What The Hell?

So I just got this really weird text message from Yahoo! Messenger, that some Julia person has sent me a message. What? Who? The message is that whoever the hell this person is has "heard of me and wanted to say 'sup." Seriously? What is this? I'm confused and a little concerned with the apparent ability to attain my phone number. Has this ever happened to anyone else?

It's fortunate I'm leaving pretty soon for Rolla, cause otherwise I might freak out and kill someone. For not doing anything, my life is kind of stressful. It's all the getting things ready that's so annoying. Like getting Draper settled at my dad's. In and of itself, this isn't going too bad. But my father, well, he kind of won't listen to anyone about anything, so all our tips and little tricks fall on deaf ears. So he calls night after night about this problem or that problem, and no matter how many times we remind him that we already warned him this would happen, it doesn't matter.

And today, Draper got left home alone. Dad says he blocked it off so Drape can only get into the kitchen and garage, but I have a feeling he blocked it off with a fucking chair so Drape is probably running around the house in a panic because he's been left behind. We told Dad to take him on the road. Drape loves the car, and does so well, but Dad just wouldn't listen. So, when I talked to him, I said, "Well, when he makes a huge mess don't call us to complain. We warned you." Dad just laughed, and said he probably would still call. I responded, "Oh, great, so we can keep getting stressed out even though we tell you all these things in advance." Then I got hung up on. Awesome. I called him back and asked, basically, if I should go over there when Mom gets home for lunch and make sure my dog hasn't gotten into any chemicals, and Dad kept telling me it would be fine, he would be fine, don't worry about it. So, fine, I won't worry about it.

Thank God I'm going to Rolla in little over a week. I can't wait to be fair enough away that I can't do anything about anything.

So, Um, About That . . .

It's kind of 9:54 currently, in the lovely BC. And, ya see. I'm in bed. For the night. On a Saturday. I would have been in bed earlier, but I went to a movie. Yeah, I'm that kind of 20 year old . . . the kind that goes to bed early when it's cold out. I can't function when it's cold out . . .

Apparently You Don't Add Yokes

I just failed epically at making Egg Drop soup. As in, legendarily epically. In retrospect, it makes sense that the yoke is not, in fact, what makes the soup so yellow at Oriental Gardens, but at the time, it made sense. Basically, I ended up with scrambled eggs in chicken stock with chunks of cornstarch floating around. Not delicious.

But I remain optimistic! I eat enough Egg Drop at Oriental Gardens (the local Chinese place Kim and I go to so frequently, we don't even have to tell them what we want) that I should be able to figure out how to make the stuff. We have more chicken stock, more eggs, and I care enough about this thing to dedicate some serious time. Yeah, Egg Drop, it's that important.

And just when I thought everything was shaking out, things get shaky again. Go effing figure.

And slowly but surely, my jostled life is getting back on track. Student loans are figured out for the most part, Draper is figured out for the most part. It looks like starting up classes in about five weeks won't be all that difficult. Thank god.

Decided it was best for Drape to stay with my dad while I'm at school. It's just too hard to care for a very needy dog and get everything done that I have to. I mean, in order to graduate in a year, I have to take 20 hours a quarter, plus classes during the summer and December mini-quarter. Awesome. Great. My favorite. Actually, I'm not too worried about it, but I definitely wouldn't have enough time to take proper care of Draper, and go to school, and work. Social life, well, I'm not worried about it. I like to go to bed early. But it wouldn't be fair to Draper being alone at the apartment as much as he would, so this is a good compromise. Dad has the time to dedicate to him, and can take him on the road. Drape loves going in the car. And, once I'm done with school, I can have Draper back living with me, assuming Draper isn't happier living in Princeton.

And, on top of all that awesome, I just found out one of my favorite teachers is still at DePaul. I had heard he was just serving as a mentor for seniors and graduate students, so the fact that I can take classes with him while I'm there is pretty exciting.

All in all, it was a good day.

I drove to Chicago yesterday. Yesterday morning, to be exact. And I was back before noon. Drove straight onto Lake Shore Drive, exited at Fullerton, drove by campus, and went down Sheffield to Wolfram. Then, I parked outside of my apartment building, checked my mailbox, and went up to my studio apartment.

The whole thing was a little surreal. I moved in just after New Years, following going ice fishing in Wisconsin. Ben hung out for the first two weekends, and after that I stayed up there for about three weeks. The only problem was Draper. His separation anxiety got so bad, I couldn't stand to leave him alone because someone was complaining about him barking. It was all pretty stressful, and since I don't have a job or classes yet, I decided to head home for a while. A while pretty quickly turned into "until I get sick of everyone and/or classes start." So I just have this empty apartment, sitting in the midst of Lincoln Park, one of the neatest neighborhoods in Chicago, one of the biggest cities in the country.

Chicago used to be a really big deal for my family. We'd go up a few times a year, always waking up really early and spending at least two hours bumbling around, filling the car with things to make the ride more tolerable. It was exciting, and Chicago was so far away, and it was so big. It all took a lot of planning, and once there, we had to take advantage of everything, walking the whole time, of course. So, as you can imagine, it's weird for me to just drive up one morning and head right back after a half hour poking around my apartment. It was weird when I was going to DePaul before, and I would ride the train home on Friday morning to work at the Coffee Cup all weekend, and go back on Monday night. It's weird that now Chicago is kind of like Princeton to me. You can just go there. Run in, run out. Decide last minute that, yeah, you probably should head up there. Ride the train in and be back that night. Chicago is tangible now. It's just another destination.

And just north of downtown sits all of my stuff. Books, movies, clothes, dishes. My bed, my table, my couch. All of it is there, while I'm here. I'm excited to get back to my life in a few weeks.

And so the weekend is over. Well, since it's President's Day I guess it isn't totally over, but for all intents and purposes, yeah, it's over. Ben left yesterday after a weekend spent, basically, lounging around and goofing off. He did get to experience a typical Friday night -- driving around Princeton, listening to hip-hop, drinking McDonalds iced coffee. If anyone ever says Bureau County folk don't know how to party, well, clearly they don't know what's up.

Now the next big exciting thing to look forward to is St. Pat's down in Rolla. I haven't been down there since . . . like . . . forever ago, so it'll be fun. Then, it's back to school, and the end of anything fun I could possibly do. Just one more year . . . one more year . . . I can do this.

I'm pretty excited about today/ this weekend. Ben is coming home today, which is great since I haven't seen him for about a month. Plus, school gets out early today so I will have the car for a vast majority of the day. Very, very nice. Means I have to actually shower pretty early, but that's okay. Sacrifices must be made.

Anyway, it's Valentines' Day weekend, in case you didn't notice. I fucking hate Valentines' Day. Mom makes fun of me for hating it so much, since I've always had someone to celebrate with, but still. It's not the holiday in and of itself that repulses me. It's the over commercialized, Americanized, Capitalistic mutation that we celebrate. The stupid hearts on everything, the way every company puts out cheap cupid-inclusive merchandise, the overly priced flowers picked by starving women in third world countries, the diamonds harvested by children in Africa with no hope for a future. It all sounds like love to me! That's what I hate about Valentines'.

So, this year, the big plan is to watch Citizen Kane. Very un-Valentines', very low-key. Neither of us have seen the movie yet, and so it seemed like a great opportunity to hunker down (especially since it's supposed to snow a lot tonight) and watch the Orson Welles classic.

And Here is Mr. Fish

I Believe in Mr. Fish

Let me spin you a yarn. I'm sure it won't make a lot of sense, but I feel it's important anyway. I used to work at a coffee shop, and everyone else who worked there was about as equally bizarre as me. It was a lot of fun, and sometimes I really miss it, but only because of the weird shit we would all come up with during the really slow periods during the day.

Well, during one such slow period, we were all standing around in the kitchen while the legendary Tina Schwina was making the schedule. She was in a weird mood (not very rare after she had been working for a long time) and was making weird comments as she drew lines across a piece of scrape paper. Suddenly, the line she was drawing veered up slightly. She stopped, looked up, and said with a totally straight face, "You've almost gone too far, Mr. Fish." Just. Like. That. Then she went back to drawing as if she hadn't just blown my mind.

I couldn't handle the Mr. Fish. What? Mr. Fish? Who was Mr. Fish? I told Olivia, a fellow coworker, and Mr. Fish blossomed from odd anecdote to pure obsession. We worked Mr. Fish into every situation possible; when something went wrong, it was Mr. Fish. When something didn't make sense, it was Mr. Fish. When something good, bad, or just weird happened, it was Mr. Fish. And all the while we had no idea who this Mr. Fish was, or how Tina became aware of him.

So, we speculated. Was it a character in a child's book, like Mr. Toad from the Wind and the Willows? Was it a weird creature of her own design? We imagined him looking kind of like a real fish, but with a handlebar moustache because he would have to be a gentleman fish (he was called Mr. Fish, after all.) Finally, Olivia confronted Tina about Mr. Fish, and Tina had no clue where it came from. She couldn't remember, and we thought we would never know the origins of this magnificent fish.

Then, one day, Tina had some exciting news. Her husband had remembered, but she had forgotten what movie Mr. Fish was from. So, she called him that minute and asked. The answer was more than I could handle. Mr. Fish was originally uttered by Spencer Tracy in the 1940's film adaptation of Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea. Even now, as I think about it, it makes me laugh.

And that is the tale of Mr. Fish.

Things Any Good Person Should Like

One thing people learn (or should learn) quickly about me is that when I find something I think is awesome, I feel the need to share it with everyone I've ever met. Post that shit on Facebook and Myspace, send it to friends' e-mail, make people watch it on DVR -- coming over to my house is always a test of how many video clips you will sit through before you kill me. And so, here is the first edition of "Things Any Good Person Should Like," a definitive guide to all things awesome and worthwhile.

1) www.blogotheque.net -- If you haven't experienced the Take Away Shows on La Blogotheque yet, you should probably do yourself a favor and check them out. Mostly set in Paris, all kinds of bands take to the streets to perform a few songs (acousticly) to anyone who happens to be there. My favorites include Cold War Kids (video link way over there -->) and Yeasayer, who perform on the Metro. New Videos are added all the time, so check it out.

2) Esquire magazine -- I know, it's a men's magazine. But what's so great about this magazine isn't just the articles, but how they are written. For decades, Esquire has been a go-to for young and edgy writers, and you can see that with the witty writing style and set up of the magazine. Sure, they write about men's fashion, but for every clothing article, there is an opinion piece or book write up that will blow your mind.

3) Kennedy Biographies -- It sounds boring. I know. "Yeah, fucking sweet, a book about a dead president." But, look, the Kennedys' (Jack and Bobby) were actually fascinating guys, and after reading quite a few books about them, I can honestly say they are among the best books I've ever read -- up there with Kerouac and the like. Check out "The Last Campaign," about Bobby's run for president, and you'll see what I mean.

4) www.marriedtothesea.com -- I feel dorky when I tell people how much I laugh at this website, but honestly, it's hilarious. Something about taking an old drawing and adding a caption just makes my day.

5) www.explodingdog.com -- This site just makes my life so much better. You send in a sentence, and he draws a picture based on it. You have to see it to understand how sweet his really simple drawings are, but be warned, sometimes they are a little twisted.

6) CURRENT TV -- CURRENT TV debuted a few years ago, and is the brain child of Al Gore. As if just that fact alone doesn't make it the coolest channel since MTV in the '80s, check this: Most of their programming is viewer created. People make 3-10 minute long pods about what they find important, and they upload them to the website, current.com. There, they are voted on and those with the most votes get put on air. There are some shows done by CURRENT, like Vanguard, where they go in and do investigative reporting on current affairs, like waterboarding and human trafficking. It's a great way to get a lot of information quickly, and a great alternative to traditional news media.

7) imtiredonline.com -- This is a really neat site. They sell bracelets featuring "I'm Tired Of..." and different issues. I wear one that says "I'm Tired of World Hunger." When you buy a bracelet, they donate half the cost to a charity fighting against whatever you're "tired of." Others include breast cancer, global warming, AIDS, and the economy.

Check back for my stuff I'm obsessed with, and you should be too!!

Really?!

Really, dog owner I don't know?! It was really too much work to get your dog after it some how escaped your fenced in yard? So instead you let it run around the neighborhood until I finally got it to come up on the porch and took it to the vet's office? Really? I don't know if you noticed or not, but your dog isn't a slender creature. It was nearly too obese to jump into my backseat, let alone chase down its own food for a week. And this fact alone, or that he's eleven years old, or that it's fucking winter didn't make you think, "Hey, let's go find that dog." Really?! If I lost Draper I wouldn't be able to function, really. I'd be a mess. But you were really alright for the whole week your dog was rummaging in trash cans and running around my backyard? Really? Glad it didn't bother you. Glad you didn't lose any sleep. Really.

Blame The Weather

I have one major character flaw. Well, not just one, but I'm only going to talk about one right now. It's this: every time the weather changes, I miss Paris. Every time the seasons change, I miss Paris. Hell, every time I wake up in the morning, I miss Paris. It's like a disease of the mind. It sneaks up on me when I least expect it and suddenly all I can think about it -- you guessed it -- Paris. And now, as it slowly gets warmer out, I find myself in the same predicament I was in a few months ago when it snowed for the first time. I miss Paris.

When I was sixteen, I spent a month there studying film at the American University of Paris. I'm not sure how I couldn't have become obsessed with the city. I mean, give a sixteen year old a metro pass and access to one of the oldest and most amazing cities in the world, and what else do you expect? And being there for a month really let us explore the city and interact with the culture. We were there as students, not just tourists, so we got to do fun stuff like grocery shopping, riding the metro early in the morning, and taking our clothes to the laundromat. Not to mention, the rules set up to ensure no one went out by themselves were easily ducked, so I spent a good many afternoons wandering around alone.

I went back again for Spring Break my freshman year. I bought the ticket randomly two weeks before Spring Break started, and spent the week alone in the city. It was hard -- I mean, I was friggin' alone in Paris. How can it not be a little lonely? But all in all, it just reminded me why I love Paris more than any other place on Earth. It rained every day, except for my last one there. I spent the morning racing around like an idiot, taking pictures in front of monuments for my mom, but spent the afternoon walking around Montmartre. That evening, I watched the sunset in the Tuilleries, lounging in the grass. The next day, I had to leave, and let me tell you, nothing will reinforce how small the world really is more than waking up in Paris and going to sleep in Walnut that night.

And so, the sadness is back. The desire to ride the vaguely stinky Metro, to dodge traffic at Place de la Concorde, to hang around in Shakespeare & Co, to once again be tricked into trying a three cheese panini from a street vendor. The weather here would be beautiful over there today, coming up out of the Tour Maubourg Metro. There is this great little park right across from it, and you can see the top of the Eiffel Tower over the buildings. I guess I haven't really given up all hope of living there. It's too hard to let go of something you love that much.

AHHHH! I Can't Wait!!

So, did anyone else see the promo for next week's 30 Rock?! Sure enough, more Jon Hamm!!! I'm pretty excited about it. I mean, who wouldn't be?! He's only the single most attractive creature on Earth, and 30 Rock is only the single most hilarious show on TV. Match made in Heaven, my friend. Plus, the promo looked great -- classic Liz Lemon. Can't wait for it.

Oh, and in case you wanted to hear a random Draper story:

Today, Margaret and I were sitting on the couch watching TV, when Draper decided he wanted to jump up there with us. So he kept nosing the pillow next to me, and after I got sick of it, I moved it for him. The space was literally, like, itty bitty. But Draper, my full grown German Shepherd/ Husky dog, managed to maneuver his way into that spot and curl up in a little ball. It was pretty amazing.

I Really Can't Get Enough

Alright. I admit it. Getting the second season of Arrested Development at a point in my life when I have nothing to do maybe wasn't the best idea. If it wasn't so damn funny, I wouldn't be enticed into watching the whole series over and over again. It just never gets old! I really hope they do make a movie.

Oh, and other TV news!! What the fuck, Don Draper? Dating Liz Lemon?! All I want to know now is if Jon Hamm is going to keep appearing on 30 Rock, a la Selma Hayek. God, I hope so, cause I need a Don Draper fix like no one's business, and summer is so far away. It's odd, though, seeing Jon Hamm in any other role. I kept waiting for Roger Sterling to come over and offer him some booze. But still, the fact that he's kind of dating Liz Lemon, who happens to be the closest thing I have to a female role model, is pretty much amazing. Talk about living vicariously through a fictional character. . .

It Ain't A New Tattoo, But It'll Do

So, yesterday when I was over at Helen's, I decided to start gadging my ears. . . sorry, "stretching" my ears as those hip kids at Hot Topic say. Anyway, Helen has been doing it for a while, and since she's not going to use her smaller sets for . . . like . . . ever, I figured I might as well bite the bullet and start the process. I've wanted to do it for a while now, but never got around to it, kind of like that nose piercing I've never gotten around to (I tried to pierce it myself when I was fifteen, but didn't get very far.) I never really wear earrings, but I love the way gadged ears look. Not crazy huge, but just a little ring is nice. It'll be a long while before I'm anywhere close to that, but it'll be worth it.

I haven't really gotten into piercings that much. Tattoos, well, yes. I actually love tattoos, and have six:Tattoo number one! Got it when I was 18. It was really warm out that day, even though it was January.

This was my second one. It's from Jack Kerouac's book On The Road. Kerouac is my favorite writer. It took all of thirty seconds and didn't hurt at all.

Bright Eyes is my favorite band, and this is the comet off their album Cassadaga. No, it is not a flaming ping pong ball.

This was my fourth tattoo. I don't have any really great stories for this one; it just reminded me of a tree from a Tim Burton movie, and I love how it looks. It took about forty five minutes to finish, and my mom held my hand while I got it.


This is from Jean-Luc Godard's film Une Femme est Une Femme. It translates to, "I don't know if this is a comedy or a tragedy, but it's a masterpiece."

This is the last one I got, and it's from a T.S. Eliot poem. It hurt horribly, and took about an hour to finish, but I'm still glad I did it. I've always been a real nut for "exploring" and I believe very strongly that the only way you can understand your world is by seeing how it fits into the bigger picture.

Aside from those, I also have my Monroe done. There are a few more tattoos I want to get, but it's such a slippery slope. As soon as you have that first one done, you start coming up with ideas for the next one. It will be a while before I get another one, though.

It's What Makes Us Great

Just so you know, it's currently 8:30 in the morning, and my mother just presented me with a batch of scotcharoos (how the fuck do you spell that?!) And she has rice made, too, which has very little to do with the scotcharoos but a lot to do with how friggin' sweet we are. Who needs proper breakfast when you have chocolate and rice?

Regarding My Life:

One of the things I wanted to accomplish while I'm home is getting a general idea of what I'd like to do once I graduate. Since that isn't too far off (Spring 2010) I feel like I should start giving serious thought to it. Until now, I thought graduating would . . . well . . . never happen because I had fucked up my life completely by leaving DePaul and going to IVCC and that on arriving for my meeting with my DePaul advisor two weeks ago she would tell me that I was a horrible person and had to take approximately fourteen billion more classes before they would let someone with so little foresight graduate. I was, of course, wrong. I only have 28 classes, and most of my credits transfered from IVCC without a problem. So the plan now is to pump my schedule to the point of bursting and go year round for one year, then get the eff out of there.

Until recently, I had just kicked around little ideas about what I'd like to do with my life. Obviously, studying Political Science was a dead certain, but what the hell could I do with that degree other than go to Law School or work for the government? I hadn't even thought about that until a few months ago, when it hit me that an office job would directly result in me losing my mind and my freedom after going on a killing spree. On that note, I've been giving serious thought to teaching. After I get my bachelor's degree I can go one of the many alternative routes go getting my certification. I'm planning on getting certified to be a paraprofessional, since it's not too hard and I might as well, so I can work in a school until I am able to teach. High school Social Studies is what I'd want to do -- History, government, all that fun stuff.

Plus, the schedule would let me do some of the other things I enjoy, like traveling or writing. I could still do volunteer programs and help out around the world during the summer, and be politically active. And, it would give me ample opportunity to work on my other idea. Well, pipe dream, actually...

I've been completely eaten up with the idea of buying a run down old farm house and fixing it up. I'd have to do most of the work myself, because I ain't got no monies, but think about it! How much fun would that be? It'd be a pain in the ass, yes, but I can't stop thinking about the kind of fence I want to build for Draper! It's pretty much all I think about, really, this imaginary renovation. But, well, I really want to do it, and feel like I could.

But that's, really, all I have for my future.