Satan is my motor...

I had dream in which I am stuck in Bjork’s Human Nature video. I am dressed in a brown bear costume and running through this cartoonish forest at dusk--while the cut-out paper green leaves brush my fur and rasp against my ears.

The fading sunlight filters though the leaves, casting red/yellow zebra stripes on trunks, stalks, and body parts alike. As I get closer to the middle of the forest, the trees close in on me and I am smothered in a shadow-scape from Well’s The Island of Dr. Moreau. I can see other beast-humans galloping through the trees, absolutely silent. The dream ends as I see my self as an out-of-body experience, and my perception is suddenly swept up through the canopy of the forest through to the cold, starless sky.

I swear to god I am not doing drugs.

Moving (on)

Finished moving out of my old apartment today. I cleaned for like 5 hours this afternoon—the apartment was left so messy when we moved in, I was compelled to clean like a banshee for the next inhabitant. You know…improving my karma. [Squirt, Squirt. Wipe.] I thought all of the surfaces in my house were off-white. But no, they were just filthy.

Moving always makes me contemplative. Lately I have a renewed sense of professional ambition—which I totally lost track of this year. Grades, grades, grades. Shit. Alan and I talked about how college is basically seeing how much crap you can put up with for the man. And what is scary is that most people that realize that school is a huge joke this early usually don’t finish. (Keep hope alive.) But I had a very interesting conversation today with Dean, mostly about how I can look forward to grad school.

Bad news: Dean, “You basically only go home to sleep, fuck, and party.”
Good news: after I leave the ‘Zou, I will have had 4 ½ years of lab experience, including 2 of my own research projects. And because I am taking 5 years, I am going to try and get a pub my last year, and maybe an NSF grant so I can go wherever I want for grad school. (Inner monologue: "and you’re drunk.") Pipe dreams!

As I left my old house this evening, I gently set down my bottle of Fantastic on the worn coffee table, looked longingly off into the distance, and reminisced about what this past semester has entailed. A lot of shit. Was it all worth it? I don’t know, but I don’t feel regret any more.

Not gonna lie: I have definitely done some things I am not proud of, but I suppose that is part of growing? And, really; being naughty is much more fun.

I'd dress them wicked, I'd give them names

Columbia is a ghost town! Normally I wouldn’t complain, but campus (not to mention much of downtown) is completely dead. Thank god Lane, Kristin, Monica, Rachel, Craig, Eryn/Rick, Robyn, Nick, Natalie, Mariya, Laura, Anson, and Mark/Emily are staying in town this summer.

Last night, after some Frisbee, very-public-skinny-dipping, and root beer floats, I made Craig watch Blue Velvet. Which reminds me: David Lynch is one crazy fuck. I still don’t quite get it. Anyone have an explanation for this movie? Do tell…

My search for a second part-time job continues: I applied as a night attendant downstairs at U-place, and another lab job in the Medical School. As you know, I have this inability to enjoy any downtime…which is why I will probably burn out in like 2 years. And join my favorite hag, Ms. Bees, living on the street, popping pills, wallowing in urine, and wearing used hefty bags as clothing. Cut to Mugatu declaring, “I give to you: DELELÌCT!”

Yep.

How can I put it? (You put me on...)

Great-googly-moogley! I am living with Lane this summer! So I am currently moving my stuff across the hall into 105. Which, by my initial estimates, would have taken me roughly 2 hours? It turns out that this move will last the rest of my natural lifetime. Seriously. His freezer is the size of an ice cube tray. Where will all the booze go? (The alcohol goes in the freezer. And in Kristin’s mouth.)

So wish me luck with hauling 8 months of accumulated paper, frozen foods, and memories 3 feet from my front door. It will probably take me the rest of the night, so I see some coke/WBS/mad-flash-dance-action/bad 80’s pop music in my near future. (Sound of me turning up my collar.)

Rockin’ the Casbah!

P.S. Confidential to Mandy Wade: When was the last time you updated, hmmm? Never!

Today was a frickin busy day.

8:00AM: SSS4 final, Brahms’ 2^nd Symphony in DM, chromatic chords, transposing instruments, sonata form.

9:25AM: Nap

10:00AM: Study like a heathen for organic chemistry 2 final

1:00PM: Organic chemistry final—carbonyl, organometallics, AA, carbohydrate chemistry

2:30PM: work

3:00PM: go to the bookstore to replace my mouse which (inopportunely) decided to kick the bucket. Am trapped in the bookstore basement by bossy fat employees, insisting that ‘tornado warnings’ should be taken seriously. I mean, WTF?

3:40PM: make a break for it after listening to 40 minutes of pseudo-professionals discuss the weather, politically-correct journalism, and grammar. Decide that I would rather be dismembered in a tornado than listen to thus said pseudo-professionals discuss their “matching ying-yang coffee tables from Ikea”

3:50PM: arrive at FAB, only to get a call from Craig, telling me he is coming to pick me up.

4:30PM: arrive at Craig’s house. Nude hilarity ensues.

6:30PM: dinner at ‘Taco Hell’

7:00PM: clean room, find calculator, tax forms (whoops?), plethora of ancient (and unparalleled) romantic notes from Rachel

8:00PM: get tired of telling Aaron that he can’t ‘play’ my bike pump as an instrument, decide to do skin-reactivity test to determine speed of histamine reactivity from peanuts

8:07PM: get tired of thus said histamine reactivity from peanuts experiment

9:00PM: go to Wal-Mart. Receive inquisitive glances from mentally-challenged-teenage-mother checker while purchasing orange juice, cranberry juice, rose grenadines, pina colada mix, coke, red bull, club soda, and a mouse.

9:45PM: return home to waste the next 2 hours cleaning, facebooking, and blogging.

I would say, all in all, a very satisfying and successful day.

No wind, no rain can stop me...if you're my goal!

Due to studying, I had a sleep-deprivation induced dream in which I am dressed as Diana Ross in a long flowing emerald sequined high neck ball gown, surrounded by my Supremes, and singing to a stadium full of loving fans. As I sing, I toss my enormous, picked-out afro, make small waves to the audience, blow kisses, and generally act like the insufferable diva I long to be. Rachel is sitting in the front row.

I sing, “I know, I know you must follow the sun,
Wherever it leads
But remember, If you should fall short of your desires
Remember life holds for you one guarantee
You’ll always have me.

And if you should miss my love, One of these old days—(clasp my breast)
If you should ever miss the arms,
That used to hold you so close, or the lips
That used to touch you so tenderly (pause to wipe my eyes)
Just remember what I told you,The day I set you free!”

Supremes: Ain’t no mountain high enough
Me: Woo-hoo!
Supremes: Ain’t no valley low enough
Me: Say it again Ow!
Supremes: Ain’t no river wild enough
Me: Say it again!
Together: To keep me from you!

And twirl, and spin, and freeze!

This shit is bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

My voice jury was today—and it went really well. I think I sounded a little too angry though—I will have to work on my primary emotions. Rachel and I had a good cry afterwards. Now I am going to smoke, drink, skittle-gorge, and yell myself into permanent vocal damage. Jk. But I am not going to practice for like 2 weeks. Scandalous!

Bizarre dream catalyzed by my compulsive cell bio studying. I was like, “Yes, Dr. Stomhaug, of course I know what an action potential is.” And then to prove my point I electrocuted a whale. Until it died.

Does that freak you out? Because it definitely freaks me out. What else is hidden in my subconscious?

To my friend Robyn: I swear to god I love animals…

Out of sight, out of mind

Last night I went to Shattered with Craig—and had more fun than you can shake a stick at.

Whitney, Jordan, Eric, and Miranda, and Jeff came. I was totally trashed by the time we got there, so the fact that it wasn’t totally packed bothered me not. I don’t think I have gotten my crazy-dance on like that before—I remember dancing in the cage (while humping Miranda), grabbing Whitney, and being grinded against by Craig/Jeff. Hawt? I also remember telling just about everyone, “Yeah, I used to be straight 4 weeks ago.” With arched eyebrows, ill-hidden skepticism, and conciliatory smiles, they were like, “Really?”

This morning I woke up hung-over, smelling like smoke and gay-boy cologne, and hauled ass back to my house. Where I will be studying until I drop. Eat drink and be merry for tomorrow we die.

Save me from myself

Periodically, my body says, “Listen up bitch! The stomach is eating your liver! You need to eat some goddamn food!”

And I’m like, “What? I have the metabolism of a hummingbird. I long for a grapefruit.”

Despite any and all attempts to gain weight by weightlifting or being ridiculously sedentary, my body refuses to get any heavier. Which is fortunate…because I pull of the skinny palely-loitering white boy act well. I am 6”1’. I weigh 155lbs, and a lot of that is left over muscle from when actually did go to the gym.

Which brings me to the point at hand. Every several months, I am like, “Goddamn! I am hungry.”

And today was one of those days. It was precipitated by my mom sending a finals care packaged that had kashi crackers and homemade chocolate chip cookies/ chocolate-mint biscotti.

And this morning when I got up, Craig was like, “I have a package for you.” And I opened it—and found to my surprise an industrial 36 pack count of wild-berry skittles! I immediately ripped off my shirt (yes, right there in the kitchen) and rubbed the exterior of the purple cardboard box against my rock-hard, tanned chest, all the while tossing my head back, closing my eyes and making moaning sounds. 36! 36 fucking packs! That is 8,640 calories.

When I got home, Aaron was like, “So…I am guessing that will last about 3 days?”

And I was like, “Bitch please.” More like 2 days. I might become one of those fat people that need to be removed from their homes by demolishing a wall and lifting them with a crane.

You're an acid junkie college flunky dirty puppy daddy bastard

I was made fantastically happy today by a toothbrush. It was red. I shall name it “toothbrush” and it shall be my toothbrush.

Ah, the simplicity of life.

Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis.

So this afternoon, Craig came over after he was done with class. He was ‘a total mess’—he had been up all night doing some Choral Lit paper, but of course he still looked absolutely hawt. We ended up going to Paquin Park because it was such a beautiful day.

I gave him a back rub under a red bud tree, while the wheelchair-bound morbidly obese old women toked up their menthols nearby. Craig, “I mean, if I were that fat, I wouldn’t be smoking.” Such sass! We have so much in common it’s creepy. I told my story of the couch-bound woman who, through the sole power of Richard Simmons’ aerobic specials, clapped her way into losing 300+ lbs. Craig seemed surprised that I knew this, but when you watch as many infomercials as I do…

So, this PDA made Craig (and me to a certain extent) a little uncomfortable. Neither of us feel a need to wear our sexual orientation on our sleeve. It just isn’t a big deal to us. There were lots of older veterans and such wandering around—and I definitely felt a little awkward. Which made me think; you know I would have no qualms with making out (hard) with a girl in a park. It shouldn’t really be any different—so it is like “get the fuck over it”, you know?

Haha, next you know, I am going to hold queer rights meetings in the CTA, complete with rainbow tablecloths. (And by the way, that has actually happened before—I am not making it up).

Other things I did today:
1) took my cell bio test #4
2) went to work, only to find out that the corn was already planted
3) Finished my theory project
4) Took a nap
5) Practiced for 1.5 hours
6) Ate 2 packages of wild-berry skittles
7) Cleaned my room
8) Finished my diction journal
9) Wasted an inordinate amount of time blogging

every day is so wonderful (part deux)

I am currently working on making some positive changes in my life. The first one being to open some lines of communication with my roommate and friend Aaron. Lately, we have been kind of cool towards each other—fueled mostly by my egregious inability (and unwillingness) to communicate. But as I know, nothing resolves itself on its own.

Final outcome: Aaron and I both told each other we are willing to make some changes in our roommate relationship and we are going to be more honest with each other in the future. I know it will be a long road (considering that we have some shit to work out), but I am very optimistic about us getting along better in the future.

Which reminds me: people always surprise me. Friends forgive you for being an asshole, and they accept you for you—if you can just give them the chance. So, I would like to give a huge shout-out to my friend (Holla!) and roommate Aaron Hartmann (the guy that lives on the other side of the wall). He likes tanning, golden oreos, and the Cardinals. One time (I sweart to god) He came home trashed and said, "I am drunk as a skunk!" Seriously, who says that? He is awesome. ‘Nough said.

In related news:

Now that just about everyone else knows about it, I think I will inform my ever-adoring blog public. I amdating the most gorgeous man in the world. His name is Craig and, if I were a black woman, I would describe him as my baby-boo. Seriously, he is a really cool guy—and I feel so privileged that he is in my life.

I feel so positive today! I love everyone. I love to dance, dance, dance! I love Jesus, I love America, and I love Cher.

But by then, Harold was over his head in the ocean...

I had a really good talk with Lane today. Mostly about how I have been a total asshole to everyone in my life and that I am sorry for that. I like my friends. And I like people in general; I just get caught up in hating humanity for the errors of a few.

The moral of the story: never underestimate your friends. You can be pleasantly surprised even when expecting the worst.

Now for something completely different:

This is a contented look at the mundane that is my life:

1)I have been listening to Jonie Mitchell lately, so I have really good karma. So good it is scary.

2)In an effort to keep my SPE count up I just finished my 8^th banana/strawberry/chocolate protein shake in 4 days. Uh…

3)I have made 0 index cards in the last week. Maybe that is why I haven’t accomplished anything?

4)I read Craig Harold and the Purple Crayon last night. Synoposis: there are no grown-ups in Harold’s world—except the police man he draws. He is lost from home, scared by a dragon, and almost drowns in an ocean. He has to rely on his crayon and his baby-wits. . My first impression of this book is that little children would find it very frightening. After reading last night though, I think the book cover should say something like, “Empowering babies everywhere.” Really, it is very inspiring. If only all our problems could be fixed by a purple crayon. If only.

Stop in the name of the law...And right now the name of the law is Rayneesha Wayne

Dream in which I am scuba-diving in the Antarctic, wearing a James Bond black wetsuit. Being constantly ridiculed by my friend Manda for insisting that I was swimming under glaciers. Manda says, “You moron. They are icebergs. Icebergs.”

As of late, I am working on reading the book Dawn for my science fiction class. And by reading, I mean holding it in myhand at the plasma center while I watch The Price is Right.

In Dawn, the main character Lilith is forced to awaken cryogenically frozen humans so they can repopulate the earth. She hates all of them. Even after 2 hundred years of isolation without seeing a single human, when she is stuck in a room with them—she loathes them.

Remind anyone of Sartre’s No Exit?

"l'enfer, c'est les autres"

Fridays rock my face off.

Because of the State Music festival, I had only 2 classes today.

Of course that means I had to be a hall monitor for Townsend Hall. And by hall monitor I mean mainly sit in the library and catch up on 4+ hours of cell biology. Ever once and again I would poke my head out the door to say, “If you are in high school, shut the hell up.”

That worked nicely.

I also had 3 hours of choral union rehearsal tonight, but I got to sit by my significant other and discretely feel each other up. Which also worked nicely.

The soloists are amazing! Holy shit! The soprano is a gorgeous African princess. And fucking awesome. The mezzo (although Rachel told me she was a huge bitch) is really good too. The tenor is some verisomo demi-god. The bass is this Italian guy that looks like Fabio—complete with soul patch and long blonde pony tail. He is very good too, although most of the guys who I was sitting by spent the entire night trying to figure out if he was gay or not.

And I said, “He’s European. They don’t have sexual preferences.” It’s true. But that must be hard on the European women. How’s a girl suppose to have any semblance of a gay-dar? I mean, seriously, if you all wear tight red cigarette legged pants, it makes it kind of difficult. So maybe they should hold signs like the people at the Airport. That clearly states their sexual preference.

Just an idea.

Have you no thought O dreamer, that it may be all be an illusion?

Currently I am writing a book based loosely on my life. The working title is “How to lose your friends and alienate people.” Who knows if it will sell in the self-help section. Maybe we should market it under non-fiction?

Every time i scratch my nails down someone else's back I hope you feel it

Do you remember in Fight Club when Tyler Dirdan says, “Don’t fuck with us.” ?

I do— and that is the most appropriate quote for my life right now.

Maybe I don’t tell everyone that I know or have been friends with in my life exactly what is happening with the ongoing soap-opera that is my personal life, but that doesn’t give you the right to gossip about me. Nobody fucking cares what you think, so keep your goddamn unsolicited opinions to yourself.

(Shuffles feet.) Sorry for being honest.

For my enemy is dead. (A man divine as myself is dead.)

So my roommate has complained about the allusions I make in the subject line of my post.

I am sorry if anyone else can't follow my schizophrenic intertexuality. The sub. line is Walt Whitman. The next line of the poem is:

“I draw near. Bend down and touch lightly with my lips. The white face in the coffin.”

That line has always reminded me of the poem by Heine: Der Doppelgänger, in which the man wandering the street comes upon his double in the moonlight:

“Du Doppelgänger, du bleicher Geselle!” (translation: you double, you pale fellow!)

This poem has always reminded me of one thing. The thing I despise and loathe the most in the world. And when I find it in a person, I put my hand on their shoulder to turn them…and I find that it is me.

Der Mond zeigt mir meine eigne Gestalt. (The moon shows me my own form.)

dies irae

It is the week of the show ‘yall. I have choral union rehearsal from 7-10 Tuesday night, Thursday, and Friday night. Although, it is totally going to blow because 400 people have to be onstage, I know in the end it will be a rewarding experience. As long as it isn’t Stravinsky. God…the Symphony of Psalms is Satan.

In a totally unrelated note, today was the last day of organic chemistry lab. Ever. Which makes me happy, but you know, I do like a good reflux.

And today, I just realized how lucky I am to have my significant other in my life. Yay for me.

The virtue of selfishness

Ok, so to be honest, for a long time I had a crush on Daria, Janeane Garofalo, and other alternative goddesses who are marginalized and caustic/bitter.

Why is this? Maybe because they remind me of the ultimate in curmudgeon: Ayn Rand. My all-time favorite misanthrope. When her younger lover (Nathaniel Braden) broke it off with her, she cursed his penis. Seriously, who does that?

Probably my favorite quote of hers is:

“I need no warrant for being, and no word of sanction upon my being. I am the warrant and the sanction. “

Translation: This is the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to the rest of the universe. It is akin to secularism's threat to Christianity. Atheism isn’t a threat to the church; but secularism denies even the importance or existence of religion.

Good old Ayn. What a tough old biddy. Where can a man find that nowadays?