in other news, i went back and watched a bunch of the daily show and the colbert report that i missed, and saw McCain's daughter, Meghan McCain, on the colbert report. and she's AWESOME! she's intelligent, articulate, pro-sex ed, pro-life, pro-gay marriage. she's still a die-hard republican and will tell you as such, and perfectly able to explain to the liberal heathens why she believes in gun ownership and legalizing gay marriage. this is the kind of voice the GOP needs to get anyone to believe in them again, instead of becoming more extreme and self-righteous. there are hundreds and thousands of college age "liberals" who are only socially liberal but fundamentally believes in capitalism and smaller governments. they can't come out and say it because: 1. GOP looks like a bunch of fucktards, 2. we got into the habit of simplifying people to caricatures.
i went to where she blogs, at thedailybeast.com, which is a news aggregator like the HuffPo, and it's awesome. there are some whack columnists there, sure (someone argued that the american idol results were a reflection of red state resurgence and that the blue states somehow failed their flambouyant guyliner contestant. newsflash! liberals don't watch american idol and aren't unanimously into gay rockstars! ) but otherwise the place looks clean-cut and informative. i went to HuffPo later, though, and still prefers it. watch this:
glenn beck NAILED by awesome older dames.
lying sack of shit.
and so i've decided: i'm going to refrain commenting on policies and issues i don't know anything about, and will use the summer to diligently become a part of the modern media-consuming intelligentsia.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
a supremely bourgeoise post.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Vices: WHAAAAAT UP?!
I bought Popsicles today. And it is awesome. And terrible. I must have had three of them in one sitting. Although, in my defense, there were two separate kinds and I had two of one (different flavors!) and one of the other type. I'm too lazy to explain, it's just made of awesome. So I had a lot of awesome.
And then i had ice cream. holy shit. i love ice cream. i had quite a bit. and then i watched How I Met Your Mother...for three hours. Come on, guys, it's HIMYM! It's okay. Isn't it? And i realized this about myself: I indulge in things when i'm alone. Like, really immerse myself. And the whole time i was eating the popsicle it was either watch TV or call somebody. As long as I'm distracted. And that's sad, really, it's terrible. Arg. I can't deal with being by myself. I'm totally spoiled. It's like i was inundated with company for five months and now i can't deal with being by myself. OR, i was always like this and just didn't notice. Explains a lot, really, if you think about it.
And even now, even now, I'm looking forward to kicking back with some cool cats tomorrow night, even if it means i have to spend the entire day cleaning the apartment. That's how much i adore you kids.
p.s. this post was mainly, mainly, for you to see what a glutton i am. and i did not make jagerbombs. i was tempted tho. TMRW NGHT BITCHES.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Live blogging from Jimmy's!
We talked about a lot of things. Some whackbullshit about stray hand sanitizer (that apparently reminds these guys of other stray liquids), some confessions, some reflections. I shared that I feel like I have too much hate sometimes, towards people who really can't help themselves. They're the way they are, and I'm the way I am, and if we clash, we clash. Its nobody's fault, but people just bug me. Like that girl that name dropped to a professor about her uncle, who is a prof at UCLA in the same field. Really? You had to do that? Or that kid that, when asked what he did over spring break, said he composed music on his electric guitar? You for real, dude?
Ahh HATE. I'm doing it right now. I have to accept them. As Justin said "can you change them with hate, Melissa? You have to love them. " Which is unthinkable. How would one go about that? I guess I have to find things I have in common with them. I mean, I understand the urge to present myself as someone I'm not. I get it, I do. But I just feel like most of us (people I hang out with, anyway) got over that in hs or freshmen year. And beyond that, even if you are genuine, I still might not like you due to a number of things, that neither you nor I can change.
So really, really, what I want to say is, friendships are really made by magic. It depends one who you are at a point in time, and who I am at that same point in time, and whether those two versions of ourself match up. And its sad to think that I could have been, at some point in my personal timeline, your best friend, but because our timelines didn't match up, I could feel nothing but unreasonable contempt for you. Its also sad that in our timelines, we change and become different persons, and you may have been friends with me but we become different people, and I'm forced to watch the magic fade.
And you know what, I'm okay with that. What happens, happens, and if its not meant to be, its not meant to be. I'm perfectly fine with the people that I love right now, and those I've loved in the past, and those I will love in the future. If I don't like you now, so be it.
I wonder if that means I can go back to hating on some bitches.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
For my birthday, I'm withering in the desert.
The heat is worse today.
I am not who I was yesterday. I lived through a moment of such pure awesomeness that I wept. Sir Paul, after an amazing set (that included Beatles songs and fireworks), sang that one song about how it is your birthday today. It was past midnight, and I realized that it was indeed my birthday. He played for another half hour because of the two encores.
We tried to leave at around 1:30 but the line was held up by everyone else leaving. So Chris proposed a nap in the parking lot. None of us woke up until 3:30. After tentative moments of getting lost in the desert, we reached the hotel. The wandering in the desert made me grumpy and restless. I didn't sleep well.
We didn't become mobile until 10. Even then, a lot of lounging around was done. Chris pointed out that Coachella is the chilled-out festival because if you didn't relax you would explode in the sun from all that internal and external heat. I agreed.
Friday, April 17, 2009
dusty spring fields
The day breaks while we were somewhere along the I-5. Christopher, the only one who was alert (out of necessity), points out that the sun was rising from the horizon, but we were too drowsy to appreciate it properly. We stop at a Denny's to get some healthy, wholesome, maple-syrup drenched American breakfast in a town that stinks of cow shit. I wonder how it feels to live in a farming town. You get used to it, I suspect. But when you leave, does the smell linger? And when you're in a big city, away from home, does the smell of shit remind you of your roots? Can the city boys smell it off you, years after you've stopped having your mother's fresh steak monday? I hate farms. The only way I know how to enjoy this vast expanse of space is the feeling of passing through them.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
a-blazing.
So.
Spring Break is coming up, friends are coming home, and the first chunk of my last semester as an underclassmen comes to a close. This is the time where even I, who lives a mere 45 minutes away from my nest, will be going home for the first time in three months. Ah, awayhood. It's remarkable, but all good things come to an end. Soon, the list of things I put off from worrying about will become inevitable: my major requirements, my graduate school/medical school requirements, whether I'm doing enough volunteer work or not, whether I'm doing enough research, whether I'll graduate in four years, whether I'm a decent enough person to want to be a doctor, and how I'm going to prove that I am in a two page essay. These things never end, do they?
It had become clear to me, only very recently, that the rest of the world has a whole different list to worry about. I was complacent in my academic bubble, where all my friends are "motivated" and "going places", where their list is just as long as mine, and not very different in content. But I've been working with older people, people who went to those small, pretty, liberal art colleges that you hear about, and it's just been surprising how different my options could have been. These kids had tripped-out campus wide acid Halloween parties, interdisciplinary majors that they shaped themselves, and friends scattered all over the 50 states. And after graduation, they're fine with getting a job at a small co-op kitchen baking pastries, or manning the till at an eco-boutique, where they'll work for maybe two years before enrolling themselves in graduate school to pursue a masters in Communications or Art. And then they'll float on to another job, couch-surf when they're low on cash, live with their friends in different major cities, and bike through it like they own the world. It's unthinkable how free it is. I feel like this is the new intellectual elite. They're not stupid. They can spell Zeitgeist, tell you what the definition of Qualia is, and yet feels just as ease in a library as in a second-hand record store.
Meanwhile, the "leaders in the making" here at the highest ranking universities are clawing their way through hoops trying to become Somebody. Ambition is the tool of the trade. A good dose of ambition, some smarts, and a strong shot of work-ethics make the best and the brightest. I mean, it's a brilliant and awesome thing, when our beloved campus powers through finals week. High-powered caffeine shots are bartered, and other more potent energizers are traded in the back alleys of intelligentsia. But we lose sight. I have forgotten the why, gotten lost in the how. "This is how I am going to be successful" is defined, instead of "This is why what I want means success". What is success? Is it a high pay after years of education? Or is it being able to do the things you love, at your own pace?
Of course, the two need not be mutually exclusive. I can't honestly define success in terms of the amount of jobs I've had, or the amount of couches I've surfed. I can't honestly say that I want a life of freedom, where I can work in a shop for two years, live with my boyfriend in a run-down flat, and move to the next city if I felt like it. It's too uncertain, too much out of the comfort zone of the stable highschool-college-graduate school-career life path that have been defined for me, that I have grown up with. I'm trying to reconcile what I am doing today with what I deem as success in the future: get a professional degree so that you can actually do the things you want to do, with the least amount of barriers. It is more likely for me to make an impact with a medical degree than without. It is more likely for me to have a life I want to live with years of education than without. And whenever I get upset over my workload, get angry at the dumbshits who can't see the bigger picture beyond their GPA, or feel like giving up (become prostitute, move to Germany, live in co-op, die of AIDS at 27), I'm going to try to set my eyes on the horizon. This is for something, Melissa. It's not tedious scramble. It's for Something.
Friday, February 20, 2009
JIZZ IN PANTS.
http://movies.apple.com/movies/wb/watchmen/watchmen-tlr2_h.480.mov?width=480&height=204
holy shit. what the fuck am i gonna do with myself until 03.06???
i waited in Dwinelle today next to three Watchmen posters that were on the wall. watched, waited. When the time is right, i'll strike. Rorschach would be proud of me. A girl walked past the posters and turned to look at them closer, and i saw the twinge in her expression. No! She would not take them from me. I began coughing, this hacking, malicious, pls-lay-your-paws-off-of-MY-posters cough. She turned around. I glared. She walked away. TRIUMPH.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Everyone's A Critic
So Christopher and I were at the Rose Garden on Euclid right now. We were sitting around, the weather's beautiful and the Bay glimmers underneath our feet. It was nice. We were enjoying our environment and each other and our hearts were filled. And then a loud "EWWWWWWW" emanates somewhere to our left. A small kid is staring from across the street and is flabbergasted, absolutely horrified, by the show of our affections. We started laughing and looked away. A few moments later, we look back, and he's there, alright. He also seems to have went and brought his friend, who is also flabbergasted. Aren't they worried about cooties? We laugh harder and go about our business. The next time we look, they are gone. I always pat myself on the back in moments like these. Another childhood is ruined. 1 point for Melissa, no points for all things decent and true. Muahahahaha.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Ringing in the New Year
If you bring up the picture and squint really really hard, you can see my unfortunate self being crushed by the crowds. Oh Swing, Oh Sway! If only I could be hip and cool and party on top of the TransAmerica building. If only I had a shit ton of money and could party in the Bay instead of next to it. If only that crazy bitch behind me would stop blowing her goddamned glitter paper trumpets. I’m not a grouch; one blow in the party-favor is no big deal. Continuous stream of seal-like noise-monsoon is NOT OKAY. It’s stab-worthy, okay, lady? And what are you, 40? Please, PLEASE, lay off the drink. It can’t be good for the menopause.
And now, an apology.
I didn’t mean to start of the new year and a new blog all bitchy. There’s a limit. One can only take so much.
In other news, the first day of 2009 is off to a reeeal slow start. I got up all stuffed up and hacking, sat around with no appetite, ate half a bar of the big-ass Ghirardelli milk chocolate caramel bar, felt like a bloated pregnant elephant, and is now trying to stand up so that I can go in the bathroom and try to fit myself in the shower so that I can wash my <strike>junk</strike>trunk. FUN.
UGH. I’m still hungry. What the hell? Oh noes! I’m getting old! My body is craving more and storing more fat in order to prepare for child-rearing. NOOOOO. Although, to be completely honest, I was never a spritely youngling of little stature. “To lose weight” should be a New Year’s goal, but it’s everyone’s goal every year. And we all fail. Well, okay, FINE, I always fail. There, happy? Now I’m going to cry into my imaginary New Year Booze. God damn I should have drank last night.
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