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August 29, 2003
please new re-design, stop being an asshole.
posted at 12:12 PM
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August 27, 2003
I'm about to admit something that will completely eradicate any street cred I have managed to accumulate over the years. It will go back down to zero and i'll be the weirdo in your neighborhood that no one talks to.
I like country music.
Good old fashioned country music. I'm a huge fan of Kenny Rogers, Alabama, and the rest of them. I listen to them and clap along. I sing out loud, poorly, with no shame. I smile and laugh and do a little dance that resembles one an old miner from the 1850s might make. ("There's gold! GOLD!!!")
The music reminds me so much of my dad that I can't help but love it. (And for those of you playing at home, my dad is the one responsible for the placement of the moon. He did a good job.)
Good old fashioned country music tells a story, it teaches lessons, it gives you strength.
Coward of the County by Kenny Rogers tells a tale of poor Tommy whose dad died in Prison. His father's dying words begged Tommy not to do the things he's done. To always walk away from trouble and turn the other cheek. He tried to teach the lesson that you don't have to fight to be a man, Tommy. Just walk away. Be the bigger man. But, Tommy walked in on those boys rapin' his girlfriend Becky. Three of them. Well, Tommy got pissed off. He went up to the bar where them boys was drinkin and he laid down the law. See, no one thought he was going to do anything cos the whole town called him yellow...a coward. Tommy tricked them. He gunned them down. Then he told a picture of his dead pop, "dad, sometimes you do have to fight to be a man."
Moral of the story, pick your battles.
Alabama sings a song about workin a 40 hour week for a living. They don't make any bones about it. They're regular guys and they know that regular people need a pick up now and again. Workin 40 hours a week doin hard work; they don't strive for fame and fortune. Alabama takes the time to recognize the fruits of their labor. Detroit auto workers. Pittsburg steel mill workers. Kansas wheat field farmers. West Virginia coal miner. The list goes on. It gives those hard workin folks a little bit of strength and a little bit of pride. Their hard work does not go unacknowledged. Their spirit can't be replaced with no machine. This is America and Alabama thanks us for our time.
The point is clear. Too often do we discriminate against country music because it's 'hillbilly' or 'redneck' or 'crappy'. We just have to take the time to listen to the moral of the story. Pick ourselves up dust ourselves off...and start all over again.
Also, one can't forget that sometimes you have to say a big fuck you to the world and just do things your way.
The Iggy Pop way.
I saw iggy and the stooges yesterday at Pine Knob and let me tell you, it was in the top 5 best concerts I've ever been to in my life. Iggy is the most incredible performer and really loves being there. The Stooges are some of the most incredible musicians ever....and MIKE WATT WAS PLAYING BASS!
I'm so fortunate to have music in my life.
WIthout it I would have been dead a long time ago.
posted at 12:37 AM
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August 22, 2003
So far, my foray into the world of no zombies/undead/infected is going along swimmingly. I haven't thought about them this entire week -- aside from right now but that's because I'm writing about them.
At any rate, it's been a good week for no zombie/undead/infected talk.
However, I have been having nightmares about mundane things. It's very strange. It's as if that nightmare portion of my brain needed to be filled so regular every day occurances sort of spilled over and took up residence. I have had a nightmare nearly every night this week. It's strange to wake up, sweaty and scared to death over putting a hot pocket in the microwave. True story.
I've also had nightmares about building a bomb with the intent to blow up an abandoned building and complete a suicide pact, chickening out at the last minute and still having to go to jail.
Nightmares about going to the pet store and buying a cat that I named Action Jackson, who turned out to be a very loving and silly cat. Nightmares about riding in an elevator.
They don't sound like nightmares, sure. But I wake up scared to death and shakey as if they were.
What is my psyche trying to tell me?
Speaking of psyche: I'm not sure if I've mentioned it here or not but I've discovered what I'm going to get for my next tattoo. I had a dream about it for about a week straight a while back and since then I haven't been able to get it out of my head. It was a fairly large stained glass window, pointed at the top tapering down to a wide flat bottom. Inside the window was a praying mantis looking out and waving with one of his little pointy arms.
Sometimes in the dream he'd climb off my shoulder and go walk around taking care of things for me, like paying my bills and doing dishes or whatever. Sometimes he'd just walk outside and do other things. It's like he was there to take care of me. So, I started looking up some of the dream symbolism of what a mantis means -- turns out it's not a very positive omen. It means that I'm preying on other people and I'm a generally destructive person and have destructive relationships. I started to do some more research and it turns out it's not a very positive omen for typical Western mumbo-jumboists.
If I were, say, in Japan, it would be a very lucky symbol. Or in ancient Egypt, the mantis is considered a "diviner" who led the dead to the underworld. It was greatly honored in egypt. The Greeks attributed it to supernatural powers.
According to some native american folklore, the praying mantis epitomizes the power of stillness. The mantis teaches us how to wait and act when the time is right.
The mantis symbolises strength and adaptablitity.
Some cultures in Africa view the mantis as the dreambringer, almost equivalent to the Native American's views on the wolf or raven.
It seems as if the mantis is right for me.
I'm not much of a religious sort of person and I've been mulling over for quite some time about talking about it here. I don't know what I'm going through at this point of my life, very bad things, very okay things, coming to grips with my confusion and craziness and anger, starting to like a little bit of myself again. The emotion of religion is starting to feel right for me at this point in my life. I'm still not worshipping Jesus and what I'm feeling is more of a emotional draw towards an entity -- as if it were a collective concious of all the people who have ever lived and breathed on this earth. It's strange.
There's a website that makes me feel as if believing is okay and I like that. Reading Real Live Preacher just makes me feel good, and everyone knows I need something these days to make me feel good.
Anyway.
posted at 9:48 AM
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August 18, 2003
For a month, I am not allowed to watch/read/talk about anything to do with zombies, the infected or the undead.
It started with the great blackout of twenty ought-three. There I was, sitting in my office when ZAP off goes the power and the great blackness took over. Our offices are on the basement floor of the building so we have no light to see our hands in front of our faces. I feel along the wall to my friend Denise's office where she proceeds to light a candle for me so I can stop hyperventalating about Zombies or mobs of people with torches.
Once we were able to gather our belongings by candlelight, we made our respective ways home through the worst blackout traffic ever. Have you read the book (or seen the horrible film adaptation of) Stephen King's The Stand? Have you seen 28 Days Later or any other disaster movie where hordes and hordes of traffic all convene on one small expressway, only to get jammed up in gridlock and never move again, meanwhile the plague/zombies/infected/the devil chasing them catches up and kills them all so they're all lying there slumped and bloated over their steering wheels? Yeah, that's what traffic was like -- though it was still moving at a relatively slow pace, it was moving. Except for the one time I got stuck IN A FUCKING TUNNEL no less, stopped dead, waiting for the plague/zombie/infected/devil to catch up with me. I got a lot nervous then, so I made a plan.
My plan was to wait for people to get out of their cars, abandoning them due to lack of gas, and start heading off in a big mass walking transit...then I would start running my ass off in the opposite direction . Never go the way of the throngs of people, let me tell you. That's a guaranteed way to end up infected or undead or bloated with globs of congealed blood hanging out of your mouth. That's not the way I want to go.
Plus, I cursed the day I decided to NOT buy that machete at the Army store up north in Militia town. 8 dollars! Who can put a price on safety from zombies and the undead?? I have learned that you can't. If you come across a deal such as this one, please do not pass it up -- for your own safety.
At any rate, I finally got home 2-plus hours later. (A normal half hour drive, mind you).
I sweat, I cried, it was unbelieveably hot.
I went to bed at 10.
The following day, I took about 4 showers and listened to a walkman for radio all day. When I got news of my parents house having power around 6pm, I high-tailed it out there to partake in airconditiony goodness. Of course, as soon as we got there, the power goes out for a couple of hours. I am cursed.
When it came on around midnight, I realized my parents automatic hoity toity richy outdoor lights were set to go on automatically so I went to the outdoor light fusebox to turn them off in order to conserve some energy when one of the lights caught my eye. It's a small spotter type light affixed to a tree to shine onto this big large bush thing. I flicked the fusebox and wasn't sure if they turned off...I ran to check and the spotter type light flickered a bit, looking exactly like a man holding a flashlight and flashing it at me.
I freaked THE FUCK OUT.
I threw a crowbar at it and ran back into the garage screaming.
My parents have a LOT Of windows in their house and live in the big scary woods.
I swear to god, there were zombies all over my fucking yard just waiting to jump through those windows. I didn't have enough nails in the house and there weren't enough doors to cover all the windows if I had to do it. I counted.
Then I was certain that there were going to be some angry country farmers and their chainsaw weilding sons and cannibal families coming after me in a big angry mob with torches and crowbars and other hurting things to raid my house.
So, after some freaking out, I finally got to bed. My power came on at home and then I went home. The end.
Which brings me to my point. I can't watch any more zombie/undead/infected movies for one month. This will give me sufficent time to calm down and stop acting crazy.
At least I hope so.
posted at 8:50 PM
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August 16, 2003
posted at 9:19 PM
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August 13, 2003
While I appreciate all of the hits from people looking for Benjamin McKenzie, I'm afraid I will have to disappoint you. I am not running the Official Unoffical Benjamin McKenzie fansite. I do not have pictures of him smoking, by the pool, without a shirt or playing football.
Though he is an incredible hottie, I'll reserve my crushes for Tuesday nights and leave it at that.
At any rate.
I have an interview today with EMU for a marketing assistant position. I applied for this job about 3-4 months ago and had subsequently forgotten about it. I got a phone call yesterday asking if I wanted to come in to interview. Sure, what have I got to lose? I'm currently on "temporary lay off" from my cool job anyway.
Then the lady drops the bombshell. "It'll be an hour long editing test, AP style."
Fuck.
AP Style isn't easy. There's A LOT of rules to remember. It takes all the fun out of writing. It's all rules rules rules ...do this when this is present don't do it if this other thing is present, if they're both present use a comma but not when you are writing during the day.
States spelled with six or fewer letters aren't abbreviated when used with a city name.
Usually spell out titles with names used in direct quotes with the exception of Dr., Mr., Mrs., Miss and Ms.
On first reference, don't put an abbreviation or acronym in parentheses after an organization's name. On second reference with lesser known organizations, use methods similar to the following to refer to the organization rather than using an acronym.
If you use the word "which" to introduce a phrase or clause, precede it with a comma. Do not precede the word "that" by a comma. Use "which" to introduce non-essential phrases and clauses, which can be eliminated from a sentence without changing its essential meaning (such as in this sentence)
My head hurts. A lot of these rules are things that come naturally to me but now that I'm forced to think about every word, every comma placement, every single letter that I use I start to freak out a little bit. *sigh* And don't even get me started on the whole lay/lying/lie/lied/laying/laid debacle.
I just don't know.
Freaking out.
posted at 12:23 PM
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August 08, 2003
Ok. So it's no secret that I'm in love with the worst show on television today. I'm all about The O.C.
So much, in fact, that I have registered for The O.C. Fan Club and have altered the desktop for my sexy computer monitor.
I'm way into this show.
But don't get me wrong, I know I am ill. I am seriously considering seeking mental help.
I have regressed to the point of no return.
I am a 13 year old girl trapped in a 27 year old body.
Woe! Woe!
Why, tv? Why have you done this to me? And the star, my make-believe husband, was a star football player in high school. How far from "my type" can you get? Ah, but he's got a degree in economics. He's one of them smartypants pigskin tossers.
I've already contimplated creating "The Official Unofficial Benjamin McKenzie fansite".
This is sick.
I went up north for 4 days to get away from this rubbish and what do I do when I get back? Squeal like a little girl.
Woe.
posted at 12:22 AM
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August 02, 2003
In light of my post yesterday, I find it absolutely hilarious that three (3) people have found my page today searching for
advil and crystal meth
Oh funny day.
posted at 8:44 PM
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Riddle me this:
Why is every straight edge person out there only 18 and under?
I mean come on, sXe tendencies shouldn't fade away when you turn 21 and can finally drink that drink or smoke that smoke or whatever. That's the time it should mean the most...hardcore...
Ian MacKaye may have been 17 when he was in Minor Threat...and so what if they broke up after like, what, two EPS and one album...it doesn't mean that you have to stop being hardcore at the ripe age of 18 (or 19 or 20).
There's lots of hardcore bands out there where you can still rock out with the big black Xs on your hands. Fugazi is still around people.
Go buy a Pailhead cd. There's a band called Quicksand; listen to them.
COME ON.
What happens to these people when they turn "of age"? Where do they go? Do they join fraternities and sleep with whores, drinking and sexin' their way through life?
Before they know it, they're 25, livin in a shithole talking about taking drugs and how high they can get stealing pills from their mother's medicine cabinet.
This is the time of your life when you need to stick to something to make you strong, to make you aware of yourself and your surroundings.
Did they learn nothing from being an angsty, angry 14 year old wearing a black hoodie with a white SICK OF IT ALL patch on your sleeve?
Our teenage years give us the foundation to stand on as adults. If you throw it all away, those years are spent in vain and you, sir/miss, are the worlds biggest disappointment.
Shame on you, once straight edge youth. You all sold out. That's the worst put down of all. Sell out. Ian McFugazi will forever hang his head in shame of you.
Where are my 26 and older brethren? Where's the 27 year old peer of mine waiting in line at the grocery store, hiding a xXx tattoo on his back beneath his crisp white work shirt, getting into a car blasting Morrissey (ok, so I threw that in there for my own benefit. You can be all "ooh look at me I'm so straight edge" and still like Morrissey. Screw off.)
It's hard to want to be straight edge. It's hard to say "I eschew all things mind altering and addicting. I do not need these to influence my life or my lifestyle. I remain substance free."
It's admirable. It's a lifestyle I hope to maintain.
I can't say I've always been perfect and it's not a perfect choice...but it's one I want to make for now.
I need this to keep me sane.
But I can't help but wonder, am I regressing even further into my past...wishing for things that once were and will never be again? Am I going to go out and join a science club and sell candy bars to people hoping to raise money for our cause, only to use the cash to spend the day at the science museum and a night of "lets discuss star trek!"
(Which star trek alien would you be?
"which series?"
Hm, that's a tough question. Pick one from each series.
"Ekosian. Terellian. Changeling (aka the founders). Talaxian. and probably in Enterprise, I'd be vulcan just cos they're so hardcore "
Har dee har har.)
Am I going to try to join marching band??
I need to stop thinking about things so hard.
posted at 1:04 AM
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