Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Fire Alarms

I had just returned from class and sat down to write this blog when the fire alarm went off.


For the third time in the past fourteen hours.

Last night, I had just stepped into the shower when the fire alarm went off. I madly dashed around my room stark naked trying to find clothes and hoping that my RAs wouldn't walk in to make sure I was evacuating.

We were finally let back in, I took a shower and fell asleep. At four am, the blaring erupted again. Frustrated and exhausted, I dragged myself downstairs with the rest of the herd and hoped that no one noticed how revealing my drawstring shorts were with no underwear on.

In my lifetime, I've had some pretty interesting experiences with fire alarms. Last winter, the fire alarm went off five times in one day. As soon as everyone had piled back in, taken off their coats and scarves, the alarm began again. And again. And again. And again.

In high school, our fire alarm had a knack for going off anytime the theatre department hosted the One Act Play competition. Without fail, as soon as the visiting schools had put on their costumes (often Victorian formal wear or togas), the alarm would go off.

The fire alarm went off on the very first day of sixth grade because it was a new building and there was some sort of malfunction with the ovens. That particular instance was recorded in several newspapers who had been on campus reporting the opening of the school's new building.

And then early elementary school was rife with instances of "fire drills," which were actually evacuations due to gas leaks.

However, my very favorite fire alarm moment comes from my sojourn at Cambridge University. One night, around two am, we had just returned from a day trip to London. A few of my friends and I were on our way back from doing laundry in the next building over when we heard the fire alarm go off. We stood outside the building and watched hoardes of screaming teenage girls run out of the building --- the majority of them dripping wet and wrapped in towels.

My roommate, a hyperactive "goth" (I don't really know how those properly go together), found me on the lawn and told me her account of what she had been doing when the alarm went off. Apparently, she -for what reason, I'll never know- had been jumping on my bed when the fire alarm went off and, for one wild moment, had thought it was the police coming for her because she wasn't supposed to be jumping on my bed.

We all had a good laugh at this and soon the Porters were letting us back inside (now that I look back on this, I don't ever remember seeing any firemen). My roommate and I got stopped as we filed inside with the others. One of the Porters escorted us into our room where my bed had been turned on its side. Behind the place where my bed had been was some sort of square electrical thing. The Porter told us that it was very sensitive and that hitting it was what set off the fire alarm.

Crazily enough, my roommate had indeed set off the fire alarm by jumping on my bed.

Now if only the problem with the alarm in Mabee could be solved so simply. I fully expect that alarm to go off as soon as I lie down for a nap.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Lily Allen

Lily Allen is going to be at ACL!

In honor of that, here's her song "Smile," which -incidentally- fits my life perfectly right now (or maybe that should be "sadly").

When you first left me
I was wanting more
But you were fucking that girl next door
What'd you do that for?

When you first left me
I didn't know what to say
I've never been on my own that way
Just sat by myself all day

I was so lost back then
But with a little help from my friends
I found a light in the tunnel at the end

Now you're calling me up on the phone
So you can have a little whine and a moan
It's only because you're feeling alone

At first when I see you cry
It makes me smile
Yeah it makes me smile

At worst I feel bad for a while
But then I just smile
I go ahead and smile

Whenever you see me
You say that you want me back
And I tell you it don't mean jack
No it don't mean jack

I couldn't stop laughing
No I just couldn't help myself
See you messed up my mental health
I was quite unwell


Thursday, April 23, 2009

Elaboration to the Subtitle

I hated him.

That stupid shimmering crucifix appeared around his neck looking like the thin gold necklaces of mustached men in the seventies against his tan skin. He always takes souvenirs. What girl did you fuck and take that off of?

The coke makes him angrier, but I deserved the cold shoulder. I deserved the rage that followed me for the rest of the day. Ashamed of myself, but knowing that he has earned every harsh word I've ever uttered to him. We still weren't square.

We were no longer going to remain friends. That much he had made clear when he refused to speak to me, refused to look at me as we, along with the other angelheaded hipsters, hollow-eyed and high, trekked to the Story Tree --- his friend's invitation, not his.

Yet, there it was, a curious offer to go on a late night errand. Modest, subdued and apparently meaningless as usual.

No talking on the drive. No talking while there. I make an attempt on the way back. No talking.

He strikes the match. The smell is intoxicating. Thicker than the swarming smell of gasoline. I love it. The matches are better than the cigarettes.

He takes a drag and begins to talk. Papers, professors, academia. The customary arrogance, an increase of hardships. He's not going to drink tonight. He wants to sleep. He can't sleep. He's killing himself. I'm happy that he finally knows that he's killing himself and happier still that he, for once, is not enthused about this, his mortality.

Apologies. Intense, unaccepted apologies. Misunderstandings resolved that barely open my eyes, but calm me slightly.

A confession, reassurance rather, follows an unnecessary apology (he never would've breached forgiveness for such an act in what seems like a previous life). With the confession, he takes my arm, arrests my hand, situates his own----------- the tears fall. It was supposed to be funny.

The night rolls on. Cigarettes matches. Matches cigarettes. Music. So-called students passing all around in the haze of the night. Mad from study break. Music. The hum of the car.

The disc player changes to the mix I made for him when we were in love.

The talk is still sporadic, academic, neurotic. I watch the passing so-called students riding stolen golf carts instead of watching his face.

Why he does it? I don't know. He questions me. I avoid, at all costs, being struck by the Imp of the Perverse. I avoid. I cast aside. I turn away. The night rolls on.

I'm looking at him now. He's talking and I'm looking at him. His hand has moved. He's talking and I'm looking at him. She needs to stop, I agree with his words. I need to stop? He misheard me. I spit out my reply. Too hasty.

Too hasty? Who the fuck cares anymore? I pounce.

I will not regret what has forced me to tears for the past three weeks. I will not sit idly by when, for the first time in three weeks, I am ardently happy.

He hands me the white-tipped, brown bud. Windows up. Reverse. Turn. Tires squeal on to highway twenty-nine.

Rocketing down the narrow country road, streetlights spasmodically flood the car with an opalescent haze. We become ghosts. Illuminated to the world. Whispers of the immured past.

We slow and turn into a small church. Park in the field behind the building. I don't waste a second. The thrill has electrified me. My body is on fire. Ravenous. He has missed me. He has missed me just as much as I missed him. Why did I ever doubt?

My mix is still playing in the background. Take this sinking boat and point it home, we've still got time.

Maybe not, but the cool night air knows no enemies. In the dark night with the crisp smell of grass, I lean my head back and can't bring myself to care about a thing. I have felt happiness.

Bless me Father, for I have sinned.
I hated your stupid crucifix, and I still do.
But, Father,
I will not apologize.
No, I will not apologize for desecrating your land.
For I have sanctified it with more love than your parishioners shall ever know.
You will never know, never understand
the feverish power within and without that detonates when two as one are
starving, hysterical, naked.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Dear Life,

Please stop pouring down on me.

A little breather here and there would be nice. Honestly, I will not be offended if you ignore me/forget about me for a while. Your 6.3 billion minions are getting pretty fucking annoying. Especially the arrogant youths.

Perhaps you could give me some place to hide? A dark shroud to conceal me so no one will see me as I traverse campus. Do you have anything so I can't see them either? That's the bigger problem.

Maybe you could fast forward time? Summer will be nice. Oh, but what to do about next semester? I don't suppose you could delete it all together... do you have the power to create alternate realities?

Yes, I've become quite jaded with your little charades. More than jaded, in fact. Down right peeved, if I may be frank.

I promise not to hurt you, but you must start giving me a little slack. I'm working 24/7 for you and you seem to be assigning me all the grunt work. Give me a handful more of the nice colleagues and better view and I'll be happy.


Friday, April 17, 2009

I Want to Live In the Pacific Northwest So Bad

I found a new school.

It's in Salem, Oregon and it's called Willamette University.

Yes, it's exactly like SU except ranked higher and in a prettier place.

It's in a city, but it's also in the middle of the un-rivaled Oregon wildlife. There are rivers running through campus and the ocean isn't too far away. Also, Salem is the capital so the city is very government-based.

I would get my love of urban political centers, trees and water.

Oregon has the most parks of any state. It's also the most bicycle friendly and most vegetarian friendly.

It's basically 50 degrees all year round.

It also has really good coffee.

Even WU's website, on the their Top 5 list of coffee shops in Salem, said Starbucks isn't real coffee. Evidence that everyone is cool in Oregon.

The Pacific Northwest also has strong Native American influences. Native American culture is clearly the most badass thing ever.

Case in point, I'm dying to live in Oregon. Or Washington.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

There a million things that I can't get over.

The fact that I'll never lie in his arms again, never kiss his lips again, never spend the night with him or even watch him write poetry.

One of the hardest things is that I don't know Southwestern without him. I never had a roommate to develop a close bond with. He was my close friend. Without him, Southwestern loses its magic.

Yet, whenever I think about how hard it is to come to terms with the fact that it's really over and that I've lost a sense of self...I think about my mom and how what she is going through/going to go through is a million times harder than this. I mean, try never knowing who you are without a person. To have gone through your formative years and the next thirty-five years of your life as a person that someone else wanted you to be. It makes my emotions so futile. I don't know how I'll begin to help my mom. This pain hurts so bad, how can it be a million times worse? I don't know that I would survive. I really don't. The tears, the heartache, the confusion, the disassociation...

Sometimes it helps to know that your problems aren't as bad as other ones in the world, but you never want the problems of someone you love to be worse than yours.

A Sign From Id

Last night, I dreamt of a living game of solitaire (Through the Looking Glass - esque) with the Gosselin family of Jon and Kate Plus 8 as the players.

I seriously need to get a life.

I have found (and watched) every episode from all four seasons of Jon and Kate Plus 8 online. In every other moment of the day, I play solitaire on my phone.

Currently, I am waiting for an episode to load while I eat pistachio-Cocoa Puff trail mix.

I need a change.

Monday, April 13, 2009

What I Have Learned Today

Always mix in vinegar with the water when dyeing eggs

Do not eat an entire bag of Whopper's Robin's Eggs in one sitting

Especially if all you've eaten that day is four cinnamon rolls, three pieces of pizza, a couple of hardboiled egg whites and two pairs of chocolate bunny ears

How to drive to the Domino's in Georgetown

The rule about breaking up with guys when they start regularly using hard drugs is NOT just a naive high school ideal

Live podcasts are a lot more fun than they may sound like

I actually can do homework while listening to music

In the Christian faith, today (meaning Sunday, Easter) is about renewal and beginning again

Ok, yes, I already knew that, but I woke up to a reminder of that from my mother and it helped me stay strong all day.

Being yourself is more rewarding than anything else. Ever.

Even if it takes 80s rock and a couple of cigarettes to get there.

"It happened, and I wish it didn't. That's just life, isn't it?"

Sunday, April 12, 2009

If I Ever Feel Better

They say an end can be a start
Feels like I've been buried yet I'm still alive
It's like a bad day that never ends
I feel the chaos around me
A thing I don't try to deny
I'd better learn to accept that
There are things in my life that I can't control

They say love ain't nothing but a sore
I don't even know what love is
Too many tears have had to fall
Don't you know I'm so tired of it all
I have known terror dizzy spells
Finding out the secrets words won't tell
Whatever it is it can't be named
There's a part of my world that' s fading away

You know I don't want to be clever
To be brilliant or superior
True like ice, true like fire
Now I know that a breeze can blow me away
Now I know there's much more dignity
In defeat than in the brightest victory
I'm losing my balance on the tight rope
Tell me please, tell me please, tell me please...


Friday, April 10, 2009

When I am upset, I get extremely anti-intellectual.

If it were the opposite, I would be swimming in classic tomes and excelling in the tasty delicious intellectual courses I have.

As it is, I've been slacking on my studies, spending my time watching every episode of Jon and Kate Plus 8 as well as reading Midnight Sun and wallowing in my own helplessness.

I've become so depressed that even The Colbert Report and are too intellectual for me.

This coming from the person who regularly reads The Economist and watches CSPAN.

Music is even a problem. I can't listen to it. A week ago I turned to podcasts to fill the silence, but now I am angered by the panelists' cheery voices. Luckily, I discovered that "Heroin" by The Velvet Underground fulfills my need to listen to something as depressed, empty, confused and erratic as I am.

What radiant cool eyes have we here? None. And the pale blue ones have emptied. I am starving hysterical naked on the Mall beneath the bushels in the branches which drift lightly to my side as Bacchanalian hobgoblins and we dance through the frozen time while Jesus and his stuporous followers watch from their technicolor glass.

How have you lost touch with reality?
Do you hallucinate? Hear voices?

No, I am not religious. I want to tell her.
Only the ones I invent.
I settle for.
Leaving out the sprites for now.

Did you know that most suicides are accidental?
They want to be caught, but Fate catches them first.

Funny. I all of a sudden feel free from an obligation.

Things I Need

First, like the new background? Thanks to Joanna for tips!

Now, Things I Need:

Adobe Photoshop
A trip to Medieval Times
A trip to a spa
Summer vacation

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Student Blogging

I've just been accepted as a tour guide and -possibly- student blogger. I was asked to come in to discuss student blogging next week, but I'm still not clear on if that means I got the job.

Either way, I thought I'd post some of my ideas for student blogging as well as the sample blog I had to write for my application. Since my best friend, Kate, is a student blogger for Pace, I thought I could get some great tips from her *hint hint*

Currently, the student blogs for SU are pretty well hidden. I had a lot of problems finding them on the website. I know they aren't really for current students to read, but I still think they should be publicized a little more somehow. The blogs are also pretty dry. Some of the bloggers post pictures and they're all good enough writers, but even knowing the bloggers and all the events they're writing about...I'm still bored.

My sample blog is pretty boring too. So I guess I can't talk. However, I would really like to decrease the boredom level if I get to blog next year. Some of the current bloggers post pictures. I was obsessed with taking pictures in high school so this is something I would definitely like to do as well. But the current bloggers don't really take pictures that show SU life, in my opinion. Most of their pictures come from either events not on campus and hardly related to SU or of specific parties that don't really show the campus. As a prospective student, I would really want to see what the campus looks like --- not what some random student's sorority sisters did on spring break.

Another thing I think would be cool to incorporate is playlists or song suggestions. My favorites, professor suggestions and local artists. I really want to incorporate things like that to make the blogs more interesting...but so far that's all I can come up with.

Suggestions and tips are more than welcome. For you viewing pleasure, here is my sample application blog:

My favorite season isn’t really a season at all. My favorite season is the few weeks when the winter heats up into spring. The transition to spring (though it’s been back and forth for about a month with this crazy Texas weather) has been gorgeous on the SU campus.

It’s great walking out of class into the warm sun to see students picnicking across the Mall, Pirate Bikes zooming every which way and the entire campus a buzz with a renewed enthusiasm.
For the past week, a group of friends and I have been playing Frisbee out on the Mall every day after dinner. The great thing about living on a campus like Southwestern is that, as you play, random people passing by will join in the game. Typically at least one member of the group knows the person, but if not the whole campus is friendly enough that anyone is always welcome.

One thing to note here is that no matter how much I love being outside this time of year, I stink at Frisbee. In fact, I stink at any game that involves hand-eye coordination. So, one evening last week, when the group decided to turn our lackadaisical game of Frisbee into an intense round of Ultimate Frisbee, I called it quits.

Yet, despite my pleas, my team wouldn’t let me ditch. Luckily, just as the game was starting, I saw my RAs walking across the Mall towards our game. Noticing my dilemma, my RAs “saved” me by inviting me to go with them to scout out locations for the filming of their next movie.

For a project last semester, my RAs decided to employ all of their residents to film a re-enactment of the Paris Commune (part of the French Revolution). Since the movie had been so much fun to make, my RAs are planning on filming a sequel that we’re going to show at a surprise birthday party for our ex-First Year Seminar professor.

Even though I ditched a game of Ultimate, I had a really fun evening of hanging out with my RAs. Whether it’s a late night milkshake run or covering each other in fake blood while pretending to be French revolutionaries, they always know how to cheer up their residents. All in all, it was another fun (almost) spring night on campus.

He Says, She Says With Rooney Songs

He Says:

I told you before
I'm not looking for someone to hold me
Take your hand off my back
the weight is making me heavy
I don't like public affection
it belongs in the bedroom
Well I don't want to run around
I got plans in the afternoon

What did you expect?
Well I told you from the start
That I'm not your boyfriend

All the hope
All the pain
All the tears you cried
Every laugh
Every kiss
Every time I lied
Well I'm not what you think or dreamed of
It's all in your head

You need somebody nice
someone with patience
And a big fat wallet
to pay for all your expenses whoa
No compliment will ever
make a dent in your eyes
You're impossible to please even with surprises
I could never say all the things you need to hear
Well there aren't enough words that fit

Wake up you have to see
You can't go on this way
It's you who makes it hard
It's not real it's all in your head

All the hope
All the pain
All the tears you cried
Every laugh
Every kiss
Every time I lied
Well I'm not what you think or dreamed of
It's all in your head

She Says:
I can never win with you
I try but you don't let me through
What's the point in fighting when we're down?

I know I've been acting strange
But wait don't leave I know I'll change
We're wasting all our time together now

I don't know what to say
Every word just makes you turn away
And I don't know what to do
Every day I want to be with you
Well I've lost the battle and I'm losing the war
And I keep on asking myself what for
If you believe in fate and destiny
Then open your eyes and believe in me

I call up and apologize
But you just think its one big lie
Don't you know you're pushing me away?

We've been through so much together
You can't tell me the past will never
Mean a thing it's more than a memory

Cause everyone I see around
Tells me that I'm such a fool
For making you my punching bag
When things really weren't that bad

I've lost you now
I've lost you now
But I don't know how to get you back
I'm not myself
I'm not myself
I've gotta get us back on track

I don't know what to say
Every word just makes you turn away
And I don't know what to do
Every day I want to be with you
Well I've lost the battle and I'm losing the war
And I keep on asking myself what for
If you believe in fate and destiny
Then open your eyes and believe in me

Saturday, April 4, 2009


It just occurred to me that next year I will have, for the first time in my life, my own bathroom.

It's such a foreign concept to me that I can't even imagine what it will be like. A lot of responsibility, I imagine. I mean, every time the toilet paper runs out, I'll have to be the one to refill it.

My whole life until this year I've shared a bathroom with my older brother and it has always been the bane of my existence. Anytime someone marveled at how lucky I was to have Austin as my older brother, I advised them to try sharing a bathroom with him. Or when people bemoaned the shaving of his beard, I told them they could come see the beard on our bathroom counter for the next few months.

I have always been assigned responsibility for cleaning the bathroom. This is something I never understood because the biggest task was always picking his whiskers off of the counter and sink. If the biggest mess was his, why did I have to clean the bathroom?

This year, I've almost felt that I have a bathroom all to myself simply because it's clean and nice and I don't have to do anything. I share with my two suitemates and we have a housekeeper who cleans it twice a week.

The actual time restraints on sharing a bathroom have rarely ever gotten to me (even back home with my brother). Except for sharing one bathroom with a dozen and a half people (the typical case when I'm with my mother's side of the family), I've never really had any qualms with waiting to wash up.

So I'm having trouble envisioning what it will be like to have my own bathroom. I can take as long of a shower as I want, I expect. And I'll finally be able to put all of my hair and make up things in the bathroom. Never wanting to be forbidden access if someone is taking a shower when I need to get ready, I've always done my hair/make up in my room. That will definitely be a big change.

Maybe the bathroom is one of the strongest markers of independence for me. Next year, I will have my own room and bathroom and share a living room and kitchenette with a roommate. I've always had my own room and always shared a living room so, even though I'm excited about decorating those in a more adult fashion as if it were a real apartment, the bathroom is newest experience for me. I'll get to arrange it however I want and, for the first time, know that I'm only cleaning my own mess --- not anyone else's.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Things I Wish Part I

That networking sites listed "Favorite Poems" and "Favorite Plays." I feel so restricted trying to write only my "Favorite Books." So I'm not allowed to list my love of Ginsberg or Neruda or Colerdige or Keats or Shakespeare or Ibsen or Stoppard (oh god yes, Stoppard) or Williams? What about Simon and Marlowe and Oates? And musicals can be put there too because god knows how embarrassing it is for people to have Carousel or A Chorus Line listed as their favorite music. Or the other method of saying that Stephen Sondheim and Andrew Lloyd Weber and Jason Robert Brown are your favorite musicians. It's wholly awkward trying to accomodate our interests to the pithy subheadings on social networking sites.