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Monday April 28, 2003 I know it's true Josh certainly knows how to cheer up a girl. I mean, I bet he greets wheelchair-bound folks by inquiring, "hey, walked anywhere interesting recently?" Oh, I kid. The above was all an elaborate rouse to get someone to download this brilliant song. Sarae, 04:38 PM while listening to [More] 2 comments Sunday April 27, 2003 Brilliant ideas Last Friday night, I informed Cristine and Brian that I was going to become a rapper. Not just any rapper, mind you, but one called 60 Cents. You know, the whole automatic publicity, or some such. They said that I was selling myself short, and should be at least a dollar. So now I might be a rapper called One Dolla. Then again, since I have problems enough speaking at a normal speed, I won't become a rapper. Too bad. Yesterday I decided to start an NBA team called the SARS. Really, if you think about it, it's quite smart. The other team would be afraid to defend too closely, and if the whole SARS epidemic continues, other teams might just forfeit to avoid infection. We'd have the best record. The previous was decided after giggling over the fact that Sacramento is shortened to "Sac." Really. It's funny. Today I am really happy. Luke left me a comment. I gossiped at work. It's gorgeous outside. I'm wearing a skirt. The reasons go on and on. Sarae, 01:38 PM while listening to [Just this] No comments Saturday April 26, 2003 One of the things I love most in this world are people. Not all people, but a specific type. You know - the ones who swear up and down to one thing, while each and every one of their actions refute their claim, time and time again. Wait. Did I say that I love those people? I'm sorry; I actually hate them with a burning passion typically reserved for sexist assholes and the like. I do, however, love Dove shampoo. No sarcasm there. Sarae, 03:00 PM while listening to [Just this] 2 comments Thursday April 24, 2003 Some of these things There are these things that won't escape my mind. There are also these things that I think up in the spur of the moment and don't actually dwell in the recesses of my cruel, cruel brain. I rather prefer the latter. There are these things I've written - really written, not just floating about waiting to be cemented - that I've been thinking of tonight. I want to print these out, in some pseudo italic handwriting like Legault Std or Caflisch Script Pro. In my mind, I've printed them on burgundy-red paper not too far off from the background of this page, only a bit darker. Or maybe each is printed on almost transparent off white parchment, sandwiched between the burgundy paper. Regardless, they're stiched together with black ribbon, one quarter of an inch wide. I take these things I've written, the things I've poured out and let no one or next to no one see, and place them in that romanticized box beneath the bed, filled with mementos of former lovers, trinkets from former lives, photographs you don't have any other place for. I don't have such a receptacle for my past; sometimes I wish I did. I realized tonight the driving force behind my recent acquisition of the dirty little habit known as cigarettes. It's not the one I originally surmised, but it's an equally poor one. Well. I love Cody ChesnuTT. I loved him before, when I heard the "Look Good in Leather" song - honestly, how can you not love a song that's complete with a catchy beat, and the lyrics "I can do anything I want/Because I look good in leather"? When I saw the video for "The Seed," his collaboration with The Roots, I nearly squealed. Baby, I have no problem with you fertilizing another behind your lover's back. Tonight consisted of quite a bit of much-needed paper journalling. I'm resisting the urge to pour over the things I wrote earlier; it's far too painful and too soon to re-read. Tonight also contained some fun cleaning. For those not in the know, fun cleaning requires a skirt, heels and a Swiffer. Heaven. Sarae, 03:19 AM while listening to The Roots f/ Cody ChesnuTT - The Seed [More] No comments Monday April 21, 2003 Baby, stay away from me One of the best things about going home is the chaos and confusion it leaves behind. My family is a family of tinkerers. If I'm home for a fair amount of time, I will get into things. Yesterday I managed to get into two separate projects involving paint, caulk, glass and an endtable. The second project was not found until this evening, and resulted in a highly confused email from my mother. Ah, life. Sarae, 05:12 PM while listening to Paul Westerberg - Eyes Like Sparks [Just this] No comments Sunday April 20, 2003 Regimented/ Designated I'm feeling very American today. This means nothing except that I'm wearing jeans and a white shirt. I fucking love white shirts - why don't I own more? Also, I've decided that Easter is a rather okay holiday. No stress like Christmas or your birthday, but you still get presents. (Well, I got a pair of capris my mother bought me a month ago - light pink! - and some noodle things I adore.) Also, it's perfectly acceptable to beat up your brother, because there are no extended relations, and your father is busy sorting through old, old paperwork and your mother is cooking ham. What a splendid day! Sarae, 10:34 PM while listening to Bikini Kill - Reject All American [More] No comments * * * Lyrics So, I knew the lyrics I was hearing: Papa bought Bacardi Papa bought Bacardi...fish weren't right, but did I ever in a million years think that it was: Papa, papa caught it Papa, papa caught a fish instead? Heavens no! Sarae, 02:13 PM while listening to Grandpaboy - Anything But That [Just this] No comments Saturday April 19, 2003 I'm feeling hazy.. The weather channel assures us that, in this lovely city on this lovely evening, it is hazy and currently 61 degrees. I'm not sure about the 61 degrees part, but I for one am certainly hazy. Somebody got too-much-sleep. Which is a bad thing, even if there were some interesting dreams thrown in. Sarae, 07:22 PM while listening to Hayden - Steps into Miles [Just this] No comments Thursday April 17, 2003 After the wave I walked home at midnight in a highly disorganized path. I changed direction and destination as frequently as I change my mind. I walked through dark, light and moderately-lit areas, dodging between the sparse traffic without a second thought. I wrote this as I walked, fueled by the soundtrack of mid-nineties non-commercial rock, listened to in an uncharacteristically chronological order. I didn't notice until later that my fingers had turned pink in the cold. I smoked cigarette after cigarette, only noticing the wind after realizing that my hair was constantly whipping into my mouth. At last, I stumbled into the elevator set to pound everything out, out of my head and make it form a shape. Or a list, which would later lead me to realize what course of action should be taken. In my room, prying off my jacket I was hit with nausea and fright and any other emotion which rendered that impossible. Instead, I spent spells of time horizontal on my bed and my couch waiting for the voice that screamed vomit vomit vomit to cease. It has, now. I'm still at a standstill, and I'm still triple guessing myself. The right thing to do isn't always the easiest; the hardest thing isn't always the right thing. Some days I have a hard time believing it, but I know I deserve respect. I haven't gotten it for a long, long time. Things will end badly. Sarae, 03:22 AM while listening to Everclear, Sick & Tired [More] No comments Tuesday April 15, 2003 The radio is most certainly trying to make me go insane. I fucking hate the radio. They played this song yesterday, too. Fucking fuckers. Sarae, 11:21 PM while listening to a wretched song. [Just this] No comments * * * Sometimes I feel like something is gone here This was going to be a post about how I have nothing to say. Scratch that, it was going to be one of those boring late-night incoherent-to-anyone-not-me ramblings about how I don't know what to say. There's plenty I could say, only at the moment it'd all come out snide and bitchy because that's the kind of mood I'm in. There's plenty more I could say but won't because I'm stuck. Stuck because I don't know if I want to say things to people I don't know, or speak to. There's plenty of musing I could do, on whether or not I view this as a journal to keep track of myself (I do) or as something to pass the time and hopefully amuse a handful of people (to a lesser extent, yes.) I'm driving myself crazy. My unpredictable sleeping hours - nonexistent one night, neverending the next - are wearing on me. The fact that the tiniest little thing has the ability to alter my mood isn't pleasant. My morning was shit, my afternoon and early evening were beyond wonderful, and my night was less than desirable. I worry that my afternoon was so great was due to the fact that it was spent deliciously off-campus, zipping from place to place, doing exactly what I wanted. Singing to the radio, not caring that my hair was turning into tangled hay, and doing nothing else. Rummaging through Goodwills in search of cameras, finding an old Polaroid camera (just like this one, only cheaper) and a vast array of no-name toy cameras that I wanted because of this website though none were the much-coveted Lomo. Piqued by my camera purchase, I took a lot of photos while driving. Only a few Polaroids, though. I put one on my photo page and the rest are in a compilation called Driving at Dusk. I'm obsessed with photos currently, if it wasn't obvious. Some cultures believe that photographs steal your soul; I'm beginning to wonder if committing a photo to something permanent is a bad sign, personally. I know it's not - it's just late, and I'm paranoid and noticing stupid little coincidences, if you will. This would fall under the category of "possibly too personal" or "too stupid to talk about." A car, a camera and freedom to roam anywhere made up the sublime middle to my day. We shan't get into the start. And the end? It's never a good thing when I listen to one song on repeat for over an hour straight. I can't decide if this song is uplifting or depressing. I remember having that problem at the time, too. Shit. In similarly terrifying news, I'm taking an intermediate fiction workshop next fall. Terrifying much? Oh yes. Oh, oh yes. Sarae, 02:57 AM while listening to Uncle Kracker - In A Little While [More] No comments Monday April 14, 2003 Are you gonna sit and watch me, watch me while I go down? While Luke may have given up on negativity, I have not. Quite the opposite, actually: I delight in it. I daresay I even frolic in it. It's a little humbling when my brother leaps on my lap and paws through my hair. The bad part is when, after a bit of inspection, he declares: "Your hair is almost its natural color!" This is when I do not inform him that the showing roots are not, in fact, my natural color: just differently affected the last time I dyed it. People who randomly disappear suck. A lot. Listening to semi-depressing music all day is a poor plan. It is late, and my stomach is a mess. I should be asleep. This is entry number 666. Cue demon music. Sarae, 02:20 AM while listening to [More] 2 comments Thursday April 10, 2003 Run a mile to see him smile Tonight I was disturbingly and juvenilely hyper. It didn't really annoy me - hell, I was having fun discussing (with myself) such interesting prospects as someone having a clitoris the size of a hubcap - but it certainly was unnerving Colette. I settled down fast when Colette informed me that I was being "dorm Sara." Which means, of course, that I was acting with such childish antics that I adored when I first got to college. I am through with that, so I tried to stop. We just weren't sure why I was behaving in that fashion. There were no unusual substances in my system, nor was I blowing off post-exam steam. Colette blamed the cigarette I'd smoked two hours before. I disagreed, but could come up with no explanation. Ten minutes later, pouring myself a glass of Dr Pepper, I realized something. It was eight thirty. I was emptying the two liter bottle, the bottle I'd bought at four that afternoon. The bottle I'd almost completely consumed alone: all but one glass. The mystery, solved. Thank god I wasn't reverting. Then we watched Secretary. It was interesting. Sarae, 03:24 AM while listening to The Black Keys - Set You Free [Just this] No comments Tuesday April 8, 2003 My hairspray should not be allowed to disappear. Doesn't it know I need it? Bastard. Sarae, 10:44 PM while listening to [Just this] 4 comments * * * When the night is cold and he can't defend her Earlier this evening I effectively lit one cigarette from the burning ember of another. I was proud for a moment, then disappointed in myself. The nice thing about me, now, is that I quickly forget these things. Later, NBC news cut into the end of Third Watch and informed me that Saddam and his sons may, emphasis on may, be dead. At this news I cheered, then urged them to return to my show: they didn't. Instead they spliced MSNBC's news in, showing stock footage of burning buildings. I took this time to fall asleep for an hour and a half. I've fallen asleep about five times this afternoon and evening. You would think that when I woke at ten-thirty, groggy and out of place, that I'd just stumble into my bed and sleep for the next eight hours. Well. If you think that, you certainly don't know me at all. Sarae, 03:53 AM while listening to Eleni Mandell - To Dream of Sarah [More] No comments * * * Where's the love? That's right, folks. I'm on strike. I'm striking Colette. Equal comments, yo. If you're not careful, I'll show up at your doorway and lie on the floor, moaning, "You don't love me!" See how you like it. Bitch. Sarae, 03:23 AM while listening to [More] 6 comments Monday April 7, 2003 Things I have this one picture I look at whenever I get the urge to chop my hair. In this picture, I look stupid. I am also blonde, which doesn't help my desire to go blonde again. I should find a good picture of me, with longer blonde hair. That, or just give up and resign myself to years of dying my hair dark. This snow? I know two weeks ago I was saying that I didn't want it to be warm yet, but I certainly did not mean that it should snow in April. That means it should stay nice and high-40s brisk for awhile; not immediately rocket into 70 degree days all the time. As I was walking to work this morning, in the frigid cold wind sans hat or gloves, I spied something odd. A large conglomeration of people on the opposite side of University Ave. With signs, it seemed. As I got closer, traffic lulled and the group spilled out onto the street. One of the two large signs said "wake up to war;" the other I don't recall. They stood the signs in the middle of the road, effectively blocking traffic, while others laid in the road and moaned things like, "Oh, I'm dying!" I took a few pictures and thought about yelling something at them - but didn't. A man walking next to me did, however. He's my hero this morning. I wished I'd had my cell phone, but I'm not sure who I would have called - the police? Colette? Who knows. I do think the whole thing was in very poor taste: the fact that we're at war isn't the fault of the people trying to get to work, now is it? Sarae, 09:44 AM while listening to [Just this] 1 comment * * * Cuz I was young and restless This is my favorite picture taken from this weekend, probably due to its extreme oddness. Because we all know Colette's head is transparent. Plus, it matches my color scheme. Always a plus. Sarae, 12:34 AM while listening to [Just this] 1 comment Sunday April 6, 2003 No more drama I've decided that this afternoon will be spent lying on the couch watching the war and smoking far too much as my computer dutifully downloads good old Mary J. Blige. And I'll probably even rant at some point about how it's men, not my aunt, who should be taken out to a field en masse and shot. Not that I hate men, of course. Just the emotionally fucked assholes. I am so not bitter. Sarae, 12:08 PM while listening to quiet [More] No comments * * * How shameful Out of my last twenty search engine hits, three were for "dog porn." One more was "girl wants dog for." Why? Sarae, 11:27 AM while listening to [Just this] 2 comments * * * A very boring, and long, timeline 12:30 pm: Wake. Dress. Dress Colette in the scary-buttoned boots that hurt my nails. 1:30 pm: Arrive at the Pow Wow. Meet people. Realize that I have never, ever before felt so white. 4:30 pm: Do something painfully, painfully straight. Subsequently put to rest any dissent about whether or not Colette and I are an item. Because, you see, I am obliviously straight. And apparently I'm white - did you know? 5:00 pm: Sucessfully avoid dancing, thus continuing my new streak of only dancing when drinking. Eat food. Have in-the-future craving for squash, making me wish it was autumn. 6:00 pm: Stumble home, full and tired. Intend to watch the rest of the Kansas-Marquette game, and drink later. 6:10 pm: Turn on a Discovery Channel special about building pyramids. Doze off. 6:20 pm: The phone rings. Terrified. Colette is leaving her obligations early and coming over. 6:30 pm: Terrified again. Apparently I fell back asleep. Colette is downstairs. 6:45 pm: We are cold and tired. We make a concious decision to not drink after all. I try and teach Colette about basketball. As is the case when I watch with someone who does not know the sport, I am amazed with how much I do know. I even talked (some) defense strategies. Very basic, but still. Sometime in the past season, I picked up awareness of the zone and one-on-one defenses. 8:00 pm: Katie returns. Colette tells her just how straight I am. They laugh. 8:20 pm: Basketball is boring when both teams are the same color and I don't really care about or hate either team. 8:21 pm: I decide to do Colette's hair. We have to get it wet, first, so I can appropriately put in gobs of product. This is accomplished by sticking Colette's tiny head under the sink faucet, when it is on a moderately warm setting. I play my own hilarious "shock and awe" game by repeatedly sliding it to the cold end of the spectrum. This elicits shrieks, and helps wake Colette up. 8:49 pm: Hair is done. It looks very "gay" apparently. With Colette, that is a compliment. 8:50 pm: I decide that I want to drink. Spend two minutes convincing Colette to come to the liquor store with me, and another minute getting her dressed in Katie's pants and my socks. She refused to go out in her previous, skirted outfit. 8:55 pm: Race to liquor store. Say, "I do not want to drink vodka tonight." 9:01 pm: Emerge from liquor store with bottle of vodka. 9:30 pm: Watch Sex and the City, start drinking. Drink in quick sucession. It is decided that neither Colette nor I are allowed to pour any more shots, because we spill. We do not let Katie pour them, though, because we are independent. 10:40 pm: I change the clocks. We are officially on Daylight Savings Time. Or officially off it, I'm not sure. This leads to some confusion. 11:30 pm: We are in Katie's room. Things are said that I do not want to hear, and should not hear. I go into my room. Sometimes I am good and care for myself. 12:00 am: Colette throws up. I do not. Katie helps Colette in the bathroom while I sit and think, "gross." 12:01 am: I realize there's still enough vodka in the bottle for one last shot. I drink it. 12:15 am: Colette needs to test her finger, so I take care of it for her. Then, I change lancets and test mine. Colette is 89, and I am 85. The night before, Colette was 115, I was 110 and Katie was 108. We have attractive blood sugar numbers. This is soothing, because it means that I am not diabetic. Fo' sure. 12:45 am: Colette decides to call Angela for unknown reasons. She dials several time, primly asking, "Hello, is Angela there please?" After a pause she says, "Thank you, have a good night." Eventually it is Angela. I steal phone and drunk-talk wonderfully bad. 1:20 am: Phone is dead. I emerge from my room to find Colette staring at the disconnected phone cord, confused. I hook it back up and dial again. Apparently I, the queen of not knowing phone numbers, have this one seared in my brain. I should always learn phone numbers drunk. 2:00 am: Angela makes me hang up, because I said I had to sleep. 2:10 am: I go to sleep. I do not fall asleep, as Colette and I are both talkers. She makes sure I know it's ok that she threw up, because she's diabetic and weighs less than I. I assure her that I know. She tells me this fact at least five more times. 4:00 am: Still awake. I decide I need some of the ice cream we bought. Then, back to trying to sleep. 5:56 am: Failed. It is getting light out. I become nostalgic for last summer's sublet, where I could wake up at sunrise and see the view from my bed. 8:30 am: Katie wakes me up as promised, for I have to work. I say, "I am awake!" Then I think, "I am so awake, that I can lie back down for awhile." I fall asleep, and have weird dreams about Angela going to the SERF and having a midterm in twenty minutes. 9:20 am: I wake again. Rush to work. 9:40 am: Arrive at work. Vow to never drink on a Saturday again. It's classless to get drunk two nights in a row. Sarae, 11:26 AM while listening to silence [Just this] No comments * * * I am drunk. Again. I have to work in four hours and fifteen minutes. I am not smart. Also, I have cried more in the last four hours than I have in the last nine months, combined. Now I have to sleep, lest Colette stick her butt in my face. She says, "That is quite enough." Sarae, 04:09 AM while listening to [Just this] 2 comments * * * Drunk again. Oh yea. Should be asleep. Colette says "go to sleep." I need to sleep. Sarae, 01:25 AM while listening to [Just this] No comments Saturday April 5, 2003 Sometimes, even when you are drunk, there are things too painful to listen to, and you make yourself leave the room and lie on the couch. Now I am contemplating luring Colette out of Katie's room with the promise of another shot, if she promises to not tell me anymore things that make me wistful and suspicious, all at once. Sarae, 11:30 PM while listening to [Just this] No comments * * * I completely enjoy waking up, reading my blog, and realizing that I'm a much more coherent (and capable!) drunk typer than Colette or Katie. Oh, yes. I am, however, a very uncapable drunk eater - there are chips everywhere, and I have guacamole on two shirts. Three, if you count the guac I dropped on Colette's. Sarae, 12:52 PM while listening to [Just this] 1 comment * * * Katie has a blog! Hooray! Sarae, 01:33 AM while listening to [Just this] No comments Friday April 4, 2003 This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius I am drunk. Not drunk like my bday, because I will remember this and my comp is still hooked up. But I have realized that: I am drunk when I say things I shouldn't. (Also, when I can't type. ) But, good thing we have a new saying "what's said in 6f stays in 6f!" So. Don't pump Katie for info, because she is the only non-drunk one here. Yay! (Colette is drunk even though I'm not supposed to say so. Shh. Sorry Colette. I can still HTML! oooh woozy.....) I just heard the word "sexual" and I am supposedly checking my email. Oh. Livingroomtime! Gross, smoke up the nose= smoking waaayyy too much. Sarae, 11:49 PM while listening to [Just this] 3 comments * * * If you love me like I love you Sometimes I think one of the best things about Colette is when she giggles in amazement and says, "straight people do that?" That, and her insane obsession with street cleaners. Sarae, 01:24 PM while listening to [Just this] 3 comments * * * "Boston, you'll just be plain old nasty." God I love the weather channel. It's so dirty. Sarae, 01:03 AM while listening to TV [Just this] No comments Wednesday April 2, 2003 Obsession via snapshots My new headband, which has sparked a headband craze in the apartment. My other two headbands have been returned to frequent rotation, and the roomie is getting into them as well. We have plans to purchase cheap ones and decorate them ourselves; for fun as well as to soften the wallet blow: this puppy set me back eight dollars. My journal, bought because of the color, paper feel, and the fact that the lines - while present - are very very faint. Meaning I can collage, as well, without getting irritated with the rows of lines. Hurrah. I've used about six pages in the past three days. The adorably cute hermit crabs that have recently joined my family. My brother is endearingly protective of them. This is the bigger one; a female. The other wasn't as sociable. I'm only slightly regretting making food-related comments when I was holding it. You see, my brother is a huge fan of lobster and snow crab legs. He wasn't bothered by it, though: exasperatedly he informed me that they were not the same type of crab. Sarae, 05:39 PM while listening to [Just this] No comments Tuesday April 1, 2003 I don't want to be the bad guy My Everclear obsession is running well in its second day, despite scathing remarks from Josh. Whatever, man. This is a lot less embarrassing than my Justin Timberlake confession. I went home like a proper little American to vote. I'm still registered at home, which is less of a headache than having to reregister every time I move - my god. Because the two candidates were so similar (from everything I'd read), I based my decision on last names only. I'd like a mayor whose name I can pronounce, thank you. When my brother walked into the family room, finding me perched on the couch watching the news, he looked at me and asked, "are you one of those no-war people?," squealing in an odd falsetto on "no-war." I looked at him and said no. He said, "okay." He then proceeded to jump on me and smell my cheek, informing me that I smelled like something. He wasn't sure what. Sarae, 10:47 PM while listening to Everclear - Santa Monica [Just this] No comments * * * Anecdote Whenever my dad asks how much rent is, and I tell him, he says, "Man! I should've bought one of those houses on campus in the '70s; I'd be making a lot of money off college students now!" This is when my mom points out that she suggested that to him in the '70s. Then we change the topic. (To shake this up, replace the housing with Microsoft stock; the rest is the same. I think I'll go to my mother for investment advice.) Sarae, 03:51 AM while listening to whirring. [Just this] No comments