February 27, 2002

And the tables turn

Finally, some restitution. Outside the ground is being blanketed by a thick snowfall, and the parking nazis have to shiver in the cold. Ha. That's what they get for littering the parking lots with pink tickets. I should admit that I've never paid a campus parking ticket, so I really have little to complain about (or celebrate). But I just don't like the parking nazis.

I'm happy to say I did, in fact, finish doing my taxes. I'm getting back a nice little refund, which will come in handy when I head for Windsor. I can't wait.

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February 26, 2002

Read my lips

I'm trying to avoid doing my taxes. I'm doing everything possible to delay getting my nose into those stupid forms and evil little booklets. I'm taking shopping trips to Target I don't really need. I bought some Herbal Essances body wash (guys not included) and a loofah sponge. Exciting. I sat at the lunch table for an hour with Steph and Amy, and worked on a story problem with Jen for a good 25 minutes, even though I don't think she really needed it. And my stupid self couldn't figure it out until I went online and looked up triangular numbers.

I'm going to go paint some, those stupid graded charts for color theory that I was supposed to have finished about three weeks ago. I'll even start studying for SPSS, even though the exam isn't until Thursday night. I hate doing my taxes, and I will procrastinate. It's what I do best. I deserve a medal.

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February 25, 2002

One of those nights...

Wow do I have a lot to write. Last night I got home at 2:30 and was just in a writing mood. It was kind of strange, actually. I was debating whether to actually re-print it here, but I figure that since this is my free speech forum, I should go for it. It doesn't really make much sense:

Disclaimer: this is one of those things written too late in the night to make sense the next morning. Clarity or nonsense, I can't decide. It's Saturday night (Sunday morning, really) and I'm in a writing mood. So I'm writing. I'll be getting up for work in about 6 1/2 hours, but I don't care.

I've had this little burst of insight, and I'm afraid to not write it down. So here it comes: I now realize that I've been cheap for the better part of my life. Not in terms of dollar bills, but more of honesty and inter-personal exchange. A lot of people have asked me when the hell I'm going to stop being so damn guarded. I had no idea what they meant then, but I do now. When I was a kid, I let everything out (usually in the form of crying fits!) but learned growing up to stop that, to the point where I never say what's on my mind. Worse yet, I hardly tell people important things, like how much they mean to me. Wow, I feel like I'm on crack.

Well, I want to spill. Self-censorship sucks. I usually refrain from speaking my heart/mind (and from getting even remotely emotional) because I'm always afraid it will come back to bite me in the ass. And vulnerability is a fear of mine. But that's stupid (and cheap). I guess I want to say some things now. Not that I think they'll be read. I just figured I'd throw it out there.

Eric, I love you and I hate you. Where the hell are you right now? I have no idea where you went and why you left, but whatever it is, I'm cool with just being friends. I don't want this to end up with the two of us never talking again. That's stupid. I miss you. Really.

You know what else I miss? Late-night phone calls before I go to sleep. Not getting enough of someone. Minute-and-a-half long hugs. Accidentally getting kicked in the middle of the night. I guess I'll just have to look forward to these things with someone else. God how cheesy was that?

Sarah, you're my best friend. When we were six, I thought you were a brat. I still think you're a brat. Remember when we were 15, and we went walking from the Coffee House, and we saw those two women walking the other way? And we both thought, damn, that's us in about 20 years. I hope that is us in 20 years. We've dealt with too much drama and good stuff and bad stuff and boys, etc. to not be stupid friends forever. I'm still mad at you & Nicole for freezing my underwear at your 12th birthday party. I will never again fall asleep first.

Jo, you always made me feel like family. You put up with me as a bratty kid, and then as a bratty teenager, and now as a bratty college student. You were mother-like enough to care about me and call me your "other daughter," but cool enough to drive me to the tattoo place and get me drunk before I was old enough. What would I do without you?

Klara, how many people can honestly say that their sister is probably one of their best friends? You're a shmuck and sometimes I want to smack you, but I'm glad you're my sister. Who else would I sing (terribly) with in the car to Matchbox 20? Ante, you're a shmuck too, but I wouldn't change that. You're over-protective, but that just means you give a damn. And don't worry about protecting me from your beautiful asshole crew. I'm fierce. You're a great brother.

Tina, I'm glad we're friends. You make me want to do better in life, especially when I lose perspective of things that are important. Jen, I'm glad you're my room mate, even though you like country music. Lou, you are a fabulous diva if I ever saw one. Steph, thanks for listening to my crap, and for not holding it against me when I'm always MIA. Your scandelous stories make my life more interesting. Brandon, you kick ass. Sorry for not visiting you. Trent, there's nobody I would rather have l.m.v.w. You're beautiful. Erin, where are you? Do you remember when you broke that ruler in 3rd grade, and we both kept half? I do.

Murf, I still remember the first time I met you. I believe your first words to me were, "You're Ante's sister? You're so cute, I can't believe you're related!" Me either. Anyways, I had no idea back then that in eight years you would become my sister-in-law. But I'm happy you are. Ante couldn't have done better. I love your whole family. They've always made me feel like I was part of the Murphy clan. Karen, your parents, Grandma Murphy and Wolfe (and sexy Brian).

Mrs. McLaughlin, you were someone that made me feel special, important, and talented. I'm grateful for that. I'm sorry I never gave you the video I shot of your party. I'm stupid like that.

Ingrid, I'm sorry we're not friends anymore. That's my fault. I hate having to make polite conversation when I see you, instead of talking like friends. Marko, you're one of those people I know will be around for damn near forever, even though I don't get to talk to you much (save for some AIM conversations). Damn near forever is good, because my childhood friends are priceless to me. You guys were around for all the good stuff: fights, birthday parties, playing tennis at Memorial, skipping class in high school to take the bus downtown for Saint Patty's, getting lost in Chagrin Falls, class trips to NYC, painting our faces for Euclid football games (yes, I'm still in love with #60, 1994).

Mike, I know this is pointless because you can't read this or hear me, but I haven't forgotten about you. You were another shmuck, calling me Elvira when I dyed my hair black. I wonder what you would be like if you were still here, but God takes you when He wants you, I guess. Seeing you after the accident, that was the last time I really remember crying my eyes out. Put in a good word for me up there.

Teta Micika, you spoiled me with understanding when no one else really would. That meant a lot to me. Mike, if you didn't have a girlfriend, I'd be seducing you right now. Dan, you're an asshole, but you're a good friend to my brother. But you're still an asshole, Asshole. Frances, I heard through the grapevine that you've been asking about me. I've been asking about you. Tony, I used to call you my brother's friend. I'd like to call you my friend, too.

Let's see, do I have anything else? Right now I'm wearing pink underwear from Victoria's Secret. Pink. I know, sacreligious. I bet Sarah will pee herself when she reads that. I don't care. I'm in a sharing mood. But I'm going to have to wait for other things to share. I'm tired right now.

Phew. Okay, that really did sound stupid, but last night I meant it. I've now typed this three times, because it kept being deleted. Maybe it's a sign that I shouldn't share, but I've been ignoring all the obvious signs that have been glowing around me my whole life. I'm not about to start paying attention to that now. I need to go do my art poject. I have a lot to do.

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February 22, 2002

Michelle was robbed!

I am not a happy camper. I know, I know, ice skating is stupid and it doesn't matter worth a dime, but I'm really upset by this. The wrong person is on that medal stand. I just wish Michelle was up there, up top. Why the heck does everyone I like get screwed like that? Why does everyone I don't like get to win? I mean, I don't have anything against Sarah Hughes, but I just feel bad that half a second gave a lesser skater a greater reward.

I can't even imagine how hard it must be to know you're the world's best, but you'll never have the prize you dreamed about as a kid, the one you worked for your whole life. And the damn thing was so close --it was right there, and you can't have it. Ever. Because someone else was having a good day, and took advantage of the slightest little slip you had. And then you have to smile and look pretty, shake hands and talk to the media, tell them how grateful you are for having the opportunity to be there... And then you get to go home, and listen to everyone tell you how wonderful you are, and how they would give you the gold medal if they could. And for the rest of your life, people will tell you they're sorry, and you'll think about getting so damn close.

I can see it. I feel for her. When she thinks about the Olympics, I bet she'll get that uneasy feeling in her stomach. What a long way to go, only to see your life's work go to someone else. Damn.

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February 20, 2002

The cross I bear

I've been sitting here watching a movie about karaoke. Sometimes I wish I had a voice, one that doesn't make people cry out in agony. I get jealous, which is stupid. I'd like to be able to sing one song. But then I think, if I had a voice, maybe I wouldn't be an art freak, and art I can't live without. Maybe I should just be happy for people who can sing, because they make the world sound better (and make up for my complete lack of vocal ability, my audial pollution). I always have the shower.

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Go Goebel

I spent last night watching figure skating, and I ended up not doing my homework. But Dr. Brant didn't collect anything, so I'm safe. I'm glad that Michelle beat that Russian girl in the short program, because I hate her. She seems like a brat. I hope she falls on her rear during the next skate. I still have to say that Timothy Goebel is my favorite. My friend thinks he's gay. I hope not, I mean he is from Lakewood (San Franciso-like city about 15 minutes from here) but I don't want him to be gay. Why are the cute ones always gay???

I have this theory that the only guys worth spending five minutes with are either gay or taken. So far, the guys I've come across on campus are either jocks in fraternities (not my type) or are gay (I'm not their type) or are taken (I won't touch it). What am I supposed to do with that? This makes me wish for simpler days, when I wasn't living in rich white country, and I was back home in ghetto Euclid with guys who don't drive beamers.

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February 19, 2002

Presentation over

Presentation over. I'm done with my imaging self-portrait. I did it last night, included a paintbrush, my webcam, a tiara, my necklace, and an MxPx poster. I got an A. I guess I did an okay job. Next we do a tabloid cover.

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Still sick

Class tomorrow. I should be sleeping. I'm too busy worrying. I spent the day puking in the Kleist Center girly bathrooom. I guess I'm not over this stupid flu. I'm not over a lot of things. My friend is lying to me, my ex has disappeared, and strange things are happening everywhere. I feel better knowing that I do have constants in my life, but they are few and far between. Maybe I should just stop whining and go about my business. Maybe I'll do that tomorrow.

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February 18, 2002

Anxiety

anxiety Pronunciation Key (ng-z-t) n. pl. anxieties

A state of uneasiness and apprehension, as about future uncertainties.
A cause of anxiety: For some people, air travel is a real anxiety.
Psychiatry. A state of apprehension, uncertainty, and fear resulting from the anticipation of a realistic or fantasized threatening event or situation, often impairing physical and psychological functioning.
Eager, often agitated desire: my anxiety to make a good impression.

That's what it is. Anxiety. That weird uneasy feeling, like I'm going to be sick (but not quite). It comes from nowhere, leaves only when it wants to, and makes life miserable. Damn.

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My imaging project

My imaging project thus far is pretty bare, I have my face on that stupid painting, and that's it. I'm looking for a good NY skyline to put in there, a picture of my necklace & watch ring, and maybe some other stuff. I just can't find anything. I have a long way to go, but it has to be presented tomorrow. And I hate class presentations. Getting up there in front of everybody makes me want to get physically ill. Bleh.

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February 17, 2002

I love air

Oh how good it feels to breathe again. And swallow again. And not sound like a 70 year old chain smoker. I'm not sick anymore, praise the Lord! Well, I still have that weird "sick voice," but it's going. I'm happy.

This whole weekend I've been thinking about Eric, what he's doing. I should really be over that crap by now. I get curious about former boyf*****s, especially when I haven't talked to them in a while (4 months, 9 days). I don't like that word. Boyfriend. I have friends that are boys, so logic would have it that they are my boyfriends, but they're not. And when you have a boyfriend, is that really the best term to call him? Anyway, I just wish I knew what he's been up to.

I just realized that David Pelletier is really hot (is that how you spell his name?) I never really liked athletes, figure skaters even, but his little button nose is too adorable for me to not like. And other things.

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February 13, 2002

Where's the Aleve?

I hurt, really bad. I can't drink anything, can't swollow, can't breathe, can't talk, can't move... I am in pain. I thought I was getting better. Last weekend I went home, worked, and came back here and I was okay. Now, out of nowhere comes this illness (feeling very much like my childhood strep) and I hurt. Really bad. I want to take a bottle of pills and sleep for a week. And I have 2 classes tomorrow, 3 to 3 1/2 hours each.

I know, I'm whining. And I feel sorry for myself. But I haven't hurt (physically) like this for a very long time. I'm trying to down Gatorade, because it seems like it's the only thing that doesn't make me cringe with p-a-i-n (as much). I want medicine.

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February 10, 2002

Idealism at its finest

Religious debates intrigue me. I've been intrigued this weekend. I don't mean to sound like a brat, but I tend to get somewhat annoyed when the label heretic gets slapped on me, because I don't follow something without thinking about it first. I think I'm happy being a heretic, because in doing so I've avoided taking part in things that, in retrospect, were obviously not the right thing to do. I'm being ambiguous. I'm aware of that. I don't name names, and in this case it would be difficult to give details without naming names.

On the flip side, I really enjoy hanging out with people who don't believe as I do, and are still cool about our differences. Gives me this warm, fuzzy feeling (I know, cheesy) but it's true. I have this religious rainbow of friends (Methodist, Quaker, Jewish, Catholic, Christian, Buddhist) that's giving me a reason to be a little more patient with those who think I'm nuts. Oh, if the world had more patience (& understanding!), what a utopia it would be.

It will happen.

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February 08, 2002

MUAHAHAHAHAH

Stats test over! No more, you evil class... I hate you. Well, over until two weeks from today when we have another one of those things. Tests. Hmmmph. I don't care about platykurtic negatively skewed distributions. I really don't. Standard deviation is not the most interesting thing I can think of. But I'll do it.

Jen rented O for me, because Josh Hartnett is in it. I'm going to go watch it now. I love Josh. He's so pretty.

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February 06, 2002

Praise God Almighty

Praise God Almighty, stats class has been cancelled. I walked into the psych building, sniffling and coughing and grumbling against my family for giving me this flu/cold (whatever it may be) when I saw it: that beautiful little sign on room 220 that said my teacher is not in. Yay. Now I can go back to bed. I just wish I had some more Tylenol Cold to get high off of, because at the moment all I have is a half-empty box of Sucrets. That's okay. Class cacellation makes up for everything.

I do have a lot to do today, though. I have four mini-paintings to do for color theory. They're due tomorrow, which means that they'll still be wet. I hate using oils for this class... you have to do everything a week early to get things to dry on time. That project will probably take me a good 4 hours or so (at least). I work slowly. But for now, it's sleepy time.

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February 04, 2002

Whew.

Okay, so my room mate isn't sitting in a hospital bed bleeding from her head or anything. Roomie watch is over. Nothing big, I guess she just felt like taking off for a day. Understandable. I don't know, I guess I tend to get worried when people disappear. I know, I know, I shouldn't do that, but I do.

I just got back from my 2D class. We do a lot of monotonous work, but it always ends up looking cool. The art hallway now looks like fantasia crossed with Willy Wonka on his acid ride. If you look too long, you start getting dizzy with all those black and white shapes being repeated over and over again en mass. Some people got the munchies. Art majors, go figure. I'm happy to say though, that I have not yet had a part in that. No pot for me, thanks. Some people say it's coming, but I'd like to think I get high on oil paint, not that. Or rubber cement.

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Roomie, where are you?

My roomie is currently MIA, and we're all starting to get a little worried. What if she got into a car accident? She's nowhere to be seen, and it snowed a lot last night... no to mention the fact that her car is not the ideal for this kind of weather. Where is she? I wish I had her cellie number, so I could at least call, but I don't have that. I don't think I have the number to her parents' house either. Hmmm, maybe she's just at home or something, but I don't know for sure. I hope she comes back soon.

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Snowed in

Oh my goodness did it snow last night in Cleveland. I came home (school home) last night without a jacket. The ground was dry. I wake up this morning to a big white blanket covering over everything outside. I even wore a scarf outside. When was the last time I wore a scarf? Well, I needed it. It's cold -and windy. Very windy. But that's okay, I'm in my nice cozy little rom right now.

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February 03, 2002

I love U2. Go Bono!

I just wanted to say I think it is so cool what U2 is doing right now, to have all those names up there while they're performing. How awesome is that? I'm glad I turned the game on.

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February 01, 2002

I feel inspired.

I feel inspired.

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