Yes.



I have simultaneously become one of those people who makes annoyingly cryptic one-word blog entries and instigated an experiment in free association. Don't let me down on the comments, people. You know who you are.

I can't stop listening to "15th Shade." I love the random shit I find on my computer. Any song with "a ball of congealed air" is good by me. Also, "Let it pass. I want to wake up again. I couldn't save you, my lovely. I cannot save myself" is more or less what I feel like waking up every morning, take that, um, as you will, since I've never been in a situation with guns an shields and having to rescue anyone, not even metaphorically, so it really doesn't follow. I just think it's neat someone has managed to put my early mornings into a song. Sure, that someone is possibly completely mad, but still. My mornings! In a song! Is it not marvelous?

Context, context, content, conjecture. Crypticism! Christ, it looks like I'm writing a piece for a student-run literary magazine with that bit. To quote an SR-71 song and jump from one end of the musical spectrum to the opposite, "There's nothing I believe in more than my own insignificance, so why does everybody think my words can make a difference?" The bad thing about being a self-professed comedian is that you never take anything seriously, and after a while, for obvious reasons, this starts to be bad. Then there's all the trying to get a handle on what's funny, what's bullshit, what that guy thinks, why making a joke is not the best policy in 100% of the situations, etc. Que triste. Why not just laugh it off?

I...totally forgot anything else I might have to say. Cheers. :B

Medieval Societies is slowly devolving into a dialogue between me and Professor Paradis. Since there are scholarly dirty jokes involved, this is a good thing (a quote from the Gies book said that women were supposed to live "under the rod" of the man in their life, and of course that's snicker-worthy). More chivalric literature on Monday, which means I'm so gonna make a joke about swords. Poor, poor Sir Gawain. Hurr. :B

Wieland presentation today owned. Even Brent-who-was-making-me-nervous came through and schooled his section. I sort of wish the audience had been a little more...alive, but what the hell. Cross-referencing Champlain and Letters from an American Farmer was icing on the cake during the "Matt asks a question he hopes will make you think" time. Having already thought about it, though, his ruse only nominally worked; 3/4 of our group met beforehand to prepare for such an eventuality and I just drew the short straw for Q&A time. Our group for the win, although Hayley and I did stop to wonder en route how the window chicks' hitting on Matt affects their grades. Probably it does, probably in the positive, probably depressing. But we still owned, and I no longer have to worry about romantic Gothic phantasms in the night.

Really, the whole point of this was to add substance to a bizarre and utterly pointless vignette: some guy outside asked me if he could bum a smoke, and I had none on me but my first response was that I had more in my apartment and could ninja-grab one. He looked surprised, and it was only after he'd told me that nah, that's a pain in the ass that I realized that's not the normal response. Welcome to my head, population none.

What.

The.

Fuck.

I am turning into Winston Churchill. This would be worrying were it not for the totality, which suggests I'll soon be at the point where I can dispense snappy one-liners like "Madam, if you were my wife, I would drink it," or "He is a modest little man, with much to be modest about."

Actually, wait. I am getting there, since I now talk in class, because eloquence is pointless if you don't use it (there I am, four months behind, as usual), and terrify and stun the people around me. Part of this is their fault-- how could I be the only person in class who knows what a portcullis is?! My poor professor only wanted an answer to "What's a portcullis" and I didn't even see any clicks of recognition. By the time my answer began to involve pulleys, everyone was effectively out. For the motherfuckin' win. I'm still appalled, but it was kind of cool to bust that shit out. I finally know why I think it's so neat-- it's a very unequivocal thing, it lets you say, "Look, this is [insert term here] and it does [insert function here]. I rule the world, what?" That's like drugs, although arguably more time-consuming and expensive.

I should start buying those warhead candies so I'll stop drinking schnapps because I want something sour. Except not because I'm turning into Winston Churchill, sans problem shoulders.

I look at all this and it's cryptic. Abominably cryptic. I talk a lot and say nothing and it's so irritating. I mean, I knew I did that for a long time, but now I feel like I'm banging my head into a wall here, doing this. Of course, that's all I can do here, to be candid without being specific, which is why I did some not-really-that-clever-at-all sidestepping. Ultimately I have no one but myself to blame for this head-banging feeling, since I am here to prove the dumbest point known to man. I just realized too late that this was in fact a less-good habit than I'd previously thought. It was like my whole life was under scrutiny and needing evasiveness lest someone hear me and do something awful, hence this constant hedging; as much as melodrama would like me to say it, never has my whole life been under surveillance (Just most of it? Was that over the top? Maybe. Maybe not. Eh). Oh, introspection. You always make me sound depressed and you came at too high s price. To wrap this up on a better note...your MOM! Bahahahaha!

...the can is there to hold in the Spam! If you know that parody, I love you. Anyway, Dire Straits is one of the more underrated bands of all time, at least if you're under the age of 40. Que triste. In the interest of advertising my bizarre taste in music and my seriously crippling case of nerd-dom, I give you...lyrics!

( Gentlemen, behold! I have grafted a deer antler to my groin! )

So you know when you smell something and then can't get it out of your head, like you have this phantom odor drifting around your olfactory center? Don't tell me this doesn't happen to other people; I refuse to believe it, so nyah. Annnnyway, that's happening to me right now and it is way, way not-cool. The guy who sat next to me on the bus was wearing the worst cologne evar. Granted, I may be missing out on some of the finer(?!) points of it, but it smelled like...okay, if baby powder could go rancid like cooking oil, that's what it would smell like. Holy God, it was horrible. And now I keep smelling it, even though I know it did not get absorbed by me or anything I am wearing. AUUUUGH.

The Buff Bus truly is a center of many strange and wonderful (or rank, that too) things. After a bus epiphany last night I pimpslapped my American Lit group-- figuratively-- with words. Not in a hostile sense, more in a "holy crap, where did all that verbiage and analysis come from?!" After all, what good is being able to talk people into wonder and insensibility if I don't use it? Heeey thur, world, lookit this, sucka! Also, damn, boy, you were right on this count too. If I could hate you for your insight and all that wonderful brain-equipment of yours, I totally would. Except not. Also, professor-Matt gave us Girl Scout cookies because he neglected us during group discussion time. Mmm Samoas, glaaaarrgh so good.

I forgot just how much I like Tarkan until Dudu came up on iTunes just now. Dammit, I sense a downloading spree at some point in the future. Pop from other countries is so much better than our pop, in this case because it hasn't totally forgotten old-school music. Also Tarkan is kind of cute :P

I am not going to have any kind of a weekend this weekend (Fear my powers! I am Redundant Girl!) between midterms and history papers and sagas and this damn Wieland project. So what am I gonna do tonight? Probably call Ryan and spend a lot of time doing nothing like we always do. And it'll be awesome. Fwoo.

Okay, to be perfectly honest, I did go "hah!" all triumphal-like. There is no good excuse for this, but as I said after Shabbat services (Yes, yes I am atheist. But I like new experiences and I live with someone in a religious studies class), I might be the most terrible human being in the room, but at least I have the grace to be ashamed of it. Good enough for me. Other than that...been busy, been cynical. Not in a self-destructive way, I'll be keeping up my hard work on that front even if it kills me, but in a Saul Bellow way. Like observational humor, but less insipid and more funny.

Speaking of insipid observational humor, my personal life, which I have been neglecting dreadfully as per usual standard, is a shambles. The less attention I pay, the more other people do, and I always end up wanting to bang my head into a wall when I finally do realize this. I wish there were a way to say, "Look buddy, snowball's chance in hell, why don't you go talk to that chickie there?" without sounding really really arrogant. Plus I always feel counterproductive even thinking of saying something like that, since I've had this long-abiding frustration with being cool shit and nothing more. The more time goes by the more I see this kind of thing as a gross underestimation and waste of potential. I suppose it's worse now because of everything from my last final forward, but I'd be lying if I said it was ever fun.

Actually, I'm kind of irritated right now and I don't know why. I think it is, like Sheila said, one of those "Bagha smash!" days for everyone. I think this calls for me to stop listening to mentally-abrasive 90s music and go do some reading so I don't feel like a total lout.

I have lost the battle and won the war. Frankly, Pyrrhus has nothing on me, but it's kind of cool anyway. As to the loss, I can only sue for peace (fuck, I just borrowed a metaphor from David Eddings completely by accident) and cross my fingers. I think I could give Njal a run for his money. Probably Mord too, but I am not going to use my powers for evil. Shut up, I'm for serious!

Yeah, I know it's cryptic. This is sort of a side effect of doing stuff just to prove a (stupid) point. Yeeeah, get down with your bad kindergarten self! XD Now I'm gonna bust out the crayons and draw pretty pictures. If I feel ambitious, I will draw pretty pictures (this being of course relative. Relative to a kindergartener's art skizzilz) for people. Cheap presents to hang on your fridge to remind yourself you have an idiot savant for a friend. Peace love and Crayola. Bitches.

Damn. Now I wanna go have a snowball fight, since the drunk God of All Colorado Weather saw fit to gift us with a big fucking blizzard-thing out of nowhere last night.

You scored as Special Ops. Special ops. You're sneaky, tactful, and a loner. You prefer to do your jobs alone, working where you don't come into contact with people. But everyonce in a while you hit it big and are noticed and given fame. Your given the more sensitive problems. You get things done, and do what has to be done. "VULCAN NECK PINCH!!!" "owww.......(slump)" </td> Special Ops 88% Artillery/Armor 69% Engineer 63% Civilian 56% Medic 50% Combat Infantry 44% Officer 44% Support Gunner 44% Which soldier type are you? created with QuizFarm.com

People as a whole do not ever grow up. They just grow older. As evidenced by the spiteful attack on innocent laundry launched by some wretch too dumb to read a clock and too lazy to get off their ass and shift clothes. Some girl and I waited 45 minutes for this guy to take his shit out of the dryers, finally cracked, moved it to the table in there without tampering and loaded our stuff up. The vengeful little prick then proceeded to stroll in, take his stuff, and open every single dryer so the time ran out but nothing got dried. Way to go. I'm sure you roommates appreciate having to pick up your toys and clean the baby food you threw off the walls.

I could say pithy things about that, but I won't. I need sleep, cursed 8:00 class that I have.

I can be so, so callow sometimes it surprises me. But in a good way. At least now I remember why I mod, in some sense.

Also, I have not laughed so hard in a while.

This is...short. I am developing an allergy to electronic forms of communication, slowly but surely. This might in fact be a good thing-- fewer distractions-- but I suppose I shall simply have to find out in the course of time.

Which annoying fan are you?
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Uh, w00t? I got nothin' except for meme spam. So I'm gonna go and probably see Hostel, because a torture-factory movie is cool enough, but one done by Tarantino? Muy bizarro.

What I don't understand is what the fuck...would possess anyone to do that?

Well, okay, I comprehend it but I can't say as I'll ever understand.

And that kind of gives me the warm fuzzies.

EDIT: Disturbing thought. In a way, I am just as weird. Not evil, that's some consolation, but too fucking stubborn for my own good. I can live with "not evil" and "not sick" and call it a day, though.

Submit your own plea to Cthulhu!

Name some friends or leave them blank and let me look them up myself:

Reason #351 why it's good to be me: I sign onto facebook, see I have a party invite, click on it, and it's for a New Year's party called "Kiss ME I'm SHITFACED," hosted by none other than Chris Kerns.

This made me laugh uproariously, because I haven't been able to hear "Kiss Me, I'm Shitfaced" without at least snickering since May, the last time Kerns had a party. I think I might have to go just so I can tease him about the name. Seriously, that's both the funniest thing I have heard in a long time and eerie proof that, true to our coversations about airports and floating hot tubs and the basketball team in high school, we do indeed share a brain.

Gawd. My brain is such a whore. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her.

Something else random: I never, ever thought I would be making an entry starting (or even containing) anything like this one. Y'know, lists of reason why people's lives rock are fun and great and all, but I never really felt the vibe. Now, though, there are a multitude of reasons it's good to be me: finals are almost over, people are coming home for the holidays and I'm going to see them left and right, I've been making plans for an awesome post-exams night out with locals, in the last couple of days I've realized just how many people I've managed to hold onto over the years (This one gives a +2 because it allows me to call bullshit on something that is...well, bullshit), school is coming together because I found my niche, and I have this completely amazing human being I can call my boyfriend. I mean, whoa. I would go so far as to call all of this "t3h r0x0r."

Finally, before I run off to bed, I want to congratulate Shy and Wolfie on getting married, because they're both fantastic people to work with and deserve all the happiness in the world. Also, they had a ninja wedding. The stealh was way impressive. The thread saying "btw married" was just hilarious. Hurray Wolfie and Shy!

Dear Whoever Keeps Stomping Up and Down Our Hallway:

Please knock it off. I understand that not everyone can be silent like a ninja, but footfalls sounding like Cuchulain is making them are not appreciated. Please try not to shake the walls while in transit; it's a difficult thing to master but most everyone manages to learn the finer points by late grade school. If need be, I will somehow trip-wire you and make you go stand in the corner. The same applies to Whoever Keeps Running Through the Upstairs Corridor While Carrying Heavy Weights and Boy Who Shares a Wall With Me and Likes to Turn His Bass Up Loud Enough to Be Really Irritating. Further infractions on any of these parts will result in swift and terrible justice. Kthx bai.

Seriously. Especially pre-finals, no one needs this, and it's probably part of the reason we all emigrated from the dorms. Show a wee bit of class and consideration, would you? If I knew who any of these people were, I would totally go to their apartment and throw heavy objects at the door. Like watermelons. Or small boulders. Or unwanted tacky bibelots. Or really, really big knives. Maybe, for the sake of being insulting, I would bend my weight restrictions to allow flaming bags of dog poo. Contemplating aggravated assault via conflagrated fecal retaliation (Now that was a good one, that's fridge-worthy right there) tells me just how badly I need this holiday. It also reminds me I have lost track of an entire week again because I've been effin' swamped and in no real position to contact anybody socially, since the point would be moot and I'd be speaking Braindead anyway. Grrargle.

I would like to take this time to formally declare my undying love for architects, contractors, and all you clever engineery types.

Without you, we would have no buildings with heating and all that good stuff, meaning we'd all be outside in this frozen wasteland some people call Colorado. 70 degrees to FROSTY DOOM in 2.5 weeks. Subtle, our weather ain't. Enjoyable, it ain't either, but that's more the having to stand outside for long periods of time waiting for the Buff Bus because they feel an obscure need to strand people, then bring in two or maybe even three buses at the same time. The local meth dealer must be doing a brisk trade from all the dispatcher-type people. Although there's always a mad rush for the moving pod of warmth that will one day-- I maintain and possibly kind of hope-- result in a trampling, the people on the bus today were nice enough to condense themselves as much as possible so as to fit people on. It was one of those random acts of kindness that all those bumper stickers talk about. Except better, because there were a lot of people in on it. As Denis Leary would say, the kind of thing that warms the cockles of your heart. Sort of like the slew of Santa-letter memes that show up when I open my friends' page. I'm nto sure how many of those I'm responsible for, directly or by proxy, but it feels like I started a meme flood and boy does it amuse me. Mostly because said flood involves benevolent/evil dictatorships of places like Asscrackistan or Duluth, Minnesota, and a lot of petty theft and organ donation (I picture here The Meaning of Life, and that is hysterical). I'm totally going to end up doing some of the other memes in circulation, but those are for later when I am burnt-out to an even higher degree and procrastinating. For now, I leave with a sentence that is deceptively evil and cackle-inducing: Fortunate that you don't have either, then.

Hurr hurr. XD

Dear Santa... Dear Santa, This year I've been busy! Last Saturday I signed my organ donor card (28 points). In June I helped therealtwistex see the light (8 points). Last Friday I helped kippege across the street (6 points). Last month sammythewire and I donated clothes to the needy (11 points). In March I put money in sillypirate's expired parking meter (14 points). Overall, I've been nice (67 points). For Christmas I deserve a new dolly! Sincerely, vshippie

Write your letter to Santa! Enter your LJ username:

Hurr hurr meme, especially Keith's role in it. Irony's gonna fall from the sky like an anvil one of these days. Assuming of course finals don't become one giant (meta)physical mass and crush us all first. Oh God so much to do and so little time and they're all early exams and ack! I bloody well need the time off, though, because this semester has been relentless in every possible way. So far, I'm planning to bake cookies, learn Cripple Mr. Onion and have Adam over for death pints, see as many people who are coming back for the holidays as possible, vegetate a whole bunch, cook awesome dinner at least twice, visit as many of our minty-fresh new modlings as possible when I got to New York, orchestrate my first non-craptacular birthday ever (For my 21st, might as well; my other ones have consisted of either other people doing what they want or forgetting altogether. Not big mental scarring, but I feel I should buck the trend this time), finish making the road-cone coffee table, see a whole bunch of movies, bake brownies, and generally squeeze every bit of tasty recreational goodness out of every day until I go back to killing myself with work. Oh, and hijacking a few days immediately post-final to watch movies/be silly/just plain hang out with Matt. 'Cause he's awesome and we finally won't have Important School Things To Do. Ooo, and because I have my copy of Fight Club sitting on my desk and I keep seeing it, maybe I shall make soap. S'fun, although I won't be blowing anything up with it. I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

Watched Clerks last night. Have come to the conclusion that were Veronica and Randal to fuse into one unholy being, it would be me. I am saddened by this because being Randal means you don't often get a Randal of your own to be the voice of reason, but heartened by the fact that at least there's no Dante in there anywhere. Watching it now that I've had film studies and a lot of theory and time to become what at least resembles a thoroughgoing professional makes it kind of awakward, because I want to like Dante, but the point of it all is that he's a main character you shouldn't like. He's kind of lackluster and while that allows a lot of points to be made, you wouldn't want to hang out with him because he is exactly what Randal tells him he is. The whole movie is spent watching a guy you don't even like, and while that's instructive, it leaves you feeling a little depressed, maybe a little like knocking someone around (see also: corporeal curse/mini-dementor effect). I still like the film, don't get me wrong, and I have recently acquired new appreciation for Silent Bob's lines, it's just occasionally dispiriting. Fucking film studies ruined one of my two favorite characters for me.

Title dictates behavior/bullshit, you dictate your behavior. I am currently chewing this over because I had to run off to the study room to get any work done (Sometimes, I can't work in my apartment; you all know how that goes, I'm sure) and had a WillVill moment. I just spent a few minutes cleaning up the study room, which was scattered with food, which provoked in turn a Lord Vetinari moment because I bloody well know where it came from. Some days, I find it a wonder I don't actually read minds or predict the future. I'm sure there's a good explanation for this, but damned if I have it so sometimes it feels like omniscience. At any rate, title dictating behavior would explain why I always find myself doing this, but me dictating my behavior would explain why I'm pissed off about it but did it anyway because I don't want to be working in a shithole. Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a big science experiment, although I can't tell if I'm the subject or the one running it. Or possibly-- and this is probably the best metaphor for the feeling of overwhelming defeat that looms up now and again-- I know there's an experiment, and I have been entrusted with running it by the nice scientists, but it's really only a smaller section of a big experiment I don't know about or control in any way. I'd throw in an H2G2 reference here, but actually, I kind of fucking hate the whole fandom, at least since the movie came out. Well, wait, no, before that too. The books are funny but people take them way too seriously and you know what, fuck that. And that was quite the digression but it somehow lifted a burden off me to spit in geekdom's face like that. A small burden, yeah, but any burden at all being gone helps at the present time.

Jello shots and beer are both wonderful things, but when they come over all stale, not so much.

Rather, picture waking up and you've had a lot of both and your mouth kind of tastes like them, only not so fresh and enjoyable as they're now several hours old. Euuurgh, yeah? Anyway, went out tonight (obviously) knowing that my instinct to stay home and kick the holy living hell out of myself was indeed quite bad. Best decision I've made in a long time. It was a blast. Seeing Nick again and getting my long-lost sweater back was great, and the party itself was basically the shit. I knew Sandra and Leah from high school in that vague way; everyone else, I knew by proxy because this is Boulder and it's a clusterfuck. Priya and I spent a good chunk of time discussing that, when I wasn't having sudden-death-tie beer pong matches or instigating makeouts with the British chappie (That sounds...bad. Really it was that we were like the little devils what go *poof* on your shoulder and telling people to go be uncivilized. We're good). Adam now has a standing invitation to forsake Libby whenever and come party/crash here. He is marvelous fun and we get on quite well. Insofar as is possible for having known each other a very short time, we are drinking mates of the first order. Apparently I'm sarcastic enough to make facebook, and all I did this time was refer to Australia as "a giant prison," which is what it fuckin' well is. I'm also Boulder enough to be called upon when Priya goes drinking with some of the other girls. All in all, it was a great night and I'll probably edit this to contain a little more later, after I've slept off the very last.

There's a time and a place for everything, and it's called college.