I can't find the words to say, they're overdue

drumroll please.................it's the new moon review.

I should probably mention that I loved this movie before it came out. I loved the last one. I read all the books. And i didn't just stroll to the theater and watch this. I bought tickets over a month in advance. I made shirts. I was in the front row of the pseudo-iMax at the midnight premiere. And I would still consider myself a moderate fan.

Maybe not moderate. Seasonal maybe. That's it. I get obsessive for about a week and a half.

I realize this movie isn't that good. For one thing, though, it's way better than the first one so don't pull the old "well that first one sucked, so it's just not worth it." They're on completely different levels.

Like I said, I loved New Moon. I re-read the book before the premiere and though I knew it wasn't pulitzer prize worthy or anything, I had forgotten how terrible it actually was. It has some excitement. It is drained by a lot of dreamy eyes and "tortured" thoughts. It was LONG. Holy cow, was it long.

The movie cut out soooooo much of the hazy hot mess that is Stephanie Meyer. After getting through about an hour and fifteen minutes and thinking "oh my god, this is only halfway through the book" (i didn't mind, but this my sister rolled her eyes) I was relieved to find that the entire, oh, hundred pages or so of a FLIGHT was eliminated.

Other than that, the book was followed well, if not embellished a little. It's naiive to think, "oh my god, that's not how it happened in the book. This movie sucks." I feel that way about Harry Potter too. How do you expect a scriptwriter to follow a story that isn't his to a tee? Who would want that job? Personally, I commend Melissa Rosenberg for writing a script that was, at the very least attention-holding out of Meyer's snoozefest novel.

You can't go into this movie expecting a masterpiece or any part of realism to translate. That's the point. It's not about sex. It's about love. And it actually is a really unique form of love. Bella is not perfect. She's not pretty or the girl next door or the sexy one. She's moody, not nice. She's studious, but not smart. She's not funny. She's not winning. To the average moviegoer, she's boring and the worst movie character of all time.

But she's exactly how everyone feels at one stage or another in their lives. Try to tell me you've never found yourself completely bored with who you are. Wishing you were somebody more (insert adjective here).

It's not a romantic story about the cute girl finding the perfect guy and living happily ever after. Bella and Edward have a really fucked up relationship. They're not perfect. They're in that "first love" euphoria that has you making this relationship EVERYTHING. Like it's the only thing in the world. But in this situation, he kinda wants to kill her. SPOILER ALERT. She kinda makes out with someone else. It's not supposed to be perfect, but it's not supposed to be real either. It's symbolic of everybody's screwed up love.

On another note, I thought the wolves were awesome. I'm not a CGI expert and I didn't invest much hope into those scenes being cool. But they were exciting. And sexy. Of course.

Jacob isn't just about sex appeal though. He's warm. He's the friend who is in love with Bella. He's what every girl wishes for. Falling in love with their best friend. But this situation is different. Bella wishes Jacob were her brother so he couldn't fall in love with her. She needs him but she's not sure in which way. She could make herself love him, but is that fair? She knows she's being selfish but she doesn't have the strength to make herself stop. I think everyone has times when they do this, just not exactly the way Bella does.

Last thing. Music. AWESOME. Makes me wonder who has the connections to get Bon Iver and Thom Yorke to agree to a song release. I was sooo excited to hear some of my new favorites from this year featured too. Lykke Li, Monsters of Folk. And of course my eighth grade favorites the Killers and Death Cab.

Whatever you want to say, New Moon has some themes that ring true in everyone. You can't go into it judging though and you can't skim the surface of the medium presented.

Oh, and, in response to **food for thought**. That sexist argument is bullshit. What would people say? Nothing. Clearly you've never heard of Britney Spears, Hayden Panettiere, Jodie Foster, or watched Disney Channel. We can go into this more if you want but your argument is as unfounded as you knew it was going to be when you wrote it.

i wish i was special

have you ever felt like the biggest asshole in the entire world? i have. i do currently.

it's late and it's christmas and it's private so i won't go into detail much. i'm just in a shitty spell. one of those "oh crap, everything i'm doing is a mistake."

it's really weird to wish that somebody hated you. A couple weeks ago i was upset because i thought i was hated. i don't know if it's personality or insecurity, but i've always had a really big problem with people being mad at me. i can't stand it. it makes me want to curl up in a ball and sleep for years. but that's all i want right now.

i want you to hate me.

Guess who's back with a brand new track?

Ah, blogger. It's been a long time. But I'm back.

I will be starting off slow as it's finals and my first day back to blogging in about five months. I have a lot of things I want to get out including the highly anticipated new moon review (hold your breath), but for today I think I'll just leave it as an update to what the shit has happened to me over the last five months.

Statics.

That is what has happened. To anyone who has ever taken a statics class, my heart goes to you. The best news is that I hear my subsequent five (yes, five) physics classes only get harder from here. Engineering sucks. I would say I spent five hours per week on the quiz for that class, probably a total of fourteen hours a week on homework for that class, and maybe 50 hours of studying for each midterm and the final. I am currently experiencing great anxiety over whether I will get a C or a D in that class. This shit's impossible.

I get upset when people are like "what? you don't even have a 3.0 GPA?" I swear to god i used to be pretty smart. I did not have to bribe anyone to get in here.

don't turn around cause the reason is treason

I had something good to write about but i wanna be quick so I'll write that tomorrow. Today's thoughts:

I can't wait to have tattoos. I want a thistle (for the homeland), a dreamcatcher (for my calling), and quotes (because they're wondrous).

The quotes are the quotes I try to live by and hopefully one day will.

"You must be the change you wish to see in the world."
"May I live simply that others may simply live."

Both Gandhi. I want them on the backs of my arms. My parents will faint.

Google image "funny tattoos."  Hours of entertainment.  

you know that I could use somebody

I haven't blogged in forever so this one's going to be shit. I managed to spend a whole week in an area with no internet and little phone reception. Kinda liked it. Back now. Stressed out. Nervous. Fat.

"Meaty" as I like to say. Bought liquid leggings after swearing to myself I never would due to my meatiness.

Went to NASA today. Would like to go to the moon for a quick jaunt.

Random.

Would like to put an "n" at the end of random. Randomn. I like that.

Hid a tiny bottle of vodka in my underwear today. Don't ask. Or do.

In love with big brother to the point that I strategize for every player and sometime imagine I'm in the game.

Would like to be friends with Megan Fox. Would like to see the other half of her nose and where it went. Would like to ask where she got her boobs and lip injections from. They look nice.

Falling back in love with classics. George. Leo. Matt. Mark. Older fellas.

Also in love with Jared Followill. Nobody knows who that is. That's okay.

Apologizing for the shitty bloggage. I'll get back on pace

just call my name, and I'll be there

I watched the Michael Jackson memorial service today. I was excited to see the performers and who was there and what would be said and to see a few renditions of his numbers.

I am the first to admit, I am a crier. I have been known to cry during winnie the pooh's grand adventure, every episode of the biggest loser, dance fever finales, and during most E! true hollywood stories. I went into today, however, with no expectation or intentions of crying.

You should have seen me by the end of the service. Uncontrollable blankets of tears. I can't remember last time I cried so hard.

This seems really strange to me. I didn't know Michael, obviously. I can't tell you every one of his songs; I was not even around for his prime. Right from the get-go, with Mariah Carey's song, I cried. Brooke Sheilds spoke. I cried. His brother spoke. Tears. His daughter spoke. Uncontrollable saddness.

Perhaps it is the fact that I had overlooked the simple truth of who he was; human. He had a family who loved him and little kids who don't have real parents or friends anymore.

He was just a guy who was terribly misunderstood his entire life.

siete

Hoy, trabajo todo el dia.  Fue muy aburrido, pero trabajo en liquor y siempre es aburrido.  Limpio todo la tienda y ayudo muchos hombres con su bebidos.  Un hombre no fue contento porque nosotros no tienen su cigarillos.  Tengo transformers en mi computadora.  La pelicula no es muy muy bueno, pero me gusta verlo.  Estoy ver wheel de fortune y cocina curry de pollo por cena.  Manana, voy a ir a la pescina de mis vecinos para nadar.  Espero que hecha calor.  

throw down your arms, give up the fight

Today is what we like to call "Independence day" so I thought in celebration, I would give a few thoughts on independence.  Not really general thoughts, more like thoughts on my own independence.

I can't decide whether I am independent or not.  Financially, I'm obviously not.  I do not pay my cell phone bill.  I do not pay for my tuition, though my parents don't pay for that yet, either.  I don't buy our groceries or vacations.  Things I do pay for:  my volunteer trip.  clothes.  trips to chicago.  things i "want."

I am shy.  This hinders independence.  I get nervous and don't like to do things on my own.  I will often ask "will you come in with me" or sometimes the occasional "can you just ask for me."  That is in reference to some kind of customer service, mind you, not sixth grade boyfriends.

Part of me has always been independent though.  My parents had kids in 1976, 1978, and 1981.  Oh yeah, then 1990.  By the time I came along, I think they were too tired to really raise another one.  I am not at all complaining, or saying my parents are bad parents.  I love my mommy a lot and I'm sure if I knew my dad better, I would love him a lot too.  I do love him, just not the same way as my mom.  Anyway, I've never had a curfew or been grounded.  They already had chosen their favorites before I got here.

Independence is supposed to change a lot when you first go to college.  I guess it kind of did.  Now it just feels like I was at a really long summer camp last year, though.  

I want to one day live in another country for an extended amount of time.  I want to study abroad.  In Cairo.  My parents have kaphoshed that.  Can't wait to see their reaction when I tell them I'm off to live in Afghanistan.  I hope one day to be independent enough to accomplish my dreams.  It'll be a real damn disappointment if I'm not.

Happy independence day!

He come grooving up slowly

I started another book today. I hope this one goes well. Have hit dead ends with the Assassins, Pakistani family, and Russian mob in the early twentieth century books. Hopefully I'll come back to those.

Writing takes too much research. I really like the idea of this new one I'm doing. The fact that it doesn't take much research made me a touch hesitant at first, but then again, my completed book didn't take research either though. Maybe this one will be book length!

(a few hours later)

I have decided I am going to finish this one.  Maybe I will try to do the full-length in the month of July, to copy a fellow blogger.  175 pages is a bit ambitious, but 100 pages is only three per day.

You're too cute to even care

I took some really quintessentially summer pictures the other day with the family home.  I love my family.  Even when they annoy the piss out of me, I still love them.  We're all so different, yet so connected.  I am really lucky to have a family as close as mine.  I love all my siblings, they all love each other, we all get along.  This is pretty rare considering the vast differences in behaviors, beliefs, and of course, ages.  Anyway, back to the point.  Here is my summer joy(s).

seis

Hoy es un dia calor pero muchos dias fueron calor en la semana pasada.  Ayer, fue una fiesta de mi hermano y su novia.  Fue un luau y me veste un vestido de negro y blanco y fue muy bonita.  El noche pasada, mi otro hermano y yo fuimos al cine para ver Transformers.  El accion fue muy interesante pero muchos de los robotos fueron un poco queso-y.  Megan Fox fue muy bonito, pero su voz fue muy chicita y me gusta el bravada.  Un actriz nueva "Isabel somebody-or-other" no es muy bonita.  Michael Bay dice que ella es el Megan Fox nueva, pero no es una competicion.   Ella fue muy "sticklike."

As he came in through the window was the sound of a crescendo

I am deeply saddened by the loss of one of the greatest performers of all time.  Put your politics aside and just embrace the awesomeness that is Michael Jackson.

I will now countdown my top 10 favorite MJ songs of all time.  

10.  Black or White- a wonderful message set to a catchy tune.  If you're thinking about being his baby, it don't matter if you're black or white.  A lesson in non-judgement for the ages.  The video features MJ walking through fire and guest appearances by Macaulay Culkin and Tyra Banks.  And that sweet rap at the end is just fantastic.  "I ain't scared of no brothers, I ain't scared of no sheets."

9.  Billie Jean- his biggest hit of course.  The video with the light up sidewalk is the epitome of coolness.  The story is of a girl approaching Michael claiming he is her baby daddy.  He denies it, naturally, but when baby cried, eyes looked like his.  Scandal.

8.  You rock my world- his attempt at R&B.  It's a very sexy song written about a capturing lady who rocks his world, obviously.  The video features Chris Tucker and Marlon Brando and of course a dance off.  He's a little crazy looking at this point, but I can always look past that.

7.  The way you make me feel- holy catchy tune.  This is Michael's attempt at telling a pretty lady with the high heels on about his insane attraction to her and why she should be his.  Full of witty metaphors and similes, it is a Shakespearian sonnet backed by a sweet drumbeat.  

6.  Dirty Diana- not much to be said about this classic.  Insanely awesome guitar backing though.  DIR-TEE DI-AH-NAH.  Fabulous and possibly the most instrumental of Mikey's songs.

5.  Beat it- of course.  A gang of street fighters/dancers coming after Michael, all the while him knowing he must show them that he's really not scared.  It is a badass hit filled with threats to the king of pop.  In the video, however, MJ ends up winning the dance off doesn't end up getting kicked and beat and told it's fair.  Also my favorite song from "Thriller 2008," even though it featured Fergie.

4.  PYT- an acronym for the ages.  This song addresses Michael's affection for a "pretty young thing" and his offers of love to her.  It's also got a super dancy beat and just all around fun to sing along to.

3.  Man in the mirror- the deepest MJ song written.  This tune hits my heart especially as it is a musical setting to my favorite Gandhi quote "You must be the change you wish to see in the Earth."  The video goes through all sorts of destruction from the rainforest to the KKK.  Overseas and in the USA.  Michael really knew what the deal was when he was starting with the man in the mirror and asking him to change his ways.

2.  Bad- obviously, Mikey's baddest song.  Bad as in AWESOME.  My favorite video.  Michael is part of a dancing chain gang, of course, and rocks a sweet long jerry curl.  The message: don't mess with me.  There's something very sexy about the confidence it takes to ask the whole world to answer right now, who's bad?  The answer:  Michael fricken Jackson.

1. [drumroll.........] Smooth Criminal.  Thus is the namesake of my title to this blog.  The story is a scary one- an intruder breaking into Annie's home and striking her.  Why?  Just because he's a smooth criminal.  I cannot do the song justice so I'm just going to post the lyrics.  P.S.  Even Alien Ant Farm can rock this shit out.

As He Came Into The Window 
It Was The Sound Of A Crescendo 
He Came Into Her Apartment 
He Left The Bloodstains On The Carpet 
She Ran Underneath The Table 
He Could See She Was Unable 
So She Ran Into The Bedroom 
She Was Struck Down, It Was Her Doom 

Annie Are You OK? 
So, Annie Are You OK 
Are You OK, Annie 
Annie Are You OK? 
So, Annie Are You OK 
Are You OK, Annie 
Annie Are You OK? So, Annie Are You OK? 
Are You OK, Annie? 
Annie Are You OK? 
So, Annie Are You Ok, Are You Ok, Annie? 

(Annie Are You OK?) 
(Will You Tell Us That You're OK?) 
(There's A Sign In The Window) 
(That He Struck You - A Crescendo Annie) 
(He Came Into Your Apartment) 
(He Left The Bloodstains On The Carpet) 
(Then You Ran Into The Bedroom) 
(You Were Struck Down) 
(It Was Your Doom) 

Annie Are You OK? 
So, Annie Are You OK? 
Are You OK Annie? 
Annie Are You OK? 
So, Annie Are You OK? 
Are You OK Annie? 
Annie Are You OK? 
So, Annie Are You OK? 
Are You OK Annie? 
You've Been Hit By 
You've Been Hit By -v A Smooth Criminal 

So They Came Into The Outway 
It Was Sunday - What A Black Day 
Mouth To Mouth Resus - Citation 
Sounding Heartbeats - Intimidations 

Annie Are You OK? 
So, Annie Are You OK? 
Are You OK Annie? 
Annie Are You OK? 
So, Annie Are You OK? 
Are You OK Annie? 
Annie Are You OK? 
So, Annie Are You OK? 
Are You OK Annie? 
Annie Are You OK? 
So, Annie Are You OK 
Are You OK Annie? 

(Annie Are You OK?) 
(Will You Tell Us That You're OK?) 
(There's A Sign In The Window) 
(That He Struck You - A Crescendo Annie) 
(He Came Into Your Apartment) 
(He Left The Bloodstains On The Carpet) 
(Then You Ran Into The Bedroom) 
(You Were Struck Down) 
(It Was Your Doom) 

(Annie Are You OK?) 
(So, Annie Are You OK?) 
(Are You OK Annie?) 
(You've Been Hit By) 
(You've Been Struck By - 
A Smooth Criminal) 

Okay, I Want Everybody To Clear The Area Right Now! 

Aaow! 
(Annie Are You OK?) 
I Don't Know! 
(Will You Tell Us, That You're OK?) 
I Don't Know! 
(There's A Sign In The Window) 
I Don't Know! 
(That He Struck You - A Crescendo Annie) 
I Don't Know! 
(He Came Into Your Apartment) 
I Don't Know! 
(Left Bloodstains On The Carpet) 
I Don't Know Why Baby! 
(Then You Ran Into The Bedroom) 
I Don't Know! 
(You Were Struck Down) 
(It Was Your Doom - Annie!) 
(Annie Are You OK?) 
Dad Gone It - Baby! 
(Will You Tell Us, That You're OK?) 
Dad Gone It - Baby! 
(There's A Sign In The Window) 
Dad Gone It - Baby! 
(That He Struck You - A Crescendo Annie) 
Hoo! Hoo! 
(He Came Into Your Apartment) 
Dad Gone It! 
(Left Bloodstains On The Carpet) 
Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! 
(Then You Ran Into The Bedroom) 
Dad Gone It! 
(You Were Struck Down) 
(It Was Your Doom-Annie!) 
Aaow!!! 

Bless the man who brought me this splendid joy for so long.  I love you Mikey. 

I know more of the stars and sea than I do of what's in your head

I love Richard Branson.  I've known this for a while but was reminded of it once again.

As you may know, he owns "Virgin" company, including Virgin airways, Virgin records, and Virgin megastores, grossing him a net worth of around two and a half billion dollars.  He often appears of the Forbes Richest list, last year being number 236.

Twenty years ago, he helped form a collaborative peacemaking group called "The Elders" in South Africa, after post-apartheid unrest.  They now discuss peaceful solutions regarding global issues.

More recently, he set up a challenge where he is asking someone to find a way to extract carbon dioxide from the atmosphere with a reward of some enormous sum of money from Branson, personally.  This is not the first environmentalist-friendly challenge Branson has set up.

The thing that I really appreciate is this "Virgin FreeFest" taking place in Maryland at the end of August.  It is a concert completely free to anyone with almost 40,000 tickets available.  Instead of VIP lounges, the special lounges are reserved for anyone who got laid off this year, or anyone who has devoted significant time to community service this year.  The acts are huge like Franz Ferdinand and Weezer.  

Richard Branson is someone else that makes me smile for humanity.

I had my rock, I had my roll, but I couldn't find my spark

For another eventful afternoon at Sentry liquor, I decided to flip through a magazine another employee had left there.  I usually enjoy magazines, but end up feeling guilty for the hour of trash time I spend reading it when I could get back to the Awakening.  This was People's hottest bachelors so it didn't seem so bad.

Though I did enjoy its main attraction, there was a story in there that was a little more touching to me.  I came across an article about an organization called "Church under the Bridge" out of a variety of cities across Texas.  The place of worship is, as the title would indicate, a simple stage surrounded by fold-up chairs underneath a bridge in poorer areas of urbanized ci

ties.

It was first developed in 1992, in Waco, under I-35 with a congregation of nearly 300 people.  People.  People not often considered people.  Homeless, drug addicts, and prostitutes make up the majority of the congregation.  It runs on private donations and the time and effort of pastor Jimmy Dorrell and college-age volunteers.  The church serves hot meals to the hungry every Sunday after worship.

Say what you will about the politics of religion.  I'm not concerned at this moment about the beliefs of this church or the problems caused.  I think this is pretty damn awesome.  Most people turn their noses up at "low-lifes" like homeless people.  Most people judge 

drug addicts and alcoholics.  Most church-goers are deeply disturbed by the amoral behavior of prostitutes.  This man serves them.  

Hell if that's not the way humanity is supposed to be.

cinco

Hoy, fui a la playa con mis amigas.  Fue muy divertida y tuve mucho calor.  Fumimos cigarillos de uvas.  Despues la playa, fuimos a "El Mariachi" un restaurante Mexicana.  Comi dos tamales pero ellos tuven carne y no como carne :(  Como pollo, pero no bistec.  Fueron bueno, pero estuve enferma despues comi.

Oh and I think I lied in the before post.  I'm probably fairly legit sometimes to judge based on opinion.  That's not really a judgement is it?

I just said "fairly legit."  Can you guess who I am?

The spotlight is on

I do not enjoy racism. Someone I consider a very close friend hates African Americans. This person was pulled over and ticketed the other day by an African American. I understand he/she is frustrated, but I highly doubt that if the officer's skin was lighter he would've said "Oh yeah, its okay if he/she doesn't drive abiding by the law."

This is a real shame because I tend to focus too much on poor traits and will now have trouble looking past these racist statements and still enjoying the company of this person. This is, in itself a bit of a judgement. Oh, bother.

Here is something else I am upset about: The Miss California controversy. In case you're out of the loop, at the pageant, Perez Hilton asked her how she felt about gay marriage.

This is an opinion question. She stated that she grew up in a traditional family and believed marriage is for one man and one woman. An honest answer.

The girl has been fired for causing "controversy." So, what was the question then? "Repeat after me, 'gays should marry.'"?

She was asked for her opinion, she gave it. I'm defending her and I don't even agree with her! People are allowed to have differing opinions. It's part of being diverse just as homosexuals and those who support their rights is.

Is it because the question was asked by a homosexual?

Personally, I just don't really understand judgement based on race, sexuality, OR opinion.

Actually, that's probably I lie.  I often unintentionally say "what a douchebag" when near a Republican.  I am a hypocrite.

cuatro

Una persona que esta en mi grupo del viaje dice que ella solo sabe "cerveza" en espanol. Estoy un mejor habladora de ella. Es bueno.

tres

Cuando pienso de mis peliculas favoiritas, no mucho recuerdo Tsotsi.  Es una buena pelicula sobre un joven en Africa del Sur.  El es un miembro de un grupo violento y es pobre.  El roba un auto y en el es un bebe.  El no sabe que carinar por el bebe y el pedi por ayuda de una mujer el conoce.  En el fin, la policia arestan Tsotsi pero es muy triste porque el es un hombre simpatico.  Me gustaria la pelicula mucho.

This sounds like baby talk.  How sad.

the countdown starts...4...3...2...1

So this is per request. Please keep in mind I have so much editing to do. I'm letting the first page (of twenty seven) leak though. Sorry, it is rather cheesy at the moment. It'll get better...I hope

Margot breathed softly as she slid the cool key into the ignition. The dashboard clock illuminated the car, making her squint severely. 11:03 p.m. it read. She placed one hand on the back of the passenger seat and took one last glance around the cramped backseat of her tiny two-door. A paper bag filled with snacks sat on one seat adjacent to a faded, pink adidas bag stuffed with clothes. On the passenger seat were the sheets of paper, still warm, printed with varied maps and instructions from a multitude of internet navigational sites.
She pulled her phone out of the pocket of her worn-out sweater. It was cold, its plastic absorbing the temperature of the night air, as she turned the key all the way forward and felt the engine rumble, shaking her seat, while simultaneously pressing the five on her speed-dial. Thirty seconds, no answer. She wasn't disappointed; she had expected, maybe even preferred it this way.
Beeeep. "Hey baby, it's Mar. Work looks like it's gonna be pretty busy so I probably won't get off tonight. I already called Lex and he's gonna drop Jo off at school tomorrow so," she looked around as she paused, thinking of what to say next. "So, I'll call you sometime tomorrow night and talk about rescheduling. I love you."
She pressed the end button and set her phone in her lap. She shifted into reverse as a few strands of her dark hair fluttered into her eyes. It was not until Margot was at the end of her road that she remembered the task she had forgotten to take care of earlier.
"Shit," she breathed to herself, scavenging her lap and seat for her phone. She dialed another number while reaching over to turn the heat up.
"North Atlanta County General Hospital, can I help you?" an unenthusiastic southern drawl answered.
"This is Margot Rush, I'm calling in to say I'm taking a personal day tomorrow. I'm scheduled from six to four for walk-ins."
"Alright, I'll document it. Thank you."
The line was dead before Margot could reply. She sighed as she thought about the flak she'd receive from the others upon return to the hospital on Wednesday.
Oh well, I'm not going to turn back she said to herself. The ride as she left town was smooth. None of the stoplights had been red and traffic was light this late at night. Margot reached over to pick up one of the papers. Twelve hours and seventeen minutes, the bottom read. The evening was to be boring, seemingly endless, but the nervousness in Margot's stomach now wasn't from the thought of the drive. It was from the thought of the destination.
She breathed deeply and stared straight ahead onto the dark road through her deep, oceanic blue eyes. The blue was thoughtful and so dark that a passerby would never be able to distinguish the color from a muddy black. Margot had a simple beauty. Her skin was bright ivory and clear. It glowed in the moonlight. Her hair was dark and hung down to the middle of her back with soft curls at the bottom and wispy baby bangs circling her jaw. Her face was long, with thin lips and deep set eyes behind strong, dark brows. She was thin, with a short torso and lanky legs. Margot had never been much of an object of desire, tending to be more of an introverted tomboy when she was young. She took time to grow into her looks, though, and this made her wise regarding the charm she now possessed.
She was fidgety and desperately scanned her interior for a distraction. Finding nothing, she reached out a thin finger for the radio dial. Full-volume static came on. She made a sour face and quickly turned the volume down, consoling her ear. She flicked the switch, searching for something palatable.
She blew quickly past the girly pop and heavy rap stations and settled on something a little more classic.
Her eyes closed briefly as she started onto the quiet highway filled with tiny bright lights and listened to the music from her speakers.

Under the boardwalk
Down by the sea, yeah
On a blanket with my baby
Is where I'll be


The next part is what goes into the memory of the summer house which I posted the beginning of in a blog a while ago. I'll post it again when it is edited.

And my next book is about Russian whores.

dos

Estoy cansada hoy.  No quiero ir a mi trabajo en la manana.  Pero despues eso, no trabajo por dos dias y mi yerna y mis sobrinos van a venir a mi casa por una semana!  Quiero que pasar tiempo con mi hermano pero el no vine este fin de semana.  Cuando el vine, es posible que vieran al cine para ver Transformers.  Estoy enojada por que no recuerdo espanol mucho.  Voy a estar nerviosa cuando tengo ir a mi vacaccion. 

do you honestly expect me to believe it could ever be the same?

Today I started painting a picture of Marilyn Monroe. Marilyn Monroe is one of my favorite people of all time. I have considered naming a child Monroe...if I ever have the opportunity to name a child.

I decided I should start a celebrity of the day blog since these are rather shallow when I focus on a person, but I won't do it too often. And this one has a little more substance.
I can't tell you exactly why I love Marilyn Monroe. There is, of course, something classically beautiful about her. She's like the pinup to end all pinups. She's cute and gorgeous and sexy all at the same time. She's meaty. She's timeless. She's something you see very rarely anymore.

She also had a mouth and knew how to use it. At a time when women were supposed to be perfect housewives who stayed home and lived lives of quiet desperation, she fought back. She talked about sex and men and equality. She wasn't afraid to expose her sexuality and the sexuality of all women.

But she was also deeply troubled. I think this is the most significant reason why I love her. Her story is tragedy concealed with a sensual smile. She was forced to marry young. Her husband was the first person to expose her in sexual photos to his buddies and from there, she took off with a career. Her professional life was riddled with self loathing, drug use, and abuse by a multitude of people she relied on.

Yet, this isn't what she showed anyone until she died. She put on a happy face. She made a career out of smiling when she didn't really feel like it. This is the epitome of tragedy to me.

"A sex symbol becomes a thing. I just hate to be a thing."

I think I will play her in her biopic.  I'm painting that beach picture by the way.

Hoy tambien

Decidio que necesito practicar espanol mucho por mi vacaccion de la republica dominica. Es bueno practique espanol en mis bloges. No tengo una idea para escribir anoche, pero manana si. Lo siento por no tengo las accentos para las palabras.

Ooo baby, I'm a fool for you

Do you ever scream as loud as you can in a room full of people and nobody even looks up from what they're doing?
I do this all the time.

Yeah, this is the typical teenage "nobody understands me" whine that I'm so sick of, I literally want to vomit on myself for this statement. It is so frustrating to be trapped somewhere where nobody understands the words you say or what you want or your dreams. Nobody is sensitive to dreams after you reach a certain age. I could go back to high school.
Why do people do these things? When you're young they smile and laugh and agree with all these big plans you have for yourself and these crazy ideas you have the audacity to believe you can do.

As soon as you reach the age where you live away from home, however, these people turn on you. Reality bites. But it's not just that. People force reality onto you. I would still believe in all these crazy plans.
Being out in the pseudo-real world hasn't altered my dreams. Not even when I have to spend all my money on them. Others have altered them.

People give you ultimatums, make you feel guilty, laugh at you. What the hell am I supposed to do? Keep dreaming? Keep in mind these will always just be dreams? Or do the things I feel is what I'm supposed to do?

I'm screaming and nobody is looking. It wouldn't make a difference if they were, they don't understand anyway.

I'm doing cartwheels

I hate fighting. I hate feeling trapped in fights that you accidentally started. The worst thing a person can do when fighting is ignore the other. I must keep this in mind as I tend to be a softie when fighting. I end up saying, "fine, you win, you're right, forget it." This sucks, but, as said before, I hate fighting.

I made an impolite joke and got hung up on tonight, and am now being ignored. It really, really pisses me off which is, I'm sure, the intention.

Fighting is ugly. People you care about strategize to piss you off. You return the favor. I'm so sick of fighting and being stuck in a permanent state of fight, but being too soft to abort the mission.

I'm too upset to write tonight.  My eyes are puffy.

Like a tree down by the water, baby, I will not move

even after aaaalllllllllll those sill-eh things you do-hoo-hoo-hoo.

Sorry, I really like the song Flake. I love Jack Johnson. I love Ben Harper a little more. Combo = AAAH-mazing.

Today, I read too many articles about Megan Fox and am still undecided about whether I really believe her or not. In EW she was talking about how she knew she wasn't a good actress. That's good. At least she knows that.

She often talks about how she gets along much better with guys and how she's so smart, blah blah blah. I once heard that girls who claim to be "one of the guys" are really just bitches. Very often, I think that's true, though I have felt that way countless times over the past year. I can't decide if Megan Fox is a bitch. She's kind of pretentious. She's good at making excuses about not being pretentious though. And I do think she is extremely attractive, though a little tooth-picky.

I love tattoos I think.  Megan Fox's tattoos are really dumb (minus the Marilyn one, I would get that), but mine will be cool.

This week, I'll write some deep posts. But I have to work at 6 a.m. tomorrow and was just emasculated so not tonight.

some call me the gangster of love

Kate Gosselin gets a lot of flak. My favorite: "what's with that hair? She's got that asymmetrical thing I don't approve of, it's like are you straight or are you a lesbian? Make a decision" -Chelsea Handler.
Anyway, I think a lot of judgements about her are really unfair and I'm upset nobody else recognizes this. EVERYONE shits on her for "never giving him room to breath" and "treating him like a child."I will not argue that she is dominant. I do, however, think being dominant in a relationship is different than being controlling. If Jon had her role in the relationship or the interviews, I don't think anyone would notice anything. Why is male dominance still the "norm" and those who break away from it bitches? I don't know about you, but I feel like it's been a while since that whole "women's rights" thing came about. Sure, we're still fighting a couple Sarah Palins off, but haven't we come farther than snap judgements about wives who take charge?Frankly, the whole Jon and Kate thing doesn't really interest me. I used to watch the show sometimes when it was on and my mom wanted to, but that wasn't something I shouted off the rooftops. People get divorced. Is this really all that interesting?

Scandal aside, let's back the shit off of Kate. And any dominant woman who may just happen to have stepped up for herself.

These streets have too many names for me

I was thinking about what I should write about a while ago as my dad and I whizzed down the highway with the hood down in the mini, slightly embarrassed from my dad accidentally blasting "carry on my wayward son" at a stoplight.

Anyway, I feel as if this will be a bit of a stream of consciousness blog. To be quite honest, I have never understood nor enjoyed stream of consciousness writing. A writer is supposed to put effort into their words. If I wanted to hear some jackass mumbling to themselves, I wouldn't need to leave my own brain, thanks very much.

Anyway, it was a touch chilly out for riding "topless" but I didn't say anything because a.) we have heated seats which feel splendid on the bum and b.) it kind of felt nice. It has been forever since cold felt nice. I needed to soak it in. I lost my hair tie so by the time we reached the garage I looked a bit like Diana Ross borrowing some of Whitney's crack (which is whack, and cheap).

I read "Are you there Vodka, it's me Chelsea" today and I must say I am thoroughly impressed. I have forever loved Chelsea Handler but I had not expected her to be the terrific writer she is. I wish I could write humorously like she does or like writers in the Onion do.

I also believe I may have a flaming crush on Peter from the chronicles of Narnia but I think I knew that before. Leo still wins.

I don't know how it gets better than this grab my hand pull me head first, fearless

Yesterday, I was the unsung hero of Wisconsin nature.

As I was tootling down the road on my journey to visit my new nephew in madison, I noticed something strange lying on the trail in front of me. It looked like a tiny badger that was frozen in stance. The car in front of me accidentally hit it with its undercarriage and I heard a very loud crack of the solid object.
"Turtle!" I screamed. I am lame and emotional and thus, tears welled up in my eyes as I pulled over. The highway was fairly empty so I walked across, half squinting in case the sight would be gruesome. It wasn't bad, but the poor little guy's shell was cracked. I picked him up and put him on the grass at the side of the road where the pond was. I told him not to try crossing the road anymore and walked away, imagining he would be okay.

Later, as I drove home from the nephew visit, I saw a baby deer just ahead of me, in the middle of the road, deciding which way it wanted to go.
"Ah!" I said aloud (I am also a bit psychotic). I stopped and waited a good thirty seconds, backing up traffic behind me until the cutest little thing I've ever seen made it across the road. In the grass I saw a mommy deer and a sibling deer waiting for it and I felt very good inside. I love deer.

EVEN later, as I journeyed back from a quick shopping jaunt, I saw through the dark a giant flock of geese crossing the road. I flashed my lights to the car coming from the opposite direction and we waited while most geese made it across and a few old guys changed their minds and went back to the side they had come from.

Mother nature, you are welcome.

I think of animals like babies. When animals die in movies, I tend to be much more disturbed than human deaths. I do not mean any harm or to downplay the event at all, but the saddest image of Hurricane Katrina that I saw was a doggy stranded atop a roof, left behind after its owners understandably didn't have room in their car. Like I said, I think of animals as babies, they're poor little helpless creatures and I am here to take care of them.  

Silly heart strings.

This is a continuum to my last...

This titanic thing has gone way too far. I'm like, seriously questioning my life and existence. I am fucking ridiculous.

than to lie to one as beautiful as you

Last night there was nothing on TV as it was a summer sunday evening. But I managed to flip to stations at just the right time. I caught the entirety of Titanic and Legends of the Fall and it really wasn't too big a waste of seven hours. Holy shit, seven hours?

Anyway, both are, of course, these epic love stories filled with excitement and adventure and of course a little Leo or Brad dirty scene isn't too tough to watch either.
I really need to learn not to watch these. They make me sad. I suppose its kind of good I'll never get a love story like this, but I truly get depressed for like three days thinking about the fact that my lover will never sweep me off of my feet and sacrifice his floating door for me so I don't freeze to death. He won't avenge my death by taking scalps of county politicians then have to run off to the woods to live the rest of his life. I won't wake up to find he's poisoned himself because he can't live without me.

Oh, bollox.
I kind of want a dramatic and timeless love like that, though it doesn't often end well.

I'm also fairly certain I'm in love again with Leo.

how does it feel? to be without a home, a complete unknown, like a rolling stone

I finished my payment deal for my trip this summer.

I'm going to the Dominican Republic for two weeks to volunteer in a school and also either building a home or doing some trail management and ecology teaching there. I'm extremely thrilled, but for some reason or another my parents are not.

Volunteering is my calling. Saving the world piece by piece is my aim. Why is it hard for parents to understand their child's calling?

I think in this case, it's the fact that this is MY dream. This is a dream separate from theirs. It seems weird because I feel like my sister once had this dream and I can't seem to remember them disapproving. Then again, she is the golden child.

I will not go into my severe case of not good enough syndrome because I think everyone's just crabby at me because the economy isn't the type that you want to spend money to teach kids to read without pay in.

I'll keep telling myself that.

well I tried to make it sunday, but i got so damn depressed

My sister is supposed to go in today to get induced and birth my fourth niece/nephew. I love my nieces and nephews and think that this relationship is pretty much the awesomest in the world.

When my first nephew was born, I was extremely surprised. My brother and his now wife were then unmarried and me being a seventh grader straight out of jesus camp, I was naive and shocked my brother would be having sex. Needless to say, I was rather dense.

Anyway, I'm so happy I have that nephew. Charlie is my very best friend ever. I get to play with him and spend time with him without really being responsible for him or having to take him when he is naughty. He's also extremely cute. When he first started talking, he was hilarious. I remember him giving his dinosaur a time-out once for hitting. ("Get in the corner, T-rex! And don't come out 'till you say sorry!")

My sister's son and my brother's second child were born at the same time, three years later. I'm close to Rowan because he now lives so near me. I get him if my sister and her husband kick the bucket. My brother's girl, Lucy, was very, very slow to warm up to me. Apparently she's funny now so I can't wait to see her.

The point of this entry is to express my love for having these kids around me. Another purpose it serves is to allow me the pleasure of being around kids as they grow without having to have my own. My mother scoffs when I say I don't really want kids. I don't even know; maybe I do. I used to . But its not all I'm made for so it's going to be a LONG time before I give birth. Sorry, mother, but the times they are a'changin.

to state the obvious, I didn't get my perfect fantasy

I found out yesterday that I really like Taylor Swift. Note this, as it is something I never thought I would ever say.

She's not a great singer. She's not a great writer. And there's something about her as a person I cannot bring myself to love. But here's the thing: she's real. Her songs aren't way too grown up for her, they're not complex, and they're not meaningless. She's 19. She writes like a 19 year old; maybe even younger.

For me, her songs are like a guilty pleasure. Like when you feel like being a whiney and vindictive girl. She says things that I'd probably never say out loud, but would definitely think.

I'm also quite a bit jealous of this Taylor Swift character. She gets to design the sets and movements of her concerts. She designed her tour bus. That sounds like heaven for me. I like to design and organize. Lucky bitch.

So excuse me for my country fix. I just find her refreshing.

Once upon a time
I believe it was a Tuesday
When I caught your eye
We caught onto something
I hold onto the night
You looked me in the eye
And told me you loved me

Were you just kidding?

Cause it seems to me
This thing is breaking down
We almost never speak
I don't feel welcome anymore
Baby what happened
Please tell me cause one second it was perfect
Now you're halfway out the door

And I stare, at the phone
He still, hasn't called
And then you feel so low you can't feel, nothing at all
And you flashback to when he said
Forever and always

Oh, and it rains in your bedroom, everything is wrong
It rains when you're here and it rains when you're gone
Cause I was there when you said
Forever and always

Was I out of line? Did I say something way to honest?
Made you run and hide like a scared little boy?
I looked into your eyes, thought I knew you for a minute
Now I'm not so sure

So heres to everything
Coming down to nothing
Heres to silence
That cuts me to the core
Where is this going?
Thought I knew for a minute but I don't anymore

And I stare, at the phone
He still, hasn't called
And then you feel so low you can't feel, nothing at all
And you flashback to when he said
Forever and always

Oh, and it rains in your bedroom, everything is wrong
It rains when you're here and it rains when you're gone
Cause I was there when you said
Forever and always

Didn't mean it baby?
I don't think so

Ohhhhh

Back up, baby back up
Did you forget everything?
Back up, baby back up
Did you forget everything?

but it's just your one-sided feelings that keep getting in the way

Today, my mother informed me that complaints have been made about a nearby town's library book section called "over the rainbow." This is a collection of readings that deal with material important to the homosexual culture or centered around a plotline involving homosexuals.

So, at the center of the anti-gay feelings is the fact that it goes against religious morals, yes? If it is unacceptable to have books about homosexuality, is it then unacceptable to have books centered around Islam, Judaism, Atheism, Hindu? Or, do all books need to adhere to religious laws of all of these practices? Good luck women, minorities, and Christians. And Muslims. And Hindus. And everyone. You all violate each other's laws.

If you don't want your kid reading books that have homos in them, accompany them to the library and monitor what they're checking out. Little hint, though: you're not doing them any favors. By refusing to expose kids to homosexuals, you are teaching them that this is wrong and those believing otherwise should be judged.

Going off of this whole thing, I'm angered over the prop 8 issue. Someday, hopefully, we'll look back on this whole issue and it'll be a little like civil rights. I'm not comparing the two, I realize that homosexuals have the right to vote and use the same bubbler and go to school, etc. but it is still deprevation of rights.

I hate the Bible argument. The chapter of Leviticus that states that a man should not sleep with another man also condones many other things. Clipping the hair from your beard or the side of your face, for instance. Having sight problems. Turning your back to the front of the church. How's about we take a right away from all these Leviticus-condemned crimes. Don't have 20/20 vision? No election vote. Trimmed your beard? No pleading the fifth for you.

This is sad that we're supposed to be so advanced but still have such a puritanical mindset. Not even really puritanical I guess...outdated?

nothing promised, no regrets, voulez vous

Today, I went to see the dance recital for the group I used to dance with and it made me sad.

I really miss the group of friends I had in dance because it was different from my group at school or the people I hung out with often and I've missed that this year.

I really, really miss dancing. It was something so unique because so few of the people who surrounded me on a daily basis knew anything about it. Ballerinas in Fort Atkinson is fairly uncommon, I'd say.

I miss performing. I've never really been much of a scene stealer. I don't crave attention and I'm rather shy. I am slow to warm up to dancing in front of people at weddings or dances. But ballet was different. I can't totally say why but it was like showing off in this really cool way...maybe because the audience didn't know much about ballet so they would ooo and ahhh at pretty basic moves.

Anyway, moral of the story is that I miss ballet and will be taking it up again very soon.

just a quote i liked

The greatest mystery is not that we have been flung at random between the profusion of matter and of the stars, but that within this prison we can draw from ourselves images powerful enough to deny our nothingness.
- Andre Malraux

I'm on call, so be there

Sorry for the lack of blog-age as work has consumed my soul.  Also, I thought working in liquor would be fun, surrounded by cute little glass bottles and things...but no.  The number of lonely old men buying a case of Keystone light at 6:30 on a Monday evening are not so few and far between.  I also cannot reach the cigarettes so stop fucking smoking.  Sorry.  Smoking is okay.  Secretly, I think its a little sexy in a James Dean kind of way, but don't tell.  

Random thought:  Apparently Merv Griffen slept with James Dean!  This really disappoints me.  Don't get me wrong, I love a good gay; I really do.  But James Dean is the classic bad boy.  He's supposed to be this dark and troubled ladies man who drives a fast-ass mustang into the moonlight in Rebel Without a Cause, one of my favorite movies ever.

This brings something to mind; the subject of sexuality.  I've heard a ton of theories about sexuality, more so lately.  I've heard a lot of good friends (Megan Fox, Angelina Jolie, Billie-Joe Armstrong from Green Day) talk about bisexuality.  I used really not believe it existed which may be a little hypocritical because I'm all for brain chemistry theories about being homosexual.  

But hearing these new ideas about hypothesis ranging from all girls are bisexual to everyone is bisexual has really got me thinking.  Isn't it possible that everyone is bisexual but pushed one way or another by society?  I think it could be, though I'm not set on what I believe.  Maybe one day I will be, who knows.  

Oh P.S. I always title my blogs with lines from whatever song I have stuck in my head.  This title isn't an invitation for the subject of this blog, its from my favorite Kings of Leon song, On Call.    Just making sure

oh, P.S.

i'm going to quick explain the context of the below excerpt. The story is about a girl driving from atlanta to detroit to see her father to invite him to her wedding. along the way, she recalls stories from her past and this is one of the first memories she talks about.

you've painted up your lips and rolled and curled your tinted hair

I have been a bad blogger lately. But i've struck gold with this new story I'm writing. AND since i'm lazy i'm just posting a little bit from the beginning. Sorry, it's not very intriguing so if you skip it, I won't tell.

The wind blew Margot's curly blonde hair over her eyes.
?Come on, come on, come on!? Cameron yelled toward her sister. ?Mar, come on! Taddy's gonna getcha!? Cameron's voice was high and Margot knew they were in danger of being found in the long grass by her older and much faster brother. But the girls possessed immense speed and their young legs ran with little rest.
Margot followed Cameron's dress as they ran through the golden field. She felt a sharp jab on her bare foot and quickly tumbled to the ground, bursting instantly into tears. Cameron skidded to a halt in the dirt clearing and turned quickly to face a wall of tall prairie stalks.
Tad was the first to arrive at his little sister's side. He was tall and skinny, fresh off the high from his twelfth birthday spent, as usual, on the shores of lake Michigan with his family.
?Marie,? he started, smiling warmly at her. She looked up with her soft, innocent eyes, still blurred. Tad reached toward her and wiped a tear off of her cheek.
?Marie, look,? he placed a gentle hand on her petite toe and softly stroked it. ?You're fine. There's nothing here.?
?What happened?? Cameron asked breathlessly, bursting into the sunny patch of grass the siblings were seated in. She was still two years younger than Tad, but had a competitive and fiery spirit that rivaled that of her brother. She was dressed in a white sundress, speckled with patches of dirt and grass stains. She had messy light brown curls hanging to her shoulders and a hard face, still full of girly cuteness, but with a rough exterior. She, too was barefoot and began examining her own skin searching for a possible wound similar to her sister's.
?She's fine,? Tad said, standing up and thrusting Margot onto his back. ?She just tripped.?

There's a lot of depressing subjects in the story including abuse, incest, and death. Sooo be thankful i included a semi-happy piece.

go run and tell your friends I'm losing touch

I don't feel like being all deep and stuff tonight.

I started rereading the awakening today. I really like it I think. It is tragic. Started writing book number three today. I love it. haha, oh, modesty.

The shadow on the wall tells me the sun is going down

I want to start by saying that this is not at all meant to be offensive. I do not judge anyone involved in the events to be mentioned and I think that what occurred is absolutely tragic.

Natalee Holloway. Who doesn't know her name? Laci Peterson. Audrey Seiler. I could go on forever. All of these ladies (minus Seiler, who I'm pretty sure kidnapped herself?) were victims of tragic events. Mostly, I'd like to focus on Natalee Holloway.

Young girl goes on trip to Aruba and disappears. Sad. Sixteen months of continuous coverage. Necessary? Maybe. Fair? Absolutely not.

Natalee Holloway got the media coverage she did because she was rich, white, and american. Which demographic has the highest number of missing persons? African American young males.

I can remember one story about missing african american males. Those two little kids in Zion, Illinois. Remember the Runaway Bride? She got coverage for about seven months. The woman kidnapped herself.

Natalee Holloway has a lifetime movie. The news can't even devote five minutes to the countless men reported missing. The lifetime movie is all about the struggles of Holloway's mother and how strong she is. Do other missing persons' mothers somehow miss them less? Struggle less?

I choose not to blame news media. It's the fault of viewers. Why are we so obsessed with people's looks and status' here? Would Holloway have gotten as much coverage if she wasn't pretty? White? Rich? If you argue no, why don't any young men who've grown up in an apartment in south side chicago get coverage?

Again, I am by no means trying to say that the Holloway or any other case isn't tragic, it is. But what the hell justifies its coverage more than that of any missing person in america?

They say I need some rogain to put in my hair

The purpose of bloggers, at least those with substance unlike much of this one, is to keep a check on news journalists. Things that are not on the news agenda get there through amateur blogs. While it is important that viewers can distinguish between amateur and professional blogs, I think this shows how much power citizens actually do have in our society. And how the internet empowers us.

Dear news agenda,
I would like to see more stories about the tragedies of Native Americans on the news. In an earlier post, I wrote about a reservation called Pine Ridge in South Dakota. Read it. I know it's long and people usually don't have much patience when searching around blogs, but i promise it's important.
I have this strong connection and sympathy for Native American culture. I don't really know why. It would make sense if I felt responsible for their demise, but I don't really, even though I probably should. I'm too quick to point my finger. THEY did it. Great Britain (well, let's be serious, England did it while the rest of us were still slaves to them ourselves).
I'm not one to let England off the hook. I still hold a grudge against queen Elizabeth for killing my queen, her own cousin...bitch. Whatever, she had her troubles.
Back to the point, I'm not one to let England off the hook. But I don't think pointing fingers at past events helps anything. Actually, it's rather hypocritical, especially for a citizen of America, a historically tyrannical empire, as most empires are or "must be."
But what are we doing? Pointing fingers at our government? That doesn't help anything. Step one: awareness. Step two: ACTION

My heart beat beats me senselessly

Today I watched the movie State of Play online. I had really wanted to see it, I just never had the money to do so when it came out.
I thought this movie was awesome. It had a highly developed plotline, though perhaps not the most intriguing or surprising twists and turns.
First of all, the cast is the Departed-esque type that you know is going to be winning before the film even starts. Russell Crowe, Helen Mirren, Rachel McAdams, and Ben Affleck; all the among the best in their respected categories.

I won't even begin to try to cover the whole conspiracy plot because I'd probably screw it up anyway, so I'm just going to look at one part of the movie: its focus on the newspaper industry and the role of journalism in society.

Journalism is the "fourth estate" of our government. It serves as a check on the other three branches and is meant to play a role in informing the public, though it can be argued for many reasons why this role is not met.

Anyway, in the movie, Russell Crowe is the old dog who has all the informants in every area of the city (Washington, D.C.). He fact checks, gathers sources, puts himself on the line, etc. etc. Rachel McAdams is a young, hotshot reporter who writes a blog for the online site of the newspaper. Immediate clash of old ways and new ways. Looking past this chemistry of anti-chemistry though, this is a highlight of the future of print media; obsolete. Skip this sentence if you wish to not hear a secret about the movie's end: She ends up letting him print the big story in the print newspaper. Why? Because newspapers are integral. They set the news agenda (thanks J201), but more than that they have a deep root in american society. They're part of history (extra, extra) and have been classically known as what breaks the shocking news...the morning edition.

Apart from this, the editor of this paper (Helen Mirren) is eager to keep her paper afloat after it is bought by a corporation. It's no secret that corporations seek money and newspapers need to catch attention to gain readers--this isn't a positive thing. What captures attention? "Families of twelve year old somalians mourn" or We got them! We got those Nasty Pirates!"? What's the truth? Are they both true? Does anyone care? In the movie, they almost have to print this story before they've uncovered what it's actually about- they need to sell their paper now to please corporate, not to mention the media conglomerate's distaste for a story that bashes a major US company...connection? Lobbying? They never really say in the movie but it's possible. Say they did print this--the actual story could never be revealed. See the danger?

Okay, this went into a lot of deep subjects which I'm sure I'll come back to later. Peace

i'm climbin up the walls, oh

Day off tonight as my brain is heavy from studying for so long for my calc...and i still think it sucked.

News of the day: My sister in law is having a girl. I think my sister's having a girl too, but it'll prolly end up being a boy.

Books to read this summer:
Snow Falling on Cedars
I buried my heart at wounded knee
Tuck Everlasting
There was one more but I can't remember right now.

You make me lose my buttons, oh yeah, you make me spit.

I effing hate when people say "ha! i was right!" Really? Is it third grade and is everything a competition? I hate when people make everything into an "i'm right" competition. Possibly one of the most obnoxious things a person can possibly do.

I mostly hate when these things come from what I call "grade whores." I hate when people are so concerned with grades in a class that they only learn on the surface. People who don't take in information and analyze its meanings and applications for themselves aren't learning anything.

Let's try thinking a little deeper than definitions and quiz questions and who can beat whom on a test.

It's annoying and you're not learning anything. Anyway, back to comprehending this spanish book.

I love her too and all of this has got nothing to do with you

I have passed the point of procrastination and am onto the point of being absolutely terrified of my calc final. Why am I so scared of doing poorly?
1. I will have to retake it.
2. What if I retake it and still fail? Then I can't continue with my chosen major. That blows.
3. I don't want to waste money failing a class.

It is extremely frustrating when I don't understand a problem and, unlike in high school, have nowhere to turn but the teacher's typed up notes and ask.com. P.S. ask.com...not so helpful when typing in long-winded equations.

I am a little excited for my journalism final today. Easily the most interesting class I've taken so far and after finals, when my actual blogging begins, I will probably write many's a statement relating to things I learned in it.

Sorry for still not showing any substance...stick with me.

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup.

I want to introduce one issue facing our country that is closest to my heart: the tragedy and richness of native american culture.
Wounded Lives
When asked to imagine a place where the average yearly income is less than $4,000, the unemployment rate is at least 80 percent, and the average life expectancy is around 50 years old, most people imagine a place far away from their own pleasant suburbs of the USA. Some may picture Afghanistan or Sudan, torn apart by war, famine, and disease. The reality is, however, one does not even need to cross an ocean to find this place. At Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, in Western South Dakota, around 49 percent of the population lives below the national poverty line, yet the area rarely makes headlines. Two of the top ten poorest counties in America are located in the reservation.
Pine Ridge is home to the Oglala Souix Tribe of the Great Plaines. It was originally part of the Great Souix Reservation, a result of the Fort Laramie Treaty. This treaty, signed in 1868, divided the area that is now Wyoming, South Dakota, and Montana, granting the Black Hills of South Dakota to the Native Americans, and the remaining land to the settlers. When increased number of white settlers moved to the area, the Great Souix Reservation was broken up into smaller reservations, including Pine Ridge, established in 1889. The reservation was jolted in 1890 during the transportation of a group of Souix people from Pine Ridge to Nebraska, which resulted in the Wounded Knee Massacre. The Lakota Tribe was ordered to be arrested for its members not turning themselves in to live on a reservation as the government had commanded. While camping at wounded knee creek, the Seventh Cavalry of the United States Army discovered the group and asked them to turn in their weapons. More than 300 men, women, and children died at Wounded Knee Creek, in the southeastern corner of Pine Ridge, after a misunderstanding on the part of one tribesman caused a chaotic discharge of the Cavalry's weapons.
The current condition of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation is one by which most Americans would be shocked. Vast improvements are needed in the areas of healthcare, employment, and housing. The wellness status of residents at Pine Ridge is far below the country's average. More than half of all adults living on the reservation are afflicted with disease or addiction. The two most common are diabetes, which has a rate eight times that of the national average, and alcoholism, which effects eighty percent of families in the area. Other preventable and curable sicknesses are prevalent, including tuberculosis, which also has a rate eight times the country's average. Perhaps more shockingly, many residents suffer from malnutrition and diseases stemming from water contamination from pesticides, mining, open dumps, and buried hazardous materials in the area.
Many citizens on the reservation struggle to find steady employment as there is no industrial or commercial infrastructure on the reservation. Farming provides a few seasonal jobs, most of which inadequate salaries for the farmers. Pine Ridge's agricultural production in 2002 generated nearly $33 million, but less than one third of this profit went to tribe members. Lack of employment opportunities lead to an increase in criminal behavior, especially among young people, who are often overcome with feelings of hopelessness.
Housing conditions at Pine Ridge is unfathomable to most Americans because of how extremely substandard most homes are. Almost 40 percent of homes on the reservation have no electricity, and one third of all homes have no running water or sewage systems. Due to the lack of livable housing and employment, many families must live with multiple generations in one home, resulting in an average of 17 people per family home built for four to five people. Little funding is provided for the countless homes in need of repair. The homeless population is massive, but due to cultural practices and beliefs, most families will not turn away a relative in need of a place to stay. Those unable to squeeze into a home of a relative sleep in barns or cars. Of these overcrowded homes, 60 percent are likely infested with Black Mold, which can damage immune systems and cause lung hemorrhaging in babies and cause cancer in adults.
Of all the citizens living at Pine Ridge Reservation, women and young people show the most dismal statistics regarding health. Cervical cancer in women in the area is five times the national average. Abortion is completely outlawed, even in cases of rape and incest, and the health risk of the mother is not an exception to the rule. The infant mortality rate is three times the country's average, mostly due to lack of technology in the health field. Teenage life on the reservation is far from that of a typical suburban teen. Seven in ten kids will drop out of school before ever graduation. Because of such low opportunity in education, the area ranks in the bottom ten percent of amount of school funding given by the Department of Education. The teen suicide rate is one of the highest in the country at 1.5 times the national average. Suicide makes up just a small part of the prevalent violence at Pine Ridge.
After violent protests in the 1970s surrounding the American Indian Movement's overtaking of the historic site, the murder rate on the reservation skyrocketed. In 1974, Detroit was named the murder capital of the world, with just over 20 murders per 100,000 people. Just two years later, the murder rate at Pine Ridge was 170 per 100,000 people.
Most Americans turn a blind eye to the tragic results of conflicts instigated long ago by the first European settlers in the United States. Multiple Native American tribes currently live in similar conditions to those at Pine Ridge. Run-down areas like this, however, can be turned around.
Research into harnessing useful wind and solar energy could not only provide jobs on the reservation, but allow citizens an affordable way to upgrade their homes efficiently. With funding, a community college could be established to train citizens for jobs in technological and science fields to be used on the reservation. Development of the historical site of Wounded Knee could provide income from tourists. This income can then be turned around to better hospitals or houses in the community. These ideas would be a major step in correcting the mistakes of the past and making Pine Ridge a productive, flourishing community.

Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun...

Went to the SoHE fashion show today. It was extremely exciting and once in a while I pretended I was a big star who gets photographed in the front row of Zach Posen or something. No i didn't. Yes I did.

I like how you come to a certain point in your life where you're not afraid to admit things that once seemed very loserish. Maybe I'm just more comfortable being a loser. Though I think I'm just more comfortable with myself.

In middle school everyone had to keep embarrassing secrets and were chastised for being different. By senior year of high school, everyone was "sick of school" and "people" and wanted to "be different." But that wasn't really true, they just wanted to sound cool. I still can't see a lot of the people from high school who said this admitting that they sometimes pretend they're in the opening sequence to a movie while walking down the street listening to their iPod. It's a shame because its rather liberating.

For those of you who ever wonder, Fifi Rae is my pseudonym. Fifi is what my sister calls me because my middle name is Fiona and Rae was my great grandma's maiden name. If I ever had a clothing line, it would be called Fifi Rae.

I talk a lot about fashion on here. I promise, I have quite a bit of substance and will get around to its presentation.

Title.

I promised myself that I'd write everyday even when I have nothing to say. I considered cheating and posting a story i have saved on here from long ago but I will refrain.
I accidentally sent all my finals notes home today. I am angry. The end.

hermit note

I found this on my computer today. I wrote it last august, in reference to the summer in which i spent very little time with my friends. It is a sort of explanation, i suppose, but i think it's another thing i left unfinished:

The things I am learning while being a hermit for an entire summer.

1. Your dreams are much easier to recognize when they are not coming true and you are doing nothing than they are when you still think they are attainable.
I've always had this crazy dream of being a fashion designer. Yep. I feel like I'm 12 when I say that but it's true. Now, here I go to UW already enrolled in engineering school. An engineer? Really? Oh my god, the more I say it the less plausible it sounds. I don't want to go to Madison...never did really. I was told that is where I am headed since I was 6. I worked really hard because Madison is such a hard school to get into. And after so much, you know what? I got into BETTER schools than Madison. And now that has made going to Madison all the harder.

2. My siblings have partnered off...and everyone knows so it's okay.
I think Neil has always secretly been my favorite. I'm just now realizing that I'm his too. Mark and Leigh are partners too. They are each other's favorites. I don't know why this has happened. I've always spent a lot longer on the phone with him than with the others. Even when I was really little. My favorite part of it is I feel like Neil looks a lot like Grandpa even if Mark has more of his nature. I am told I am starting to look a lot like Neil which means maybe I have a little of my grandpa in me.

3. High school drama has been misnmed...it does not stop at high school. I have heard so much talk about people behind their backs this summer even though I really haven't hung out with anyone more than about two times. Perhaps, I stuck my nose where it didn't belong too much this summer. But boy, have I learned a lot. Really, my objective to gossip this summer was "To hell with it, I don't care." I did, for once, what came naturally and what was not influenced by mob mentality. Mob mentality is dangerous. Anyway, I told people what I saw and I thought and I will not apologize. It was honesty in its purest form. And it felt fine, not painful.

4. People are naturally motivated to be

pretty sure the last word is mean, but i can't remember why.

Don't stop, don't stop now, just keep on going...

I always wished I could paint. My mom is a beautiful painter and really has skills in all areas of art. Even doodling. My mom makes the most beautiful doodles I've ever seen. I unfortunately never got this gene.
This semester I took a class called "Intro to Design" mostly to keep alive this crazy notion about wanting to be a fashion designer, even though I know it will not happen. This class was the most fun I've had since coming to college.
This wasn't just because it was simple and the lectures were the type to play bubble spinner during. I discovered something that gave me a little hope; if I do things in a simplistic manner, I'm actually not half bad!
I love painting and just turned in my final, a previously mentioned painted poster for Brazilian Girls and a fake concert they'd be doing in my area. Looking at everyone else's, mine wasn't the best. It didn't really stand out and it definitely wasn't the the cleanest work. Most other people used photoshop and obviously had an advantage over my hand painted work. The thing is though; mine could compete in its own.
This is something I never thought I'd be able to do; compete with others in an art class. So even though this class will give me no credits toward my degree or help me for practical purposes in life, i'm glad i took it. I found something out about myself and my insecurities.

from all the unborn chicken voices in my head

One of my friends often talks about her persistent fear of being forgotten by all her friends.  I never understood nor shared that fear so much, but, as of late, i am certainly beginning to share this fear.  My friends plan nights together to hang out and watch TV and such, yet I am not invited.  I am not particularly upset, nor do I feel like whining about it.  I guess I just don't really understand why...

Maybe they thought I would hear it from someone who was directly invited and just figured I'd come that way.  Maybe I don't like the TV show.  Maybe they need a night away from me.  All perfectly understandable.  So why am I thinking so much on it?

I guess I just don't want to be replaced.  My friends now hang out with my other group of friends.  They're not even friends without me!  Oh, god, I sound so high school.

But don't give up yet, dear reader.  There is a point to my Dawson's Creek-like, thirteen year old bitching.  It doesn't bother me.  

Perhaps there was a time when an event like this bothered me.  But now I have a larger grasp on life and things like this just don't really affect me, nor should they ever have.  I got plenty of work done, ate a delicious dinner, didn't feel like I wasted the night, and still love my friends as much as I did yesterday.  

Please, would you stop, I'm trying to get some rest...

Sometimes collecting random thoughts makes them seem not so random.  

So I often write for fun outside of classes even when I have enough inside class work to do.  I like to begin writing novels, but I tend to get very excited about how they will all turn out then my excitement digresses, hence the three unfinished novels I have stored within the confines of my open office program somewhere on this computer.  So I figure that blogging seems like something I would enjoy.  A combination of bitching and logging.  My new definition.  I will probably not do a whole lot of either, but rather use this as an outlet for my creative voice.

I have finals in exactly five days.  Five days to cram a semester's worth of information into some tiny brain part I learned two years ago in psychology but fail to remember at this moment.  That, in itself, is a failure of this brain part.

Why, you ask, if I have finals so soon am I on this sight doing some self-indulgent composing of useless jargon?  Well, dear friend, I don't really love calculus.  Sometimes I do, but only when I do really well.  Pretty sure that if that's the only time you love something that means you don't really love it.  The final that I am loving, however, is for my art class.  I am making a poster for one of my favorite bands in the world, Brazilian Girls.  It's a fake concert poster promoting their (I wish) appearance at the Union Terrace.

Speaking of the venue, I went to the terrace for lunch last week and realized how much I love that place.  Sitting and looking out of the water brought to me a familiar feeling of nostalgia.  I'm not sure if it was nostalgia for being young and going to the terrace for different concerts with my parents or for my beloved homeland, 44 Saltburn, Invergordon, Scotland, IV18OJY.  "Saltburn by the Sea" if you will.  Either way, the feeling brought about some good memories, a success for that part of my brain which often fails at remembering, although long term memory is probably the product of another part of my brain.

Ah well, I've done enough collecting for the day.  I promise my following posts will be a little more exciting.