Under the moonlight, the serious moonlight.

That title is actually here because M. Ward did a cover of the Bowie song. I've always loved that line since I was a little girl. When I was about 11 I was taking a dance class and we danced a dance to Let's Dance. Put on your red shoes and dance the blues away. I remember thinking, how can moonlight be serious? How weird. Good times.

So I am such a dork that I reserved the new zelda game, or as I like to call it, "The Links." As in, "I'm going to go play a few rounds on the links." And then I go into my room and play zelda for 7 hours. The worst part about it is that it doesn't come out until September. But I have a perfectly legitimate reason for reserving it. I was exchanging some of my old games for credit so that I could buy Civ IV and not feel as guilty about it and the dorky guy at the counter was all like, "you get 20% more on your exchanged games if you reserve the Legend of Zelda." He knew I would want to because he heard me squeal in a whispered squeal to my brother when I saw the promotional box they had at the store. So for 20% more on my games and 5 dollars I am now a dork. And they guy asked for my email address and when I gave it to him he was like, "you are the first person I've talked to here who as a gmail account! I have one, of course, but you're the first person besides me that I've met in person who has one." And I was like, "yeah, I love it but I still have like 100 invitations because I don't know anybody to give them away too." And he was like "yeah I still have all my invitations too." And my brother was looking at me like I was talking to this guy about how many hit points my elvish armor has. And then he was all like, "What the hell were you talking about." And I said, "nothing, shut up, I'm not a dork." And he said, "Where do you want to go now?" And I said, "what the fuck do you mean? I have to get home to play Civilization! I only have 6 hours left before I have to go to bed!" And then I went home and played civilization for 8 hours and woke up with a civilization hangover. It was awesome.

All in all, I really like the new civilization game. It isn't all that different from civ iii or civ ii for that matter, but I haven't been able to play civ 3 for a long time because I didn't have a computer with which to play it on. So it is really great to just be able to play it and play it and play it over and over again. All the time. I think it is narrated by leonard nemoy. I was going to look that up because all the advances are narrated and the voice sounds just like spock. Wouldn't that be cool? If Leonard Nemoy narrated Civilization? Yeah. That would be so cool.

I get to wear scrubs and sneakers in my new job. Sweeeet.

I'm getting paid like 1.75 an hour more at my new job than my last job and a brain dead monkey could do what I'm doing. This monkey without a brain could do that. I make decisions with incisions on incisers.

I know ben folds wouldn't marry me and I think most of the time that he is kind of a hack. but I secretly love him so much. Especially when he sings Tiny Dancer.

I couldn't watch all of 24 hour party people and I feel kind of guilty about it because I love Steve Coogan. But it was boring me. After little joy division boy died I just didn't see the point. But I'll go back and watch the rest of it before I send it back to netflix.

I've also had Sexy Beast for like three weeks and I just can't watch it. I know I'll like it a lot. I know it is a great movie. I know I know I know. But I just haven't felt like, damn, I need to watch that fucking movie right now or I'll die.

I love elliot on american idol but he is kind of one fugly dude. And I like Taylor Hicks more and more every week.

I'm reading fast food nation and the effect is supposed to be to make you not ever want to eat fast food again. I rarely eat fast food as it is but reading about it every day is making me want to eat it every day. I always thought people who ate a lot of fast food were kind of weird. My family hardly ever ate it when we were kids. I worked at McDonalds for 2 1/2 months the summer after I graduated from high school. So there's that. Which is, well. okay for me, I guess.

Remember when The Balls were coming? Good times.

I am more embarrassed about liking Jason Mraz songs than I am about LOVING Billy Gilman songs. Because one is more ridiculous than the other.

I watched video on the internet of Loudon Wainwright III singing some of his songs during a radio interview and he makes all these crazy face contortions that don't read at all when you are listening to the songs. It made me love him even more. And that is saying something. He is playing in LA in like may or june or something. He doesn't really tour a lot. Mostly he just plays at this one place in L.A. periodically. But one of my only goals in life is to see him play in person. I don't know why I am so obsessed with him.

I also just reread this great book I have called The Big Book of Weirdos. Some people might be familiar with the Big Book of whatever series. It is like a big book where there are mini biographies of people and each is illustrated by a different comic book illustrator type person. Graphic Artist, I guess. If you like. The Big Book of Weirdos has like Caligula and Hitler and Henry Ford and Edgar Allen Poe. And what made them weird. It is great bathroom reading.

yeah.

Oh, I went to a Whale. I said, Killer Whale, please.

In a pickle. I'm in a pickle. I'm sitting right behind my boyfriend Phil at the coffee shop and he is talking talking talking to his coworker and I have my headphones on but no music playing but I still can't make out everything he is saying because I bought these damned "dj style" headphones that block out all sound in the known universe but I can't take the headphones off because then he'll know I'm eavesdropping. Mostly I think he is saying stupid things so I'm probably not missing out on anything but I still want to eavesdrop. It isn't fair, I tell you.

I love internetty radio-ey. It is really great stuff. Really great stuff. You wanna know what I did today? I slept until 11:30. I ate two pieces of toast and drank two cups of coffee whilst playing Age of Empires and watching Sleepy Hollow. Johnny Depp is so funny. The other day my brother was asking me if having a crush on Kurt Russell makes him gay and I said totally, because Kurt Russell is a very manly man. He asked me who it is okay to have a man-crush on and not be gay and I told him Johnny Depp. Because he is hot no matter what. Nomatter Wot. And then he started talking about how he likes Kurt Russell because he has had this great career and that he's liked him ever since he was a kid and I told him that liking Kurt Russell in that way makes him not only gay but a gay pedophile.

So after watching Sleepy Hollow and the making of Sleepy Hollow and the interviews with the cast and crew of Sleepy Hollow, I took a 2 hour bath and started reading Fast Food Nation, which I purchased for 3 dollars yesterday. Then I did some other things, puttering type things. I ate a bowl of cereal. Crispix. Because its crispy times 2. Then I watched this weird Oregon dance competition on TV. Then I watched Jeopardy. I did quite well as a couple of the categories were strictly popular culture trivia and there were some wordy ones. I always do well on the word-play categories. One of the contestants looked just like Janet Reno. She looka-like a man, in other words. Then I got dressed, packed up my laptop and various types of insulin, put the dog out into the cold night, and hightailed it to my favorite coffee shop. Usually my boyfriend isn't here this late. I hope tomorrow is as action and funfilled and productive as today was. I start work on Monday and I'm done with school for this quarter so I am trying to get as much laziness as I can out of this weekend. So far, so good.

So all I've had to eat today is two pieces of toast, two cups of coffee, a bowl of cereal and a 16 oz vanilla latte and I'm starving to death. Maybe I'll be good and go home and eat something healthy. Or maybe I won't. We'll see. Won't we. I really shouldn't wait until 9pm to eat dinner. and lunch. I should try to be better. I can't wait until I work at the hospital and can eat hospital cafeteria food every day. Wow! Is my ass going to get fat. Fatter. This is going to be the blog posty-post that never ends. Oh, I forgot part of my day. I watched the Lawrence Welk show also. What a great show. I love the colors. The vibrant beautiful colors.

My pretend coffee shop boyfriend Phil's birthday was Wednesday. I know because I was here at the coffee shop and this crazy old man who gets 14 refills of the same soda told him happy birthday and asked him how old he is and he is 26. I thought he was younger than that. I was relieved. Being a stalker is THE MOST fulfilling part of my life. It is so great. Really. I totally understand stalkers. I understand the void it fills in their lives. Our lives. Every tidbit of information found out through clandestine eavesdropping or furtive glances fills me with a warm fuzzy feeling.

I'd better go, I think they are trying to close up shop for the night. Damn. I wish I had a life but poor chachi probably wants to come in anyway. I should write a book about Phil and the coffee shop. I should write it here in the coffee shop and then make a million dollars off of it. I would write him as a very unsympathetic character and he would be like, "why does that crazy girl who comes into the coffee shop hate me so much?" It will be the literary equivalent to kicking him and pulling his hair because I like him. What a great idea. That's probably what he thinks I am doing anyway since I come in here and type away forever. This blog is getting to be too.. oh what's the word.. confessional. Yes.

It's the deepest and the darkest well that I have ever found.

So much time, so little blog barf to barf out. Strike that. Reverse it.

I actually am short on time these days and yet I have so many mandy tid-bits and little snacks of misinformation to feed into this blog-whole. I don't know where to begin! I have one more final to do. It is a short answer sort of take home test that is due by friday at 5pm. It was due today at 5pm but the teacher had to extend the date because of some mishap with the library and some films on reserve. It is a long story and hardly worthy of my even typing out that it is a long story. But I do enjoy typing.

I haven't been telling very many little cute nephew jacky-jack stories lately. Here's one. He was making up the rules of a game and he starts with, "okay, rule number 1, smash it down with your sword like this. (smashing spider man action figure down on the ground with his sword.) Number 2. Ever Never Never touch Lectricity. Number 3. Touch a gun." He went on with other rules that involved tap dancing but I was laughing too hard to listen to him after rules 2 and 3. Sounds like a fun game except for the never touch electricity part. He loves spiderman so much. How much? Sooo much. I asked him what his 2nd favorite super hero is and he said spiderman. And then I asked him who his favorite would be if there was no spiderman. And he stared blankly at me. And then I said, what if spiderman died in an accident, then who would your favorite superhero be. and he said, "oh, then I would be sooooo sad if spiderman died." He only has eyes for spiderman.

I got a job. It is at a hospital as an imaging clerk. It pays better than my last job and it is 30 hours a week. 3pm-9pm monday-friday. My classes end at 10 on mondays and wednesdays and 12 on tuesdays and thursdays so I'll still have plenty of time during the day to get my shit done. I will miss a lot of my programs though. Oh well. There is more to life than Television, I've heard. So I've heard. I'll be glad to have some money again. I've been so poor. But I've been good. Eating at home instead of out saves money and I end up eating better food. The last few days I've eaten so many fruits and vegetables that I am shitting like every 3 hours. I feel so clean within. In a spiritual way. I haven't bought any video games or clothes or shoes or cds in 4 months. It has been very trying, let me tell you what. I haven't even seen a movie in like 3 weeks.

Spring break is next week and that is when I start my new job. I had to go do a drug screening this morning that also included a hearing test and a chest xray. Nothing like peeing in a cup, sitting alone in a dark room pushing a button, and then stripping down and putting on a piece of paper to cover your modest parts, to start your day off right. Nothing like it. Guaranteed to wake you up right. And how.

I met with my advisor yesterday and I am on track to finish by spring of next year. I could do it quicker if I didn't have to take the stupid language but I have to take two years of the stupid language and the first year will be a super fast summer session from july to august this summer. Sweet.

I can't wait until summer time. I cannot freaking wait.

And if I miss a beat, well, then it’s off with my head.

I was just about to start my paper for my women writers class using the feminist literary criticism model of Elaine Showalter of the 3 stages of women writers, The Feminine, The Feminist, and the Female, wherein I would totally discount and argue against the last stage when I found out that she is Michael Showalter's mom!! I can't say anything bad about her now! Oh michael showalter, I love you. And your mom.

Hello, hello there, is this Martha? This is old Tom Frost.

Two Posts in one day? This must be your lucky way, day, scooda hoo. But I could not resist posting this lync that my popso sent me. This guy is a juggling fool! I juggling master. A masterjuggler with jugs I'd like to master. Wouldn't it be cool to put this in front of a green screen and just show the balls against the music. How many times have you wished for the balls sans man? But the man is great actually so I wouldn't really want to get rid of him. I just think it would be kind of kool.

Here follows aforementioned link

incredible edible juggling video

Beware the Ides of March!

Happy Birthday, Popso! For my gift to my father I am going to go see his stupid irish show on St. Patty'o'Patrick's day. And I won't vomit at it. That is my gift. The gift of a vomit free St. Patrick's day. Oh, I wrote a song about St. Patrick's day. Some might call it trite and derivative but I call it solid gold.

On St. Patrick's Day
There are thrilling pilgrim stories
How the Indians
Helped that first St. Patrick's Day

How I love it so
Eating pumpkin pie and turkey.
Let us all give thanks
On this bright St. Patrick's Day.

Bright St. Patrick's
Bright St. Patrick's
Bright St. Patrick's daaaaay.

Bright St. Patrick's
Bright St. Patrick's
Bright St. Patricks daaaaaaay!

Can I kiss you, and then I'll be gone

Justin my good ole pal posted this list on his blog and wanted his stupid bloggy friends like me to highlight the ones we've read. It is the top 150 children's books. I took an adolescent lit class in college and I have a nephew who makes me read to him almost daily so I've read quite a few of these dispite the fact that I didn't really like reading as a kid.
1. Charlotte's Web, E. B. White; illustrated by Garth Williams (1974)
2. The Outsiders, S. E. Hinton (1968)
3. Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, Judy Blume (1976)
4. Love You Forever, Robert Munsch; illustrated by Sheila McGraw (1986)
5. Where the Red Fern Grows, Wilson Rawls (1973)
6. Island of the Blue Dolphins, Scott O'Dell (1971)
7. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, J. K. Rowling (1999)
8. Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret, Judy Blume (1972)
9. Shane, Jack Schaeffer (1972)
10. The Indian in the Cupboard, Lynne Reid Banks (1982)
11. A Wrinkle in Time, Madeleine L'Engle (1974)
12. Little House on the Prairie, Laura Ingalls Wilder; illustrated by Garth Williams (1971)
13. Little House in the Big Woods, Laura Ingalls Wilder; illustrated by Garth Williams (1971)
14. The Incredible Journey, Sheila Burnford (1984)
15. The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1968)16. Johnny Tremain, Esther Forbes (1969)
17. Just Me and My Dad, Mercer Mayer (1977)
18. Go Ask Alice, Anonymous (1976)
19. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. J. K. Rowling (2000)
20. Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great, Judy Blume (1976)
21. Blubber, Judy Blume (1976)
22. The Witch of Blackbird Pond, Elizabeth George Speare (1972)
23. Superfudge, Judy Blume (1981)
24. Bridge to Terabithia, Katherine Paterson (1987)
25. Freckle Juice, Judy Blume (1978)
26. On the Banks of Plum Creek, Laura Ingalls Wilder; illustrated by Garth Williams (1971)
27. That Was Then, This Is Now, S. E. Hinton (1972)
28. Sideways Stories from Wayside School, Louis Sachar (1985)
29. The Catcher in the Rye, J. D. Salinger (1951)
30. Farmer Boy, Laura Ingalls Wilder; illustrated by Garth Williams (1971)
31. Just Go to Bed, Mercer Mayer (1993)
32. Where the Wild Things Are, Maurice Sendak (1984)
33. Goodnight Moon, Margaret Wise Brown; illustrated by Clement Hurd (1977)
34. The Long Winter, Laura Ingalls Wilder; illustrated by Garth Williams (1971
35. The Berenstain Bears' New Baby, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1974)
36. By the Shores of Silver Lake, Laura Ingalls Wilder; illustrated by Garth Williams (1971)
37. Little Town on the Prairie, Laura Ingalls Wilder; illustrated by Garth Williams (1971)
38. The Berenstain Bears and the Messy Room, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1983)
39. The Pigman, Paul Zindel (1978)
40. The Yearling, Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (1961)
41. From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, E. L. Konigsburg (1973)
42. Merry Christmas, Mom and Dad, Mercer Mayer (1982)
43. Just Grandma and Me, Mercer Mayer (1975)
44. Just for You, Mercer Mayer (1975)
45. Sarah, Plain and Tall, Patricia MacLachlan (1987)
46. When the Legends Die, Hal Borland (1984)
47. Bunnicula, James Howe (1980)
48. James and the Giant Peach, Roald Dahl; illustrated by Nancy Burkert (1988)
49. The Berenstain Bears Go to School, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1978)
50. The Night Before Christmas, Clement Hurd; illustrated by Douglas Gorsline (1975)
51. These Happy Golden Years, Laura Ingalls Wilder; illustrated by Garth Williams (1971)
52. All By Myself, Mercer Mayer (1983)
53. Stuart Little, E. B. White; illustrated by Garth Williams (1974)
54. The First Four Years, Laura Ingalls Wilder; illustrated by Garth Williams (1971)
55. Hatchet, Gary Paulsen (1988)
56. The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, Barbara Robinson (1979)
57. The Cay, Theodore Taylor (1970)
58. Kristy's Great Idea (Babysitters Club #1), Ann M. Martin (1986)
59. The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Junk Food, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1985)
60. Then Again, Maybe I Won't, Judy Blume (1973)
61. I Was So Mad, Mercer Mayer (1983)
62. The Berenstain Bears Meet Santa Bear, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1984)
63. The Giver, Lois Lowry (1994)
64. The Berenstain Bears and Too Much TV, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1984)
65. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl (1988)
66. The Berenstain Bears Forget Their Manners, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1985)
67. The Berenstain Bears Learn About Strangers, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1985)
68. Julie of the Wolves, Jean Craighead George (1974)
69. The Berenstain Bears Visit the Dentist, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1981)
70. The Berenstain Bears and the Truth, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1983)
71. Gremlins, George Jipe (1984) OP
72. Stone Fox, John Gardner; illustrated by Marcia Sewall (1983)
73. I Just Forgot, Mercer Mayer (1988)
74. Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, Judith Viorst, illustrated by Ray Cruz (1976)
75. How to Eat Fried Worms, Thomas Rockwell (1975)
76. The Mouse and the Motorcycle, Beverly Cleary (1980)
77. When I Get Bigger, Mercer Mayer (1983)
78. The Berenstain Bears in the Dark, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1982)
79. 500 Words to Grow On, Harry McNaught (1973)
80. Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry, Mildred Taylor (1984)
81. Merry Christmas, Amelia Bedelia, Peggy Parish; illustrated by Lynn Sweat (1987)
82. Number the Stars, Lois Lowry (1990)
83. The Trumpet of the Swan, E. B. White; illustrated by Edward Frascino (1973)
84. The Cricket in Times Square, George Selden; illustrated by Garth Williams (1970)
85. Misty of Chincoteague, Marguerite Henry (1956)
86. It's Not What You Expect, Norma Klein (1976) OP
87. Matilda, Roald Dahl; illustrated by Quentin Blake (1990)
88. The New Baby, Mercer Mayer (1983)
89. The Chocolate Touch, Patrick Catling (1984)
90. Corduroy, Don Freeman (1976)
91. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis (1970)
92. The Berenstain Bears Go to the Doctor, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1981)
93. The Berenstain Bears Get in a Fight, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1982)
94. Sounder, William H. Armstrong (1972)
95. The Return of the Indian, Lynne Reid Banks (1987)
96. The Kitten Book, Jan Pfloog (1968)
97. Dinosaurs, Peter Zallinger (1977)
98. Wee Sing Children's Songs and Fingerplays (1977)
99. The Truck Book, Harry McNaught (1978)
100. Barney's Hats (1993)
101. The Sign of the Beaver, Elizabeth George Speare (1984)
102. Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself, Judy Blume (1978)
103. The Berenstain Bears: No Girls Allowed, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1986)
104. Farm Animals, Phoebe Dunn (1984)
105. Richard Scarry's Please and Thank You, Richard Scarry (1973)
106. Rascal, Sterling North (1964)
107. Claudia and the Phantom Phone Calls (Babysitters Club #2), Ann M. Martin (1986)
108. Just Me and My Mom, Mercer Mayer (1990)
109. Me Too! Mercer Mayer (1983)
110. A Wind in the Door, Madeleine L'Engle (1974)
111. Iggie's House, Judy Blume (1976)
112. Meet Samantha, Susan Adler; illustrated by Dan Andreasen (1986)
113. Poems & Prayers for the Very Young, Martha Alexander (1973)
114. The Farm Book, Jan Pfloog (1964)
115. The Berenstain Bears and the Sitter, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1981)
116. Just Me and My Puppy, Mercer Mayer (1985)
117. Welcome to Dead House (Goosebumps #1), R. L. Stine (1992)
118. The Chocolate War, Robert Cormier (1986)
119. Chocolate Fever, Robert K. Smith (1978)
120. Say Cheese and Die (Goosebumps #4), R. L. Stine (1992)
121. Meet Addy, Connie Porter; illustrated by Dahl Taylor and Melodye Rosales (1993)
122. Frog and Toad Are Friends, Arnold Lobel (1979)
123. The Alphabet Book, P. D. Eastman (1974)
124. The Berenstain Bears Get the Gimmies, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1988)
125. Rumble Fish, S. E. Hinton (1976)
126. The Little Duck, Judy Dunn; photos by Phoebe Dunn (1976)
127. A Swiftly Tilting Planet, Madeleine L'Engle (1979)
128. The Secret of the Indian, Lynne Reid Banks (1990)
129. Curious George, H. A. and Margret Rey (1973)
130. The Velveteen Rabbit, Margery Williams (1979)
131. Good Work, Amelia Bedelia, Peggy Parish (1996)
132. The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Birthday, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1986)
133. The Zoo Book, Jan Pfloog (1967)
134. 101 Dalmatians, Dodie Smith (1976) OP
135. The Berenstain Bears and the Trouble with Friends, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1987)
136. The Berenstain Bears and the Week at Grandma's, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1986)
137. In & Out, Up & Down, Michael Smollin (1982)
138. Amelia Bedelia, Peggy Parish; illustrated by Fritz Siebel (1983)
139. The Berenstain Bears Go Out for the Team, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1987)
140. The Berenstain Bears Go to Camp, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1982)
141. Amelia Bedelia and the Baby, Peggy Parish; illustrated by Lynn Sweat (1982)
142. Just Shopping with Mom, Mercer Mayer (1989)
143. Richard Scarry's Find Your ABC's, Richard Scarry (1973)
144. Grover and the Everything in the Whole Wide World Museum, (1974) OP
145. The Runaway Bunny, Margaret Wise Brown; illustrated by Clement Hurd (1977)
146. Sunshine, Norma Klein (1976) OP
147. Deenie, Judy Blume (1974)
148. The Berenstain Bears and Moving Day, Stan and Jan Berenstain (1981)
149. Meet Kirsten, Janet Shaw; illustrated by Renee Graef (1986)
150. Clifford the Big Red Dog, Norman Bridwell (1985)

There were some books I was surprised weren't listed like any of the OZ books, the secret garden, nothing from dr. seuss. I'm not sure where this list came from but I don't buy it. Also, yes I've read some berenstain bears books and some babysitter's club books but I don't remember what they were because they were all stupid. And I've read richard scary books but not the ones listed. I did read all the Little House on the Prairie books but I barely remember the stories except one where the dad made the little girls a toy out of a pigs bladder. My dad never made me any toys let alone one out of a pig's innards. I had forgotten about the sign of the beaver. I loved that book for some reason. And the indian in the cupboard. That was great.

and another thing

Do you want to know what the weirdest thing in the whole mother fucking universe is? Seeing peoples profiles on myspace who I went to highschool with. Who started me on this stupid mother fucking shitwhole of a website? I blame you.

What was the name of that lake?

When I was a youngster I almost drowned. At least, that's what I'm told. At least that is what I've come believe and remember. Fairly vividly. Today I couldn't remember the name of the lake. I'll tell you what. Wouldn't it be interesting to write an analysis, an explication maybe, of an event in your own life? What rhetorical devices do you use in your own memories? In my version there is a lake and across it, far far across it is a family. And this is just a snap shot. An old grainy 70's looking snapshot of a family by a lake. And I am sitting in the center on top of a picnic bench with wet long brown hair and a blue towel wrapped around me and bare feet. I am looking right out across the lake biting my bottom lip but in an everyday mundane sort of way. I look to be about 4 or 5 in the picture. I can't remember the name of that lake and I can't remember how old I was. My dad and brother and sister are on my right, to the right of the picnic table and my dad is doing something with his hair, drying it maybe. And my brother and sister are half way attending to him like they are kind of freaked out but my brother is sort of mutely freaked out because that is how he is. My mom is to my left with her back to the camera and she is wearing an orangy rust colored downy looking puffy sort of jacket. We are all in the shade. The picnic table is green. I can't see it but I know my mom is smoking in the picture. The sky is blue and very bright and it is summer time but we are so high up in the mountains that it is very cold and that's why my mom has that coat on.

But none of this is real. This is just a picture I have in my head. The second image I have is looking up, under water, at the green seaweed floating around me and the bright sun and the kayak that I just fell out of. And I feel like I am frowning and I feel like I can't move and can't breath. The thing that astounds me about this is that I actually remember opening my eyes under the water when I fell in which makes me think that this might actually be a memory. Because I will never ever open my eyes under water now. I have never ever opened my eyes under water except with the aid of goggles and even then I hate it because the pressure makes me feel like my eyes are going to be sucked out of their sockets and sometimes little trickles of water get into the goggles. One time, I went scuba diving in a river bed in Florida with my dad and aunt and cousins and when we were done they were all saying did you see the sharks teeth and the whatever? And I pretended that I saw but I had my eyes closed most of the time. I only opened them when I felt I was drifting away from the group. Now that I am a grown up and can make my own decisions I rarely swim at all and never ever ever put my head under water. Not even in the bathtub. Every bath I take culminated with a shower so I can wash my hair.

These pictures will always be in my mind because I created them and cultivated them over years. But lots of life changing traumatic things have gone. And I can't even remember the name of the lake. It starts with an M. My dad would always say, "hey Mandy, how about we drive up to old Lake M_____?" Or, "I'm going to finish what I started in old lake M_____." It is a woman's name. And it sounds like Manzanita. Maybe it is Lake Manzanita. Forgetting the name of the lake is like forgetting the picture or forgetting the kayak. It is an intrinsic part of the story.

Anyway, the gist of it is, what was the name of that goddamned lake?????????

I think it is Lake Manzanita. Or Manzanita Lake.

It's best to wrap your savior up in cellophane.

I hope that dog really did a number on you.

I've got nothing to say so I'm going to make some shit up. It's gonna be great! When we're all dead it's gonna be great.

My family has an email list thingy where we all can email the family and we all get the emails and so sometimes interesting conversations happen. I usually don't pay any attention unless the conversation is about me. Recently, it was.

"I can't help but wonder, when you look at your 50 and 60 year old daughters, do you still see us as 5 year olds? As when I look at my 18 year old I see her as 5?" - my aunt

"That ability to recall your babies becomes even more acute with age. And they recur in dreams at many ages ... and I love it! Except when something is wrong, then I need to worry a bit." - my grandmother

"I agree with much of what you say, except for Mandy. Since she was was is called “the unwanted child,” neither Nicki nor I have dreams of her. Nicki once had a dream where she came into a nursery and saw an empty crib, but that was more of a happy dream where the unwanted child was never born. But we do have many wonderful dreams of the other two as tots playing with beautiful sleek knives and colorful pistols." - my father

"similar to my dreams of orphanhoodness. wonderful dreams of gruel and orphan parentless antics." - me

"All "unwanted" children should be doted on as was Mandy-moo ... a more adorable and adored baby did not exist ... well, except for her cousins and sibling, but she had all the attention for a space of time. llj" - my grandmother

"I dreamt once that nobody was watching mandy and she fell down the stairs. I woke up and she was standing very still in my doorway silhoeted against the hall light, her face illumined by the reflected glare from the butcher knife in her hand. "dinner's ready" she said with a perky smile." - my brother


My favorite part is where my grandmother says " except for her cousins and sibling" because I had two siblings. So obviously one of them was not adorable or adored as much as myself and the other. Which one? I think we all know. Most likely it was a typo. But whatever.

Should I study abroad in Italy? Why, when I can study any number of broads here in the good ol' USofA. Ha hardy har. I am seriously considering it. All I haved to do is come up with 7,000 dollars plus airfare and money for food and "personal expenditures." Everything else is included in the 7,000. I should hope so.

Man! It is really raining outside!

There's a house on my block that's abandoned and cold.

I'm sure everyone reading this right now came immediately to my site on Monday morning expecting a long and in depth piece on amandypant's take on Oscar night. Well, it is Monday evening now so sorry to have made you wait all this long long time.

The Oscars ruled.

Hey, did I mention I'm looking for a job? I am. Have you ever had pretend interviews in your head where they ask you the perfect questions that you have the perfect answers for? I have. A Lot. And then, the other day, I found myself on the phone with a fellow from the Asante Human Resources department. Guess what? He asked me all the pretend questions I had asked myself over and over again in my head and out loud in my car while driving. It felt so surreal that I didn't know what to say so I ended up sounding like a complete dunce/blow your own horn sally. Blow your own sally is not a character I play well. People don't like her. We'll see. We'll all just have to wait and see.

I have more to say about the Oscars. I love John Stewart. And I love George Clooney. Not in the middle age woman, everyone loves George Clooney type of way. But a true-love type of way. A meaningful way in which George and I are like old friends from another life. I will let you know, however, that I wanted Michelle Williams to win for best supporting actress mostly for her work in The Baxter. And I wanted David Strathairn to win for best actor, mostly for his work in Sneakers and also Goodnight and Goodluck. You may remember I mention that he would be nominated for an Oscar when I saw it a few months ago. Just call me predictor pruella. I wanted Dolly Parton to win for best song because that traveling song is really really good. I heard it a few times yesterday because I saw Transamerica yesterday afternoon in preparation for the Oscars. I like to see as many of the movies as I can or else I feel like a sham when I watch them and yell at the TV. I liked those rapper fellows though. But the weird staging of that pimp song and that stupid crash song were really really horrible. Horrible!!! THE MOST AWFUL PART OF THE OSCAR NIGHT!!!

I didn't see walk the line so I guess Reese witherspoon is just fine compared with the others.

Is it just me or was that crash song like a bad version of an Aimee Mann song from Magnolia? And don't get me started on that Crash movie winning best movie. I mean, really. It is an okay movie at best. Entertaining in a hit you over the head sort of way. Fun big cast. I saw that haggis director guy on the Charlie rose program and he admitted to stealing from altman liberally so I thought it was fitting that they gave that guy a lifetime achievement award. But should that have pointed out that crash is a 2nd rate version of a great Altman movie?

Why does this post have so many question marks? It is a mystery. And so is mankind. Let's go get milk-faced and hum like rabbits.

November has tied me to an old dead tree.

So I really like this whole using lyrics to title my posts. So much that, as is evidenced in my recent posts, I am often posting things just to post the titles even when I have little or nothing to say. This one is generally to showcase these particular lyrics because this song is so great and the lyrics stand alone fantastically.
November-Tom Waits

No shadow
No stars
No moon
No care
November
It only believes
In a pile of dead leaves
And a moon
That's the color of bone

No prayers for November
To linger longer
Stick your spoon in the wall
We'll slaughter them all

November has tied me
To an old dead tree
Get word to April
To rescue me
November's cold chain

Made of wet boots and rain
And shiny black ravens
On chimney smoke lanes
November seems odd
You're my firing squad
November

With my hair slicked back
With carrion shellac
With the blood from a pheasant
And the bone from a hare

Tied to the branches
Of a roebuck stag
Left to wave in the timber
Like a buck shot flag

Go away you rainsnout
Go away, blow your brains out
November

See what I mean? Now, it should also be mentioned that while I was reading these back to myself just now I started to smell the stink of alcohol. Something like the smell of beer spilled on myself the night before and I slept in the same clothes and I wake up and the smell of that sweet beer smell is now making me ill. Is it the song that made me smell that? Or is someone sitting near me who is drenched in yesterday's beer?

Funny story. One time when I lived in Humboldt, after I had broken up recently with a boyfriend, I went out on the town with a bunch of people I barely new. You know, getting "out there" and what not. Anyway there was this very earnest young man who got drunk and told me how much he loved me because of some play he'd seen me in and then he spilled an entire pint of beer on me. Man I felt bad for that guy. And guess what I smelled like the next morning? Too bad he had a girlfriend or we'd probably be married now. I am such a sucker for flattery. Especially flattery mixed with horrible humiliation. That is my favorite kind.

And speaking of earnest young men, I'm going to see The Importance of Being Earnest tonight at the Shakespeare festival with one of my English classes. I'm pretty excited. I haven't been to see anything there since last year at about this time. I feel really guilty about not going to see more plays there but it is really expensive. I've got some leads on some jobs and some of them are pretty high paying awesome part time jobs. For one of them I would be making almost as much as I did at my full time job in half the time. What could be better than that? Nothing.

Popso and I are also going to go see some Irish music show here on campus on Saturday night. See how much more cultured I am than you?

May I use your skull for a bowl?

I had a dream last night that patti labelle was singing with some other people at the community theater in the town that I grew up in and it was so beautiful and I was so excited to hear her sing that I cried and cried. I don't even like patti labelle that much.