Since when does the sky affect how I feel?

Generally, gray days make me feel all bohemian. I feel the need to smoke cigarettes and read Camus in a decent coffay shop. I want to walk all over the god-damn place. Today is looking like 24 hours of the exact opposite. It began at work: got off late (as usual) but because of someone else's carelessness, I lost my tips for the evening. I mean, I needed that change. For laundry, for meals. Like, even the bums in Gainesville have more change than me.
Then, home I got. A'Lesha asked me to stay up to wake her up. Um. How about fixing your alarm clock? Or, no, don't, it's ok, I don't mind sacrificing sleep to wake you up at 6:30.
A shower helped. But not much.
Classes went fine, but drained me of any content feeling I might have had.

{{Speaking of bums, yesterday I spent a few hours chatting with some kids who were around for the Rainbow Gathering (which, wasn't really the Rainbow Gathering. It's a bunch of hobos in tents in the woods of G'ville...sad.) Sad were these kids stories. I won't go into massive details, but be very, very appreciative that you know your father or at least that he wasn't one of six men who gang-banged your drug addicted mother who latr tripped on mescaline and then shot herself in the head. These three, whose names I'll withhold, even if they aren't real, were on their way to Mardi Gras. Planning to hop a freight. There's more involved than just hopping on a train.
1- You have to run on to the train to by-pass the inspections.
2- You have to jam something in between the heavy door and door jamb, otherwise, you will not get out of the car until it is opened.
3- Those cars are made of steel and are void of any form of insulation, you'll basically be riding in a refrigerator.
I gave them some socks (they had been wearing the same pair for a month), I gave the girl some underwear and tampons, I gave them some jeans (like new, but rarely worn), a sweatshirt I never wear, shampoo and some other random things.
I hope they make it past New Orleans, because their voyage is a far cry from anything Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda came close to experiencing.}}

Silver lining to these clouds of my day:
A graduation check from Aunt Kristen which will go far in my bank account. Money feels good, as empty as that sounds.

Hey Janet, I've got something to say....

Yes Brad?
Every time I think that women have made some decent headway in this man's world, movies like "How to Lose a guy in 10 days" come out.
My friends used to laugh at me boasting that in college, I would only date pre-med, pre-law men. I don't think that it was until my good friend Stephanie witnessed my aunt enforcing that, "it's just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is a poor one" that any of my friends had fathomed where my claim had originated.
I don't really like reality TV, so I haven't been captivated by The Bachelorette or Joe Millionaire , but, uh, I do have my opinions.
Sarah Schulman, author of, Girls, Visions, Everything, is in Gainesville, and I will certainly go listen to her tomorrow, but if she's speaking tonight at the University, I will hear her there too, no ifs, ands, buts or butts about it.

Guilty as charged

Saturday was a gloriously beautiful day. I mean, a Saturday straight out of Walden , except without all the fish guts and the pond. A Saturday to write home about, worthy of Emerson and every other Trancendalist. A Saturday that was so amazing, I have to beat you over the head with how great it was. The point had been received, no? Right so, I woke up at around 11 or so, messed around with homework and responsibility. And then I went over to the window where I came to the realization that this day was not to be wasted. Over to the Reitz union, where I ran into Amelia and Emily...I picked up some Subway and then we laid out on the lawn under the sky that I won't describe because I don't want to over do it as far as descriptions are concerned. Nothing was accomplished, save some girl talk that wasn't girly at all, but it was damn near perfection. Then, feeling all "walking on air" I decided to explore Gainesville...
First order of business, new flip flops. I headed down 13th feeling something familiar. It's difficult to describe. I initially summed it up as really enjoying G'ville, but feeling like I was on a permanent field trip (thus negating permanancy). Then I started to realize that I actually enjoy living here. Which scared me to a point, excited me to another. But back to the issue at hand. Under the fabulous weather, I ground over to Freeride and picked up new flip flip flip flops. I splurged, yes. For black flip flops. They were more than the $3 I might have paid had I visited Old Navy. But I reserve my Old Navy flip flops in various colors for the shower and beach. After spending my money free of guilt, I crossed the street to the natural food store, Mother Earth. Picked up some lettuce and other organic, vegetarian food stuff....along with organic milk (I think I'm done with Soy milk for a while), and once again, headed outdoors.
I could have walked forever. Except, I had to be at work in a few hours...But oh...
As I was walking home, something struck me and I finally named this feeling I've been feeling. The one that reminds me of a field trip. In other eyes, I'm still a baby. I have lots more to discover. But, I think I'm finally beginning to see what being an adult is like. I'm, for the most part, independent, away, working, studying, and I'm realizing what this feels like. Goodness.
I feel truly, one hundred percent happy. After a not so fabulous winter break, this is wonderful.
Allow me to bitch for a moment. I figure I've already numbed you with my emphasis on Saturday, so I'll continue with out further ado.
My first day back on the mountainin Aspen, five runs or so into the day, one or two jumps with decent air, I decide I can handle a black. And I probably could have, if there were no moguls. I'm not a big fan of mounds of snow, but I'll ski them. Anyways, taking my time down the mogul run, being extra cautious, I end up on my ass five or so feet away from my skis and one of my poles. Thank god there was a kind soul on run who was above me. I never got his name, the chance to thank him properly, but he was one of those people you read about in Ann Landers. He helped me up, gathered my skis, made an X in the snow and skiied down to meet cousin Brian, who was my companion for the day. Five or so minutes later, a swarm of Ski Patrol guys came to the rescue, put me in the little tobagan thingie and skiied me to the clinic, where $600 worth of X-rays and Orthopedic analysis determined that I had completely torn my ACL and sprained my MCL (an MRI later reported that I had fractured my bones as well). So instead of being able to have a blast with cousin Anne and our friend Allison, I was stuck on the crutches and the couch, doing my therapy exercises and learning that even if there are 900 channels, there really is nothing on TV.
Came home to Miami feeling not so relaxed. There I learned that my mother's mom (Nana Banana) had colon cancer, remarked how the vacation seemed to be shaping up nicely, drip drip drip goes the sarcasm. I sulked for a day or so, became the ice queen to sisters two and mother, and then realized that I needed to start counting my blessings. Number one, at least my legs weren't broken. Number two, I didn't have cancer. Number three, I know my grandmother. Number four, colon cancer can be take care of. I counted more as my time in Miami came to an end, and as the school year started up in Gainesville. Nana came through the colonoscopy just fine. She suffered a broken hip a week or so later, but she's working through that too. Times seem shitty....Even when I'm making money and enjoying the company of my co-workers...yes I was "happy."
But it took a Saturday like February 15 to make me really sublime. And that Saturday, with all its blessings came to be Blessing number one. I can appreciate, see, feel, live in a perfect Saturday.
And I have guilty pleasures tooooooooooo.....

Caramel Coffay smoothies from Freshens
Splurging on flip flops
Watching trading spaces
"wasting time" listening to music
eating cookies
enjoying a spoonful of honey before I put it in my tea
being totally unproductive
more
more
more

So tired, like that Beatles Song

I'm all anti-valentines. Not because i'm bitter, which I'm most definitely not, but for a few other good reasons. Number one, it let's almost every scumbag guy get off for treating his girlfriend like crap because he sprinkles a few rose petals somewhere. Number two, it lets every forgetful guy off for never buying a present any other day of the year. IE: girl: It's my birthday, did I get anything special. guy: I guess but not from me, I bought you those cheesy bears on Valentine's day. Number three, those cheesy-ass bears and other merchandise. It's almost as bad as decorating for Christmas right after Thanksgiving. I mean, in the scheme of things those stupid "I love you" bears aren't here for THAT long. But because It's just ONE day it's definitely compounded. Number four, two words: Marketing Ploy. First off, if it wasn't distasteful enough, the University of Florida offered a free mock wedding service to gushing couples. like, here's an idea: "hey why don't we pretend to get married when we're still undergrads?!?" "that's a SUPER idea!!!!" "I LOoooooooove you!" "Yeah! Who needs school? Oh and then, I can get pregnant, and we can raise our first child in Low-rent housing!!" "wow! You are so clever!" But then, I came home from class and unwinded for a bit by watching TV. Every single channel had devoted itself to the day of love. So I settled on MTv, which at the time was focusing on kisses in music videos. Then TRL came on (carson daly is a massive tool). Um. I'm sorry. If I were to plan myself a wedding, the LAST place I would want to hold it would be in MTv's studio, druing TRL, while hundreds of teeny-boppers "woo-hooed." Who gets married on Cable Television?!?!? WHO!?!?! Like, they had strangers vote on the dress, the honeymoon, the ring. Talk about indecisiveness. If two people who supposedly love each other can't pick out a dress, a honeymoon spot or a ring for themselves, how long will it last? Or was it the fact that you couldn't afford your dream wedding? Hey sport, here's a hint, why dontcha learn that sacrifices are part of life? Ritz too expensive? Find a cheaper location. Catering bill too much? Limit the guestlist to family and close friends. Can't afford that Vera Wang? Either learn to sew or get REALLY good at searching through Bins. But if you're dream wedding bill is too high, do NOT turn to MTv. That's just cheap and white trashish, except that MTv is too evil to deal with the white trash.

I cooed when my roomate's boyfriend tastefully sprinkled rose petals in her room (she has her own), and on her bed. The dude is a really great guy who treats my roomie like the world and is a true gentleman. When I came home from work at 5:00 am, sick of drunk people and horny guys, I had to find my footing around a million rose petals leading up the stairs to some chick's room. Great. The cleaning service doesn't come on the weekends. Thanks to this considerate asshole boyfriend, I get the chance to slip on rose petals. Way to go buddy.

I like chocolate too. But because I refuse to have a valentine, I'm labeled as a bitter bitch who just wants to get fat on Russel Stouffer (gag me, Hershey's all the way Baby) because she didn't get a Valentine.
I mean, if you want to be romantic, more power to ya. I think romance is incredible when it exists between two people who really like or love each
other. If you can find a way to do somethign tasteful and not trite on Valentine's, go for it. I once suggested to my friend who was in agaony over what she should do for her boyfriend, that she first choose a poem by Pablo Neruda, then develop a roll of a self portrait of herself, or maybe the two of them together, then write the poem on a transparancy and develop a picture, with the poem burned onto the page. If it had been done before, it was not to the extent that a box of chocolates had. It is sweet to see what some guys will do for their gal.
But, hey, why not mix a little creativity with that romance? Why not pick another day of the year to be romantic? Like I always say, Belated Presents are the best. Here's why, the festivites have passed, the commotion has died and so, it's a random present. Like, a present just for being you. Sure, it was for your birthday, but hey, it's not your birthday now! So when V-Day has passed, why not then celebrate romance? On a random night? Just because you love someone. That is more romantic than any bears with magnetic lips that I've ever seen.

Also, I'm pissed at GW...but this is not the forum for that.

Collecting feathers

There was this story they used to tell us in Hebrew School, and later at Youth Group meetings whenever we discussed LaShoan Harah. Evil Tongue. Gossip.
Anyways, this guy starts spreading rumors about a Rabbi, nothing majorly harmful, but in classic telephone style, the rumors get themselves elaborated and pretty soon the Rabbi is said to have done some not so kosher things. Turns out the original rumor wasn't true, so the Rabbi calls the instigator to his house. They discuss the truth and other things (doubtless, LaShoan harah as well). The guy feels terrible, apologizes profusely and vows to correct the mistake. BAM! The Rabbi whips out a huge bag of feathers and hands it to the guy. Now it happens to be a pretty windy day. Anyways, the Rabbi brings the dude to the front door and tells him to open the bag of feathers on the front lawn. As soon as he does so, feathers are flying everywhere, down the street, up in the air, they're up and out of there. When things die down a bit, the Rabbi tells the guy to collect all the feathers, every single one, and refill the bag. As is the style, the man says something along the lines of, "But Rabbi, that is impossible, some of the feathers might already be in the next town." And the Rabbi says, "Well, the words you spoke about me are like these feathers. You can try to take them back, but it is too late."
I kind of feel like the guy collecting the feathers. Last night, i published an entry that semi-attacked a good friend. I deleted it...because it really should never have been published in the first place, but it wasn't cool on my part and the damage has been damaged.

A Sunday Morning worthy of Velvet Underground...

At the moment, I'm functioning on five hours of sleep for the "day" (I got off work at 4:40, chatted with cousin Anne 'til 6). But more if you count hours of sleep as accumulation. Most college students do. Otherwise, expressions such as, "I have had about 30 minutes of sleep in the last week," wouldn't exist and instead one might hear things along the lines of, "well today I got maybe a minute or two of shut-eye." Right. Like college students would actually use an expression like "shut-eye." Cousin D and her roommate Claire have gone to both Carolinas this weekend, and since their Betta fish, who I affectionately call Traci Lords in blatant disregard for whatever other name they gave this fish, cannot take care of herself, I am fish sitting. Traci is temporarily homeless, as her fishbowl was broken. She arrived in my care in a recycled gatorade bottle. As I was unsure of how she might feel about the restricted vision, I changed her water and relocated her to a smaller, yet much more pleasant Ragu Vegetarian Spaghetti Sauce Jar. Cleaned, of course. I consider this downsize much like moving out of a huge apartment in Hialeah and finding a quaint One room in the Village. Plus, now, when I "play" with Traci (ie- hold a mirror up to the jar), I can see what she is displaying. She doesn't always play with me and I am reminded how boring fish can be.
I am into my third day at work, still getting into it, but the environment is pleasant enough. It's a laid back working environment until about 2/2:30 when the clubs close and swarms of obnoxious, slutty, aggressive, stupid, silly, horny drunks mob the Pit and forget what they want on their pitas, or request some other type of bread, a wheat loaf perhaps. Sorry buddy, we only have pitas here. After the rush things die down, and then we become increasingly anxious for the door to quit opening so we can pull the chain on the Neon Open sign and start cleaning up. Always service with a smile though.

Right. So. The groove needs getting into.

Most Thursday nights, I grind my little butt on down to the Civic Media Center and jam with poetry. I'm not confident enough to call myself a regular, but they know my name...with this in mind, I'll say that "we" have an affectionate name for the poetry jam, it's not secretive or anything. However, I started work at Pita Pit this week. And being that I'm an ameoba as far as pecking order is concerned, I'm am assigned to work Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and possibly Sunday nights 'til closing. No major problem, it's money in the bank. Of course, I won't have the money in the bank until two weeks from now, but alas, is not near-poverty the story of every college student's life?
T minus about 4 hours until my shift starts once more...I'm going with out my leg brace tonight.
My knee is still very unsure of itself, but the damn thing pulls my pant legs down, resulting in usually one thing, depending on the type of bottom coverings I happen to be wearing at the time, an unfortunate ass clevage. Eww. I don't want to be one of those girls.

Buy buy buy buy

I've been having this strange feeling recently. Nothing horrible. It just reminds me of every feeling I would have in the mornings before a regatta. The cold air of Central Florida and the sense that while it was so beautiful it could never be my home. Last semester, I lived in Gainesville. This semester, it's different. Maybe it's the weather. We shall see. Life is good. Life could use a little more stimulation. Life is going to become school and work. I started my job the other night/day at Pita Pit, a chain restaurant but certainly not as evil as Subway. It's not really a restaurant as there is no wait service. It's a gimmick. Get a sandwich in a rolled up Pita. Many options, fresh veggies. It sure beats Pizza at 2 in the morning. Since we're open until 3 though, I won't get home until 4. But, as my first class isn't until 11:45, I can do it, no problem. My first day was a little more challenging because after getting off work, I went to help Devi with a paper. Crawled into bed well after 6, woke up at around 8:30ish...pulled the three pages to four, we work well as a team...
Then I walked home to my dorm, but didn't get to rest until after 3. It's all good. i woke up at around 10 to make a dinner and study for astro. I felt like I wasted the day though. I have another shift tonight. 9 til close. Money in the Bank, baby. Also, it's much more exciting than my previous job which was so dull, I had to start composing fantastic adventures in my head. Ok so. I have an astronomy quiz soon, so I have to get that done....Anyways. Cheers