happy tofurkey day

no, i didn't have tofurkey for thanksgiving. my mommy wouldn't make it; she made real turkey for my family. but my mom is the best and made my sister and i vegetarian dressing. (she even humored me last thanksgiving when i was a vegan--my mom's the best.) it was a great day overall. we watched the dog show, instead of football; a little arrested development, instead of football; ate a lot of food; and played two extremely loud rounds of imaginiff (the game debbie, thomas, and lucy got me for my birthday).

so what am i thankful for?
my family. my friends. my health. my experiences. my continuous thoughts. my fears. my snobbery. my courage. my faults. my talents. my tears. my strength. my laughter. my heartbeat. my present.

the faint versus fire apple red

the faint: friday, november 19th
two words--dance party. it was incredible to say the least. abby and i danced the night away after having great (clarifying) conversation. she is such a great friend, and i love her for who she is (and even for who i think she is--that will only make sense to abby). my most memorable moment of the entire night was when the faint sang their song "casual sex" and the entire sold out audience danced together. there were so many people dancing, so many people there, that i had no control over my body's movement. the crowd decided if i moved right or left then right or left. i was extremely close to everyone around me, so much so that i felt i was having casual sex with these complete strangers--especially the person behind me, which i never did determine if they were male or female.

fire apple red: saturday, november 20th
i don't like boys. let me rephrase, i don't like jackasses. i especially don't like jackasses who lead on best friends when they have slutty girlfriends with white trash tattoos and that chain smoke and do drugs and get drunk and are really sad, depressed, lonely people who need the previously listed narcotics to make themselves believe they are happy and to feel better about having meaningless sex with the previously mentioned jackasses and other jackasses. bitter? a little bit, yes. warning to all: i neither forgive nor forget when someone hurts my friend.

the band was okay. nowhere near the faint. i don't care for the guitar/harmonica player. if i had to choose, i would pick the lead singer and i am surprised abby didn't guess that right away. oh and there were cute boys at the bar and sitting next to ab and i for awhile. one was dark and scruffy and mysterious looking like tim kasher. yummy. and if i had not previously caused lung cancer by inhaling second hand smoke, i definitely have after tonight.

cynical me.

recently i saw an interview with maya angelou in which she said, "the worst thing in this world is a cynical child, because they go from knowing nothing to believing in nothing." i have been thinking about that daily--many times a day--ever since. and it is because i feel myself growing more cynical by the moment. not that i am a child, but something must be said for a person who believes in nothing, in general.

and the thing is, i want to believe again. i want to believe in happily ever afters. i want to believe in God. i want to believe in love. i want to believe in the future. i want to believe humans are generally good. i want to believe it is possible to accomplish one's goals. i want to believe life is good. i want to believe in forgiveness. i want to believe in dreams. i want to believe in promises. i want to believe in wishes. i want to believe in myself.

twenty-two, a little pot, and some blue water

on november the thirteenth i turned twenty-two years old (see footnote i). i am no longer just twenty-one, but i am in my twenties. this idea terrifies me and excites me at the exact same time. where did the years go, i will say soon. it was only yesterday i was twenty-two. but today i say, where did the years go, just last week i was twenty-one. and i will smile to myself, because i am still young enough to make, let alone write, really dumb things like that and find them truly funny.

in my terrified state of turning twenty-two and graduating from school in roughly nine months (!), i had this revelation: i have spent the past three and a half years in college and have yet to take part in the "college experience." I have not participated in the normal, average college-age activities. when i graduate and people say, oh don't you remember the fun of college. i will remember my fun, but it will be a lot different then their fun. and for the first time in months, i wanted to be normal. but you are not normal, abby reminds me. and i agree. after much discussion with a friend and the desire to do something "normal" or "rebellious-college-experience-like," my friend (who shall remain nameless) declares she has a friend (who shall also remain nameless, for obvious reasons) who smokes pot and was sure i could get some if i wanted it. i sigh. i don't want to smoke pot (see footnote ii). smoking pot won't change anything. later i come to my senses (not about the pot, i was always right about the pot): i don't want to be normal; i hate normal.

in my apartment, i do all the cleaning. i know this sounds really unbalanced, but my roommate just doesn't seem to mind the mess and it usually begins to drive me crazy (ha! as if i need help achieving that!) fairly quickly. anyways, i abandon all stubborn characteristics and clean despite my occasional (who am i kidding, my usual) bitterness. of course, a part of this regiment involves cleaning the toilets. i complete my tasks on sunday. upon my roommate's arrival from her usual weekend trips to her boyfriend's house, she enters the restroom and exits after a minute and asks, why is the water blue in the toilet? well, i answer, because i was cleaning it and just haven't flushed it yet. has she ever cleaned in her life? does she not know that blue water equals a clean toilet? as she stepped back into the bathroom and closed the door, i silently flipped out, waving my arms and legs around while lying in my bed. oh my god. oh my god. blue water equals clean toilet. what the hell?



(i) this was by far in the top five best days of my now twenty-two year existence. my friends are the best. special thanks to abby, debbie, thomas, lucy, and stephani (who called from spain!) for making me feel so loved and cherished. it was the best birthday ever.
(ii) after a conversation in high school with my parents, i learned my artsy mom and dad smoked pot in their college days on top of the architecture building. i love my parents, but it makes doing this illegal act not-so cool or really rebellious.

four more years

well, it’s official: george w. bush has been re-elected. i don’t think bush is the devil—like many democrats do. for one, i really doubt the devil would be from texas. and second, i really think the devil would be smarter than bush is. but anyways, i was watching kerry’s conceit speech this afternoon and i almost started to cry. i actually got teary eyed. okay yes, i am in that blessed-damn-you-eve time of the month so i tend to be more emotional. but honestly, for a girl who hadn’t been able to cry in nearly two months to get teary eyed over a political speech—come on. it is really quite pathetic. i did really want kerry to win. i wanted democrats to win. i wanted women to be assured their rights wouldn’t be taken away one policy at a time. i wanted gay and lesbian couples to be treated equally under the law: both in marriage and ability to adopt children. i wanted stem cell research to be supported and funded. i wanted the environment to be a priority. i wanted to see big business buried. i wanted to be told the truth by my government. i still do. so senator kerry, i, like you, am not going to give up.

tears

well, i am crying. it hasn't happened in weeks. i wouldn't let it happen for weeks. but now, well now, i cannot stop the tears from flowing. maybe i am just tired. maybe i am just frustrated. maybe it's because i feel like a failure. maybe it's because i lack hope. or maybe it is because i am sad. and i am finally letting myself feel it.

tonight i rocked lucy to sleep as she bawled. i held her close and repeated over and over and over, "it's alright. it's alright. it's alright. it's alright." and she stopped crying, closed her eyes and fell asleep. and as tears began to flow down my own cheeks, all i wanted was someone to whisper over and over and over in my ear, "it's alright. it's alright. it's alright. it's alright," until i fell asleep. but no one did.