Phil saw a dollop of syrup on the coffee table today and thought (hoped) it was ectoplasm. I just have one more week of Lesbian Studies to endure. We’re having our final class meeting at our professor’s house in Smyrna. Because Women’s Studies classes are just potluck pity parties and group therapy. Because our vaginas make us form instant, comfortable connections that transcend the classroom and make it OK to have our fucking final out…
I’m officially done with design class. I presented my major project today, which is one burden to check off the list. I still have to go Wednesday to see the remainder of the class’s presentations, but I have no more design work to do at MTSU. That’s a little heart-wrenching. I wish I could say the same for my other classes, but I’m completely behind. Dr. Lavery will be expecting a paper tomorrow, so I…
Today I am + Wearing jeans with a rip in the knee. Ah, the battlescars earned from chasing ferrets in the park and tripping over cheap flip-flops. + Procrastinating and not writing my Kubrick paper on Eyes Wide Shut. + More pale than I’ve ever been before. + Thinking of dyeing my hair black so the pale skin looks intentional. + Updating SWISH‘s Web site because it looks like ass. + Not surprised that Kevin…
I got the call, so I have an apartment. I just have to go pick out the one I want.
The green has exploded. It’s gorgeous. Walking to class from my car, parked in the Tennessee Boulevard-area streets across from campus, my intense lust for a house grew with every emerald lawn I passed. Just a little crop of grass in front of one’s home can be such a comfort in a town where most everything is paved. And then, when I went outside after my three-hour class, everything had been soaked by rain, and…
As I was getting ready this morning, I heard a bird singing outside. I thought it was a cell phone ringing. That’s pathetic. The Birmingham trip was an exhausting near-bust. I got a Yahoo map to one place in particular I knew I wanted to check out (it offers short-term leases on furnished studios near downtown; it’s that place I posed a pic of several weeks ago). Finding it wasn’t difficult with my trusty map.…
Also, happy birthday to Kristin. The big 21 is somewhat of a letdown, eh? And, I’m happy to report that I am not an indie kid. I see you are not surprised. Well, take a gander at this, and then see if you’re one: i am not indie at all! How indie are you? test by ridethefader Who are you trying to fool? Just because you own a couple of Weezer albums doesn’t mean that…
Communication, it seems, like most things, is cyclical. You have periods where you communicate with others easily, taking comfort that your interactions seem to be on the same wavelength. And then you have periods where it’s like your words, intentions, and actions and their ears and eyes exist on a different plane, prohibiting full understanding and fostering frustration. Phil and I have been struggling with miscommunication lately, and it’s driving me crazy. He gets really…
Perhaps the worst part of living with someone in very close quarters is that you pass germs back and forth and, once one of you gets sick, it takes a long time for both of you to get well. It’s my turn this week, as I am shoving tissues up my nose and popping sinus pills like candy. Yellow snot makes me sad. Phil just called and told me he saw my dad on CNN.…
My boyfriend would make a hell of a wife. Just kidding, you sexist pigs. You can’t have him or his deee-lish pot roast. I didn’t see the winning films, but I know who won. Guess you’ll have to pick up a Monday Sidelines to get the details. I finished The Passion, and it was, of course, magnificent. Just as I was beginning to fantasize about what a brilliant film it would make, I learned that…
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