Perils of assimilation

If only life came with subtitles.

Saturday, December 30, 2006

Alas, poor Reginald!

I went to a dinner at Deebnphul's tonight. And, suprise! Adam was EARLY picking me up. That NEVER happens. Once, he showed up ten minutes before curtain, and was nearly slaughtered by Deeb.

'Twas great fun. They were being uber-secretive about what it was, so we were all expecting a murder mystery type deal. but what it was was this:
we were given clues to what the items we were being served were, utensils included, and we then had to fill in our menus by putting the clue number under courses. this results were...special. Steve ws served three drinks and a knife, The Tim got soup and ice cream at the same time but no spoon, and so on. And some how the conversation turned to this:

RobbieT: Hey you know what would be cool, a pet lobster.

Adam: That would be cool, we could name it Sir Reginald Nigel Harrison IV Esq.

The Tim: yeah.

RobbieT: Hey! let's go get a pet lobster!


Ok, so we didn't actually get the Lobster. we tried though. Adam, RobbieT, Moose and I went to the Wal-mart where Adam works, and picked out our Reginald, but alas, Wal-mart would not let the lobster leave uncooked. Something about liability. Disappointed, we quit the Wal-mart. Heartbroken, We ended up walking about ET smoking cigars and mourning the loss of our dear Reginald.

Myspace Surveys

Ok, I realize that these are the things you do when you're bored, but when you post 3+ everyday, it's time to get a life.

45 of the most random things you probably never needed to know about someone
[First off, if Kulp was reading this he would have a meltdown, screaming" that is an abuse of the word 'random'!" And guess what kiddies, Kulp is right. And so to spare his sensibilities, let's all respect 'random' from now on]

whats your name spelt backwards?: [ how is this 'random'? I would ask this in a normal conversation]

What did you do last night?: [do you have a life?]

The last thing you downloaded onto your computer?: [who cares?]

Have you ever licked a 9 volt battery?: [ this question here is there so people can judge just how smart you are. Or how persuasive your friends are, like the time we convinced Adam to lick the electic fence.]

What are you wearing?: [kinda stalker-y, no?]

How many cars have you owned?: [how rich/destructive are you?]

Are you registered to vote?: [are you responsible for the ban going through? i hate you.]

Do you have cable?: [No, I don't have time for some mind-numbing box watching]

What kind of computer do you use?: [What do brand names matter?]

Ever made a prank phone call?: [how immature are you?]

You like anyone right now?: [now these sort of questions bug the shit out of me. If someone does like someone, they'll generally keep it private or else they're desperate. Also, Questions about relationship status annoy me. Who cares? if someone is your friend, they'll know, so don't publicize how miserably single you are. And if you are miserably single stop whining about it, you don't need another person to define who you are]

Do u know all the words to the national anthem?: [are you patriotic?]

Best movie you've seen in the past month?: [let's advertise, shall we?]

What cell phone provider do you have?: [ooo...more brand names]

Have you ever been in a beauty pageant?: [how vain are you?]

Who were the last people you sat at lunch with?: [it better be someone cool, or else we'll stop talking to you!]

Who is your longest friend and how long?: [do you have firends?]

Have you ever won a trophy?: [ are you athletic/smart/or exceptional? because you're a nobody without a trophy.]

Favorite arcade game?:[where do you waste your time?]

Ever ordered from an infomercial?: [are you greedy?]

Sprite or 7-UP?: {are brands important to you?]

Have you ever had to wear a uniform to school/work? [do you conform?]

Last thing you bought at Walgreens?: {consumerism is our god...]

Do you believe in love at first sight?: [what to hook those hopeless romantics, eh?]

SPONGEBOB OR JIMMY NEUTRON?: [why is this in capitals? is it truly vital to the survey? and I have no idea who the second one is]

What message is on your voicemail machine?:[ 'cause it better be funny, bitch]

here would you like to go right now?: [guess what? you can't get there! hahahahaha]

What kind of back pack do you have, and what's in it?: [what does that matter? I, however, like to port entire families of squirrels in my baby seal purse. what do YOU do?]

Thursday, December 28, 2006


I need to get out and party. Sitting around in once place is not me. I trust Caroline to take care of this on Sunday, and if you can trust Caroline with one thing, it's a party. I need to dance. Luc once told me that I went into a trance when I dance, and I've come to think he's right. It is moving meditation to me, sweat is my food and dance is my soul. I took ballet lessons when I was younger, but that did not satisfy. It turned a prayer of movement into a sick farce. I don't make a show of my dancing, it is for me and the other true revelers.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006


you know, it quite pleases me that I have a few loyal readers, not just the EC folk. The guy that writes Assclownopolis has visited and left a comment, also, according to sitemeter, I have several repeat visitors. Why the hell they find my site interesting, I'll never know. This is just a little forum that I keep up to store my thoughts, and I hope to provoke others to think.


So I've been writing quite a bit lately. This is in part due to Doug who inspired me to do a little more work on this blog, and also due to some bordom here at home. I don't watch television anymore, and I can't seem to sit still for long. Adam and I went adventuring yesterday, and he has saved my sanity (Ha! who am I kidding? I never had my sanity to begin with). We visited Delavan, Burlington, Union Grove, Mukwanago, ET, Lake Geneva, and Racine, where we visited Lila. You cannot begin to imagine how happy I was to see her.
But back to writing: My readers may have, at this point, noticed my gratuitous use of the glorious comma. I attribute this to the fact that as I child I read classic lit. and have since copied the style.
I like to write, certainly, but I feel that I have no talent for it. Sometimes I think I would lke to be a writer, to enthralled with my words, to create a delicate piece of art. Then I remember how mediocre of a writer I am. I can never place onto paper what I see in my head. It is all incredibly detailed, in my mind’s eye. I cannot recreate that.


My new acoustic amant: Gogol Bordello, and their awesome "gypsy punk" sonic assualt. Favorite Tracks: 60 revolutions, Start Wearing Purple, Immigrant Punk.
Like Flogging Molly? This is a thousand times better. I got this CD from my dad via my Uncle Casey. Uncle Casey is a pretentious bastard, but when he finds good music, he likes to share it and so provided my dad with a burned copy of it.
Ok here's the plan (Jessie, Lucy, and you other EC folk who have happened across this): Get some vodka and rock out to Russian immigrant punk rock once we're back in EC. Come on now, Lucy, when was the last time we had a dance party? The bathroom party? Let's get wasted and get moving.


Mike asked me once if I was as hopeless as I seemed. I didn’t know how to answer that, I still don’t, in a way. If I have no direction, what need have I of hope? I do not deny myself pleasure, I try to indulge in small sensual pleasures when I can. I also indulge in pain, (all actors are masochists, btw) and I know I exist because I hurt so much. I am very prone to depression, a trait I have unfortunately inherited from my mother. Depression for me, if bad enough, becomes physical pain, a wrenching agony of the limbs and soul. I don’t fight it ever, I cover it up, which often causes me more pain. If you see me going out reveling night after night, it is because I try to hide it in celebration. But it is not a mask, because I celebrate my pain and interlace it with pleasure. I sacrifice my cerebellum for things that are concrete and abstract at once. I sacrifice for the real and symbolic (psymbolic?).


Breath is beauty. Listening to another breathe, knowing that they hold on to a semblance of life, fills one with a divine pleasure. Everything has a breath, not just animae and plantae, rocks and buildings, books and sunsets. With breath one can sing, exalt, degrade and insult. What else can convey so much? Breath is divinity.
Do not deny me the pleasure of breathing with you, as I shall not deny you the pleasure of breathing with me.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

I can't get to work ever. I'm going to wait until I get a hold of some wireless internet and then redownload the program-dealie. I play music constantly, but it just doesn't recognize that I am playing any. The last time it worked was when I was playing Oasis (I hardly measure time the normal way, I measure by the last time I played a certain song, or the last time my ass was grabbed, or the last time I had coffee). Just played "Suffragette City," and have moved on to some Mozart. I played "Red Right Ankle" for my brother, and that just freaked him out. I listen to some stuff on weird subject matters, and that's not a strange song at all. But when your used to a constant stream of J-pop, I can see how a song in English might blow your mind.

Typing, typing, typing

So I’ve been thinking about my guy situation in 2006. The thing is, I didn’t date any losers this year unlike before.

The first guy of 06 was positively the best relationship to date. We could talk about every thing and nothing, and just sit and be silent with each other. He is the only one I’ve loved. Just looking at him made me happy. He had a few faults, like never opening doors for me, but I was ok with them. Even his extremely hairy chest didn’t bug me (for the record, hairy chests still don’t bug me, as long as it’s soft). The break-up was mutual, and we are still very good friends. I’m over him, but I still love him. Love doesn’t go away, it just transforms. The break-up was really hard on me, and I’m glad David and Mike were there to see me through it.

David was not included on this list because he falls in the “Best Friend” category. Let me make it clear right now: I have never dated him. Enough confusion, people! He’s a really affectionate guy, and I trust him, that’s all. Yes, he did buy me panties, but that was because of the discussion Jessie, Dave, David, Doug, and I had over our panty collection. The boys were appalled by Jessie’s and mine’s sad panty collection. She’s got some cute stuff, but not me. Actually David and Doug have a more exciting panty collection than either of us. So Xilo took it in his own hands to improve my collection. (Xilo being David, btw)

Any other men and women I just so happened to make out with were also not included. Yes, women. I’m of the opinion that everyone is bi, some just take a bit more alcohol to come out. I’m really proud (ick, what a cliché word. But there isn’t a better one for it.) of my dear friend Allyn who has decided to make public that she’s bisexual. Bisexuality isn’t a big deal, but coming from such a conservative family, it’s hard for her to be accepted. I love Allyn, she’s great. I have no problem making out with women, sober or not, but I really can’t see myself in a relationship with a woman, or even just a sex thing. I just don’t get it: Where does the satisfaction come from? Eh, whatever floats your boat. That’s not to say I wouldn’t do Jessie, of course. That girl is fine.

I’ve gotten a little bit of a reputation as an exhibitionist lately. I don’t see anything wrong with that, it’s only around my friends whom I trust. I like it when my friends grope me (random people groping me is NOT cool, I have to trust some one before they are allowed to touch me) and I just really like kissing and touching. I’ve never really gotten much attention from people, and now that I have it, I like it. It’s a good ego boost, and I think that’s good for me, considering my low self-esteem (Ick, more “Psychiatrist” words.).

Now I realize that my brother sometimes reads my blog, so I’ll just have to trust him to keep his mouth shut, and if he has any desire to know the full story he can ask me, and I’ll tell him.

I think the reason I don’t sleep well when I’m at home is because I’m alone in that bed. I like sleeping next to people, it’s very comforting and I generally sleep better. I’ve slept in the same bed as several of my friends (David, Lucy, Bridget, to name a few), and I love cuddling. I mean I REALLY love cuddling. I like being held, it makes me feel happy and safe. When I stayed the weekend at Lucy’s house, I had a nice big bed all to myself, and I couldn’t help but thinking that it would be so much better with someone next to me.

I’m going through Lucy withdrawals. We hang out everyday and now I’m not going to see her for a month! No Sunday “morning” coffee for a month! AAAAAARRRGGHH!! We’ve got French 315 together next semester, at least. I can’t imagine having a French class with out her.

I got a B- in 202. I broke down and cried because I didn’t get my 16 credits for that class, after working my ass off for it. I also got a B- in Women’s Lit, which is surprising, considering I never turned in the paper that was worth a quarter of our grade. No word on whether I Failed Stagecraft or not. I probably won’t know my grade for another 2-3 weeks, Kevin is extremely lazy when is comes to grading things. I hated that class. The only classes worth going to were our labs. Even then it was boring as hell. But now I can use many types of power tools and a scale ruler. That’s about all the useful info I’ve gleaned from that fucking class. But I do know how to tie a noose now. We all learned to tie them so when we turned in our ropes after the final (there was a knot-tying unit, and that’s why we had rope) Kevin would know how we felt about his class.

Ack, I’m totally missing Adam right now. I have a picture of the cast of Dracula, and It’s the picture taken the day he forgot his costume, and Josie is standing in front of him to cover his folly. He’s such a clueless guy, I love him. Most of our friends had graduated the year before, so it was just Adam and I left over, and because we always did plays together, I was the one to drive him to rehearsals. He kind of became my best friend senior year. Lila went to Shimer senior year, and Caroline moved to Milwaukee. And he was always there when I needed someone (basically because he had to listen to my bitching, I was his ride).

I’m writing this on my laptop right now, and I have just realized that I can’t publish this post until I hook it up to the internet. Also to come: The Annual Christmas Rant!

Go to sleep now, Little Ugly
Go to sleep now, Little Fool
You’ll not feel the drowning,
You’ll not feel the drowning.

Back in the E-E-E-T

We left EC at about 6:30. It was snowing a bit, but nothing too bad. We dropped Travis off in the Dells, the conversation went thus:

Travis (to his phone): hey, man! what's up? Nah, I'm headed to Portage. What? You're in the Dells? ...Sweet! Which bar? see you in a bit.
(to David) ok, man, this is what you gotta do, take this exit, and there's going to be a highway, but you don't want that highway. Go straight, turn left, and look for some bar that starts with an M.

(ten minutes later)

oh. shit. sorry man we need to go back. I told you the wrong exit.

(Ten minutes later)

Shit, I think this was the wrong exit too.

(ten minutes later)

Yeah! take this one! no, wait I think we wanted the other one.

(twenty minutes later) Ok, This one is the right Exit!

This, however was not nearly as frustrating as the time we were heading back to EC a few weeks ago. that conversation went:

Travis: yeah man, I'm in some coffee shop, but I don't know where. It's by some highway, I think it's got a 9 in the number. can you come and get me?

Anyhow, about 20 miles from Madison, the Bonnie runs out of gas. The gas meter doesn't work, so basically David just guesses on how much gas he has left. He guessed wrong. Luckily, my dad was in Madison at this point and brought gas and we all got home in one piece.

I'm back at home, and I'm starting to go nuts. My sibs are totally clueless about pretty much everything. Mom's a pain in the ass, and my dad is pissy. I only have to spend a few obligatory days with them, and then I can see friends.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Sitting in P177

Sitting in P177 right now, we haven't left EC yet. Travis has decided to go donate plasma about a half-hour before we were supposed to leave, and that has delayed our progress slightly.

David has gone ADD right now, trying to stuff a twisty-tie into a socket. And now he's spinning his rings on the counter.

Good ol' Kulp has just left the room, he had to mapquest directions to someplace in EC that's basically a fifteen minute walk from here. Good luck finding it, Sir Kulp.

I'm having a slight problem typing on the keyboard in the lab, I'm usedd to a smaller one.

I'm looking forward to going home, the past three weeks have just wiped me out. I can't wait for real food, and to hangout w/ Mike, Caroline, Lila, and Adam. I'm planning on having alot of fun. Adam and I have many adventures to catch up on, and I have not seen Lila since August. Mike and I are going to play pool over break, and Caroline and I ALWAYS manage to have fun (nudge, nudge).

Thursday, December 21, 2006


I Passed!! Barely!! Yay!!

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Country Music Causes Cancer

I cannot allow this to go on.

I could stand the emo for the most part (because I could play my music much louder), and I actually liked some of the hip-hop. But this has gone on long enough.

I'm putting my foot down: NO MORE COUNTRY MUSIC!!

That's all Emily has played for nearly a month. One infernal whiny song after another about the girl who broke your heart, or herding fucking cattle, or being a small-town girl. again. and again. and again. I feel a tumor growing in my brain from all this bad music.

I would like to alert the public to new research done by a UWEC undergrad:


avoid the twangy guitars at all costs, do not be tempted by that jaunty cowboy hat some dumbass is wearing. no, sir, Those CDs are meant for laying down and avoiding. Continuous listening of this "music" will result in brain cancer, with 1% chance of survival. My apologies to you fuckers with the bad judgement to volentarily listen to this, and I empathize with any second-hand country listeners out there. There is a way to prevent this, however. By playing good music really loudly and pointing the speakers directly toward the source of the cancerous noise, one can combat second-hand country. remember, we all have to band together to bring attention to the cause of one of the most deadly types of brain cancer. Listen Safe.

This has been a Public Service Announcement.
Now go to bed, motherfuckers.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

the stripes

We started living in an old house
My ma gave birth and we were checking it out
It was a baby boy
So we bought him a toy
It was a ray gun
And it was 1981

We named him "Baby"
He had a toothache
He started crying
It sounded like an earthquake
It didn't last long
Because I stopped it
I grabbed a rag doll
And stuck some little pins in it

Now we're a family
And we're alright now
We got some money and a little place
To fight now
We don't know you
And we don't owe you
But if you see us around
I got something else to show you

Well it's easy when you don't know better
You think it's sleazy?
Then put it in a short letter
We keep warm
But there's just something wrong with you
Just feel like you're the hardest button to button

I love The White Stripes. The thing about Jack White is that he's really not that good looking of a person, but as soon as he gets an instrument in his hands, he is incredibly sexy. I mean, did anyone see that Blackpool Lights footage? Damn.

Ahh..Finals Week

I've only taken one final so far, French on Monday. I have another tomorrow, but that isn't until 3. Two on Thursday, One at 8am, the other at 1.

The French final went ok, I really don't think I did better than a B-. Lucy finished her test a good deal earlier than I did, but we haven't had time to compare our tests.

I can't seem to concentrate on Physics. Hopefully I will see Jeff later tonight, and we can figure out some time to study, though he still hasn't returned my call. I need to pass that fucking test, and it doesn't look good right now.

Our box is done for Stagecraft!

My last Final is for Women's Lit. I need to catch up on my reading for this class so I can get an A on the final, and therefore pass with a C.

I've slacked off too much, and I think they'll put me on Academic Probation for the next semester.

The trouble is all this apathy I bear. I can't bring myself to care about anyone or anything. I just dismiss everything, and this will fuck me over. I know I can do all this shit, but I just don't care. Even stuff that I really used to care about ceases to affect me: Theatre, Literature, Philosophy, Politics, Music.

I really need to get out of here, before I lose my identity even more.

Listening to: Red Hot Chili Peppers

Sunday, December 17, 2006


I had almost forgotten how good 'Yankee Hotel Foxtrot' is. Whispers, cryptic poetry, layered music.

I am an American aquarium drinker
I assassin down the avenue

What does that mean?
Perhaps he is an aquarium drinker because he feels trapped in a glass cage that he can't escape...
or he likes to dip a ladle into the fishtank everyso often.

It's still beautiful.

Cryptic things are intrinsically beautiful, because they cannot be unlocked. If you unlock them, they lose their allure.

Perhaps that's why I am put off by psychology. Why would you want to unlock the human mind and its intricacies? why would you want to lay out who someone is onto paper? Turn humans into definitions?

Not for me, I can assure you. I like not knowing everything about people, I like that people have strange reasons that they can't tell you. Their ambiguity is beautiful.

Beauty is not what's defined by society tells you, it's just something you sense.
Example 1: my dear friend J. is beautiful. She is gorgeous, don't get me wrong, but It's the way she moves that makes her truly beautiful. She's like liquid glass.
Example 2: I look at stains on the sidewalk and I have to stop and stare at them, because they are accidents, and that is their beauty.
Example 3: Henry Milller's prose is beautiful. He speaks of decay and degredation, fucking and puking, dying and loving, and by the end of sentence it has slapped you in the face so hard that you have to recover your breath.
Example 4: walking on a cold night and feeling the ice seep into your blood, watching your breath crystallize. but you just keep going, no shivering.

That is beauty. Don't let the photographs you are bombarded with change the way you sense beauty. What they tell you is beautiful is not always so.

Liz is back from The Cities!

and she had a fuckin awesome time!!

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Fuck reason

I will always trust how I feel rather than reason or even what's good for me. I often fuck up my life by doing things this way, but it's how I roll. My feelings aren't wrong. They're all I have to trust in this crazy-ass world.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006


Didn't get up until about an hour ago. I missed Stagecraft, which is rather important considering we should be working on our projects today. Also, I've missed French. Not that bad, because I checked out a copy of film we're watching from the library so Lucy and I can catch up, no problem. The question is: should I bother to show up to Physics? We have a test friday, but we won't be covering any new material, I don't think. Might be worth going if it's a reveiw day, but I'll likely just hole up in my room today and do homework alone.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006


I feel quite melancholy right now, and I have no idea why. I have no reason to be.

Monday, December 11, 2006

Liz totally thought that monkeys had a good sense of smell.
Liz was wrong.

so not worth it

It was not worth getting out of bed this morning. I'm skipping out on my free dinner tonight, there is no way I can tolerate Indian food at this point. I'm going to drink some Emergen-C and haul out some HW. Many Thanks to those who have called to wish me better (Love you, Keirsen!) and a big hug to Angela who brought me soup.

Update of the update

didn't make it through the night. Crashed on Doug's futon. Feel very ill and will likely noy go to class today. ate some soup and now feel like puking. In room with equally sick roomie. paper not done. ugh.

Sunday, December 10, 2006


She brought us Craisens AND Triscuits!

Basement Party

I am sitting in the basement of Murray with Doug right now, determined to accomplish some measure of homework. Listening to Moby right now, we have taken over the room with our cords and other assorted shit. We have our nifty tea station set up, and have arranged the room to our taste. those couches are looking rather tempting.

Oh look! Sara has arrived! everyone wave hi!

ooo...she may bring us Craisens!

May be time for another round of NoDoz.

I love college life

Poker at Dave's. Enough said.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Liz is Dead. College has killed her.

It's 11:21pm now, and I have gotten no homework done. I sat down with my physics for a few hours, and I finished two problems (Doug, where were you?). I have ten to go. I have barely started my paper that's due tues. and now I find that the volume of Charlotte Perkins Gilman's diary I have gotten is THE WRONG VOLUME. Despite the 400 mg of caffiene coursing through my viens, I can't seem to keep my eyes open. I am now back in my room, luckily made it back to Towers before the door was alarmed. (I was in Murray's basement. Yet again, Doug, where were you?)

Wouldn't that suck if I had forgotten my Blugold? There's no way in hell I would sleep on the couches in the lobby. I guess I would walk to David's and sleep there, but I hate having to bother him. Or to Dave's/Chris's to sleep on their couch. At least I have options.

I hate how I don't have time for leisurely reading now. I subscribed to Joyce's "Dubliners" via My first installment arrives tomorrow. yay. I Didn't make it through Ulysses (I enjoyed it, but It was so motherfucking difficult), so maybe I can muddle through some short stories.

Currently listening to Flogging Molly, my little tribute to the opening night of "The Cripple of Inishmaan." I completed my lab hours today. Huzzah. Got nasty toxic glue on my jeans though. too lazy and broke to wash them. I hate my stagecraft class. Considering making Theatre my minor instead, so I don't have to take another class with Kevin Gawley. I'll probably fail, anyhow. May pass Physics yet. Women's lit grade surely has dropped due to my mediocre paper. praying for a B in French. I need those damnable retrocredits.

Won 2 games of 8-ball today. Very surprising.

Can't seem to get through Regina Spektor's "Samson" without crying. Don't know why. Usually around the line "Told me that my hair was red, told me that I was beautiful" I start to weep. Only two other songs do that to me: "Creep" (Acoustic version only) and "While My Guitar Gently Weeps".

Roomie's gone for the night. I can be a slob now. I'm always a slob.
we have lights up in the room now. I really like them, but the shitty duct tape isn't working out well. My purple duct tape seems to be faring better than Em's.

Can't wait until I can actually get 8 hours of sleep in. Can't wait for finals to be done. I'm actually not too keen to head home for break (Rather stay in EC) but I miss my friends like hell. You guys can count on seeing alot of me then.

This video is very amusing. I like it alot.

Goodnight all, must get some reading done.
I feel a dire need to escape.

I told L. this and got this in reply:

me too. jesus christ me too. i've got a week and two days left for school. this week i'm finishing the end of semester comp exam, next week i have shitloads of reading and two papers due the sunday, dec 17. then, and only then am i free from the social expectation of who i am to be. fuck liz, how who what why the fuck are you these days, what fucking keeps you going. i think maybe i could use it.

your friend
the tortured wonder

How who what why the fuck am I these days? That is a very good question. I don't know.
What the fuck keeps me going? I don't know. everything I do seems so futile, I don't know why I do it. Will doing my physics homework change the world? not in the slightest. The only reason I do it is so I can stay in college, and I'm not sure why I even want to stay. I hate my theatre class, which is something I SHOULD love. But I don't want to give it up as my major because to me that means selling out. I'm dying. College is killing me.