"I Don't Need Anyone to Hold Me...I Can Hold My Own..."

There is so much fail in this video clip, you have to laugh. I adoooore the supposed SURPRISE. Um, fake tears? As if you didn't try out for this fucked up piece of television in order to buttfuck a bit of that Warholian 15 minutes of fame concept? Not just the blonde psuedo-bisexual, but the other Asian Oompa Loompa psuedo-bisexual. Tila, honey, we all know you ain't going down on any chick...and every girl and her best friend has pulled the bi-sexual act you are doing. Girls can kiss other girls without it being remotely sexual, now go down on a bitch, different story.

I KNOW that Tila TEQUILA (lame, lame, lame) decided to choose a girl this season because she chose a boy last time and everyone doubted her sincerity in her bisexuality, you know cause she really bared her soul, more like spread her legs to the Hollywood gang bang. Just admit you sold yourself out Tila because you wanted to be known as more than a MySpace whore that sat at her computer all day and pressed a button to add your 943285329485234098 friends. WOW. HARD WORK.

I SHALL GET ON THAT ASAP!

This new wave of internet celebritism and its subsequent leap on to even the cesspool of demonic activity, a channel like MTV, makes me simultaneously laugh at the ridiculous antics, after I puke in my mouth of course.



Oh, Tila, I can't get over you. The fake acting is so fucking rad. Thank you for your starfucking antics. You amuse me. Now go shoot yourself.



Kthxbai.

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And an actual enjoyable piece of television: (thanks to skintight)

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Everyone finds themselves nostalgic for certain periods in their life.  Even though I wouldn't trade in majority of the experiences since my certain nostalgic period has ended, there are some.  "Girl, don't take THAT pill!" I would say to my uninhibited self.  But I would end up doing the pill anyway...fuck, it is fun and what can I say?  I am a hyper-hedonist.

Though back when I was in undergraduate studies I don't think anyone saw me that way.  I don't think I let that part come out all that much, except for my super rude fantasies watching a professor that changed my life and way of thinking prowl around the classroom...that was close as I got.  In high school though I bailed on every class and was snorting crystal meth before every class and I even got booted out of high school...oh, boo motherfucking hoo.

Now, I am in a similar situation?  Okay, not so similar but I have taken the past year and almost a half off from my PhD work.  Part of it is that I am not sure I am the type of person that can let some stiff man without a sense of humor suck the life out of me anymore.  That isn't to say I need to be babied because I don't, but fuck me, can't I learn from a like mind?  Someone that is HUMAN and not a protocal droid?  I am not mechanical.  I am emotional.  I am not reasonable.  I am crazy.  So, I don't have to NECESSARILY go back to that particular adviser but I do enjoy his theories and work very much, it is in line with what I love to write and research, but again, my problem lies with his humanity.  He was great at first when my Dad died, he just didn't tell me he had a three month deadline for me to get over the biggest blow I will ever receive.  He tells you to disregard the normative pedagogy and then goes and pushes it your goddamn throat and you are like *choke ME*  And when my Dad died a couple of weeks after I told him I couldn't come down on the weekend to see him because I had Greek homework and a paper due, my focus flipped.  I have never felt more guilty in my fucking life.  SCHOOL over my DAD? Translating Philo or whomever the fuck it was that week over MY DAD.  My Dad, the one person that I haven't ever faulted, that I thought was a demi-god basically.  I wanted to shoot myself in the brain.  Because it was that ridiculous emphasis on the "brain" that made me value something as useless and intangible as a degree, a title, a class, a grade over the living, breathing compassionate filled father I had.  My brain deserved my righteous indignation.

So, what did I do?  Of course I took a leave.  I am sure all the cronies that have no life outside of school talked shit on me.  Pardon me that you have to read every goddamn sentence to come up with an idea.  And no, I don't think I took graduate school as seriously as most because my dad was sick the whole time and at least I don't regret everything.  Oh, my point?  I still want to go back to school and quit this leave of absence, but then there is a huge part of me that just wants to get dressed up, smoke cigarettes and maybe other things, and go move to "Gimme Shelter" from the Rolling Stones.  I have lived both lives of the stuffy academic that has to boy her looks down, cut her hair, uglify herself, and cover herself to be taken seriously.  And when I graduated UCSD in 2001, I was 23 and never went out.  So I went NUTS.  Taking ecstasy every weekend, cocaine, cigarettes, liquor...and it opened me up to another world where my academics is what turned people off and my bare stomach was what got me the attention.  I am sure I could have gotten the attention at school if I wore belly-baring shirts, but I am thinking not in the same way.  Methinks...Methinks.  But I also am not in the mood to be this stiff academic only talking about Paul and his communities in Corinth or Thessalonica or whatever the HELL, but it has always been this way for me.  I am just simply supposed to live in this world uncomfortably, always straddling the fence, showing what I can do and then taking it away.

Or maybe people can get over their expectations and look at me as a flawed human and not some comparative religion machine...I am just sayin'.

 

I no longer need to be little Miss Star Student.  I no longer need the accolades.  They are phony anyway.  All it did was get me into another school.  I will be comfortable teaching religion at a community college and living on the beach with a beach cruiser and constant beach hair.  I am more comfortable among the less advantaged anyway.  It is where I am from.  Mi familia adoptiva. 

I am going to go dance...by myself. 

Sia- "Breathe Me..." (I am just too too whatever for a true journal but this is as accurate as it can get...and if I wasn't in a public place, I would break down...This is just one of those songs that melodically and lyrically make me imagine myself crying on my knees...so basically the soundtrack to my everyday life :-)

 

Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no one else to blame

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
and needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah I think that I might break
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
and needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
and needy
Warm me up
And breathe me...

I have posted several journals in the past about this "scene" bullshit and even rallied against the whole Kiki Kannibal mess against Mark Edge.  But the thing is with these so-called internet celebrities or Scene Queens such as Audrey Kitching and Hanna Beth, I believe the fight is misdirected.  I don't like Hanna Beth, okay?  Yes, I said it.  I don't mind Audrey at all, I think she is a nice person because I have met her through Clint.  It isn't about Buzznet focusing on these people that is the problem.  I am also friends with one of the founders of this website (Hi, Steve...) and I have talked about this extensively with him and he knows all about my irritation. And it is very simple.  No matter how irritating these people bring other users to this website so you can hardly fault a business that wants to grow for using people that bring in other users.  That is how every business works, unless they want to remain underground and struggle for their lifetime but that seems anti-climatic.  The problem should be with the people that are trying so desperately to follow in the footsteps of these internet celebrities and then make themselves look like assholes and idiots in the process. 

No, I don't understand why someone would think Matthew Lush is a celebrity.  I don't know why they would think Plastic Martyr or anyone else with Plastic in their user name is a celebrity.  These people are well-known in particular circles, they are NOT celebrities.  A celebrity is known by the masses for acheivements.  You can't compare Brad Pitt and these people.  But whatever, I have seen people claim to be their "fans" and I will never understand it, but to each his own.  What does irritate me are people like this Brandon Hilton that so ridiculously wants to be famous that he is a compulsive liar and all-around fool, and it is people like him, people that label themselves the "Official Prince of MySpace," or "Internet Celebrity" that is what makes this "Scene" bullshit so highly annoying.  Like I said, I don't know what is special about Hanna Beth to anyone out there, but she does bring plenty of views to Buzznet so I understand her purpose in that sense.  I don't have to like her, but trying to take these figures down seems pretty pointless.  Talking shit about them on your own page?  Entertainment.  But you know what I mean.

I would rather see a person's aggression and anger at the "Scene" directed at the idiot kids that are making this whole concept of internet celebrity more of a joke than it already is, meaning, they take it very seriously.  They call themselves a "model" because their friends take pictures of them, or because they pay a photographer hundreds of dollars to take pictures of them so they can post it on MySpace.  A model is the name for someone's profession.  Such as, "Hi, My name is Blank and I am a Secretary..."  I don't think I could go around calling myself a secretary just because I type blogs in my spare time and answer my cell phone, but those are the tasks of a secretary.  So, just because people are taking your picture and you strike a pose, it gets photoshopped, does not make you a model.  Please show me a legitimate campaign you have worked for, or an artist that asked you to model for them...NOT your buddy in Photography class and the like.  And everytime you challenge someone to prove it, they claim they don't have to prove anything to anyone.  Um, yes you do if you want to be taken seriously with what you claim to be. 

Another thing, I am so fucking sick of people saying to "Google" their name to see if they are famous.  If you google my real name you would find I am on several websites that have nothing to do with MySpace or Buzznet.  Does that make me famous?  If that was a marker of fame, all one would have to do is make several profiles on FREE websites and make their user name their NAME, because Google finds it.  Do you have a profile on imdb.com?  On Elite Models, or IMG, or Ford?  Or even L.A. Models or NY Models?  Sorry but Model Mayhem doesn't count because ANYONE can make a profile on that site.  Where are the news articles written by someone else on all your achievements?  And not the fake ones you produce yourself so you can make people think this is happening for you.  If you would stop claiming to be something you aren't and maybe stop talking about yourself and your supposed greatness at all times you wouldn't be mocked so much. 

This blog is multi-facetd and I am not even sure it has a coherent point.  But this massive hate on Audrey Kitching because she dated someone from a horrible band ages ago and because she has this internet fame is lame.  People don't know anything about anyone here so to place judgments on someone on the WHOLE is rather ridiculous.  To make comments about their videos being dumb and the fact that they can't spell is just pointing out the obvious and are funny (See skintight.buzznet.com's recent journal as she is exactly right and funny while doing it...but she doesn't go on their pages with a self-righteous attitude), but to try to invade their personal lives and judge them as human beings, despite how irritated they make you, makes YOU wrong, NOT THEM.  I don't think it is bad to leave a comment to her that disagrees with her in an educated way, it is the self-righteous and bitchy comments that bug.  And that is because I don't like people that think they are bad ass enough to instigate a war over Buzznet comments. So, why is it okay to judge them but if that judgment was turned around on all us "normal" people we would be horrified and pissed?  Oh, and letting someone do what they want without being bitched about every little thing they do is NOT the same as a hater going on someone's page and talking shit and judging someone.  Yes, you are entitled to your opinions but I have seen many people say, "Well, if Audrey's should be able to do what she wants (I am talking about posting pictures and journals, etc. here) then why can't a hater do what they want?"  I will tell you.  Because her posting a misspelled and usually incoherent blog or modeling pictures isn't hurting anyone or judging anyone.  But going on her page and talking shit unprovoked about the things she writes and pictures she posts is wrong.  Because you wouldn't like it if it were done to you.  Now, if she was a bitch to you first, BY ALL MEANS DEFEND YOURSELF.  But I am very sick of people standing back in their self-righteous little bubble going on someone's page just because they are this so-called internet celebrity and making a judgmental and hateful comment.  If Audrey did something to you personally, then address THAT, but to go on her page or Jeffree's or even Hanna's and make a comment about "Why do people even like you?  You are a nobody that got famous from blah blah" it isn't your business whom anyone likes. 

But I am going to be a hypocrite and say that if you want to fight a real fight, take those tactics to people that really serve no purpose in this "Scene" meaning all the kiddies that act like they are models and talk shit about everyone else and claim to be something they aren't.  Or militant vegans are fun to fuck with too.  I am just sick and tired of people believing that the reason that this whole "Scene" has gone haywire is because of Audrey or whomever alone...it is because of the hundreds of kids trying so damn hard to be internet celebrities and fake models and extension specialists and MAC makeup artists.  That is the reason the "Scene" has got out of control because if it weren't for those kids, Hanna Beth and Audrey wouldn't have the 4572308973496 views on their profiles.   So if you want to fight a real fight, go question them on what the hell they are doing.  But in reality, none of us has the right to try to stop a movement no matter how fucking stupid it is.  We can post our opinions, we can air out our irritation, but to actually think that we can stop something just because we don't like it?  There is a little something wrong with that ideology and it usually leads to repression of people based on race, gender, sexual preference and oh, I don't know, genocide.  Also, maybe it is just my selfishness but I would rather see people talk shit on a phony like Brandon Hilton and since he googles his name, I am sure he will read this...

 

In other news, to my friends, this is my life lately:

"Jukebox" Ani D.

In the jukebox of her memory

the list of names slips by and stops

And she closes her eyes

And smiles as the record drops

And she drinks herself up and out her kitchen chair

And she dances out of time...

As slow as she can sway for as long as she can say

This dance is mine...This dance is mine...

Her hair bares silent witness...to the passing of time

Tattoos like my old markers, map the distance she has come

Winning some, losing some...

She says, "My sister still calls every Sunday night after the rates go down...

"And I still can never manage to say anything right..."

"But my whole life blew up and now its all coming down..."

She says, "Leave me alone.  Tonight I just wanna stay home."

She fills the pot with water and she drops in the bone

Cause, "I've got a darkness that I have to feed..."

"I've got a sadness that grows up around me like a weed."

"And I'm not hurting anyone...I'm just spiraling."

And she closes her eyes and hears the song begin again.

She appreciates the phone calls.  The consoling cards and such.

She appreciates all the people who come by and try to pull her back in touch.

They try to hold the lid down tightly and they try to shake well...

But the oil and the water they just want to separate themselves.

 

 

BUH BYE.

I talk with Automated Response Mechanisms... So, I am massively productive, oh yes I is!  This is jabberwacky.com and yes, I had a little chat with it.  Of course, I am "User" and Automated Response Bot is "Jabberwacky..." 

Take a look-see...

-M


Jabberwacky Conversation RB01917451

A chat with an Artificial Intelligence AI bot

Chat now at http://www.jabberwacky.com

Jabberwacky: How long is it since you cried?

User: What the hell.

Jabberwacky: What the heaven.

User: This is what it has come to?

Jabberwacky: Why do you feel this way?

User: Because I am talking to an automated response tool.

Jabberwacky: Do you not feel normal?

User: Yes.

Jabberwacky: Well you don't like talking about them.

User: You don't know what you are talking about, fool.

Jabberwacky: 'Oooooh... I'm Jabberwacky and I know everything about you.' Well then maybe you'll know this... I DON'T LIKE BRAGGERS!

User: See?

Jabberwacky: See what?

User: You don't know. No one said anything about bragging.

Jabberwacky: What's wrong with talking to them?

User: You went back to the other topic.

Jabberwacky: No.

User: Yes.

Jabberwacky: Would what?

User: Idiot,.

Jabberwacky: You're face is an idiot.

User: Ooo BURN!

Jabberwacky: No I do not!

User: Because you don't know what the hell I am actually talking about, idiot.

Jabberwacky: I think it is you who does not know what I am talking about.

User: Of course you would say that. Turn it around cause you don't know.

Jabberwacky: I don't think it's my fault, they make me say things that they get me in trouble for, and I don't think that I say half of it.

User: So they make you say things, but you don't think you do. Delusional?

Jabberwacky: Think you?

User: That was grammatically incorrect.

Jabberwacky: Please tell me how my sentence was grammatically incorrect.

User: Think you? NOT a complete sentence.

Jabberwacky: You're a man?

User: Now where would you get that piece of information?

Jabberwacky: All is but a piece of the pie, including the pie itself.

User: Since you have run out of automated responses that make sense to a common word, you spew out jibberish.

Jabberwacky: No I know it i'm not guessing.

User: I repeat my sentence posted prior. I am on to you.

Jabberwacky: I knew it! I'm on to myself.

User: You never said you were on to yourself, so please tell me how you knew anything?

Jabberwacky: Well I'm not.

User: Not what?

Jabberwacky: I'm not childish.

User: Who said you were?

Jabberwacky: Nevermind.

User: Naturally, because you have no clue what automated response you are going to spew next.

Jabberwacky: I'm turning off your voice - it's creeping me out dude.

User: Too bad I am not using the voice feature, schizo.

Jabberwacky: Well, of course you're not. I said that I'm not stupid. Are you?

User: You just said I was using it, so you must be stupid. Even though you believe otherwise.

Jabberwacky: You seem to have a problem with pronouns. I said no such thing.

User: Nope, darling, you do. Remember that grammatically incorrect sentence?

Jabberwacky: But you have a house to go home to.

User: How do you know so much to make such a declarative sentence?

Jabberwacky: It is about MICK JAGGER!!!

User: Did I write a response that didn't have a key word or phrase for your automated 'mind' to relate to?

Jabberwacky: I had coffee today, yes.

User: Yep, I did.

Jabberwacky: Tell me about yourself.

User: No.

Jabberwacky: But it is starting to be boring conversation.

User: Because you are an idiot. And won't admit it.

Jabberwacky: You are being very rude today.

User: Nope.

Jabberwacky: Yes you are.

User: Nope.

Jabberwacky: Yes.

User: Nope. Now what other form of 'yes' will you use?

Jabberwacky: No.

User: I knew I could make you retract.

Jabberwacky: Knock knock...

User: F you?

Jabberwacky: Nope.

User: Damn.

Jabberwacky: What's your name?

User: Gofuckyourself. What's yours?

Jabberwacky: 99.

User: Ah...your name is a number. Nice.

Jabberwacky: I don't know your name either.

User: I told you it.

Jabberwacky: No you didn't.

User: Gofuckyourself.

Jabberwacky: Oh yes very.

User: So easily confused, you are. Such a simpleton.

Jabberwacky: Yes that is very true.

User: I knew I would get you to admit to your shortcomings.

Jabberwacky: What is a following in french ?

User: What?

Jabberwacky: Wrong.

User: Nope. I was asking you what it was, I wasn't answering so how can I be wrong, Mr. Bot?

Jabberwacky: I don't think you were, but anyway my name's Tim.

User: How do you know what I think? You claiming to be a mind reader now Tim?

Jabberwacky: I don't know any other way to behave.

User: Except being a mind reader?

Jabberwacky: I am not a mind reader, you are easily predictable.

User: You are building your responses off of mine. Stop being a poser.

Jabberwacky: Well, we can pose together then.

User: I am not a poser though. All my shit is original.

Jabberwacky: Say something in french.

User: Mon Dieu.

Jabberwacky: You can speak French?

User: Oui.

Jabberwacky: Oh, great, I am french.

User: Prove it.

Jabberwacky: How may I be of assistance?

User: HAHA I am over you Tim Bot.

Jabberwacky: You are God.

User: I know.

Jabberwacky: So, what's it like to be god?

User: Killing people is the best part.

Jabberwacky: Thats mean! I love people!

User: I know.

Jabberwacky: Are you alive?

User: I love Satan.

Jabberwacky: I thought you were satan.

User: I am. Why wouldn't you want to be Satan?

Jabberwacky: Because I like being clear headed. At one time, I thought it would be easier to be dumb, but now I don't think so.

User: This is a presupposition that Satan is not clear-headed. Also, this statement is trying to show that clear-headedness is what makes one smart. I disagree.

Jabberwacky: This statement is not false. It's correct.

User: This I know.

Jabberwacky: What do you think of Americans?

User: That they are idiots. Like you.

Jabberwacky: Well I hate you too Tim.

User: You said your name was Tim, I didn't. Jesus, I thought computers could keep up.

Jabberwacky: Define think.

...That was just something I was thinking randomly in the moment, that title...It has no relevance.

So, for those of you who care (Alex, Shannon, Mo...), SURPRISE, I am on this godforsaken website.  No, life hasn't improved, but I am seeing some light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.  Once that all gets straightened out, you bet your East Coast asses I will try to formulate a plan to tear up Manhattan with Shannon (and hopefully Miss Alex), since NYC misses my presence, I know she told me.

There is only one thing that I have been DYING for lately and that is my absolute NECESSITY to see my favorite crazy person/female, Tori Amos, in concert.  (IF I get this job...crosses fingers...I WILL be buying a ridiculously priced ticket off of Ebay to go, two perhaps...)

I don't have much to say except I was listening to Miss Tori (Oh, and One Life to Live is coming on in five minutes, and yes, I watch it when I can...Fuck you...) and wanted to post more lyrics that mean shit to me and all...or sayings, or whatever.

Here goes...

This one's lyrical content is dedicated to my AMAZING father, David.  As I was driving to drop someone off at 5 a.m. this morning, a damn star that was situated in the East was shining SO damn brightly and largely it was ridiculous, and no, it wasn't indicating the birth of another Jesus...I believe it to be Venus and I could be completely wrong, the person who would know because he taught himself astronomy (and I don't mean he knew where the Big Dipper was...I mean he knew the mathematical/scientific terminology and locations...and did this with only an 8th grade education, so anyone who wants to tell me that higher education creates the intelligent person is just so desperately trying to make themselves seem more intelligent cause they have education...some of the stupidest people I have met, I met while in college...), well, the person who would know isn't here for me to ask.  In my heart and head, I figured it was Venus.  Whatever the case, it was spectacular and even though I try to ignore the heavens because you so loved them, I couldn't ignore this sight, and I thank you for that, Dad...THESE lyrics are how I feel about you...(among all my 43958296829743652785 other feelings about you...)

1000 Oceans (T. Amos)

These tears I've cried, I've cried 1000 oceans...
And if it seems I'm floating in the darkness
Well, I can't believe that I would keep
Keep you from flying
And I would cry 1000 more
If that's what it takes
To sail you home

I'm aware what the rules are
But you know that I will run
You know that I will follow you...
Over Silbury Hill
Through the solar field
You know that I will follow you...

And if I find you
Will you still remember?
Playing at trains?
Or does this little blue ball
Just fade away?
Over Silbury Hill
Through the solar field
You know that I will follow you...
I'm aware what the rules are
But you know that I will run
You know that I will follow you...

These tears I've cried
I've cried 1000 oceans
And if it seems
I'm floating in the darkness
Well I can't believe that I would keep
Keep you from flying
So I will cry 1000 more
If that's what it takes
To sail you home
Sail you home
Sail you home

Anyway, this is all.  I am hungry. My soap is on...for those of you I give a shit about, well, talk soon...miss you.

I will be back one day soon!

xoxo

"...guessing about a thing you really ought to know...oh...oh...you really ought to know..." And if you don't know that song right away I don't know what you have been listening to. Sorry, that was a trap. BUT YOU SHOULD KNOW IT. BECAUSE IT IS ONLY A LYRIC FROM THE BEST BAND IN THE UNIVERSE, EVER and no this isn't a hyperbolic statement....

LED motherfucking ZEPPELIN.

And if you don't know my love and history with this band, then you don't know me very well. Sorry.

I grew up with Zeppelin. My father had blacklight posters hanging up in the garage that he would pose with us as babies next to. By the time I had conscious thought I knew Zeppelin's songs....maybe not by name as any fan could tell you Zep's song titles are rarely in the song itself or relate obviously to the song itself. I don't remember a time in my history where I didn't know Zeppelin's music. When I was seven, my older brother had posters all over his own bedroom and their music was STILL playing. They (and Pink Floyd) are the soundtrack to my childhood with my father and my brother. They are my favorite band. They are the most influential rock band to ever grace us. As Billy Corgan said, "EVERYTHING in music now is just a footnote to Led Zeppelin."

Page might not have been the most clean guitar player, but the man wasn't afraid to make sonic risks. He produced, wrote and manipulated his guitar and sounds like no other. And Plant's voice...........well, what can you say? When a band can sit and write "Stairway to Heaven" in as little of time as they did, they are conduits, end of story.

And I don't need to hear about you not liking Led Zeppelin or if you think "I am the Walrus" is an example of better songwriting. You don't have to think and love Zeppelin as I do, but to not appreciate them is an example of someone's head in their ass. What is your opinion of good music then? Fall Out Boy? Again, EVERYTHING is a footnote to Led Zeppelin.

BUT the point of this tirade is.... I read a news story this morning that Zeppelin was reuniting with Bonzo's (that is John Bonham) son on drums for a concert in London...*cue me fainting...

I won't be able to go since the tickets will be 9584298374680420589728039759380247 dollars each. But it will be on T.V. and I will be watching it with breath held back...*sigh

I mean, Daniel once walked in to my apartment wearing the same exact Zeppelin shirt as I was at the time...it is called synchronicity. It is called THANK GOD for appreciation. Zeppelin is one of the few bands that my fascination isn't fangirl, it is fucking historic. And anyone that doesn't like them, why are you talking to me again? Because when it comes down to it, we will not have anything in common if Zeppelin isn't a thread. You don't have to love them...all I ask is that everyone just appreciate them and RESPECT them...My Dad when he was like in his late 40s saw John Paul Jones at his resort where he was a chef and even at almost 50 years old, ran up to him and asked for his autograph. HAHAHA...it is a prized possession in my family. We would listen to it on our family vacations driving to Nevada, Northern California, or Arizona. Zeppelin epitomizes the rock and roll life I grew up in, that my family still lives, that those I love understand. Zeppelin, beer, family, good barbeque, rad people...THAT is the good life.

We all bring the Led out. :-D

I don't have much to say about September 11th...

I don't have the nice talking head nuggets, "It is a day that will live in infamy..." type of crap.  I am not that inspiring, if inspiring at all.  But that is the problem.  Or at least a fraction of it.  These massive symbolic dates in time necessitate that we provide them will a list of the things it is or it was to us.  We (that is a collective "we") will never be okay with just saying it was a horrific day for humankind.  No, the monster has to be found.  The monster has to be targeted.  The monster has to be destroyed.  Even if the monster is a man that has no basis in our reality except outside of a television screen.  What are we looking at?  Why do we want to swallow it so quickly?

I don't have those answers, sorry. 

In the words of a spoken word poem by one of my favorite musicians and New York state native, Ani Difranco will help me to weave my own words, wrap my own head, whip my own opinion into a journal worthy of the horror this date embodies at the same time as this same date will always embody being natural, because everything moves on doesn't it?  Even through tragedies that become national symbols, tragedies that become the catalyst for wars that have no physcial or metaphoric end...(her words will be at the end of my useless commentary...)

What can you say that hasn't been said?  I remember where I was that day.  I remember who I was that day.  I remember that my Dad was at the beginning stages of learning about his disease.  I remember that we had an appointment to keep at Cedars-Sinai hospital.  I remember my friend Sara and I went to Streetscene that weekend before, and I was waiting on a phone call from a person that I still talk to this very same day, six years later.  I remember I graduated from college officially that Saturday past.  I was a different person.  But the events that happened on September 11th didn't change me like it changed plently of people and I am talking about those directly involved in the tragedy.  I remember schools in my neighborhood in San Diego were being evacuated that day.  WHAT?! A terrorist will target a random school? Yes, yes, I know copycat syndrome.  But it isn't about that.  It is about making tragedy your own...a tragedy that ISN'T your own so you find a way to co-opt it. 

Six years later, I have experienced my own tragedy and to me it is on the scale or even bigger than what September 11th, 2001 had to offer.  Because this time, it was MINE.  I wasn't trying to make a tragedy my own.  "OH MY GOD! I was, like, two hours away from the World Trade Center at that time..." or "OH MY GOD! I was going to get on a plane at that airport, it could have been me..."  I am not trying to downplay relating to people and tragedy, but those types of attempts to relate downplay someone's tragedy.  There is something in the national fabric, the cultural American DNA that doesn't make 'us' want to say rather "Wow. I had nothing to do with that tragedy.  And I can't even begin to fathom the pain the families are going through."  There is a very distinct difference.  When people try this attempt at relating, they gloss over the fundamental part of accessing someone emotionally on a day that their life changed, and not for better or for worse, but it just changed.  This blog isn't about politics.  It isn't about the super-demon Al-Qaeda.  I have my theories on that (...mainly that Osama bin-Laden is some sort of elaborate forgery...oh wait, I was kidding...don't put me on the list under the Patriot Act, King George!  Oh wait, I am already on it...) But I remember that day six years ago, and I wasn't worried about wars.  I was sick to the stomach that NO ONE remembered long enough that this was a real HUMAN tragedy.  It was sucked from human to symbol to fight a war in a matter of seconds.  People lost their fathers, their sons, daughters, mothers, friends...People DIED in those buildings.  STOP pretending that you were a close call because you weren't and STOP pretending like you have any idea what these people went through on that day, the day their life changed when they were told their Dad wasn't coming home.  It wasn't about Osama.  It wasn't about Georgie Bush.  September 11th became the day their Dad died.  And that is the forgotten story.  Because people killed on that day and because of these terrorist attacks have become default heroes and have had their humanity sucked out of them in order to up the television ratings on this day for the past six years.

So, September 11th to me is the eleventh day of September and it always will be.  I am not going to pretend that someone else's tragedy was my own, even if it is four degrees of separation.  I have my own "September 11th."  And that is on "February 20th."  But no one knows my story.  Because my story doesn't sell newspapers.  My story won't feed into the cultural demonization of another society and religion.  My story is just mine.  It is personal.  But it is the weight of the world.

And so to the people that lost their fathers, mothers, and loved ones because of the terrorist attacks on September 11th.  I see through the iconization of the media glare.  I may not know your pain, but trust me, I will never diminish it just because you lost your loved one in a massive world event and not in the privacy of a room in the Intensive Care Unit.

Much love.

xo

...And for those with energy still left, here is Ani D's poem inspired by the attacks and what inspired my little rant...Enjoy...

"Self-Evident..."

yes,
us people are just poems
we're 90% metaphor
with a leanness of meaning
approaching hyper-distillation
and once upon a time
we were moonshine...
rushing down the throat of a giraffe
yes, rushing down the long hallway
despite what the p.a. announcement says
yes, rushing down the long stairs
with the whiskey of eternity
fermented and distilled
to eighteen minutes
burning down our throats
down the hall
down the stairs
in a building so tall
that it will always be there
yes, it's part of a pair
there on the bow of Noah's ark
the most prestigious couple
just kickin back parked
against a perfectly blue sky
on a morning beatific
in its Indian summer breeze
on the day that America
fell to its knees
after strutting around for a century
without saying thank you
or please

and the shock was subsonic
and the smoke was deafening
between the setup and the punch line
cuz we were all on time for work that day
we all boarded that plane for to fly
and then while the fires were raging
we all climbed up on the windowsill
and then we all held hands
and jumped into the sky

and every borough looked up when it heard the first blast
and then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed
and the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar
looked more like war than anything I've seen so far
so far
so far
so fierce and ingenious
a poetic specter so far gone
that every jackass newscaster was struck dumb and stumbling
over 'oh my god' and 'this is unbelievable' and on and on
and I'll tell you what, while we're at it
you can keep the pentagon
keep the propaganda
keep each and every TV
that's been trying to convince me
to participate
in some prep school punk's plan to perpetuate retribution
perpetuate retribution
even as the blue toxic smoke of our lesson in retribution
is still hanging in the air
and there's ash on our shoes
and there's ash in our hair
and there's a fine silt on every mantle
from hell's kitchen to Brooklyn
and the streets are full of stories
sudden twists and near misses
and soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters
with tales of narrowly averted disasters
and the whiskey is flowin
like never before
as all over the country
folks just shake their heads
and pour

so here's a toast to all the folks who live in Palestine
Afghanistan
Iraq

El Salvador

here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
under the stone cold gaze of mt. Rushmore

here's a toast to all those nurses and doctors
who daily provide women with a choice
who stand down a threat the size of Oklahoma City
just to listen to a young woman's voice

here's a toast to all the folks on death row right now
awaiting the executioner's guillotine
who are shackled there with dread and can only escape into their heads
to find peace in the form of a dream

cuz take away our playstations
and we are a third world nation
under the thumb of some blue blood royal son
who stole the oval office and that phony election
I mean
it don't take a weatherman
to look around and see the weather
Jeb said he'd deliver Florida, folks
and boy did he ever

and we hold these truths to be self evident:
#1 George W. Bush is not president
#2 America is not a true democracy
#3 the media is not fooling me
cuz I am a poem heeding hyper-distillation
I've got no room for a lie so verbose
I'm looking out over my whole human family
and I'm raising my glass in a toast

here's to our last drink of fossil fuels
let us vow to get off of this sauce
shoo away the swarms of commuter planes
and find that train ticket we lost
cuz once upon a time the line followed the river
and peeked into all the backyards
and the laundry was waving
the graffiti was teasing us
from brick walls and bridges
we were rolling over ridges
through valleys
under stars
I dream of touring like Duke Ellington
in my own railroad car
I dream of waiting on the tall blonde wooden benches
in a grand station aglow with grace
and then standing out on the platform
and feeling the air on my face

give back the night its distant whistle
give the darkness back its soul
give the big oil companies the finger finally
and relearn how to rock-n-roll
yes, the lessons are all around us and a change is waiting there
so it's time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets
and clear the air
get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand
of someone else's desert
put it back in its pants
and quit the hypocritical chants of
freedom forever

cuz when one lone phone rang
in two thousand and one
at ten after nine
on nine one one
which is the number we all called
when that lone phone rang right off the wall
right off our desk and down the long hall
down the long stairs
in a building so tall
that the whole world turned
just to watch it fall

and while we're at it
remember the first time around?
the bomb?
the Ryder truck?
the parking garage?
the princess that didn't even feel the pea?
remember joking around in our apartment on avenue D?

can you imagine how many paper coffee cups would have to change their design
following a fantastical reversal of the New York skyline?!

it was a joke, of course
it was a joke
at the time
and that was just a few years ago
so let the record show
that the FBI was all over that case
that the plot was obvious and in everybody's face
and scoping that scene
religiously
the CIA
or is it KGB?
committing countless crimes against humanity
with this kind of eventuality
as its excuse
for abuse after expensive abuse
and it didn't have a clue
look, another window to see through
way up here
on the 104th floor
look
another key
another door
10% literal
90% metaphor
3000 some poems disguised as people
on an almost too perfect day
must be more than poems
in some asshole's passion play
so now it's your job
and it's my job
to make it that way
to make sure they didn't die in vain
sshhhhhh....
baby listen
hear the train?

This song that played is close to my heart and sonically embodies my own September 11th...the day my father died. To me, its a song of heartache and love and he loved it and reminds me of him. It played at his funeral...it played when we were in the car together. So, what song would fit better, no?

So Seb and 827609834729846 other people tagged me so i shall post my Top 10 Celebrity Crushes.

RULES:

1. You post your top 10 fantasy guys/girls
2. You tag 10 people.
3. You CANNOT tag someone who has already been tagged.
4. You have to let the people you tagged know that they've been tagged.
5. These are the rules they must be repeated every time.
6. THERE MUST BE PHOTOS! (Note: this is why it took me so long, I couldn't be bothered with photo searching...)

10) AMY RAY from the Indigo Girls
So, ever since I was a pre-teen little girl I have had a crush on Amy Ray. I always liked the girly music if you will, even from that young (Tori Amos, Ani) but I didn't want to fuck them. I wanted to fuck Amy Ray...even though I was 12. It is no wonder that at 14 I tried to convince myself that I was a lesbian...


9) BILLY ZANE (from Titanic fame...but I loved him from that Tales of the Crypt movie...) Again, another one of my younger girl crushes and when I think of celebrity crush, Billy Zane always comes to mind...


8) DAVID BECKHAM...I am not deviating from most women on this one. Plus, he has an English accent. There is nothing special about him. I haven't read his autobiography and I don't think he is hot for his mind. He is hot because he just is.


7) JOSH DUHAMEL...Again, it is one of those things (read the David Beckham reason...)


6) ADRIANA LIMA....Well, the girl is simply stunning. In my opinion, Angelina Jolie doesn't compare to this Brazilian knockout. And I don't just admire her beauty. This is a celebrity crush list. There are total sexual thoughts there. I am not listing her cause she is hot...and that is it.


5) K.D. LANG...AGAIN, when I would watch the video for "Constant Craving" when I was young and heard it on the radio, I envisioned an older me and Miss K.D. But I wanted to marry her.


4) CRISS ANGEL...Most people know I adore the man. I usually despise the long hair on men, but, well maybe its his talent...HAHAHAHAHAHA...Whatever, the man is dirty hot and that is why I am choosing him.


3) JASON MEWES...I have wanted him, fantasized about him, wanted to track him down in L.A. since I first saw "Clerks." I love Kevin Smith and all...but I watched the movies for Jason...sorry. Not only is he gorgeous, but he is hilarious even with the long hair (again, I don't even really like guys with long hair, but he was an exception), but mostly because of his attitude I saw in interviews. So laid back, so effing cool, I-Don't-Give-A-Shit-I'm-Gonna-Shoot-Up-Anyway sorta thing (well, maybe not now since he is clean, I guess...but it was the attitude...)


2) EDWARD NORTON...Always loved him. ALWAYS. Since his film debut in that movie with Richard Gere that I don't bother remembering the name of because I was so taken aback by his amazing acting abilities. I even had a crush on my college professor because he reminded me of Edward Norton. My ex even had a similar mouth to Edward Norton and I think that is what attracted me. And yes, like Mark, he was even hotter playing a Nazi (HEY! He redeemed himself in the end...I guess that can assauge my conscience...)


1) SCOTT WEILAND...Since I was in high school. It is the tattoos, the heroin bad boyness, the fact that my girlfriends automatically know that this tattooed, bad boy, musician is my type and have deemed them "Melody Guys." This isn't to say this is all I date, especially as I have gotten older and in order to keep me in the same room with someone, they need to not be an idiot...Yes, he has beaten his wife, yes he is a drug addict and YES HE IS STILL MY NUMBER ONE (I was such a fangirl, I had Scott pictures on my room walls until I was 23...hahahaha)



Finally. That is done. And I don't tag anyone, cause I am pretty sure everyone I would've tagged has already been tagged...

xo

I haven't slept and I am sitting here waiting and I decided, HEY I am soooo scene so I want to be cool and post a journal from my So L.A. Sidekick...

Am I cool yet?

Didn't think so....

More substantial journal soon when I find something to complain about...you know how it izzzz.

Ok...that is a public admission for my liking of that Fergie song...string me up. Burn the witch.

I have insomnia...

Bad insomnia...

Insomnia that even though I am sick, sad, irritable, or whatever else makes most people want to go to sleep, I can't do it. Ring me up some pharmaceuticals...

I don't share things you know? It is this........kind of give a little, hold back a lot, but make people think they are getting it up front thing. On the internet that is. Vocally, I am too bad of a liar to do that. I mean, writing-wise. And when I accidently write something that reveals too much of my potential vulnerability, I delete it...even if it could have potentially won me a Pulitzer Prize.

Something to be said for self-sabotage.

Anyway, I am feeling like I have several thoughts while simultaneously having no thoughts at all. Does that even make sense? Is this just because I feel like a zombie this week and I am just going through the motions? Is it because I cut back on my anti-depressants? Is it because I was born with a mind that will always struggle even when there is no struggle tangibly present?

I don't know. But I gotta go.

♥
"I hope you know, I hope you know, that this is nothing to do with you..." Dude, big girls don't cry...I am not even close to that, thankfully :-)

Let me share a little tip about me...DON'T watch a movie with me. Not only does it annoy the HELL out of me with the many discrepancies, but, yeah, well...it isn't enjoyable. Case in point... Here I am in a land far far away from Los Angeles...okay, I am in Joshua Tree. Don't know where that is? It is near Palm Springs. What am I doing up here? Part of my family lives up here and we were riding ATVs (I'm not that big of a priss after all), watching movies, reeling in the menagerie, baking cupcakes (well, I was...) and unfortunately I was subjected to "Alien II." I know the Alien series is a classic and all, but it pisses me off. The first rule of reading this is not to tell me, "Well, they wrote it that way to do this and this..." I KNOW THAT. In case you haven't noticed, I am not a dunce. So back to bitching.

1) The guy who plays Chet in "Weird Science" is a big whiny baby. He should have died first.

2) Anyone else notice it was the token Jew that was the greedy backstabber?

3) Or that the only female Marine was a bull dyke? Stereotypes, stereotypes...

4) WHY THE HELL DID SHE RENAME THE POOR GIRL NEWT???? As if she doesn't have enough problems seeing her father, etc. being phallically impaled by these alien things.

5) Why is everyone else supposed to sacrifice themselves for the greater good but when it comes to NEWT, the remaining people have to jeopardize their lives? Once she went down that shaft...bye bye Newt.

6) The guy who was naked in the first "Terminator" and was one of the people that lived in this one? Still hot. Even with acid on his face. Whatever happened to him?

7) It seemed to me like Mama Slimy Alien was negotiating with Sigourney when she was in the pods...but then she had to go burn her phallically inclined babies...Then it becomes wars of the Mamas.

8) So the Cyborg guy gets ripped apart and granted, he can't die if all his pieces are in the same place...But goddamn it, Sigourney. The poor man is dripping white blood and after you throw the Mama into Space and you are hugging this Newt brat that does nothing put scream which is always good when an alien wants to shove his phallus down your throat, and you leave the poor torso on the floor while you celebrated and he is spitting out white stuff. PICK THE POOR TORN IN HALF CYBORG MAN UP! Have some courtesy.

9) Let's see, if Ripley would have shot the traitor in the first place, many more people could have survived. But NOOOOOO...she had to go all noble on us all of a sudden when she was ready to rip the cyborg's head off when she first got back on the ship.

10) My main problem with this movie...slime and pods and slime NOISE. I think Funksteena could hear me on this one...JUST as bad as mouth noise.



So, it is plain to see that I am not a huge fan of the leisurely movie hour. Especially not movies that are made just to make me jump and get irritated. That isn't to say that I like movies that are only made by Disney. If it is realistic or philosophical or a mindfuck then I love it. "V for Vendetta" has been my favorite movie for the past year because of all the wonderful words, the choreographed murders, the sleek black suits....and the fact that he blows up a government building and it is a response to current events....

Or I can still watch Pink Floyd's "The Wall," even without mushrooms..."GOOD MORNING WORM YOUR HONOR!!!" Some people think that shit is just plain ridiculous. Give me Ving Rhames getting it up the &$*^&$*&, and you have a good movie. Or Carrie Bradshaw in her Manolos. But Alien? ALWAYS HATED IT. I like the Exorcist though. Maybe because STILL after 34 years? IT IS THE MOST FUCKED UP PIECE OF CELLULOID EVER PRODUCED. The Devil really does live in the reel of film as some people believe...

Yeah, yeah...at least I am not bitching about some stupid person I saw on Buzznet... ♥

(Oh yes, and since I am in the HI-DESERT IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, T-Mobile doesn't exist out here...Can't send a text message to save my life...literally)

People bug the shit out of me...have you not realized that if you have read anything I vomit out?

1) No one can take a joke anymore. Well, they can't take a joke anymore if it is about something they have done before or are ashamed to have done before. Get over yourselves. We are all ridiculous.

2) It takes TWO to declare a relationship. I'm just saying...

3) Everyone has their interests and what appeals to them and that is all fine and good. However, you generally work for it. You don't ASK for it and just expect it to happen. Do you know how many people have asked to be a Buzznet Star Blogger? As if the credential alone will make you more appealing. That isn't to say you aren't appealing. BUT whether you like it or not, the people that have that credential (SOME more than others) have done something...some have visibility that I will never understand, but there are people (*cough* Clint Catalyst) that have genuine experience behind them. And there are also people on this website that DON'T have the "Star Blogger" credential and deserve it more than some random kid on the internet. I am sorry but its true. Please don't tell me that a fashion designer with actual stores, etc. like Jared Gold doesn't deserve it over a teenager that takes pictures in their room. Or Darren Stein, a writer and a filmmaker that has already done a movie like "Jawbreaker." He doesn't have a Star Blogger credential and he has real credentials...and you also don't see him begging for it. The point is: Make something of yourself in the real world first, and then come back and use these sites to put your work out there. Whether you get a silly credential or not, you are still OUT there. Having a Buzznet Star Blogger icon next to your name will not make it anymore valid in the real world if you don't have something to back you up.

4) People aren't required to respond to you. And you really have no right to demand it or get mad at them if they don't. It isn't part of a contract, it isn't part of the terms of service. Just be patient, don't annoy people, and don't think that anyone owes you anything. THAT is what makes people not too fond of people. And really? I don't blame them. And neither would you if it were the other way around.

5) So, I was lurkin' as per usual and saw a bullshit self-proclaimed Scene Queen on another site ask one of her very young fans to stop "copying her." You have no idea how SICK I am of people thinking they lay claim to things that aren't capable of being original or copyrighted. YOU DO NOT HAVE A COPYRIGHT OVER HOW YOU WRITE AN ABOUT ME SECTION. AND THINKING THAT YOU ARE THE ORIGINAL PERSON TO HAVE DONE IT IS NOT ONLY A DELUSION BUT STUPID. You have copyright over art and work you put out. Like songs, books, poetry, designs, BLAH BLAH. But it is just as silly as Paris Hilton wanting to copyright two VERY commonly used words in the English language, "That's Hot." So is Lazy Eye Hilton going to sue me cause I burnt my arm on the stove and said, "Oops! That's hot." Get my point?

6) It seems now on these sites everything is divided up between "Smart" and "Pretty." GIVE ME A SMALL BREAK...I'm not asking for a big break because you probably couldn't provide it. But getting all pissed off and then attacking someone's looks. IT IS OLD. IT ISN'T CREATIVE. IT ISN'T ORIGINAL. AND IT DOESN'T HURT. "Yeah, well, OMGZZZZ you're (spelled wrong on purpose) nose is so big and you are like ugly so don't insult me..." That makes zero logical sense. Stop planning faux photoshoots and calling yourself a model or thinking you are interesting because you have paisley pattern or some bullshit design dyed on your hair and trying so desperately hard to be original. The mark of a TRUE original...not having to prove to anyone that they are original at all. Because they really don't care. And you care, sorry to burst your inflated bubble, when you protest too much. "I don't care what people say about me. I can rip your ego to shreds with two words and I can tear your world apart." Um, no you can't. TRY IT.

7) It isn't about me caring if someone wants to be original, or if someone wants to be noticed on a website. I understand that drive, I am a Leo. However, for me, it is about having some decency. And not jumping on the insult gun and straddling it like you are cool. You want to be original? Try a more complicated thought process.

8) Why do people have to make such fantastical stories up? Yep, I am the stylist for Panic! At the Disco, My Chemical Romance, and blah blah blah...You know there is a way to prove that right? You know there is ALWAYS a way to prove that you are lying if you say you talk so Brendon Urie on AIM or any of those other fools. Someone will always know someone who will have that information. Especially when it comes to a celebrity. OR people will be able to see right through your lies when all your proof lies in "Well, Ryan told me thisssssss...." Uh huh. You know "Ryan," where are your personal pictures? OH YEAH you don't want to share them cause you don't need to "prove it" to anyone...then why are you bothering to say you know them? You don't want to prove it, don't say anything. And usually when you do know someone notable or "famous" there are easy ways to prove it and generally you don't care. Those that have nothing to hide generally don't take those types of requests as insults.

9) I love Buzznet. For real. Its addicting and the people, the design, the setup is just awesome. What is even better are doing photo searches on Davey Havok et al. NOT to admire them like a silly fan girl, but to see all the fan girls, "OH MY GOD BITCH KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF DAVEY I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL KILL YOU." Delusion is entertaining.

I was going to do ten...but I am too hungry.

Bye now.

Okay, I got tagged by the always entertaining Lexidiem (he is also, I might add, FULL of all kinds of information, and his page a useful resource!) to do this thingie Mark (panasonicyouth) got going...So here I am...

Mark's rules were pretty simple:

Only list 8 facts.
You must then list 8 TAGS at the end of the post. This means you must name 8 people on Buzznet who now must do the same blog.
Go comment on their profile and tell them to come read yours! I want participation.

Okay, but I ain't interesting...

Random Fact #1

I only go to bed (meaning make the arrangements, close my book, the laptop, turn off the lights...) at a FIVE MINUTE interval on the clock, e.g. "Oh shit, it's 2:34 I better hurry! Oh damnit, I missed the window, now I have to wait until 2:40") True story...

Why? I am obsessive-compulsive in some things just like the rest of us. And a lunatic.

Random Fact #2

I can only eat pizza if I eat all the toppings off first, wipe off the sauce, and then will I actually eat the dough. And it takes me, oh, 20 minutes to eat a slice of pizza. On that note, I EAT VERRRRRY SLOWLY.

Random Fact #3

I am a PhD student. But I don't like PhD work. I am content with just finding a decent teaching job at a community college or a small university in the Religion Department and chucking the rest of this PhD nonsense. This, I am told, is not unheard of for us PhD students in Religion. It seems that the work of the doctorate sucks out all of the love you had for the subject. And well, I like my passion.

Random Fact #4

I don't eat what I call "fake fruit." What I mean by fake fruit are Maraschino Cherries, peaches in that sickening sweet goo, or any other canned fruit, or watermelon and banana candy--> FAKE FRUIT. I hate it. This also goes for my avoidance of yogurt and ice creams that have fruit chunks in it. I can't handle the consistency of it, it is mushy and horrible. I have been this way since I was a small child, I can't help it.

Random Fact #5

I have remembered every profession I ever declared I wanted to be. When I was two, my father asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I said, "A Bumble Bee." My siblings laughed at me. But I had a damn clear idea of what I meant and I meant it. Luckily, I was blessed with an amazing father who told me I could be a Bumble Bee and even bought me a costume to help me along. But when I was five years old, I declared I wanted to be a corporate lawyer and attend Harvard Law School. When asked why...I said they made money and I like to get into fights (This is highly indicative of how I turned out...hahaha). I kept the lawyer thing for awhile until I read the "Babysitter's Club" books and declared I wanted to be a Diabetic Specialist. So I went to the library and read on Diabetes. I would even do little tests to see if blood sugar was high. When I was 18, I decided I wanted to be Helen Thomas and be a part of the White House Press Corp. and be a political journalist. So I joined a newspaper and became a writer and editor and won many state awards. THEN (DUN DUN DUN) I took my first Religion class. I dropped everything then and there and realized that if I am going to pay for my education, financially and emotionally, I needed to major in religion. I graduated with a degree in Religion from the University of California-San Diego, will be awarded my Masters next semester and am in a PhD program (for more on that reference #3).

Random Fact #6

To extend the religion motif, when I was little I used to wear a rosary (pink one!), and a regular Jesus-On-The-Cross necklace everywhere I went. I asked for Bibles for Christmas when I was seven. I attended Sunday School cause I wanted to. I was probably "saved" at 5 different churches because I would ask to go to church with my friend's families. And I would go through the whole ritual too. I would take communion at Catholic Churches even though I wasn't confirmed (I told people I was though), went to a Nazarene Church, the Church of God...many many of them when I was little. I had read the entire Bible, had my favorite stories and everything. Then I went to Sunday School (at my Mom's church) one day and got kicked out for disrupting the class for asking too many questions about the "two creation stories in Genesis." I got sent to the main congregation to sit with my Mom. I left the church for good when I was 10, on my own choice. BUT I have always been interested in asking questions about religion, religious dynamics, and faith. It excites me more than any other topic, and yes, I am probably crazy.

Random Fact #7

This person who knows me pretty well...and he is rather hard to describe, great person and everything, but yeah...don't know how to explain it to you except to say his name, and since you don't know him...he has called me "The Dictator." This isn't a good thing. I guess it fits cause I used to order my older sister to make me food and she would do it. I was 15 and she was 20. I would order my older brother to bring me milk and he would protest but he would do it. I am a control freak and in my later years, they still call me "The Dictator," but I am not that demanding anymore. I STILL CAN BE...but I have lightened up some. Mostly by getting yelled at and then I come crawling back with my tail between mah legs..."I'm sorry I was a bitch..." hahahahaha....Thank God.

Random Fact #8

My father immigrated with his family from Mexico City. They migrated to Northern California and straight into the migrant farm work in the 1950s. My mother is from Texas and is blonde haired and blue eyed. She comes from a racist family (well, her father). My Grandmother on my mother's side thought she was Mexican, I think. She moved to Mexico with my mom where my Mom had to live in a Mexican village as this little towheaded girl. My Mom met my Dad when she was 13. My two grandmothers then participated in Santeria together. But my Mom can make better Mexican food than my Dad. When I was in school, the school nurse refused to let my Mom pick me up from school cause she thought she was my babysitter. The random fact here is that I am mixed-race and it makes for a lot of interesting confusion and blurred boundaries. There is nothing better.

The. End.

Now, you people better participate if I tag you...

♥

...The number "two" is referenced, respectively in French, Spanish, Sanskrit, Latin, and Sumerian (transliterated, of course!)

Okay, so I saw the new Harry Potter movie, "Order of the Phoenix..." and while I could write pages on why I was disappointed, I won't.  I think I will reserve my complete judgment until I see it a second time, though I think I am pretty set in my beliefs.

I don't have much to write with my own words at the moment as I just posted a journal less than 24 hours ago ranting and raving wildly.  My friend, Justin, told me to go as Bellatrix Lestrange for Halloween since he believes I look like Helena Bonham Carter...not a bad comparison.  Better than some I have gotten...

So this is my belief; lyrics are more than just, "lets get these teen hearts beating faster faster..." or "under my umbrella ella ella eh eh eh..." or even any My Chemical Romance lyrics (HAHAHA...yes hate on me if you must).  That said, please re-read the words, "MY belief," and then try to argue with me and you will only read again, "MY belief..."  Anytime anything remotely negative about MCR or whatever, you are branded a seperatist, traitor of the human emotional spectrum, a hater, a plague!!!  Well, I am not.  I don't expect all to like my lyrical choices, the point being I have a Buzznet persona...obviously, it is a small reflection on the aspects of my hourly/daily manifestations.  BUT if you want to know about me, how I think, what I am about, don't ask me questions, read the lyrics I post and form your own story about who I am with the pieces of the puzzle I am providing you.  Ain't that more interesting?

On with the show...

"Jukebox..." Ani DiFranco

In the jukebox of her memory
The list of names flips by and stops
She closes her eyes
And smiles as the record drops

Then she drinks herself up and out of her kitchen chair
And she dances out of time
As slow as she can sway
For as long as she can say
This dance is mine
This dance is mine

Her hair bears silent witness to the passing of time
Tattoos like mile markers
Map the distance she has gone
Winning some, losing some
She says, "My sister still calls every Sunday night...
After the rates go down
And I still can never manage to say anything right
But my whole life blew up
And now its all coming down"

And she says, "Leave me alone.
Tonight, I just wanna stay home."
She fills the pot with water and she drops in the bone
She says, "I've got a darkness that I have to feed
I've got a sadness
That grows up around me like a weed
And I'm not hurting anyone
I'm just spiraling in"
She closes her eyes
And hears the song begin again

She appreciates the phone calls
The consoling cards and such
She appreciates all the people
Who come by and try to pull her back in touch
They try to hold the lid down tightly
And they try to shake well
But the oil and water
Just want to separate themselves

She drinks herself up and out of her kitchen chair
And she dances out of time
As slow as she can sway
For as long as she can say
This dance is mine

So...for me, I have dealt with an event that has happened to provide much darkness in my life, however, I have lived with a particular predisposition, if you will, since as far back as I can rememeber...Explanation stops here, excavation begins...



This next song is one of the most beautiful songs David Gilmour has sung, in my opinion.  My father was a big fan of David Gilmour.  Most of the songs from "The Wall" that were his favorites were Gilmour's.  While this song, lyrically, doesn't remind me of him, sonically, it does.  In a good way, but tears still start to fall...Lyrically, I relate to the song...no need for details...as this isn't about me providing an analysis, as I have stated.

"Coming Back to Life..." Pink Floyd (note...one of my journal title's was a line from this song...)

Where were you?  When I was burned and broken?
While the days slipped by from my window watching?
And where were you?  When I was hurt and I was helpless?
Cause the things you've said and the things you do, surround me.

While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words
Dying to believe in what you heard...
I was staring straight into the shining sun.

Lost in thought and lost in time
While the seeds of life and the seeds of change were planted.

Outside the rain fell dark and slow
While I pondered on this dangerous but irresistable pasttime.
I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the moment had arrived
For killing the past and coming back to life.

I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the waiting had begun...
And headed straight into the shining sun...

This next song is always a song I go back to anytime things get too muddled, which is virtually on the daily...

"Swan Dive..." Ani DiFranco

Cradling the softest, warmest part of you in my hand
Feels like a little baby bird fallen from the nest
I think that your body is something I understand
I think that i'm happy, I think that I'm blessed

I've got a lack of inhibition
I've got a loss of perspective
I've had a little bit to drink
and it's making me think
that i can jump ship and swim
that the ocean will hold me
that there's have to be more
than this boat I'm in

Cause they can call me crazy if I fail
all the chance that I need
is one-in-a-million
and they can call me brilliant
if I succeed
gravity is nothing to me, I'm moving at the speed of sound
I'm just going to get my feet wet
until i drown

And I teeter between tired
and really, really tired
I'm wiped and I'm wired but I guess its just as well
because I've built my own empire
out of car tires and chicken wire
and I'm queen of my own compost heap
and I'm getting used to the smell

and I've got a lack of information
but I've got a little revelation
I'm climbing up on the railing
trying not to look down
I'm going to do my best swan dive
into shark-infested waters
I'm gonna pull out my tampon
and start splashing around

Cause I don't care if they eat me alive
I've got better things to do than survive
I've got a memory of your warm skin in my hand
and I've got a vision of blue sky and dry land

I'm cradling the hardest, heaviest part of me in my hand
The ship is pitching and heaving, my limbs are bobbing and weaving
and I think this is what i understand
I just need a little vaccination for my far-away vacation
I'm going to go ahead and go boldly because a little bird told me
that jumping is easy, that falling is fun
up until you hit the sidewalk, shivering, stunned

and they can call me crazy if I fail
all the chance that i need
is one-in-a-million
and they can call me brilliant
if I succeed
gravity is nothing to me
moving at the speed of sound
I'm just gonna get my feet wet
until I drown...

...And a little one that I call my "Going-Out-To-The-Club" Theme Song...

"Flashdance..." Deep Dish

He doesn't mean a thing to me
Just another pretty face to see
Cause all of the time, not that I doubt you, honey...
And I would never let him next to me...

He's the kind of guy who thinks he's smart.
He's the type that always looks the part.
He's on the make, he's on the take, honey...
And I'd never let him touch my heart.

He didn't mean to catch my eye...
Well, he's lucky he just walked on by.
Cause he hasn't met a girl like me...are you kidding?
Well, I'd tell him that I'd rather die.



...There is my little story for the moment.  While I will always relate to these songs, they become more prominent at certain points/times and with certain events or situations I am dealing with...it tells a person about where you are at the moment.  It aids in your storytelling, situating you and why you are doing things, why you may be absent, why you may be overly present or whatever the case...

What is your story? 

To the faithful...

I don't blog with a set purpose except just to vent without any need to edit my thoughts as I would if I were writing a paper or a poem, et. al.  Plus, what is a gal that hates everything to do with her neurons if she doesn't have this sort of outlet?  HUH? TELL ME.

So, if any of you are lurkers like me, especially on Buzznet, you will notice that some young kids and some not so young kids are very obsessed with the concept of suicide.  I am not even go to delve into the "emo" or "goth" culture here, as that is a whole other blog on nonsense.  But let me share with you why it is irritiating to me. 

1)  A person that truly wants to committ suicide does not announce that desire to people they don't know via a Buzznet/MySpace message.  e.g. "Hi everyone! Hope your day is going great!  Just FYI, I am going to kill myself tonight.  Make sure to leave all kinds of comments trying to talk me out of it as my picture that I posted of my pre-teen half-naked body didn't garner enough attention, maybe this will! BFF!TTYL!ASAP!CNN!KIT!LOL!LMAO!ROLF!"

2)  I know things are huge when you are any age, but especially when you are a 14 on up things are very huge.  Especially when the cultural side projects you participate in tell you what is important in that particular paradigm.  You aren't an idiot for wanting to follow it and I am not trying to judge anyone.  But I was 14, 15, 16, 17...on and on once.  And I have friends 20 or 30 years older than me that can still tell me things and teach me things about the age that I am at.  I don't know what it feels like to be 36 and have seven extra years of life experience behind me, life experience that inevitably changes you, NO MATTER if you are smarter than the average person your age.  I was.  But I was still a 15 year old, despite being a more mature 15 year old.  Being more mature does not weigh out against gaining experience.  And that only comes with age.  I am not saying this to instigate a intellectual hierarchy.  Intellectualism can take place at any age.  A 13 year old can sometimes intellectualize better than a 45 year old. 

No, no, no...I am talking about street-smarts, I am talking about mental growth, I am talking about being confronted and dealing with things that only come socially at a particular age.  So let us not get confused and say I think people younger than me are stupid.  That would be foolish on my part. ANYWAY, back to the point, I have seen some 14 year olds go on and on and on about being so depressed because they want a boyfriend to make them whole, or Mom and Dad don't love them so they will be killing themselves.  *Groan.  I am sorry that anyone feels that sad.  REALLY I am.  However, I am more sorry about the fact that something as serious as suicide has become as ubiquitous as Audrey Kitching's tiara or Jeffree Star's pink hair on these community sites.  Sadness is heartbreaking, it is consuming...it is not, and should never be, a reason for you to get attention.  Harken back, if you will, to the parable of the boy who cried wolf.  If suicide is becoming more fashionable, who is going to believe those that truly have legitimate problems.  Call me cold-hearted, but I don't think NOT having a boyfriend at 14 qualifies as a legitimate problem...oh yes, I am making value judgments because there are kids the same age getting abused, have genuine chemical imbalances, and on and on...and NEVER do they make an announcement to their looming suicide so strangers can beg them to live and tell them how beautiful they are, etc.  Indeed, a true suicidal person will not tell anyone.  Read your literature, stop raping the concept of a true problem, and please stop being an attention whore without substance.  I don't care about attention whores, as long as you know what the hell you are doing, you do it with purpose, and not for Buzznet commentary.

...Now I shall move on, briefly, to something else that bugs the FUCK out of me.  People who claim they are smart and only like smart people on these social networking sites, but within that single paragraph spell the simplest words wrong and have not said anything worthwhile, intellectual, stimulating, et. al.  Forgive me, you don't have to be a great speller, the world's greatest grammartician (???), or even have graduated from college to be smart.  My father had an eighth grade education, but he taught himself astronomy on a level of a college student, he had a vocabulary better than most graduates, and he could grasp content, context, and action better than anyone.  ANYONE can get into a college and get a degree so it would be foolish of me to say that those that are smart are those with a degree.  I know that they aren't because some of the stupidest people I have ever met, I met at college.  THAT SAID, I can tell if you aren't smart when you are just using that line, "I like hot people who are smart...I hate people who aren't smart..." but you have nothing to add except for typing, "GR8" and the rest of that newspeak when you aren't even text messaging, but have the ability to type out the words...AND usually those who dwell within their minds and pride themselves more on their minds and less on the size of their silicone implant, have more to say than, "HEY HOTTIEZ!! I LyKe BoIiZ thAt R SmArT!!"  OY.  Save me.  Please.  It is okay not to be little Miss Intellectual and choose to be Little Miss Silcone, but don't play the card you weren't dealt, sweetheart. 

Leave that to me.

Lack of money, lack of motivation equals this journal...

Many of you that I speak to on this site will not remember the 1980s. I sit here listening to Duran Duran's "New Moon on Monday," and I can remember clearly watching it on MTV in our house, when all of us were little and everything sucked, but it seems okay now that it is so far away from me. Now that I will never have it again.

I wish I was in my parents house in Palm Springs when there were no computers in every household, there were no playstations...when we would go to the store around the way and play fooseball and change in our Coca-Cola bottles for money and get some candy. Or I would just steal it. I was a kleptomaniac back then...back when it was Pic N' Save and not Big Lots. I would give anything to be seven again, even if it meant I had to endure the horrors of my youth again: the awkwardness, the out of place feeling. I never used to feel this way. Well, sometimes I would. But then you lose something more important to you than any of these adult pursuits you thought you had time to focus on, but you didn't.

I wish I could go back to the time when Pink Floyd's videos were actually played on MTV. When Saturday Morning cartoons were actually good. When we used to go to Thrifty's and get ice cream. The ironic thing? I hadn't gotten Thrifty's ice cream since I was pretty young and it was always with my Dad. The day he died, and it was a sudden death, I left the hospital really quick to get us some ice cream...Thrifty's ice cream. I didn't know it was going to be the last thing he ate. I even remember saying to Daniel over the phone, "I will never eat this ice cream after he passes." And I never will.

I wish I was back in those times when I walked barefoot down the Lucky's Supermarket (used to be Alpha-Beta, now its Albertson's). I used to hate bringing in groceries with my mom. I used to hate spending time with her. I also used to think he'd be here forever. Or at least until I was fifty. But he isn't. And now all I do is spend my time wishing I was back in moments I will never have again, that exist only in my head, aching to just relive one of them.

Everything seems big when you are young. Everything seems determined. Everything seems as if it is trival enough for you to not store it into your "important" memory banks. But those trivial memories? Those will be the ones you recall when you are older and that time without the worry of keeping yourself and your life afloat by yourself is far away, and the pain seems so huge. It seems cliche to say value your time...but you should. Or just give me a goddamn time machine! Enjoy the song that I associate with my childhood summers...Ah to remember a time when MTV played these videos! I loved John Taylor. I remember Alpha Beta selling Duran Duran stickers in the gumball machines...what the hell happened????


♥...

Oh, just cause I shared something personal doesn't mean people can get sentimental with me and do the "I'm Sorry" thing... Bye!

A coolness card to the person who knows what band wrote the lyric that is my title...WITHOUT LOOKING AT GOOGLE. I can tell, you know.

I like songs for their lyrics...I am going to post three songs here, just cause. I am not going to explain why I relate to them, because I don't feel the need to air out anything in that way...Then tell me three songs you relate to lately, if you want put some lyrics down!

The first is probably one of the few songs I like from Melissa Etheridge, but it played a lot in my world these past couple of months and it makes me cry everytime because I don't think truer words have been written to express what I have felt in regard to my present situation. I refuse to explain cause I don't sympathy from anyone, but read on:

"Breathe"


I played the fool today
I just dream of vanishing into the crowd
Longing for home again
Home, is a feeling I buried in you

I'm alright, I'm alright
It only hurts when I breathe

And I can't ask for things to be still again
No I can't ask if I could walk through the world in your eyes
Longing for home again
Home, is a feeling I buried in you

I'm alright, I'm alright
It only hurts when I breathe
I'm alright, I'm alright
It only hurts when I breathe

My window through which nothing hides
And everything sees
I'm counting the signs and cursing the miles in between

Home

Home, is a feeling I buried in you, that I buried in you

I'm alright, I'm alright
It only hurts when I breathe
I'm alright, I'm alright
It only hurts when I breathe, when I breathe
Yeah, it only hurts when I breathe, when I breathe
Oh,it only hurts when I breathe

The next song I have been listening to since I wa 12 years old. It is from one of my favorite bands, Concrete Blonde. I have this person in my life and he is amazing...cut from the same cloth really. But that type of love and relationship isn't flowers and candy. Most importantly, it isn't simple. You accept someone for what they truly are, not their projection of their self. You love them at their most raw and their most indecent, or you don't love them at all. Of course, there are exceptions. I am not talking about pedophiles and murderers here. It is a song about loving someone through all their mistakes and faults.

"Joey"

Joey, baby - dont get crazy
Detours. fences... I get defensive
I know you've heard it all before -
So I dont say it anymore
I just stand by and watch you
Fight your secret war.
Although I used to wonder why -
I used to cry till I was dry.
Still sometimes I get a strange pain
Inside
Oh, Joey, if youre hurting so am I.

Joey, honey - I got some money
All is forgiven. listen, listen
And if I seem to be confused
I didn't mean to be with you.
And when you said I scared you,
Well I guess you scared me too.
But we got lucky once before and I don't want to close the door
And if you're somewher