Friday February 28, 2003

I fear nothing
So, for the past six days I've had story ideas bouncing through my head. Only I've written none down, and forgotten quite a few. Because .. I don't know where to write? Because I'm afraid that it won't pan out into a story, and I'll be left hanging with threads of boring, plotless paragraphs? Because I'm lazy? Because when I've felt most inspired I've been exhausted, or haven't the time for other reasons?

Whatever. Tomorrow I will write. And if I can't.. I'll just pretend to.

Sarae, 02:14 AM
while listening to
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1 comment

You seem to think I'm disconnected

• I like bass. Bass makes me want to dance and dance and dance.
  
• It's Friday.
  
• I'm back to the schedule wherein I take a breath, look around and it's the weekend.
  
• I like that. But I shouldn't.
  
• That last week, that last week before you're fully legal, is harder and much more pointless than those other years, combined. Legal (either fake or not) companions and lenient management, however, makes the point moot.
  
• Shaking it to Shaggy is easier than shaking it to glorified lounge music.
  
• Each time, I'm convinced that I'm much better. That the last time was just a fluke. But sorry, I really am an average-to-poor bowler.
  
• I had some kind of revelation on my way to work. By the time I got there, however, I'd forgotten it and instead spent a fair amount of time complimenting myself on my hair. I'm so vain.
  
• But, really. It's long, and looks even longer when I wear my coat. Also, I'm now using the greatest shampoo ever.
  

Sarae, 01:36 AM
while listening to
[Just this]

1 comment

Thursday February 27, 2003

Here I go again
Were I a practical girl, I would be tucked into bed.
Were I a practical girl tonight, I would be making my bed, promptly tucking myself in.
Were I an observant girl, I would have noticed things earlier.

I am not any of those things, though. I should make a list of things that I am, much like those dreaded "100 things about me" memes that circulated none too long ago. I fear that I would get to twenty-seven and be stuck. Because I'm so very uncreative.

Sarae, 02:32 AM
while listening to Whitesnake - Here I Go Again
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Wednesday February 26, 2003

Shake it one time, can you feel it
If you know a feeling in this world that's better than watching your team trounce another by thirty-one points, (an outcome that lands your team alone at the top of the Big Ten, no longer tied with three team) followed by a joyous walk home in brisk cold air laced with cigarette smoke and foot-tapping Sleater-Kinney being pumped into your ears, well.. save it for another day. Right now, nothing could be better.

Sarae, 10:31 PM
while listening to Sleater-Kinney, Step Aside
[Just this]

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One goddamned quarter
That's all I need. One more quarter. Then I could do my two remaining loads of laundry, be done with it all. But no. I don't have that last quarter. Goddamned change.

Sarae, 03:19 PM
while listening to
[Just this]

2 comments

Tick, tick, tick
When it's late and I can't sleep, I calculate. When it's getting late and I know I won't be able to plop in bed and promptly fall asleep, I calculate. I calculate the date of today and see how it matches up with the date on my milk. I calculate the amount of sleep I'll be able to get, were I to fall asleep immediately. Depending on how things fit together, I'll make myself some warm milk to coax sleep on. I'll take half a sleeping pill, because half seems, in my oft-misguided logic, to work faster and to cause less oversleeping. I'll avoid certain websites, or certain people, or certain topics of conversation. It's all an elaborate yet unproven dance. To cause hours to float by quickly, to make me awake, to prepare me for the next thing.

Tonight, I went with the milk and half a pill. They've not kicked in with the strength I'd hoped, and instead today's heavy lethargy is just pressing in a bit thicker. A bit more persistent. Making me realize that I've not felt like this recently. Making me astonished to realize that, save a day or so, this entire month's been brilliantly happy. Making me wonder how long I've been happy, without fully realizing it. Making me realize that life is so much better when you cut out the baggage that drags you down, that's boldly two-faced, that makes you question yourself.

I've slipped out of my habit, recently - more than one, actually. One is not a good habit to lose, and is the cause for today's, for yesterday's... everything. The others are all good ones to kick aside and move past.

Sarae, 02:58 AM
while listening to The Black Keys - Countdown
[Just this]

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Tuesday February 25, 2003

Dear Reader,
I do not know if you routinely, or ever click on that thing that says "photos" near the top of the page. In case you haven't, you should - it takes you to see pictures. Right now you can see some pictures from Chicago. There aren't many, because photographing was mostly limited to a midnight stroll and a bus ride.

Actually, I lie. The photographing was kept to a minimum because I did not want to wear out my battery before the Sleater-Kinney concert. Which I didn't, but it could have happened. Anyways. You should go look at my pictures from the show. Quite a few are blurry (a lesson in not trusting the LCD's screen for digital zoom) and some are wispy. I have more that I did not put up, but these I liked more. Even the blurry ones; I think some look ethereal, so shut up.

Love,
Sara.

Sarae, 01:32 AM
while listening to
[Just this]

2 comments

Monday February 24, 2003

But you can't take my mind
Mock me if you will, and I know you will, but I think that "upstairs" and "downstairs" are quite appropriate terms to describe Chicago's subway system. For example, when underground, or downstairs, and you realize that you will soon be headed up, it is rather fitting to declare, "We're going upstairs!"

If not.. well, I was running on little sleep. And a post-concert high. So I can't be held accountable for any of my comments. Save my rather emphatic and emotional, "King me Janet! King me!"

Sarae, 10:02 PM
while listening to The Black Keys - Countdown
[Just this]

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Ten-forty
Twenty-four hours ago, I was in Madison.

Twelve hours ago, I was in Chicago.

Now, I am back in Madison. Cold, tired and a little cranky. But oh my god, it was great. Out of the now-four times I've seen Sleater-Kinney, last night was the best by so, so far. Even though we missed most of the first opening band due to late arrival and a lying ticket (when it says 7:00, don't you think the show would start at 7:00, as opposed to 6:45?) the second was great as I knew they'd be. (The Black Keys, who I've been listening to all week. I bought their CD; I was hoping they'd be milling about and I would've been able to babble about how much I love them, despite immediate hatred due to, uh, non-musical aspects of the band.) I took a million pictures (by a million, I mean about seventy-five, some not of good quality) and two mpegs - we shall see how those'd turned out. I would be hard pressed to find a low spot of SK's performance. Oh, so so good.

We also manuevered through the city and made it to a late showing of "He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not," the new movie starring Audrey Tautou, aka Amelie. (I should watch that again; Colette and I rented "Happenstance," which she was also in. It was cute, but I was quite glad that I didn't watch the preview before the film.) It was.. spectacular. Everyone should go see "He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not," but go into the movie knowing nothing about it. Oh my.

Sarae, 10:46 AM
while listening to CNN
[Just this]

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Thursday February 20, 2003

Tonight's obsession is:
Zippo lighters. I want one, quite badly, though I have little to no use for them. Does this stop me from scouring Ebay and specialty Zippo-selling online stores? Of course not. As far as shopping obsessions go, this is quite the harmless one. I'm finding quite a few that I like - from the classic silver high-shine that would be smudged immediately, to the classy "Green Baroque" one with the satin chrome.

Also, I am rather into the combination of my first and middle names. This revelation was started when I was wondering what I would have engraved on my Zippo were I purchase one, and were I to purchase one that was able to be engraved.

Tomorrow, I am going to the hockey game with my aunt's seats. I am rather tempted to create a sign that says, "No, don't hit me!" and wave it wildly at the bench whenever Eaves comes near. Because I am shy, I will not. But 'tis fun to ponder.

Wow. I have no recollection of writing that previous update. It's sandwiched between sleep. Much sleep.

Sarae, 11:04 PM
while listening to
[Just this]

2 comments

Don't matter what I say, only what I do
I am never again watching basketball with Colette. I am never watching any sport I care about with Colette, especially when I have not eaten Italian that night. Case in point: our embarrassing two-point, last-second loss to Penn State last night. Penn State, the team who had yet to win a conference game this year. Penn State, whose crowd looked more like a women's hockey crowd than a televised Big Ten men's basketball. Penn State, who is now 1-10. Bastards. Why was I cocky, neglecting the whole Italian food thing. Alas.

Sarae, 10:35 AM
while listening to Fastball - Out Of My Head
[Just this]

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Wednesday February 19, 2003

Hey, now baby
Dear Boy,

Why do you always run into me on those days when I am unkempt and running late for things? Do you have an innate sense of when I stay up far too late, or when I hit snooze again and again in the morning, because I'm having delicious dreams that I can't yet tear myself away from? Or, most likely, those things have been happening more often, and therefore you have a greater percentage of running into my unkempt self than, say, last year? Or last semester, even. Colette thinks that I should not-shower more frequently, so as to increase possible run-ins with you. Tempting, only I hate going to class and work grungy. Oh, the horror.

Dear Me,

Why do you agonize so much over little things? Wear your frickin' skirt, and wear some shoes. No one cares if your shoes look a little off, they'll all be oblivious. Or floored that you are actually wearing one of those million skirts you own. Also, find a shirt; you can't go out just in a skirt and bra.

Love,
Me

Sarae, 03:14 PM
while listening to The Black Keys - Let's Do The Rump
[Just this]

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Oh yes
Guess who is going to get, at most, three hours of sleep!

Me!

I'm going to bed, again. Only this time I will not toss and turn for an hour before wrenching myself from bed, to chat up Colette. Because she shan't be online.

Also: I am really wishing that I'd known about the Jewish loophole in residential law back when I lived in the dorms. Apparently you can get a pass to have candles, that way. Intruiging.

Sarae, 03:41 AM
while listening to
[Just this]

3 comments

Tuesday February 18, 2003

Keep me away from your stores
If I'm not careful, I'm about to lose a yet-to-be-determined sum of money. You see, I am wanting to shop. Tonight I went clothes shopping, and left with two pairs of jeans and a skirt. (And a still-lingering thought that I should've bought those cheap, fuzzy tan pants.) Modest, you might say. The problem was that once I returned to the car, I wanted to shop more. It's good that Kohl's didn't have the bras or shoes (my weakness) that I want, because I would have plunked down a fair amount of plastic money there. After that, I wanted to go somewhere and spend money. In theory, I have money to spend.

The problem? I didn't know where to go, or what to buy. That, my dears, is depressing. I drove around a bit, realizing that I could think of no things, even generic boring things, that I needed. So I went home, where I was serenaded with songs from West Side Story by my brother and mother. What a life.

Earlier I went to pick up my brother from the "skate park" on the east side. It was interesting. My brother has a friend named Tegan, who was there. I wanted to run out to the car and play Tegan and Sara for her on my mp3 player but didn't. I think that would've been a little odd.

Sarae, 11:44 PM
while listening to The Black Keys - Let's Do The Rump
[Just this]

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If I were you, I'd be running wild
I am learning important things about cocaine etiquette, like the fact that I do not understand the intricacies included. I am learning that I would not survive on the streets. I am learning that I make a mean salad out of random refrigerator ingredients. I am happy. I realize things that I should have done before, and am doing them.

I am so excited about the Sleater-Kinney concert this Sunday; plans are all but set in concrete, and I like that. I'm so excited, in fact, that I downloaded a handful of songs by one of the opening bands. When I first read their profile on allmusic, I was convinced I'd hate them; but actually these songs are growing on me. So much that I'm already considering purchasing their CD at the show.

Recently I've noticed that my average hits per day has increased dramatically. (Say, from 13 to 25, over a week and a half's span.) I'm intensely curious as to who you-all are, so please, leave me a comment. I won't bite - I love hearing from people, and am always in the mood to find new blogs to read.

Sarae, 12:12 AM
while listening to The Black Keys - The Breaks
[Just this]

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Monday February 17, 2003

Floodgates open, blood it rains
It's Monday, I've already worked, I've finished all my classes for the day and my paper was completed, neatly stapled and turned in on time. So why do I feel like I've forgotten something rather large? There's this uneasy feeling about, and I know I'll remember too late. Unless of course it's just the fading sense of betrayl; I'd be all right with that.

I stumbled across today's title-giving song at lunch. It'd been downloaded some time ago, but apparently I never listened to it before. I love it! Lately I'd been flitting between Sleater-Kinney and Ani and Bikini Kill, and decided I needed some lovely auditory testosterone. (It's been discussed lately the percentage of male/female music. Of the 110 CDs I've burned on my computer, 29 are "girl" CDs, and 75 are "boy" cds. Five are classified as neither, because they're soundtracks or evenly split.)

But, man! That song rules! It's loud and lovely. And, really, how can you not love a song which has the lyric, "I hate to smash your pretty face against the fucking wall"? It's simply not possible. Therefore I will attempt to offer this:

The MP3

You know you want it. I know I will be watching my bandwidth like a hawk.

Sarae, 04:04 PM
while listening to The Watchmen - Run and Hide
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On Saturday there was a fairly large antiwar protest downtown. I didn't go, and I only saw glimpses of the protesters on my way to the Kohl Center for the basketball game. Reading today's Daily Cardinal, however, I'm wishing I'd gone in the front entrance to the KC.

I can't link directly to the article, as you have to log in, but this part struck me as rather amusing:

Organizers said they hoped to gain coverage of the protest on the nationally televised Badger game. Picketers wanted to ensure that people were not confused about their opposition to war, not basketball, so they waved signs saying "Shoot Hoops, Not Troops."

Maybe I'm just easily amused. Or maybe I got far too little sleep last night.

Sarae, 10:00 AM
while listening to
[Just this]

1 comment

Sunday February 16, 2003

My judgement is not clear / I do things that I fear / I would never do
My stomach is all knotted up and nauseous, and I've only myself to blame. Somewhere during the course of this morning's shift I decided that I wanted a burger from the Union for lunch. After I was done working (during which I was a lazy whore and did nothing. Actually, I lie; I spent a really long time looking up all my old email addresses and seeing all the old AIM names I've got. One I really want to get into, but I've forgotten the password I used before '97. Also, I spent quite a bit of time trying to remember my old Hotmail address, which I never figured out.) I tromped over to the Union to procure a burger. However, they didn't have any of the plain, or any of the Paul Bunyan types. (I've developed an odd fondness and/or obsession with Paul Bunyan this semester. Again, I lie; I'm just surrounded by many Paul Bunyan-associated things lately. And by that, I mean the burger, and the room at the Union. So shut up.) I was anxious to get home, so I just took one of the Badger Burgers, figuring that it was close enough.

So, so wrong. Never in a million years do I eat Swiss cheese - which the burger had. And I ate. There's something rather unappealing about melted white cheese, especially on a burger. Also, it had bacon. I loathe bacon. I'll consent to eat it once in a while for breakfast at home, provided that I'm not around when it's cooking. The scent of cooking bacon makes me want to vomit repeatedly. Yet, I did not remove it from the burger.

To top it all off, I also decided that one of their salads, a pasta-and-vegetable dish, looked appealing. I could tell it was drenched in some type of dressing, and possibly contained mayonnaise. Do I really need to reiterate how I hate dressing of any type, and mayonnaise except in extremely restricted conditions? In short, I do not blame my stomach for being upset and angry. If I were it, I'd be upset as well.

However, I need to concentrate on oodles of art history text and on writing a paper. The paper is most pressing, and I meant to do it this afternoon. Instead, I watched a quarter of the Sixers-Nets game which was the most boring game ever, even though it was really close. Pro sports in general are boring, because they're all overgrown and jaded and slow. Pro basketball players just look old and overly muscular, which makes them look even slower and clunkier. Plus, there's no student section to spice things up, so you're watching a game where everyone's sitting and making hardly any noise. Boring.

Needless to say, I fell asleep for a full three hours. When I woke I was confused, and grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels. ESPN Classic was showing a Red Wings game from '94, and in my sleepy state I was convinced it was a Badger game. (Because, you know, no one else's colors are red and white.) I started freaking out because they didn't have the big ol' floating W on their helmets, and then I realized that the hockey team doesn't have the W, that's football. I then spent a good five minutes trying to think of what the hockey team's helmets do look like, I finally settled on them just being red. Which I think is right.

But it doesn't matter. I need to write my paper. I am all over Baraboo, yo.

Sarae, 06:14 PM
while listening to Hayden - Trees Lounge
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Saturday February 15, 2003

I do, I do, I do
I pause to bring you this ever-insightful notice:

You belong in Minnesota!


Minnesota or Wisconsin?
brought to you by Quizilla

Sarae, 09:36 PM
while listening to
[Just this]

1 comment

Friday February 14, 2003

Aaa....OOOOOOOOOOO......SUCKS
My father has some crazy wack-job ideas. Like how he's convinced that California is going to slip into the Pacific Ocean. And, well, others. But sometimes he really knows what he's talking about. He knew that Dayne was going to be huge, before he'd played a single game. And, though it never was that unlikely, he was convinced of this. I wrote about it back in November.

Well. It's true, except for the coachin' thing. That was more hopeful than realistic prophetizing. We all know Barry's a stuck up lout. He struts.

Sarae, 12:34 PM
while listening to
[Just this]

1 comment

Thursday February 13, 2003

Whenever I let my guard down
I've got this driving urge to kick my ass and design the layout for my photolog. Right now. This is despite my complete lack of knowledge regarding MT tags, the hour, and the fact that I have to be up at seven. Oh, and the small fact of having an exam in eleven hours.

I've also got this stupid idea that I should stay up all night. I'm not particularly tired. I slept plenty last night, despite going to bed late. The thing that keeps me from doing so is that damned exam.

Oh, christ. I should stop stressing myself so.

Sarae, 11:50 PM
while listening to Toad the Wet Sprocket - Whatever I Fear
[Just this]

No comments

Some things

• I'm not so good at deciphering lyrics, after all. Two misinterpreted lyrics in one song. Yikes. A shame, really, as one for this song I was set to use as the subject. Alas, no go. (I thought a line was "I'm feeling less than blessed." It's not.)
  
• My new mouse is highly superior to my old one. However, I am forced to use the old one. This makes for a peeved hand.
  
• Rarely do I feel the need to comment on bathroom stall writings. I read them, particularly the ones which morph into their own little discussions. There is one, that I am restraining myself from participating in. It's about abortion, and has been slowly growing all year. It's the generic debate, save for the lack of any mention of God. And because it's so generic, without death threats or graphic images of aborted fetuses, and decidedly more pro than against, I'd like to shake it up. However, I can't decide which to use: my mandatory-abortion "stance," or the view that abortion is a viable means of population control, which isn't a bad thing.
  
• Don't be so shocked. It is population control, something which will soon be important - hell, it already is in China. We're looking for cures for cancer, AIDS, and numerous other life-threatening illnesses; we've already found them for others. We're not letting nature take its course, instead we're pumping more and more humans into a world which isn't getting any bigger. I'm not saying that we shouldn't be looking for cures, I'm not saying that people who have life-threatening diseases deserve to die. But, honestly. Let's not bring any unwanted children into the world. And all those people who want children, but can't and want to adopt? Adopt an older child. You don't need a fuckin' newborn to form a bond.
  
• Sometimes I think I'm being incredibly, mind-achingly obvious. I'm convinced that I'm blunt to a fault. Often, I am later reminded that I am not, but am instead damningly subtle. Oy.
  
• My Justin Timberlake audio crush is almost over. Colette should be very pleased, if not for her ownership of the exact same (eight!) Justin MP3s.
  
• Speaking of, Colette decided that I would be a good personal assistant. Initially I agreed, but upon futher thought I realized that was false. I don't network very well, nor do I enjoy making telephone calls. So, please, don't ask me. I'm not for hire.
  
• After listening to "Like I Love You," the earlier statement regarding Justin Timberlake has been determined null and void. That part where he says (not sings!) "I never thought it would turn out this way," and then immediately says "drums," causing the drums to kick in? So great. So commanding. Oh yes.
  

Sarae, 10:55 PM
while listening to Hayden - Trees Lounge
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Wednesday February 12, 2003

Why she flies, or goes out in the rain
So, I just did my duty as a person who is related (by blood, no less!) to a Catholic.

I submitted my vote for the patron saint of the Internet. [English description.] Not offical, I know, but still. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

Well, the warm and fuzzy feeling is probably from my nice fuzzy pants. But, you know.

If anyone was curious, I totally voted for St. Maximilian Kolbe. I have no clue what he did, but damn, his name's Maximilian! With the last name Kolbe, which is almost Kobe. Wait. It's probably not good to use the term "damn" in a sentence where you're discussing a saint. (Saint Francesco of Sales was number two on my list, because really. The internet's all about shopping these days. I would go vote for him as well, but once again, I'm getting the heebies about being morally corrupt - at the least, questionable - on the Vatican's site. At least, I think it's the Vatican's site. It's all in Italian, so I haven't a clue.)

Man, is this the misunderstood religion blog lately, or what? I should stick a cross up there, somewhere.

Sarae, 05:04 PM
while listening to Nick Drake - The Thoughts of Mary Jane
[Just this]

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Gurgle
I have a craving for guacamole. I want to say I have a craving for avacado, but really, I don't.

Sarae, 09:29 AM
while listening to
[Just this]

3 comments

Show me how
I slept last night, for roughly three hours. At one point (a bit before six am) I woke from a dream, slowly. I was lying flat on my back and my limbs were tingly-numb and I was afraid to move. I'd been dreaming about odd things - being late for work, being angry at my mother, and so on. But also there was a highly detailed detour, involving the zoo, many animals both real and not, and reptiles. Reptiles I hate. Somehow I'd managed to manuever my dream away from them, only to wind up in something bizzare and equally frightening.

What I recall is standing in a large, empty pool. There was a wall of glass, through which I could watch the animals swim. A baby elephant-like thing climbed in, and I heard its mother yell for it to get out. Then there was a giant spikey fish, say a giant lionfish, that was supposedly poisonous. That's when I woke up, but I was terrified. Not just of the fish, but also of the elephant-like thing. It was oddly deformed, and just a bit too hairy.

I'm not sure what the dream means, if anything. I've been dreaming a fair bit lately, and some of them seem to directly stem from my life. Several give me comfort, assurance. This one had none of that. I bet I was only dreaming of the elephantish thing due to the snowplow. I hate the snowplow; it's been driving by about eight times an hour, and I hate the noise it makes. It doesn't sound like an elephant, though. That might actually be pretty neat.

Sarae, 09:25 AM
while listening to song stuck in head
[Just this]

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You can watch me go, or you can make me stay
Tonight, at the glorious basketball game, we spent halftime schmoozing in a box. I enjoy schmoozing in the box, though I know none of the people with whom I'm supposed to schmooze. (Wait, that's the point, right? Shit.) Instead, I spend the nineteen minutes (perk of sitting so close to the box, it barely takes time to get there from our seats) standing, surrounded by many middle aged men, and about three women, declining numerous offers for liquids ranging from beer to water, and foods from pizza to taquitos. I ate a slice of cucumber, as it looked appetizing, lonely, and none too filling.

But, you see, there were these brownies. Hefty, chocolate-frosting triangular brownies. And they looked good, but even looking at them made my full stomach churn and threaten to explode. I was asked thrice if I wanted a brownie; all times I said no. My father and Bev kept joking about the brownies, how they looked good but they'd be up til two if they ate one due to their excessive chocolate-ness. When we left at the end of halftime, Bev had her husband grab two - and then promptly gave me one. (I may just be stuck up, but I enjoy holding from-the-box food out in the stands.) I wrapped it up and brought it home.

And I ate it, a few hours after the game, thinking nothing of it. But now that it's nearing three and I just can't sleep, I'm regretting it. Then again, I really shouldn't blame my being awake to a mere brownie - especially not when I was chugging soda like no one's business all afternoon. And got more than enough sleep, last night.

I need a normal sleep schedule.

Sarae, 02:43 AM
while listening to Ani Difranco - Make Me Stay
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Tuesday February 11, 2003

All you gotta do is let your mind be free
Yes. I can be a bitch. I am rather aware of the fact, thank you. In fact I routinely take pleasure in it, not simply because I occassionally enjoy the freedom we all have to be a bitch (and really, don't we associate being a bitch with saying what you think, or with putting yourself ahead of others? Neither is a bad thing when done in moderation) but because I think that if I call myself one, it may make it hurt less when others call me one. When it's done so in jest, fine - I'm just as guilty for playfully calling someone a whore, a bitch, or whatever choice term I conjure up. But it does hurt when it's intentional, especially when you find out after the fact, and find out that people who claim to be friends of yours sat mute and did nothing - or offered more.

I'm also highly discerning when it comes to music. (Surprise!) If it's on MTV, I don't want to like it. If I've liked it before it's on MTV, (see: White Stripes. See: The Strokes, before I realized they were all over MTV) I think less of them because they've supposedly "sold out." I don't begrudge them for wanting cash, it's not a conscious decision. There are the radio/MTV smash hits which I will get stuck in my head and download (see: Puddle of Mudd, 'She Hates Me.' See: Good Charlotte, 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.' See: any Barenaked Ladies song) and I attribute liking those songs to short-lived pop joy, nothing more than a guilty pleasure.

The problem is, there are people who do like that kind of music. They will buy the CDs. They make me feel guilty for being amazed that any twentysomething could actually appreciate the music. And that's where I realize that I'm not being discerning about the music I like, I'm just not letting myself enjoy commercial successes, to the most part. And that I'm being a bitch to those who have no problem with it. And for thinking less of them due to it.

However, sometimes I realize that I'm not very bitchy at all, and wish I was more so. For example, tonight's basketball game. I arrived during the national anthem, behind a family of three - all adults. Because they don't let you into the aisles during the song (not that I would've gone anyways) we stood at the curtain. They kept chatting, laughing and oblivious to the anthem. I desperately wanted to ask them to be quiet out of respect, but that would've made me a bit of a hypocrite. Instead, I settled for, once the anthem was through, loudly saying to my dad how rude it was to talk through it. He agreed, but the family ahead of us didn't hear. I wish I'd said something directly to them, but it's far too late. I also wanted to give a piece of mind to the guy who sits behind us (he's usually on his cellphone giving directions to his wife, typically about how to program the VCR.) Tonight he kept talking about how Izzo was the best basketball coach in the US, and other such things. I didn't, mostly because my father was there and I assumed that I would wind up swearing, but I settled for a healthy glare - when he was looking right at me.

But we won, despite the ass's comments. A nice nineteen point win, which we needed. I need to consult the schedules, but my Italian-food-makes-the-Badgers-win streak is nearing ten. And is yet to be disproved.

Sarae, 08:38 PM
while listening to Justin Timberlake - Take Me Now (And She Said)
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Monday February 10, 2003

God's gift to hypocrisy
Typically I think posting AIM convos is passe, uninspired and boring to anyone observing. But I don't care; I rarely do it, and this conversation follows the thing that's been on my mind for the past while.

We start the conversation just after I've informed Colette that I am so going to hell.

Colette: well, according to the retreat, you can sin your entire life and if you repent 2 seconds before you die, you still get to go to heaven, so sin away.
Sarae: But I think you're supposed to believe in God, to begin with. Or something.
Colette: no, you don't have to. all you have to do is repent.
Colette: i asked many questions about this.
Sarae: Ok. How do you repent?
Colette: to repent, you just accept god as your master. that's it.
Colette: you think to yourself "wowie. god is real. i love him. i sure am sorry i was such a whore/lush/sodomizer."
Sarae: That's it?
Sarae: I have to say that I love God?
Colette: yup.
Sarae: I can't just say that I like him a lot?
Colette: but you have to mean it.
Sarae: I knew there was a catch.
Sarae: I wonder what God's opinion is on things like, "I believe in God, I'm sorry I was a whorebag, and I love him if he lets me go to heaven"?
Colette: i didn't ask.
Sarae: But you're Jewish. Jewish people just get buried.
Colette: but on the judgment day, the messiah will raise us all up and pass judgment.
Sarae: Oh. So your Jesusy dude doesn't come til after everyone's dead?
Colette: he's not a jesusy dude!
Colette: well. he could come tonight. one never knows.
Sarae: But everyone's dead on Judgement day.
Colette: that's jesus judgment day.
Colette: well, yes, we will all die.
Sarae: Oh. So what is the other one?
Colette: if you're not dead already, you will die on judgment day.
Colette: jewish judgment day.
Sarae: Everyone is still alive, when JJD comes?
Colette: no clue.
Sarae: Hm.
Sarae: I think that JJD will come but everyone will be too jaded, and just lock up the messiah.
Sarae: Wait. Is Christ supposed to come back before JD?
Colette: i didn't ask about that.

I'm really not satisfied with the whole Judgement Day issue, so feel free to leave comments. I'd really like to know whether or not Jesus is supposed to show up again before everyone's dead. Or if everyone dies before Jewish Judgement Day. And, really, what do the Quakers believe, other than nonviolence? I'm just a bucket of inquiries.

But I know that if we got to pick our own personal Messiah, I would so choose Justin Timberlake.

Sarae, 06:30 PM
while listening to Ani Difranco - If It Isn't Her
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Where will it end?
That was certainly odd.

Continuing on in my Winamp struggles, I decided to listen to all of my mp3s I've downloaded. The whole 500 plus lot of them. Odd things happened, and I changed the skin, and perhaps some other things, and suddenly the song playing was simply gorgeous, in an off way. Of course, it was a song that I'd never listened to before - or one that I didn't recall - and the name of it wasn't showing up in the taskbar, despite the clock ticking down.

So I listened and enjoyed. And marveled in just how unique the sound was, a sound that were it described to me I might not like, and perhaps not one I'd enjoy listening to any time, but for now it was perfect. It was floaty and ethereal, yet had a beat and reminded me a bit of a less disjointed Looper. The song ended, and I paused Winamp to allow myself time to choose the next song instead of just randomly listening.

But I was still hearing music. A thumping Sleater Kinney drumbeat. And I was confused. And more than a little worried. Until I noticed that there were two copies of Winamp running. And the song I was listening to was not one unknown song, but instead was The Streets' "Turn the Page" (downloaded upon Josh's suggestion and never listened to), playing over the backdrop of Mercury Rev's "The Dark Is Rising" which I have no recollection of ever downloading, yet I've got a good ten of their songs.

And now that I've heard them together, I can't stand either alone. It's more obvious now that it's two songs, but I still think they sound pretty together.

I'm such a horrible music fan. It gets worse - I've just downloaded Justin Timberlake's "Cry Me a River," which has been stuck in my head on and off for the past week and a half. Hm, perhaps that would sound good with Sleater Kinney in the background...

Sarae, 04:15 PM
while listening to Two songs, apparently
[Just this]

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Strange words I heard a long long time ago
I should so be asleep right now. Stupidly, I napped for three hours - sleep wasn't my intent, just a little regroup - which makes me not sleepy now. The hallway outside my apartment smells of smoke, a soothing woodstove scent, one I've always loved. Regardless, it's a bit troublesome, being in the middle of an apartment complex. However, it's been in the air for a good two hours or so, and no alarm yet.

I've forgotten everything else I meant to write. Also, I've lost the feeling that plagued me for a week straight. I miss it, though I never really zeroed in on what it was.

Sarae, 01:50 AM
while listening to Everclear - Fire Maple Song
[Just this]

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Sunday February 9, 2003

Well, isn't this interesting
The religions that are most applicable with my beliefs, courtesy the Belief-o-matic.

1. Unitarian Universalism (100%)
2. Liberal Quakers (92%)
3. Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestants (90%)
4. Secular Humanism (82%)
5. Neo-Pagan (80%)
6. Theravada Buddhism (77%)
7. New Age (75%)
8. Mahayana Buddhism (69%)
9. Bahá'í Faith (68%)
10. Christian Science (Church of Christ, Scientist) (61%)
11. Reform Judaism (57%)
12. Nontheist (55%)
13. Taoism (52%)
14. New Thought (51%)
15. Orthodox Quaker (50%)
16. Scientology (50%)
17. Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons) (46%)
18. Sikhism (46%)
19. Jainism (44%)
20. Mainline to Conservative Christian/Protestant (41%)
21. Hinduism (38%)
22. Jehovah's Witness (36%)
23. Orthodox Judaism (31%)
24. Islam (29%)
25. Seventh Day Adventist (26%)
26. Eastern Orthodox (17%)
27. Roman Catholic (17%)

I find it intruiging that the religion which least suits me, according to this quiz, is the only one I've had exposure to. Must've been those abortion, gender roles, and God-being-tangible questions that kept the Catholics at bay.

Sarae, 02:26 PM
while listening to
[Just this]

4 comments

Saturday February 8, 2003

Baby, it's all wrong
Sometimes there's just that article that grabs you. The one that makes such an impression on you, and changes your opinion on something. Friday, I read one such article.

This article.

It's nothing life shattering, and it's nothing intelligent that opens a new wave of thinking. Instead, it's just an article that knows what I would do, and tells me. It's also made very clear that it would be a rather bad thing. I didn't want such a cell phone, and now I am convinced that I will never want one - if I know what's good for me.

Then again, I rarely do.

Sarae, 04:19 PM
while listening to Bikini Kill - Capri Pants
[Just this]

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You call me Danny, and I'll call you Mabel
It's no surprise, really, to those who know me. I am not a singer. Not by a long shot. However, when the radio gets going, and I'm driving around and am alone (or with choice people that I feel comfortable with) I will sing. (And no, I do not mean my wildly erratic warbling; I mean an honest attempt to sing.)

My sweet little brother is one of the unfortunate souls who gets stuck with this most often. The only family member that ever does. But with him, my goal is usually more about making him sing. I've always felt a bit of a failure due to the fact that he doesn't get into music. When I was his age, I was buying Bikini Kill cds, and would've loved an older sibling who could've tuned me into all the cool indie music. My brother simply scoffs at all my attempts to get him into music - and I have tried everything. So I'm resigning myself to the fact that he and I do not like a single song in common, save Nirvana's "Sliver."

Now my project is to make him any-music literate. When I drive him anywhere, I will flip through the stations, and try and get him to say something about the song. Anything more than a grunt is considered a success. (Did I mention he's fourteen?) On two occassions, I've driven around extra distances, threatening to kidnap him until he sings along with a song, no matter how slight the contribution is. The first was around Christmas, when I drove him around several extra blocks until he finally uttered a line from the chorus of Pat Benetar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot."

Today, I repeated a select portion of Kathleen Edwards' song, "Westby." A part containing the line, "you call me Danny and I'll call you Mabel." I couldn't get him to sing along with it, but I wasn't really trying tonight - I was having far too much fun singing myself. We pulled into the garage, he looked at me and said, "Mabel." Ah. It was adorable.

Our sibling bonding was furthered at tonight's hockey game, wherein we beat each other up during intermissions. His hair is the perfect length for grabbing, I've found.

Sarae, 02:18 AM
while listening to Kathleen Edwards - Westby
[Just this]

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Friday February 7, 2003

Leave me lying here
Don't let me sign up for any more webrings. It's annoying when there's pages upon pages of them, and I'm sure next week I'll regret my hasty decisions tonight.

I need to concoct a title for this page, not one that changes monthly. Something other than sarae.net. Likewise, I need a new prefix for my email address. Any suggestions? It's getting a little tedious to type in "sarae" so often - title, name, url, and twice in the email field.

Time for sleep; I only just realized that when the name for my now-in-use Winamp skin was "Apill" it wasn't a typo of the similarly named month - it was a one word squishing of "a pill." I'm all about highlighting my stupidity, today.

Sarae, 01:30 AM
while listening to Veruca Salt - Volcano Girls
[Just this]

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You're gonna like it, but not a lot
I'm glad that February's the shortest month. This design is atrocious, and given time this weekend, will be tweaked, carressed or possibly overthrown. We shall see. I suppose this is a lesson for me to not wait until the first of the month, when I've slept little and am not thinking clearly to decide a design. Or lack thereof, be it as it may. Yikes.

Tonight I found myself in a Pulp rut. I listened to roughly half of This Is Hardcore tonight, walking about. Once I returned home, I promptly whipped out two or three new Pulp away messages, as well. I haven't listened to We Love Life much, though I've owned it for just past a year. I think I'm terrified I'll hate it. Perhaps tomorrow I will let myself absorb it.

Sarae, 01:06 AM
while listening to Pulp - The Fear
[Just this]

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Thursday February 6, 2003

Trials of winamp
It's really sad. Embarrassing, really. All I wanted was a few new Winamp skins. Of course, the majority that I found/liked were for Winamp 3 (or, at least I couldn't figure out how to work them on good ol' Winamp 2.8) so I did what any download-hungry girl would do: downloaded Winamp 3.0. Simple, right?

Wrong. So unbelieveably wrong. Am I just utterly stupid today, or is 3.0 just so.. different? I can't figure out what I'm doing. To some extent I can, but for some reason my old playlists aren't loading. Issues with compatibility?

And - nevermind. Apparently the default skin is just a fucker; one of the nice pretty new ones is working well.

If I was superstitious, I would claim that this is yet another example of how writing about things in my blog immediately jinx them. But I'm working on not being so superstitious, at least not about this.

Sarae, 04:59 PM
while listening to American Hi-Fi - Flavor of the Week
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Oh yeah, baby!
I've a submission to the Mirror Project up. Go look, and submit your own! It's really fun.

Sarae, 12:45 PM
while listening to
[Just this]

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Wednesday February 5, 2003

But I still wear my heart on my sleeve

• I've drugs! Nice, anti-infection drugs to further reduce the swelling. Hurrah.
  
• I hate Purdue, they can go fuck themselves.
  
• For some reason, I'm exhausted. I want to go crawl in bed, but am not. I am convinced there is something I must do for tomorrow that I've forgotten.
  

The highlight of my day? Seeing none other than Mike McKinney. In the flesh. I could have reached out and touched him, literally. I love him. Seriously. He was in College Library, just inside the door, with someone who held a camera. I almost stopped to tell him how much I love him, but decided against it. It might have come off as a tad bit obsessive, and I had to get to class. But, oh...

Sarae, 08:43 PM
while listening to Kathleen Edwards - Sweet Lil' Duck
[Just this]

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Tuesday February 4, 2003

Traded a daughter for two-thousand dollars
I've been meaning to write more. I want to write more, it amuses me and all that jazz. However, the thing that I've been meaning to discuss is refusing to come out in logical sentences. So, no.

Instead I've been reading impossibly large sections of art history text. Tonight, I get to write a paper. Tomorrow, I will see my mother for the first time in ten days, give or take a few. Last night I dreamt about my cousin's wedding, which was taking place at the same time as the Big Ten basketball tournament. It is, in reality. In the dream I was watching the game in several rooms of an expansive and empty hotel/resort. The wedding will be taking place in such a place (so much for "small," eh? Shotgun weddings sure have changed in the past fifty years) though I doubt that my old porch will be connected to it in any way. Nor will my dad be doing yardwork, and requesting me to make a stamped green-and-yellow t-shirt to support Devin Harris. Weird.

I've also been worrying endlessly about my tooth. It hurt, it didn't hurt. It hurt again, and I was convinced that I've a cavity. I woke up this morning, and my right cheek is swollen to post wisdom-tooth surgery heights. Which is embarrassing, as it's only one cheek. In short, it looks like I'm hiding a plum in my jaw, which is never attractive. Believe me.

Sarae, 06:58 PM
while listening to Kathleen Edwards - National Steel
[Just this]

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Monday February 3, 2003

This ain't country-western, it's just soft-rock feminist crap
I had a whole lengthy post plotted out, with topics and subtopics (not really, I lie) but then I got distracted. Actually, I meant to write it this afternoon, but I was distracted then as well. So instead I will supply you with a completely unentertaining account of those dastardly things.

• That nail bitingly close Illinois-Michigan State game. Well, it would have been nail biting had the Badgers been playing. Nevertheless, it was nice to see a closely matched game; it was not so nice to realize that we have to play the winning team in less than two weeks. (Also, this game gave way to further pondering over yesterday's sold-out-crowd applauding - no, unadulterated rejoicing of the news that the Gophers had beaten Michigan by a healthy seven points. Yes, I do not hate the Gophers, this is true - but I am certainly unaccustomed to the boisterous response to Minnesota doing well. I sat, stunned, as everyone stood and cheered. I know this is because Michigan is the hated Big Ten basketball team, so please don't think me stupid.) This game was horrible in the sense that I had to decide that State, ignoring that rotten Izzone and cocky players, was less evil than the ranked-and-Illinois team, Illinois. (Yes, I hate Illinois. Did you not know?) Enough about basketball. (Oh, except for Saturday, when I saw Barry Alvarez strutting around the Kohl Center. I managed to restrain myself, surprisingly, from going up to him and demanding to know why we didn't play all our games like the last two. I doubt he'd have an answer; he was too busy greasing hands with the new football recruits, who could barely be bothered to cheer for a game in which we kept a fair double-digit lead throughout much of the game. Bastards.)
  
• VH1's Black History Month Behind the Music Marathon. Damn, have I ever before been so enthralled in the lives and musical risings of Snoop Dogg, B.I.G. and other highlighted rappers? I kept running back to the tv to catch whatever was on; it's bad when you inadvertantly watch parts of both "Driven" and "Behind the Music" on the same artist and find yourself comparing the facts presented in both.
  
• Wander-lust.org. For some reason, the sign up process was just a step beyond my comprehension, for awhile. I got it so don't worry. I mean, how could I not sign up for it? But the code did not like me, and it may still not like me.
  
• Email. Not reading and responding, but getting my domain-based addresses set up with Eudora. It works! It really does! So you can always email me at the oh-so original address of sarae AT sarae DOT net. Must remember to put this in blog, with appropriate spam-blocking techniques.
  
• Swearing at clam chowder soup, both the Campbell's version and in general. I will spare you the details, but it's not something gross. Just, please, if I ever declare that I am about to prepare a nice bowl of clam chowder, as I am wont to do, slap me across the face and scream at me until I run away. Or tell me not to eat it, whichever's fine.
  
• Laundry. Locating, sorting, and folding.
  
• Listening to every single MP3 that I've downloaded. I have a lot of odd things, like two versions of the Minnesota Rouser, (not because I needed proof that Minnesotans can spell, but because I needed to taunt Angela. I'm not sure why one version wouldn't do) and some crappy songs that I should delete immediately if only to escape the horror of ever having to hear those notes again.
  
• Dancing to said MP3s in a oddly jubilant way. Methinks it's the Dr Pepper. The nonstop, inexplicable grins can also be attributed to the earthly ambrosia, as there is no other rationalization for them. Yum.
  
• Finding odd things in odd places. A bag of underwear and shirts, at the back of my closet. My red bra, beneath my bed. Things purchased this summer that never made it out of their bags, and had been forgotten. It's all very exciting, like a Christmas without the hassle of worrying that people will like what you've given, or the mess of unwrapping.
  
• Being beyond rudely arrogant to Josh. But, really, it's not everyday that you can point out something music related to him. Or, rather, remind him of something you knew and he didn't. It's very good that I am not extremely knowledgable about anything; I would be unbearable. I'm unbearable anyways, but I would be so much worse.

That's not all, but I'm tired. Hurrah, perhaps I can sleep.

Sarae, 12:42 AM
while listening to Robbie Fulks - Fuck This Town
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Sunday February 2, 2003

She's a lot like you
It's likely just my disturbing sense of humor, but I find this site absolutely hysterical. (In particular, this entry.)

In other news, I actually fell asleep last night. After a good three hours of trying, I finally did - to be woken around fifteen minutes later by a phone call. I was frazzled, and when I realized it was a wrong number, I just hung up instead of informing the other party of this, and then bitched at someone online about it. I don't recall who. I then attempted to leave a vengeful away message at assholes who wake me up when I've finally been able to sleep, but instead I mangled it, mocking the supposed "assphone." Ah, so eloquent.

Sarae, 04:39 PM
while listening to Letters To Cleo - Cruel To Be Kind; Dangerous Kind
[Just this]

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Saturday February 1, 2003

Do you really want to flap your wings and fly away from here?
I was good. Really, really impeccably good. And it's all been for naught. Makes me wonder what the point is, after everything. These things are being hurled at me and I can't process. Last night I could barely breathe, and slipped in and out of conciousness, spending a far greater time in than out. My eyes feel wild, and I will crash in minutes, hours, or days, leading to horrible horrible things. Or leading to sleep.

Needless, none of this is any good whatsoever. May I please have a do-over?

Sarae, 03:09 PM
while listening to Liz Phair - Polyester Bride
[Just this]

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I didn't think this would happen again
I just swore to my father. Not at, mind you. I said that I would get everything ready, "all the tickets and shit." This is quite a failing on my part - I am high on the notion of keeping my parents in the dark about everything. Now they know I swear. What will be next? I'm guessing it will likely be the sex, drugs and rock 'n roll. Christ.

I guess today's all about failure.

Sarae, 02:40 PM
while listening to Liz Phair - Fuck and Run
[Just this]

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