I Hear Noises
(Tegan & Sara)
Thursday, February 27, 2003
11:18 p.m.
you call me up, let me know that/ that my sick guilt's/ so unwelcome
I am staying in tonight. I am remembering why I try not to stay in when I don't have a lot of work to do- my mind runs crazy and I become wrought with guilt. Things I have done in the past come back to me and I panic. The things I have done have been wrong, have been ruthless. However, really, I have been quite angelic lately. The last time I went to church, I prayed for forgiveness and I got it, at least for myself. What other people think remains to be seen.
I hear noises in the darkness/ I hear sadness in your voice/ I hear noises in the darkness/ I hear sadness inside you
My father once told me that I am not sensitive at all. He's wrong. I'm far too sensitive, that's the problem. I read over this page and realize how scary it would be if people actually read the archives. I should never, ever give this page to anyone who is interested in my romantically; it would totally blow my chances out of the water. I hate my guilt. I think everyone would be better off if I could keep my own secrets, but guilt eats away at me and I tell things.
my health is failing me/ so I flip on the television/ and watch sad movies/ and look for sad sick people like me
I have been watching a lot of television tonight, even though I did finish my site survey. It's a horrible, wretched site survey and I'm going to get a C on it. I felt awful today, because I ranted about my AB and then the girl I was talking to told me she got a C. Oops. Grades baffle me. I don't know why other people aren't so concerned about them. I am horrified of doing badly. At the same time, one of the people I am most trying to please with my academic performance, my grandmother, doesn't seem to care. She wrote me a letter saying that school was about learning, not about grades and she doesn't care how I do, within reason. I think it was meant to be reassuring, but it only makes me want to work harder and harder. I hate being an AB student. I have a fear of borders. I like things to be defined.
call me up, and let me know that/ that my sick guilt is so unwelcome/ I'm so unwelcome I'm so unwelcome
Movies like Happenstance terrify me. What if I missed my true love? What if I missed meeting her because I walked somewhere instead of taking the bus? Anyway. That movie had the worst preview. It gave away every last detail of the plot!
It's Enough
(Sleater-Kinney)
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
12:39 p.m.
baby got a record/ taking me home/ play it loud/ when you're all alone
I'm tired all of the time. I do promise myself every night that I will go to bed by two. I never do. I usually crawl into bed, wide awake, at four. Then, I drag myself out of bed 25 minutes before class in the morning. I was talking to some other people in class, who talked about how exhausted they were because they were up until one. One! If I could go to bed that early...
hear me singing/ hear this song/ hear my voice/ in your favorite song
I was interviewed yesterday by a white woman for her project on Native women here at school. It was really interesting, for lack of a more descriptive word. I felt like I could actually talk about what it's like for me to be here, what it's like to have white friends, what it's like to be this invisible minority. It's a little weird to be the subject of someone's graduate research, but also a little nice, to be immortalized. Yes, I know that no one actually reads those dissertations, but it was nice to know I could help. Whatever can be done to increase the visibility of Native students in a positive way is fine by me.
enough it's enough/ if you want it that much/ it's enough
I think I would like to be a pirate, if I could still shower regularly and not have to stab anyone. Piracy appears to involve a lot of stabbing. I'd like to have a gang of women who sailed around destroying enemy ships. I haven't decided who exactly would be the enemy and what our goal would be, but the idea of living with a bunch of women on a ship sounds nice. Never mind. We'd all be stuck on a boat, we'd all end up dating and hating, and we'd never be clean. I guess I'll have to be an archaeologist then.
can't hear nothing/ but that sound/ it is what you want
I have been crying a lot lately. I cried on Saturday night and I cried on Sunday at the concert. Despite my recognition of its therapeutic value, I still am humiliated by crying. However, I am happy. I haven't been this happy in a long time. The people around me make me smile, the people I have banished from my life no longer make me cry. I walk outside in the morning and I smile.
are you ready? let's go/ hit the floor/ shake it baby a little more/ i make rock and roll
I am not allowed to date until summer. I am also not allowed to cut my hair until it's long. "Long" is relative. However, if I start to get a mullet, Sara will inform me nicely and I will have it cut. I had a conversation at QSA the other night about long hair- is it possible to attain? Are we kidding ourselves thinking we can grow our hair long? Is it destiny to have cute short hair/ be stuck in the growing-out phase forever, or can we one day attain shiny, long hair? I think we can. I know a few women who look very nice, despite years of struggle of yucky in-between hair. Can I handle those years? It's such a challenging endeavor!
Son of a Preacher Man
(Dusty Springfield)
Monday, February 24, 2003
07:10 p.m.
Bein' good isn't always easy / No matter how hard I try
A long weekend, in which I accomplished nearly nothing, academically. However, I went to The Hours. I really enjoyed it, it was intense. I'd heard some of the hype, but not enough to have unwarranted expectations. I particularly liked the Julianne Moore character. It seemed really short; I was kind of shocked when it ended. Anyway, no more spoilers, go see it.
When he started sweet-talkin' to me/ He'd come'n tell me "Everything is all right"
Chicago, Chicago. Why don't I live in the city? Where else in the midwest can you emerge from a Sleater-Kinney concert, go see a fabulous French film, and come home on public transportation at 1am? S-K played practically everything I wanted them to, except Milkshake and Honey and Funeral Song. Carrie was especially hot. I was going to go home with her, but Sara didn't want to play checkers with Janet all night, so we went out. We took a bus downtown, past Lincoln Park, to the Esquire Theater to see the new Audrey Tautou movie. It was excellent. I can't wait until it's out on DVD. It's the perfect movie for me and Sara. Afterward, we wandered down State St. to the subway. We are excellent El riders. I want to go back to Chitown soon, possibly for Tegan & Sara. I also want to see the new exhibits at the Spertus Institute. It's so weird to be in Chicago, city where my family would escape our lives, city where I have tried to escape my own. This trip was an excellent corrective experience, letting my disillusionment with the city fade.
He'd kiss and tell me "Everything is all right"/ Can I get away again tonight?
I need to do laundry so badly. I haven't done it in two weeks. I was smart and purchased laundry tickets this evening, so I need to go put in a load. It's kind of sad, the things I have been allowing myself to wear lately, due to lack of clean clothes. At least I'm not dressed like a traffic pylon.
Train Wreck
(Bangs)
Friday, February 21, 2003
01:15 a.m.
This here train's gonna jump the track/ And I don't think we're ever gonna make it back
I worry and I love. That's my life. I shove school into the cracks, pushing myself as far as I can. I am happy to be back at school, but I also miss being able to come home from Borders and have no further responsibilities. It was easy, then. It becomes increasingly apparent that I wasted my life for a year and a half. I should have gotten my ass together and gone back to school in Fall 2001. I didn't because I was scared. Instead, I let my life spiral downward and only hurt the people I thought I loved.
ALL ABOARD FOR HEARTACHE/ ALL ABOARD FOR BAD DECISIONS
Apparently, the break-in at home was much worse than we originally thought. I spoke to my mother today and apparently, they found a large pool of blood behind the barn. Written in blood on the side of one of the vehicles was "BETRAYED: how could give me so much pain when I loved you so much?" The CSI team, the sheriff, a bunch of random police, and the canine unit came and searched the entire ranch. They took tons of photos and took samples. They think whomever it was only broke into our house to use the phone, because they found blood on the phone. The police will probably trace the phone calls to see whom the person called. It makes me worried, was it someone in the Isleta community? Or was it one of the outsiders?
Outta control is our destination/ If we ever even leave the station
I want things to be okay between everyone. I know that's like praying for world peace, but I still want it. I want to be able to make a positive difference in the world. It has been brought to my attention that I should be the LGBT housing liaison here at the UW. I would love to be able to give back to the community, but I am afraid I would suck at it. I am afraid that I could not be a good support person for the just-coming-out people. However, I feel very, very strongly that it is time for a person of color to have the position.
Outta control is our destination/ If we ever even leave the station
I am trying to decide if I believe in fate or soulmates. Maybe not, because whomever you think is your soulmate never feels the same way, and vice versa. Maybe I believe in fate, because things do happen that I feel were inevitable. However, inevitability is different from fate. Hmm. Ponder. Ponder.
Something Comes
(Erin McKeown)
Wednesday, February 19, 2003
12:39 p.m.
She didn't think this could happen to her/ She had no idea what feelings were
Upstairs in the anthro reading room. I'm the "baby Sissel" apparently, with my black skirts and sweaters. We're doing a bunch of site sampling. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate using RNTs? I do. Somewhere, we are supposed to pick 15% of the sub-divided units for our sample. I understand that, but then, we are supposed to use the RNT to do that! WTF? I suppose I should stop by Sissel's office and ask her about it, but I'm afraid she'll think I'm really stupid. Also, asking Lane would be mortifying, because, well, let's face it- despite my annoyance by him, I want him to think I'm brilliant.
Now she knows if she ever leaves/ she won't have a thing to believe in
Does anyone think of First Nations people, ever? We are the forgotten minority, which is really a shame, because we've been here in America longer than anyone else. This is our home, yet everyone continues to ignore us and happily lets us be over in our reservations. You know what? I know precisely two queer First Nations people. I've heard tell of two more. Where are we? Are we so invisible? Dearest First Nations queer girls out there, please appear and we can hang out and discuss stuff. I know it's mean, but I don't mean you who is 1/64 Cherokee who has never seen a rez but is really into feathers and turquoise jewelry.
This was an independent girl/ It's not her nature to kiss/ It's not her nature to even think about a song like this
I'm sick of being the token First Nations woman in queer groups. I'm sick of being the token queer in First Nations groups. In fact, I'm sick of thinking about the issue at all. I just want to shove all the overactive thinking out of my mind, crawl under the covers, and listen to Tori- but she's a straight white girl. Even if she does pretend to understand my culture in Scarlet's Walk (see "Wampum Song"), she's just appropriating what is mine and she'll never really understand it. I love that she pays attention to First Nations people, but she's also stealing what's ours for her own gain. See? I can't even get away from race issues when I'm relaxing!
But something comes when they're together/ Turns her into a silly, laughing, drooling, crying, little girl
On a lighter note- my package should come today or tomorrow! Also, I am buying the tickets to Chicago today. The concert ticketes are already in hand. I want to stop by the Spertus institute while we are there, as it is open Sundays, just closed Saturdays, obviously, for shabbat. However, I mostly just want to get away from Madison and have fun. I meant this entry to have an entirely different focus, as is evidenced by the song I picked to listen to while writing it. I need to stop ranting!
Time Running
(Tegan and Sara)
Monday, February 17, 2003
02:55 a.m.
I've got more for the world than this
(I've got more)
Mass has more meaning to me every time I go. Each week, I become more and more calmed by it, more in tune with God. However, I still can't believe in Jesus. I don't know if I ever will. I wonder to whom the other people pray- to God the Father, or to Jesus? This week, I knew most of the songs. I think maybe I learned them on the retreat or something. I like to pray in church, because when I'm at home, I usually pray before I'm about to fall asleep, and curled up in my bed never seems so reverent. On the retreat, we did a workshop where we prayed in different postures. Each posture reflected a different type of prayer. I realize that prayer for me is about humbling myself and asking for guidance. Lately though, I have had prayers of thankgiving.
and I've got love that I need to give
(I've got more)
The things I regret haunt me; I have feelings of inadequacy. I realize more and more the limitations that are placed on me because I am a woman. It hurts, because I revel in my womanhood, I love my womanhood. I want to be looked in the eyes and loved including my womanhood, instead of being loved in spite of it. My own life is so full of love, I wonder if it will ever be returned to me with the same passion that I give it. I have loved very rarely, but when I do, it is with everything I have to give and feel.
and I've got more for the world than this
(I've got more)
I wish I could say the women I've been involved with all shaped me in some way to make me a better person. They haven't. Instead, most have served as tools for my manipulation and selfishness. I want the chance to love without those things, to love selflessly. I try to think of who stood by me at the times of my greatest pain. It depresses me that I can't. Does it depress me because I never reveal what I am actually feeling to anyone? I haven't even been truthful in my paper journal lately. I don't lie, but I purposely don't write down the things that actually matter to me. Reading over my paper journal, my life seems so frivolous because I have written only the facetious parts of my life.
and I've got love that I need to give
(ahhhhh)
I worry about the Atavan. I worry that I am not experiencing my true emotions because they are somehow harbored by the medication. I haven't been without the Atavan for any extended period of time since June 2000. I haven't been medication free since I was 15. I wonder if I am really a totally different person and it's the just the medication that has made me who I am. Is the difference between my 20-year old self and my 15-year old self due to life experience and maturity or to the mind-altering effects of my medication? Who am I, really? And why am I awake at 3:00am to worry about it?
Souveniez-vous le chose dont j'ai parlé l'autre nuit? Je l'ai réçois, ensuite, quoi?
The Whole Night
(Ani DiFranco)
Sunday, February 16, 2003
09:47 a.m.
i am drifting through, i am headed for the kitchen/ i am thinking of her fingers as i walk
It's morning and I was up before nine, dressed, and home. Now I'm being a lazy ass and not showering or changing into different clothes. I have an exam that I desperately need to study my ass off for, but instead, I'm listening to old Ani. Her voice is so acrobatic in her first few albums, it's really a loss to transcribe lyrics in here because all the nuances are lost.
we can touch, touch our girl cheeks/ and we can hold hands like paper dolls
The farm was broken into on Friday. There was a broken window and blood on the floor. I'm assuming the police won't do shit, just as they didn't do shit when Lola, Greta, and Jonah were killed. I miss home. I need to figure out a way to go home, I need to see my family. Most of my friends here have family nearby, whom they see somewhat frequently. I haven't seen my mother since August.
we can try, try each other on/ in the privacy within new york city's walls
I am vaguely nauseated. I didn't eat anything yesterday except some raspberries and chocolate soy silk. I just ate a little bit of breakfast, but it wasn't really doing it for me. I ran into Holly in the bathroom this morning and we ended up chatting and eating breakfast together. She went away for a few days, so we had some gossip to fill each other in on.
i am waking up in her bed/ i sing 1st avenue the open window said
I have done things that I have really regretted. I used to try not to regret things, because I believe that everything happens for a reason. However, there are things I have done that simply should not have happened. They served no purpose and only made my life hell. I am a guilty, guilty person. I am also blessed.
Ya znayu, Ti Znaesh
(Andrei Gubin)
Friday, February 14, 2003
02:25 a.m.
Ya budu s toboi, odinokoi takoi, kazhdii dyen' i kazhduyu noch'
I miss my Russian pop. I left the tapes somewhere weird. I know that my Alla Pugachëva tape is in a box in Saint Paul, but I have no clue where my Andrei Gubin tape is, which I adore. I wish my dad would go back to Eastern Europe more often so he could procure tapes for my listening pleasure. Avto Radio, a Moscow pop station that plays through RealOne, hasn't been working very well lately, which pisses me off. I need my fix!
Tii znaesh sama, kak ti svodish s uma, tii odna mne smozhesh' pomoch'.
My second package hasn't arrived yet. I know this is really wishful thinking, because the tracker says the delivery date is Feb. 20, but I want it now! The first package was supposed to arrive Feb. 19 but it came on Feb. 7. I love mail, it's really exciting to slide my finger along the flap of a letter and pull out what's inside- even if all I got today was my W-2 from Walgreen's. I did my taxes today, which was absolute hell. There are so many forms to fill out to get a state income tax return for a non-resident of Minnesota. I don't remember there being that many taxes the first time I worked in Minnesota, in 2000. At any rate, my taxes are done, sealed in their pink envelopes, and waiting to be mailed away.
Hochu tebya obnimat', hochu tebya tselovat', vnov' i vnov', eto lyubov'!
I need to go to First Nations Womens' Group tomorrow. They posted some questions for dialoguing which I feel are really important to discuss. Speaking of, my Pueblo just got a land grant of 7.6 million! They're holding a community meeting to decide what to do with the money. My mom's suggestion is that we fund ecological preservation on the pueblo. Her friend wants to build solar panels so Isletans can produce their own electricity. My idea, which I hope so strongly will be accepted, is for the Pueblo to fund private education for our children so they can continue to live at home. My brother and sister go to a boarding school in Santa Fe because the school on the pueblo only goes through sixth grade. If the tribe would pay for them to go to a private school closeby, even in Albuquerque, it would make such a positive difference in their lives, especially Philip's. I want him to go to Solomon Schlecter Day!
No tii opyat' daleko, tebya naiti nelegko/ gde-to tam, mezhdu vesnoi i letom
I want to do this internship this summer, but it appears to be mostly agricultural sciences, with sociology thrown in. I'll try for the sociology, but the idea of having to write a final report really disturbs me. It's good pay, housing and food are paid for, and there is a full travel voucher. I'm going to apply. I still haven't figured out where I'm spending the summer. Getting a sublet in Minneapolis and working also sounds really fun. I've decided the Twin Cities are a good place for me to think and live relatively drama free.
Anonymous
(Sleater-Kinney)
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
01:41 a.m.
she's worried she said too much
This afternoon, the sky, pregnant with grey, paused, so that I could cross from one lecture to another with a half smile gracing my face. When I emerged from an hour on Hosea, during which I wrote rabidly in my paper journal, it was snowing so hard I couldn't see the building surrounding me. Beautiful. It made me want to grab someone up, go twirling through the snow with them, and then crawl into bed with mugs of french vanilla cocoa.
and talking i'm talking she's talking like books i read
Of course, being alone, I plodded through the snow to my mailbox, which had a package slip. Those orange slips can lift my mood no matter how low I am. I have only emerged from Barnard twice tonight, once for dinner and big screen Buffy, and again to pick up a print job. I love the night, after a snow, or during the snow.
it's easy it's easy it's easy to shut yourself off
never on the record it'll never show up
I am so baffled by taxes. I worked in 2 different states. How do I file my state taxes? It doesnt' make sense to me. Do I file state taxes? Or just federal? AHHH! quelquefois je me remplis avec le désir pour une chose complètement interdit. m'arrête!
Her Again
(Sleater-Kinney)
Sunday, February 9, 2003
08:32 p.m.
i am in that hole where you left/ me there both body and soul
This weekend, at the retreat, we did this exercise where we made clay representations of what is blocking us in faith, then explained them, and then, if we were ready to leave the thing behind, smashed them. Obviously, nothing in my life is appropriate to share on a Catholic retreat, so I answered, not untruthfully, and explained it. In reality, I thought about what is really blocking me in my life right now. Later on that night, I realized that I can let that blockage go, so this morning, I smashed the representation. Very cathartic.
i am filled with all those sick things/ i am getting out of here
My mother sent me my scanner, printer, phone, sheets, my favorite sweater, my W-2s, and some other stuff I'm sure I'm forgetting. Now I've got two large cardboard boxes in my room that I need to put in storage, as well as UW-issue sheets. I'm not sure which day is sheet exchange, so I'll just shove them under my desk for now. I am very tidy. Slowly, my things are making their way back up to Madison. I still haven't decided what I'm doing for the summer.
i'm her again/ i didn't say that thing/ it didn't mean a thing
I had this really intense dream while I was away this weekend. One of my desires was fulfilled in the dream, but at the expense of a friend's happiness. It was a very strange dream, very unsettling. It was two nights ago and it still keeps popping up in my mind as though I had just woken from it. It was that particular desire fulfilled, but almost too much. I felt really uncomfortable, because I realize now that I didn't actually want it so much.
i wasn't there that day/ i don't know what you mean
Tomorrow is Monday, the worst day of the week because I have my two most boring classes ever: Lane's discussion and my geology lab. Geology lab makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever. I don't understand anything in that class, because I haven't had geology in three years. It's great. Luckily, it is only Monday 1/7th of the time.
We Float
PJ Harvey
Friday, February 7, 2003
02:26 p.m.
We wanted to find love/We wanted success
Yesterday was a really, really long day. I thought I was going to die during class. I even contemplated bolting from Kenoyer's class to crawl back into bed, but I didn't. Instead I attended all of my classes, came home, and engaged myself in various meetings and social rendezvous.
Until nothing was enough/ Until my middle name was excess
Yesterday I saw a lot of people from my past and from my childhood. It was really comforting, to have their hugs and their inquisitiveness regarding my life. Life here has started and continued. I have put St. Paul behind me, for the most part. When everyone asks where I've been, I think New Mexico. My memory resets itself to the weeks in Hadar and Dina's house.
And somehow I lost touch/When you went out of sight
I am turning into a conspiracy theorist. This is a bad thing.
Start Together
(Sleater-Kinney)
Sunday, February 2, 2003
11:12 p.m.
I'm a mess/ I'm the worst/ But the best that you've ever heard
A short day, which is good. I am promising myself not to stay up too late tonight. I have to push myself through a few more articles re: Amos, do some charts about him, and drug myself to sleep. Despite the interruption of my CS meeting, I've gotten a fair amount done today. Except for that nap, which was a bad idea.
Come so far close together/ Don't tear apart what we worked for
Today in church, the priest was on our side so I went up for a blessing. With his hand on the top of my head, I let my mind relax, let myself be. I needed that solace, that hour where I could reflect peacefully and let my heart be heard by God. I believe this time of religious introspection is well-timed. However, I don't know how I will do spending next weekend being self-reflective. I may drive myself insane.
Baby don't you leave me baby don't go/ I'll roll with the punches roll out the door
I miss Sara. I want to tell her about going back to the CS meeting, about the bio-ethics lecture, about my run-in with my ex, about everything. I love her and I'm still in a state of shock. I keep waking up from my naps, fine for a few seconds, then shaking with the horrid realization that Sara's not here right now. It hurts like fuck.
P.S. Please don't leave me any consoling messages, I don't deserve them. I'm serious.
Heart Factory
(Sleater-Kinney)
Saturday, February 1, 2003
01:20 p.m.
we're manufactuing hearts we've got the perfect thing
One stupid thing leads to another, right? After doing several totally out-of-character things in a row, I called Vidya for advice, who, being removed from the situation, can offer advice with a larger degree of clarity than anyone else who is involved in the sordid drama which is my life. That's right. Sordid drama. Do I have the strength and the ability to follow her advice, even if it means the loss of what I am pretty sure I love most?
the word on the street we've got the new love machine
What I want is simple. I want everyone to fucking get along. I want myself to understand that I do not need to be in a relationship to feel valid and that I can be perfectly happy on my own. It's just hard, with the loss of the four women I cared about. I wonder what my motivation is behind the things I have done? Money. Absolute lust for attention. Codependency and... again, codependency.
heart with and on/off switch and a remote control
Still, a book is not the way to get through this life. Neither is my serial obsessive crush deal. I must stop leaning on other people and look inward. Where does God fit into all this? I should have just gone to shabbat services last night.
now you can program how you feel before you walk out the door
I know what is the healthy thing to do. And maybe I won't even have to do it myself, even though that is what I really should be doing. Oh dykey mentors of my teen years, appear from the woodwork to guide me.
Prisstina
(Sleater-Kinney)
Wednesday, January 29, 2003
09:16 p.m.
She was a very good girl/ Did all her homework in school
I have been commanded to update. Oh! My brother just called. He's so cute. Seriously. Someone needs to rescue him from SFIS, but I can't do it, because I'm not ready to be a mom and I can't have a kid in my dorm. It's so crazy, how old he's getting. It's so crazy, how old I'm getting. Yesterday was my birthday, I'm twenty now.
Always came home with top marks/ Teachers said you will go far
Life here is becoming normal, though I find myself wishing that I could just come home from class and have it be done. I'd forgotten how much work it is to read study so much. Okay, so I thought I'd escaped Tim from Borders in MN. Apparently not. My archaeology lab TA is like a mini-Tim. It's vile. Why couldn't I have a duplicate of someone I like?
So she buried her nose in her books/ And she never had time for those looks
My birthday was quiet and nice. My grandmother sent me one of her famous boxes of crazy presents. She included a bright red pillow with yellow fringe, an appliqué flower and the words "real cool" embroidered on it in yellow thread. WTF? Seriously though, I love her presents. Sue gave me pink clothing. Sara gave me lube and booty. I gave myself the notecards I'd been lusting after. Now everyone gets letters. Which means everyone had better send me letters in return.
For the boys had noticed her frame/ Had grown into a figure number eight
I got the Sleater-Kinney tickets last night. I contacted my cousin regarding staying there while we are in Chitown. Now I just have to wait. I haven't been to a concert in ages. Last night however, I went to the Leslie Feinberg lecture.
She went on to study ivy-league/ And to rack up points for her degree
Aside from being an excellent lecture, I saw something like five women with whom I'd previously been involved and my little acolyte, Dana. Seeing Dana makes me wonder if that's how She feels when I follow her around. All these "grown-up" dykes I look up to so much, they float in and out my life so indiscriminately. It makes me afraid that someday, I'll have my own little shadow, who thinks I am the epitome of queer. Yikes. I don't think I'm well-suited to teaching the ways of homo to anyone. (though Sara can never look at her fingernails in the same way anymore!)
While the other girls fondled their dates/ She fooled around with her Bunsen plate
Tonight, I studied in one of those scary Girls in Prison-esque cages in the Memorial Library. They are renovating the stacks on the floor I was on and the construction smells gave me a headache. Instead, I came home and watched Angel. I obviously have not yet done all of my reading. I hate feeling guilty for doing little things like watching TV or going out for dinner instead of doing reading. Good thing I don't have a girlfriend to spend time with, or the not-reading guilt would overwhelm me. On that note, I'm off to read about Amos.
All that Jazz
(Chicago Soundtrack)
Sunday, January 26, 2003
02:33 a.m.
Start the car I know a whoopee spot
My dad visited me today with our friend Steve Westergan. We wandered State Street, ate at Himal Chuli, toured the campus in the car, went to the big Borders, Whole Foods, and my hall desk so he could put money into my accounts. It was a nice visit. I came away with some good loot from Borders- the new issue of Bitch, the new Michelle Tea book, and the Chicago soundtrack. I have to admit I was am really excited about it, in a really dorky way. However, I ran into a random acquaintance today who incidentally, also had it in his discman. So, I am not the only one.
Where the gin is cold But the piano's hot
This picture is for Katherine. Everyone keeps e-mailing me fun tidbits about Borders. It makes me miss it! I still haven't made any concrete plans to drive up to Saint Paul to retrieve my belongings. Argh. I wish I had been in Minneapolis last night to see Mary Lou Lord. Apparently, Steve Westergan is from Minnesota. He told me a story about going uptown and feeling like he was the most conservative person in blocks, an unusual feeling for him.
It's just a noisy hall Where there's a nightly brawl
I am supposed to see Kate this weekend, but she hasn't called yet. On Monday, I have my meeting with Juan Colas about RCIA. I am unsure how to go about that. I am actively attending services at Hillel. Is it possible to be Jewish and somewhat-Catholic at the same time? Tuesday is my birthday. I need to call Sue to finalize plans for that as well. I'm not feeling very birthday-ish so I didn't do anything for it this weekend, though I probably should have.
And all That Jazz
What the hell am I doing up still? I need to get some sleep. I have so much reading to do for Tuesday. I am proud of myself for taking notes on my readings. I'm sure I'll quit in a week or so, but for now, I'm such a model student. Go me. Serieusement, il faut dormir maintenant.
Suede
(Tori Amos)
Thursday, January 23, 2003
07:36 p.m.
hey you gender nectar sifting through the grain of gold
Score. I have my benzodiazapine, after a plethora of phone calls all over the US. I shuffled down to Community Pharmacy to pick up my script from Richard, who remembered me and my medical history. I don't know how pharmacists do that. I haven't seen him in two years. In fact, the last time I had to get my meds there, Karen and Angela picked them up for me. The pharmacy was full of lovely reusable pads, slick tampon cases, and other items I desperately want but cannot afford at all.
tripping at your door is that you. alpha in her blood
I have an idea for my Prehistoric Europe paper. I want to do something on the role of lactational amenorrhea in the establishment of sedentary lifestyles in Eastern Europe. I brought up the topic in another class, but Dr. Kenoyer didn't know much about it. Dr. Kenoyer remembers me. When he called roll, he said everyone's first and last names. When he got to me, he just said, "Ah, Colette" and smiled at me when I raised my hand. I don't know if this is a good or a bad thing.
and when the woman lies you don't believe her
Tomorrow is my cousin Jolena's birthday. It's also a couple of other people's birthday. I should probably have sent her a card, but she never sends me cards, so I think we're even. I haven't gotten any good mail yet. Well, my check card came today, that was kind of exciting. People should send me mail.
rolling and unrolling coiling emerging running free
I finally tried out my Scarlet's Walk bonus material. First of all, the site is horribly confusing. Second, Tori's new video is horrifying. I do not recommend it.
running through the underworld into your room
It's my birthday on Tuesday. I'll be twenty. This is vaguely exciting. My dad is coming to see me on Saturday to celebrate, along with Steve Westergan, a family friend. I'm hoping my grandmother will call as well. Sue is taking me to dinner, which should prove to be fun. Birthdays are really anti-climatic. I always expect to feel more mature somehow, but I never do. Oh well.
buy her candy
(Sleater-Kinney)
Tuesday, January 21, 2003
12:04 a.m.
she's famous, she's the best, cannot lay, my heart to rest
Classes begin tomorrow. In fact, classes appear to begin tomorrow all over the country, because frantic e-mails are pouring into my account from all over. I can't decide if I'm thrilled or depressed that I am going back to Dr. Kenoyer's self-indulgence and Dr. Price's disgusting wattle. Oh, don't let me forget Dr. Troxel. The only new professor will be the geology guy. However, since I don't remember my previous geology professor, it could be the same guy.
she is selfish, she is kind, no one can say she is mine
Madison isn't the Twin Cities. However, it has changed a little. I went to say hi to Community Pharmacy, looking for good reusable pads, but it was closed. It's nearly always closed. So is Marmalade Skies, to which I tromped three times, in search of a birthday present. Guess she's not getting that birthday present.
like water like spring, fickle fancy fickle girl
I went to the library in search of the book Hannah recommended, but it wasn't there. I got four others. I finished the Claudine novels. The last was quite disappointing. Annie did rather like Claudine by the end, but NOTHING CAME OF IT! Colette, my darling namesake, you disappoint me. Now I'm reading an odd smattering of Seal Press books.
rain down from the sky, when i need you the most
I really hurt my neck somehow, the other day. I'm not sure how. It feels a little better today, but it's still rather painful and whenever I turn my head too far, it really, really hurts. I'm not sure what to do about it. Any ideas?
Jóga
(Björk)
Saturday, January 18, 2003
10:17 p.m.
all the accidents that happen, follow the dot
I went out with Sue twice today. First we went to Best Buy, to drop off Haven. The guy there was mildly attractive. Mildly. I made myself coquettish (no easy task, or so I think) and left Haven there, to be fixed. Then, we went to the watch shop, to fix Sue's watch (it was the watch, not the battery), and finally, to Whole Foods. Lately, I am into consuming liquids, not solids. I got some Blue Sky soda (because I miss home like mad), some Cranberry Peach juice, and chocolate Silk.
coincidence that makes sense only with you
Later on, after Sue had gone to a funeral, we went back out. We saw Chicago and then went out for Mexican. I had a green chile burrito. It was okay. It wasn't spicy. How do I pine for home? I miss the dusty ristras, I miss the hummingbirds outside our kitchen window. I miss my mother and my grandfather slipping me dollar bills for chopping up loads of wood for the stove.
you don't have to speak: I feel
I finished unpacking. Okay. That's a lie. I have a plastic bag full of bath supplies in which my Marinis shower gel exploded. The room smells delightfully of Marinis, but I am too lazy to open the bag, take everything out, and wash the gel off of it. I am surviving well without it, as I already fished out the things that were necessary for one's daily bathing routine. Other than that plastic bag, I am totally unpacked. Score.
emotional landscapes, they puzzle me
It is weird, not having her around to obsess over daily. I feel a lack of direction. QUICK! Throw me a new crush.
Freedom
(Tegan and Sara)
Friday, January 17, 2003
09:05 p.m.
they can they can never get my soul yes
In Madison. First of all, my ethernet card won't work because it's got a problem with the driver. After much chagrin, the driver appears to be installed, with a problem. Oy gevalt... WISC has cheap software, i.e. $25 for an XP upgrade, which, once I am working, I may invest in. Tricia said it solved all her problems. This however, worries me, because I think you may need your original Windows 98 CD to install it, which I appear to have lost. Then, once I have that, I may splurge another $25 for Office XP. Who knows?
there's a million things about me
you will never know
So, I left Saint Paul. Triesta drove me here and told me all about her son, Pippin, and her menopause. I was grateful for the ride. I am almost completely unpacked. Adrienne (roomie) and I have only one closet, which is particularly delightful considering the amount of clothing we have. I haven't been home much, however. I bought my books today, including two I already had. I could have had Mama send them, but they might not have arrived on time. Otherwise, my books look lovely.
like they caught me on video
and yeah they caught me on radio yeah
So far, I've already seen Sara, Kristin, and Jessie Rose. I ran into Jessie today at the library. We went out for dinner at Noodles and checked out a small stack of books. I was going to go to services, but didn't, though I did dress for them. I guess I got sidetracked, running into Jessie at the library. She was actually there to use the computer to find me. I guess she did. The library is hard, full of all these hazy, enchanting memories.
freedom from the mighty sky to the ground
Tomorrow, Sue is coming to fetch me for our grand tour of Madison, before she goes to a funeral. I haven't said I'm sorry about the death yet. That kind of thing always throws me. I'm not sure how to say it. I will express my condolences in person, I think. I haven't seen her since she came to visit New Mexico in September, 2001. I will show her, how I have changed.
she said you've got the freedom to walk out
if you drag me down
Work. I called Borders to see about hours, but they haven't gotten rid of their seasonal people yet, so they don't know if they'll have any for me at all. Feh. This means a job hunt, which is rather irritating. I had been hoping everything here would run very smoothly, but nothing has gone right yet. Do I miss Minnesota? I don't know.
Hot Rock
(Sleater-Kinney)
Wednesday, January 15, 2003
11:53 p.m.
I'm onto you, before the night is through
I pulled myself together and packed until I was done. Okay, I'm not totally done because the computer isn't packed and neither are my two blankets, but those won't go until le matin. I already know that this is an entry that, if in which I were to be open about what I am feeling, needs to be written in French, because anything I actually feel in any deeper sense only comes through in that, oh language closest to my heart.
I'm going to steal this diamond; hot rock to you
Today was one of the more difficult days in my hesitant schoolgirl crush of a life. It vaguely reminded me of leaving Ukraine, once Anya's love of the cock was discovered and I had to traipse forlornly across the continent to Holland. (which wasn't that bad, because I was showered with Body Shop gifties once I got there.) Leaving New Mexico was nothing. Leaving Wisconsin was easy too, because I was in such a state of disarray I was unconscious of whom I was leaving behind. This was harder. What am I talking about? I am still here.
how am I to know what you want me to feel? counterfeit or real?
Oy Hannah! What did you do to my screensaver? Speaking of. I went to Lula today (with Hannah, hence, the "speaking of") and found so many dresses I need, but obviously, may not buy, as I am moving. I do not need anymore clothes. Why do I have so many? I attempted to jettison some, but did not have the patience to sit down and determine which ones warranted being kept.
I'm not the one you wanted; not the thing you keep
I am determined not to unveil the mysterious inner workings of my heart on this page. I did that with Sarah, and now, preserved for posterity in the archives, is my pain, for anyone who cares to know. But hell, it hurts dude.
I'm onto you before the night is through
a short Dear Girl. Dear Girl: Please stop taking away what credit I have for things. Twice today you co-opted two of my triumphs, for which reason, I am irritated with you, despite my rarely-shaken belief that you can do little wrong. Love, me. P.S. You suck.
I'm going to steal my heart back and find a love that's true
Please, god, let things be easier in Madison. Let my life be a nice mix of friendships and schoolwork, with a nice little job on the side. Please god, let my roommates be bearable. Let my mind not wander to lascvious thoughts of women who understand my oblique cultural references. Let my family be happy, and mostly, let me forget the things that consume me. Also. Let me not be pathological.
Hot Rock to You
Good night Minnesota. Next post from Wisconsin, one hopes.
Look at You Now
(Catie Curtis)
Tuesday, January 14, 2003 (Last Day of Work)
11:08 p.m.
But look at you now, walking on clouds
Last day today at work. People were there with hugs for me, addresses, and well-wishes. Jerry thought I was going to Northwestern. Weird. Vidya waited through a whole line of customers to say good-bye, which was nice. Katherine appeared, armed with tons of contact information and her friend, who had a hat reminiscent of the one I have been coveting. The crowning glory of my final day was that Ben called in sick and Tim wasn't even scheduled. SCORE! (I always have dorky images of Sara saying that whenever I say it myself.) I cleaned out my locker, which was stuffed with tampons and packets of French Vanilla hot cocoa, which I drank before I had the guts to try coffee. Good-byes at work. Reggie showed up at work the other day with one of his women and drove me home. We said good-bye then. He asked if Jess was moving with me. I guess he's a little out of the loop, eh?
Lining up stars from medicine jars; You're the life of the crowd
Did I mention that Triesta gifted me with an extra day here? Good. Now I can do all kinds of errands, like go to the bank, and to 945, to see if Jessica wants her TV cart back. Inky and John want to go out to dinner or something, which would be nice. Chinese? I hope so. (though Inky doesn't like to eat anywhere but Perkins, or so it appears.) What else? I said good-bye to Mel on Sunday. Kristin's already back in Madison, no need for good-byes there. I am unscrupulously proud of myself for leaving so little behind, emotionally. (shut up Sara. we are pretending that whole crush-obsession never happened.) Things I wish I'd done? 1. Gone to see the sharks one last time, as well as visit the baby dolphin. 2. gone to Kiev Foods to buy Ukrainskayii Productii. 3. actually gone to temple at Shir Tikvah. Oops. 4. Actually saved my fucken money. (That's only a half-point, because I successfully supported myself and several weird university bills. ) 5. Gone to see more indie movies, which tend to be hard to get to in Madison. That's five things, so, not bad.
You had to rise above what bad dreams are made of
I have a lot more shit than I believed I did. I hope it will fit in Triesta's car... I did a good job of labelling them "STORE" and "DO NOT STORE- YOU NEED THIS YOU DIRTY LITTLE WHORE!" Of course, the boxes also say "SINGLE CD KEEPERS" on them, but I think I understand that they're full of origami paper, old issues of Bitch, and Argonath bookends, not anti-theft devices. I am most worried about the monitor fitting into the car. I have no gauge for how much stuff will fit. Hence, the arduous packing of things into store/ don't store boxes. Of course, this packing method takes much, much longer, as I had to unpack everything first and consequently, be teased by Vidya. Really, one should never tell Vidya ANYTHING, because she will find some way to tease oneself about it. She has managed to tease me about things that I am not even remotely embarassed by. Oh well. When I grow up and am a classy bitch, I will exact pseudo-scathing remarks upon my own underlings.
Through all the heartache, you didn't break
I have commanded pretty much everyone I met in Saint Paul to visit this page, giving them this address along with my e-mail. Suckers. Visit me. SIGN MY EFFING GUESTBOOK! Unless you're that guy who came from Dr. Bizzaro's PornLand. I still haven't figured out how I got linked from there, but I am so unwilling to browse the site until I find the link. Blechhh. My two best referrals are search engine referrals. One came from a person searching for "bucket of cum" and the other from a person searching for "overwhelming feelings: lesbians."
You went through more than I could take; And look at you now
Today, while mindlessly packing, I found a postcard with Sara's building on it. I feel like sending it to someone, with the building circled and labeled SARA. Other things found while packing: my engagement ring from January 2000. Wowie. I put it on my thumb, so I can be like Isobel, married to myself.
O2
(Sleater-Kinney)
Monday, January 13, 2003
05:56 p.m.
I want to know/ why it hurts to stay/ and hurts to go away
Reached my low point. Out in the snow, boots laced, me yelling "WHORES!" to the sky. It can only be up from here. I can do my laundry now, and not think about it. Right? Right. All of us, we are smattered over these two cities. Are their arms bare like mine? Are their thoughts uncovered and aching, like mine? I doubt it, unless it's willingly, and to each other.
will I be ok? Crawled out of the mud, this filth you called your love
I was too exhausted to move this morning. I called in and slept for the entire day, until three. I vaguely need the money, but what I have must suffice. I needed the rest, the time to pack. Pretty much everything is packed but my clothes, linens, and computer.
slept for countless days, but I will be ok
My eyelids are heavy, despite sleep. Maybe the excessive amount of sleep is what did them in? I hate the secrets of my life. However, things are looking up. We have toilet paper again! No food, however. The only thing I have left to eat is a box of morning star breakfast patties. This can be eaten tonight. Tomorrow, I plan to sleep all morning. I can eat soup at work. That should tide me till tomorrow.
I didn't know I could feel this love/ so afraid I'll watch you go
Love pops up in the oddest places. Infatuation and obsession do not. They are more obvious. As am I, when I have them. My own life is still solid, beneath them. Last night was weird. Too much time on the bus, too much time standing, thinking, plotting, and observing. Not enough alone time. However, Mel and I did have fun walking right past the place we were going, only to turn around and be like "oh. there it is. duh."
Take my strength out, but I'm not down. Write this reverse, I'm not down
This time tomorrow... no. This time tomorrow I'll be at work. Good for me. The last day. I didn't reach Triesta yesterday. I need to call her now. Otherwise, I could potentially be in the Twin Cities indefinitely. Which isn't good, because then I would miss school. Also, I have been looking forward to regular time with Sara for a long time now.
Forever
(The Nields)
Monday, January 13, 2003
01:23 a.m.
This doesn't feel like sky, but I surely must be flying.
Two full days left. This one was long and intricately filled in with the kinds of things I love. Except for standing at freezing bus stops thrice. Hannah drove me home and saved me from my usual evening one, which was grand. In fact, I got rides to and from work yesterday, due to people showing up at opportune moments.
I've never been this high, I can hear the angels crying.
I cannot read media. I read The Nation yesterday and ended up sending them an incendiary letter in response to their article on Kathleen Hanna. Today, I read Dan Savage's column, entitled Bad Tranny, which is prompting me to write another letter, but it's Dan Savage. As if he cares what some kid thinks of his transphobia...
And I don't know why I'm here, I only know that this is true
Again, with the desolation of Smaug. Meaning- HOW CAN I LEAVE HER BEHIND WHEN I AM CRAZY IN LOVEY-LUST WITH HER? My life reminds me of this PJ Harvey line- "i can't believe life's so complex/when i just want to sit here and watch you undress". This is further complicated by the fact that I have, in fact, watched her undress. Blargh. Damn crush.
That with every single passing day, I will always miss you
Since Haven came home, I am turning into a cyborg, I am on this computer so much. I am leaving so much undone here in Minnesota. I am leaving friendships that are budding like pussywillows. I am leaving independence that was starting to unfurl its heady wings.
Forever
Okay. I need someone at work to totally reign me in and say "NO!" whenever I decide to drink coffee with milk. Or just coffee. I hate coffee and milk only exacerbates that, since, being native, I am highly lactose intolerant. Plus, no syrups. It makes my glucose level skyrocket and I don't bring my meter to work so I never know if I am going to faint or need to call a doctor.
Sunday, January 12, 2003
02:21 a.m.
dear world. just so you know, you came to visit here from drbizarro. a porn site. i want to know who you are. sign guestbook please. tell me who you are.
I Still Believe in My Friends
(The Nields)
Saturday, January 11, 2003
01:40 p.m.
I've seen shadows down the road; And baby, it's cold
Garnering reasons why I am happy, garnering reasons why I am unfulfilled. My thoughts, my love, they cascade over the daily tedium of work, of coming home and sitting at the computer. The confusion I feel about love swirls in little eddies, collecting itself into pools so that I run flat into it when I am doing something mundane, like keepering a stack of Yanni CDs. Then, the feelings I feel, the secrets that I keep infiltrate my demeanor and I cannot escape the truth, that I love, I love, I love.
And I'm one year older; And baby, I know
I don't know how to process the complexities of what I am feeling. No, neither is exactly love. Both are faulty little cries for affection. I realize this when I am around them, but at the same time, when they walk away, I want to cry, I want to scream. I want them to turn around and hold me, our bodies wrapped around each other, until I fall asleep. And then... Then, I want them to be there when I wake.
The window's covered in frost; And Jesus, a loss
I know each of their beds, but not them. No, not biblically. I can imagine myself crawling under their duvets and sleeping. This is probably indicative of my mental state- all my fantasies involve sleeping. I know the windows above their beds, the views out of them. These two women I am caught loving, but not loving. I am not sure what all of this means. I desperately want some kind of response, some kind of sign. Once, I looked up to the sky, in some faint hope of prayer, begging for a sign. I found a small black feather. It sits on my bedstand now. Love medicine, it pleads. No, I cannot do that.
Counting up the cost: Let's get real; not much is possible
Mainly, I want these bothersome feelings to disappear. It would be easier to stumble through my life that way. I think of the possibilities, of a girl whose kisses make my head whirl. A girl, at whose departure, I run up the stairs and lie on my bed, catching my breath and thinking "what was that?" Love. Complex. I don't know if I can handle it.
And I don't know whether I believe in me; But I still believe in my friends
At any rate, the entire equation collapses as I pack up my boxes and prepare to return to Madison. Maybe then, removed from the situation, the feelings will fizzle out. Maybe this love is like an Independence Day sparkler, sparkly-luminescent as I run around, writing my name against the dark with it. Then, burnt to the end, I toss in on the ground. Only in that situation- don't the sparklers come in boxes of twelve or something? Love. Love. Love. Why don't I understand it?
Call and Response
(Bangs)
Thursday, January 9, 2003
04:27 p.m.
Just shut up yeah just shut up is that what I should do?
Score. When I got home today, the UPS man was in front of our house. I thought "Gah. I wish the UPS man would bring things for me." He did! He brought me a little package from amazon.com!! It was the Bangs CD I've been lusting after. I'm listening to it right now. It's from Sara, who has showered me with presents these past few days. Yesterday, I had a package from her via amazon.com with the Hell Hath No Fury book that I wanted so much. Sara rocks. She also gave me a package in Madison, with CDs and a glass. A glass with monkey on it to keep by my bed.
And pretend it's all okay try not to yell the truth?
I leave in six days. My heart pounds when I think about it. Amy said today that the work dynamic will really change, as Kirk appears to be doing a lot of hiring. Plus, Adam, Ben, Vidya, and I are all leaving. Kirk e-mailed the dudes at Store #3. They seem fairly open to me working there. I hope it works out.
Just ignore it walk away "don't give them what they want"
Love is so complex. I need to meet a cute girl who's into the same stuff as me. Why is that so hard?
Silver Angel
(Helium)
Wednesday, January 1, 2003
09:44 p.m.
I AM THE EARTH. it's not something that i know
I kind of wish I'd write in my paper journal. I love my paper journal and I'm much, much more candid in it because no one reads it. Unfortunately, I haven't written in it for weeks. I need to write down the intense feelings I've been having lately. I need to open up, somewhere, about the truth of what is going on right now. I am finally getting over my paranoia that someone is reading my paper journal. I just need to write in it.
I AM THE DIRT. when to freeze and when to grow
I am afraid of moving. I am terrified because my financial aid isn't showing up. I am terrified because in the two years I've been away, I haven't written anything academic. I am terrified because I am totally questioning the past two years or so, and what I felt during them.
I HAD MY OWN BIRTH, when to stay in and when to go
I have this fantasy that she is going to be there to dress me, when I go to fancy dance. That I have long, long hair and she braids it and ties otter pelts to it. That she makes sure my laces are tight and my moccasins are tied. That she smoothes my hair and clips beads into it, and the eagle feather I earned so long ago. That she hands me a freshly ironed shawl, a red one, with ribbons, and kisses me, deep and beautiful, before I head out onto the floor. There, around the drums, I will pound my feet in rhythms for her. For her. For her. For her. I only have vague ideas of who she is, but I am waiting for her. She is this girl I dream exists somewhere. After we dance, she will show me respect by getting me food in the feast line: wild rice, potatoes, fry bread. We will sit together and she will lick the honey off of my chin. "Tawts," I will say. "Good."
AND I AM YOUR CURSE. it's not something that i know.
In two weeks, Triesta will drive me to Madison. I already know that sinking feeling I get when I leave a place I've lived. A feeling that makes me want to pull over, yank out my carefully packed boxes, and set up shop all over again. I am anxious about returning to Madison.
