nice nice. It was all nice. Found out my professor isn't going to be at school next year. This sucks in many ways because I was planning on applying there and now there's only two teachers that I know and only one of whom I know very well. So. This may change my decision on things. I don't know.
She also told me that the national average for how long it takes to get your PhD is approximately 12 years. TWELVE YEARS. I'm going to be 103 before I can teach. Motherfuckers. Oh well. She said she finished hers in like 4 or 5...so maybe I can aim for that. Who knows. They were talking and she mentioned that some community colleges will let you teach with an MFA. Gah I don't know. I think I'll apply to Eastern anyway because it's supposedly very easy to get in. I don't know. It's a few weeks off to even start worrying about it yet.
I had a good time, though, and it was humbling to be reading some of these people's work as well as pretty damn inspiring. Some of the shittiest work had been published a few times -- according to their cover letters -- so at least I've got some chance somewhere, I just have to get cracking.
Oh well...I'm heading out to an "oscar party". We're betting on the nominees this year...and damnit I better win!
posted at 6:08 PM
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On Sunday, I have to venture out to Ann Arbor to have a meeting with the English department's literary magazine's board of editors, of which I am a member. It's going to be chock full of people I don't know (a total of about 5 people, I think) and my teacher. I designed the flyer that's going to be (hopefully) pasted around on other University campuses (campi?) and other places..the flyer you can see here . But I warn you, it's huge.
I'm both nervous and happy to be attending this meeting, mostly because I don't think I fit into this group of writers etc. I think they are more interested in pushing the bounds of literature and language in the sense that the weirder it is, and the less it makes sense, the cooler it is. I can't get with that, ya dig? I am all for exploring the nature of language and trying to do neat and interesting things with it but at the same time, I am practical and I want to make something that is interesting and not hard to read and doesn't take longer to THINK about than it does to read the piece. I don't know. I know everything I'm saying is going to get me into trouble here.
I just am nervous, I guess, and when I get nervous I talk shit. I'm all talk.
And also, I don't want to drive down there and worry about parking. I fucking hate going to places like Ann Arbor that are all one way streets with no where to park, so when you do find a parking spot it's like 3295467984 blocks from your original destination and you don't know where the fuck you're going...gah. It's too much pressure on me. The meeting is being held at my professors apartment...how weird is that going to be? I don't know. I'm not used to socializing with my teachers. Gah.
I realize this isn't such a big deal but I have to make it a big deal because that's the way I am. I get myself worked up about everything in order to be able to do it better. It's like procrastination, also. You know, don't worry about it until the last minute and then CRAZYGONUTS, work yourself up into a frenzy the night before.
Ah well.
It'll be cool. It'll be cool. It'll be cool.
posted at 12:00 AM
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March 21, 2003
I promised myself I wouldn't write about the war, and technically I'm not going to. I don't understand enough about politics to successfully argue or debate my opinions. I don't understand enough about what's going on to sound intelligent. I know enough to understand what I feel, though.
At any rate, I just found out today that a good friend of mine from high school is over there now fighting. We've been keeping in touch with each other through a mutual friend but somehow have never managed to just get together.
Some information:
Adam's squadron, HMLA 169 aka The Vipers (might also be referred to as Light Attack helicopter squadron 169), is a small part of the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force. He flies the 'copters known as Cobras (aka Super Cobra, AH1, AH1-W, Whisky Cobras, Whiskys, or Snakes (not "Little Snakes - that's a different helicopter)). His wife emailed a few of us a while ago letting us know some more details: The best place for Adam specific info is CBS. Byron Pitts, the reporter with the Vipers, and he's the only reporter with Adam's squadron.
This is crazy. It makes it all more confusing and too real for me. I don't understand what I'm going through at this point. Earlier today I watched as one of our missles blew up a building right before my eyes. Bright Flash then BOOM...fire and a building collapse. I don't know if that building had people in it or what the building even was... I just imagined the building across the street from me erupting into flames and collapsing.How terrifying it must be to live there now, under a ruthless dictator or not. No one wants to have bombs exploding all around their heads. I don't want any one to die, our side or theirs... I just ..gah. I feel helpless and little and confused and I don't like that feeling.
I just want Adam home with his wife where he belongs.
posted at 3:42 PM
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March 19, 2003
I wish I could have something spectacular to write about after throwing a temper tantrum for 11 days, but unfortunately I don't.
There hasn't been anything noteworthy happening that anyone, most of all myself, would find spectacular.
My writing professor has encouraged me to apply to the masters program at school. I'm going to do it anyway, but it's nice to have encouragement from a professor that you respect so much. I expected to get completely ripped up on the last manuscript that I turned in. Actually, the exact opposite happened. Everyone loved the story. They wanted more more more! They said the only thing they have to say is that they don't have anything to say, which was cool. They gave me some good pointers on how to make it even better and even more interesting.
I've been on a huge reading streak for the past two weeks. Crazy insane amounts of reading. I've been checking out books from the library left and right.
Geek Love by Katherine Dunn is, by far, one of the best books I have ever read in my entire history of reading. I read Ash Wednesday by Ethan Hawke, which was good but they made a glaring error -- substituting Michigan State colors for University of Michigan Colors. ex: wearing a univeristy of michigan shirt with the green and white logo...wrong wrong wrong. I read As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner which suck-diddly-ucked even though I know I'm supposed to like it being a writing person-n-all. I read Dune Messiah by Frank Herbert, Truck by Katherine Dunn, part of Possession by A.S. Byatt, and Mr. Posterior and the Genius Child by Emily Jenkins. That book was really good, too. I'm in the middle of reading Hum Bug by Harold Schechter and Killing Time by Caleb Carr. I love Caleb Carr and his other books are among my favorites ever, but this book is incredibly contrived and dull. It's a big social commentary on what will happen in the future if we continue on the path that we are on...however everything feels as if it's taking place in some weird Jules Verne past. I hate to admit it but I don't think I'm going to finish that book.
So yeah, that's about it. Lots of books and lots of writing.
Oh and I'm really pissed about the oscar pre-show being truncated. That's a bunch of lousy bullshit if I ever did hear one. Something about it'd be tasteless to have these people happy and waving while the military is over "there" getting slaughtered and people are dying. Well. Hm. So does that mean during the past 74 years of the acadamy awards, no one on earth was dying? Come on.
And don't even get me started about this whole Captian Tripps superflu going around. I'm more scared of that (and North Korea) than I am of some stupid war in Iraq. Yeah you heard me. Stupid war.
Fin.
posted at 2:11 PM
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March 18, 2003
So I'm a drama queen. What else didn't you know about me?
posted at 8:13 PM
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March 07, 2003
I didn't get the job.
Don't expect to hear from me for a while.
The End.
posted at 4:01 PM
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March 06, 2003
It's been a few days. I'm really just not in the mood, to be honest. I have a headache. I don't want to talk about it. No I'm fine. Really.
Well, strike that, I have some good news. I might have a job offer, but to be honest, I'm sort of afraid to talk about it because it seems the more I talk about it the more I ruin things. So it's a good job offer, it's a for a great and small company... writing press releases and all sorts of stuff. "Pretty writing intensive" the guy said. Lets keep our fingers crossed shall we?
I've heard of people going an entire year without talking. I'd like to try that because I really don't have a lot to say anymore. This also pretty much ties in with my never ending struggle with the telephone. Lord knows how much I hate talking on the goddamned phone.
Another thing, lately, is that I've been getting increasingly aggressive and angry. It's almost disturbing. Of course, I don't make that much of a show of it on the outside, but I did manage to bite my lip so hard it bled. That made me really angry. I wonder what's going on. Maybe because...oh I don't know...don't fucking talk about anything that it's building up in me like a goddamned pressure cooker? That only makes sense, I think.
I guess I don't understand how I can't deal with confrontation. Both of my parents aren't wusses, my brother isn't a wuss...I just prefer not to engage in emotional combat. It's so frustrating. I hate it yet I continue to do it. Does this mean I don't hate it enough or, god forbid, actually enjoy it? What is it, exactly, that I'm afraid of?
I read an amazing, spectacular book the other day. It's called Geek Love by Katherine Dunn. Amazing. Incredible and Inspiring. I want to be Katherine Dunn. it was one of those books that you just devour. That you live and breathe. You wake up thinking of the characters as if they are your family, you go about your day wondering what they're doing on their side of the world. When the story is over you feel like if you close the book you'll be closing out a chapter in your own life, something will be missing forever. I am so sad to no longer be reading about these people from the story. I feel empty. I want to know more, I want to know what they're doing NOW. What are they thinking NOW. It's great.
It's been a long time since I've been consumed by a book. It's nice.
Pee Ess: Hiding pills and pretending like you're not fucked out of your mind on vicodin isn't fun. Don't do it. k thx bye.
posted at 1:09 AM
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March 02, 2003
EDIT
Yesterday I wrote: He's almost as precious to me as my bull dyke who happens to be straight and is the manager for her brother who races lawnmowers named Crystal.
I do not mean that the brother races lawnmowers named Crystal. It should have been worded as such: He's almost as precious to me as Crystal, the bull dyke who happens to be straight and is the manager for her brother who races lawnmowers.
Thank you.
posted at 12:32 PM
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March 01, 2003
It's official. I have received my signed and dated letter in the mail today.
As of April 2003, I will no longer be a student!!! All this time of me dicking around has finally paid off. I'm very happy.
Verra verra happy.
I've also come up with the best name for a character in my new story. Guy G. Action. His first name is pronounced in the foofy french way of "gee" like the thing you wear to Karate - gui. His middle name is pronouced just like guy. Guy G. gets mad when you pronounce his first name as guy and not gui because "it makes me sound so gay."
I love him. He's almost as precious to me as my bull dyke who happens to be straight and is the manager for her brother who races lawnmowers named Crystal.
That's about it for me. Happy then sad then happy then sad. Story of my life.
posted at 7:51 PM
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