31 October, 2006, 829 pm
Filed under: Barrels of Fun, Music, School

Today is the opposite of fun.  I know I should never procrastinate, even and especially when I have a month to do something, but somehow I do it every time and I never learn.  I want to have fun.  God, I don’t even remember this morning; the hours flew by miserably.  And I was awake, oddly enough.  But then on the bus, I started to fall asleep all of a sudden.  And history was the longest class I’ve ever been in, and more painful.  Normally history is my favourite because Mr. Dunavant said “BYAH” the other day.  Actually, he wasn’t doing the Dave Chappelle thing; he was doing the Howard Dean one.  Still, though, it woke me up a little, even if nobody else got it because they don’t have intrugiung freshmen like Tim and insane sophomores like Frankie screaming, “BYAH!” for their lives.

Speaking of which, as exciting as the game was for the student section–out on a Monday night until late because their parents let them because it was a school event, and then going into overtime and putting off homework…that’s all good fun for the student section, that’s doing all this out of their own free will, but think about the motherfucking band for once.  I thought I was going to die and/or fail Chemistry if we stayed in that goddamn stadium one minute longer, which was after the students rushed the field and most had already left.  If only it wasn’t a Monday.  I’m going to miss band competitions like crazy, though, even if they did mean lack of quality time with my lady-friends.

I feel like passing out on purpose.  And Abigail Williams is haunting me.

31 October, 2006, 742 am
Filed under: Barrels of Fun, School




chemistry projects that are due tomorrow and expected to be fucking amazing.




Moment of sorrow:  I’m exactly 5’3″ and I’ve stopped growing.  This means that I’m under average height.

Moment of pride:  I’m average weight and this is an accomplishment, seeing as in eighth grade I weighed more, and proportionately to my age, I was pretty chubby.  Now to aim for malnutrition.

Sidenote:  Boys confuse me a hella lot (I know they confuse other girls, as well…and this is only because we overanalyze.  If a boy makes out with your face, he was either on a dare, or he thinks you’re bangin’.  If a boy holds your hand, he is either bored, or he cares.  If a boy kicks you, he is either trying to flirt with you in a really trite, immature manner, or he really fucking hates you and you’d better run while you have the chance.), but they should not.  I know that “I’m confused” is a trite statement.  Nobody can help with it.  It’s something that will be solved on its own.  But I suppose I’m considering between pursuing a two-week long lust-filled relationship and not pursuing this and pushing some asshole away…so I need someone’s blunt opinion, other than Connor’s.  Who says that someday, I will be raped on the bus and immediately thereafter tell him, “Well…I didn’t know how to tell him to stop…?”  At which point, he’ll kill me.


29 October, 2006, 844 pm
Filed under: Barrels of Fun, Music, School

This morning, I rose at 730 which felt like 830 because of Daylight Savings or whatever. I had gone to bed around one, so you must know something was troubling me if I woke up only a few hours later. I felt super-dirty in the morning, so I took the most thorough shower I’ve ever taken in my life and used a fucking lot of soap. I scrubbed my hair well, too. I even got my back, which I almost never get. And my feet. When I got out of the shower, I lotioned up my legs and feet and hands really well, which is also something I never do because I hate the feeling of lotion; it makes my hands and feet feel like they’re drowning. I reeked of soap, shampoo, and lotion. Then I washed my face. It wasn’t the hardest I’ve ever washed my face; it was second only to the time we arrived home from Lewisburg the last time. Whenever I feel like absolute crap, I go to extra precautions to make myself clean and pretty, because it’s just a self esteem lift. You can tell when I’m feeling down because that’s when I look my best.

When I scrubbed my feet visciously, though, I couldn’t help but think of the movie “Harriet the Spy,” when little Harriet angrily scrubs the friendship symbol from the bottom of her foot, erasing her bond with Janie and Sport.

(No matter what you think of that movie, it’s one of my favourites of all time. It’s very nineties, and it reminds me a lot of the Lehigh Valley. I’ve seen it countless times. Thus, the title for this post is a quote from the movie…duh.)

I think I was erasing my actions from the previous night. I was flirtatious. A kiss was expected by someone from me, and I didn’t give, because how awkward would it have been…?! I suppose this is why I often fish in the pool of younger men. I, myself, never had any way of fulfilling middle school crushes. You can ask why, and the answer is that I was not cute. At all. Remotely. Kids used to mock me, even. I weighed more than I do now. But in missing out on that, I also missed out on having a mindless, pointless, forgettable first kiss. Everyone automatically assumes that I’m average, so I must have kissed someone by this point. But no, now I’m past my prime, an old maid, and I have to think about it every time I get into something that might involve kissing. Boys as friends, parties, stupid games like truth or dare. And you should know I’m not some frolicking lamb, but maybe I’m just too nervous and picky. Maybe a kiss really isn’t as memorable as they say it is.

27 October, 2006, 448 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

R.I.P.  Pistachio

Finally escaped yesterday; who knew that would be his last smart move?

I hope that doesn’t happen to my Louie.  Then again, hamsters are such escape maniacs that they really don’t have time to enjoy anything; rats are a lot more laid-back and kind.  I was going to say “thankful,” but…a caged life isn’t something I’d be thankful for.  I resent the idea of keeping rodents as pets because they’re born to be free and not imprisoned.

Let’s rally for freedom.

By the way, I’ll never be able to go near the vents downstairs again.  I’m afraid some zombie hamster will come out, kill me, and get revenge on Alexa.


I have to go in to Mrs. Merchant’s room frequently during Extended Study for extra help in Math Analysis.  It’s disappointing that this is the first class where I can’t understand things on my own.  Gra.  And in Chem (college prep), I either feel like Steven Hawking or like Marilyn vos Savant.  I can’t tell, not yet.  It’s not Mrs. Davis’ fault; she’s bubbly and interesting, but the kids in that class just don’t care.  Am I the only one who cares?  Ha, yeah.

Regarding oboe…it’s sad that I’m veering away from it a LOT, but I’ve made the decision that all I want to do is write.  Is there anything wrong with that?  I should hope not.  I mean, it is my dream, and I shouldn’t let things interfere with it, no matter how much I’m supposed to enjoy them.  Hopefully lessons will make things less regretted.


I need something to write about, something to think about, something to dwell on, someone to dwell on, something to talk about, and someone to talk to.  I know you’re listening, but what I mean is that I need some new flavour to taste at the moment.  And if you are, per se, a new flavour, then speak up.  I need someone to brighten my day, even on days like today, when I look and feel like complete crap.  Don’t deny it; today was a bad-looking day for me.  Except my jeans.  I love Levi’s.

26 October, 2006, 958 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I’ve decided that if I ever put myself on music deprivation again, I will die.  Band, homework, bed at ten, and it’s really all been a blur without a good soundtrack, aside from hip-hop jams.  I need to get the url for that video and post it; it just shows some creepy old man’s dancing skillz, and he kind of has a tongue sticking out perpetually, and erect eyeballs.  Yes, erect eyeballs.  And yes, he’s topheavy, but maybe that’s because he’s wearing three layers on top?!  And he has stick legs.  Well, you’ll see.  It’s great.

Watch.  When I finally put the video up, you’ll be so completely tired of me talking about it that you’ll probably chop my stick legs off with an axe.

Speaking of legs, today during band, which was like recess, Emily tied my legs up so I wouldn’t be able to walk.  It was pretty effective (not really).  She’d make a great kidnapper.  God, today was a good day.  In every class, so far.  Including history, which was…well, haha.  I’ll explain later.  Promise.

24 October, 2006, 1009 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I thought my toes would freeze off.  Thus, I need to start wearing socks.  I don’t know why I always skip over the socks.  They’re not essential.  You can’t even tell I’m not wearing socks, so what does it matter?  My shoes don’t smell bad, nor do my feet, ever.  I am blessed with pretty feet.  Soft feet.  Small feet, six and a half.  Band camp ruined my heels, though.  I’m scarred and self-conscious.  Isn’t that weird?  I think it’s crazy, especially considering that I still don’t wear socks.

My eyes hurt like mothers.  Maybe I shouldn’t sleep with my contacts in?

OH.  For the record, because Sara, Pauline, and I spoke about this at lunch today, avec Prachi, I am:
-Pro-gay marriage
-Anti-abortion outside of the first trimester (because of rape and underage decisions)
-Pro-animal rights

I can’t think of anything else to write that I’m pro or against, but you can just ask me.

A little while ago, probably a month ago, it really annoyed me that PETA was so outrageous.  I’m not sure why; I guess it’s just because of their urging everyone to do this and do that and shoving opinions in people’s faces.  Personally, I’m really passive.  That’s partially why I write; you can find out my opinons by asking me or by reading what I’ve already written, but I won’t go out and scratch at a scab to make the blood pour out.  It’s not right.  I suppose lobbyists sort of have to do that, though.  But their requirements and then all the bad things you hear about them…they would make anyone doubt their justification.

Plus, I thought, why would people throw themselves out there and do crazy things and be assholes to people who eat meat?  We have to coexist, and we have to cooperate.  It’s just life on Earth.  Come on.  Fur is something that I take for granted that everyone has deemed unnecessary; it’s killing animals in vanity.  For no reason at all.  Every time you wash that leather jacket, you’re throwing a cow or an ostrich in the washer.  Gross, right?  Wool, too, I’ve been a little wary of.  Granted, they don’t have to kill a sheep to get wool, but there’s so much wool floating around now…do you think they let the sheep roam around la-dee-dah and get a trim when they feel like it?  No.  It’s brutal.  Shears…I mean, come on.  They’re pretty much weapons disguised as hair trimmers.  Be realistic.

My point is, though, that PETA’s not as ridiculous as you might think.  Animals have rights; they just can’t easily argue with humans about them and speak up to us.  We may have “dominion” over all animals, but we’re also entitled to treat them as we’d like to be treated, with respect, like family.  If you don’t think so, then you try living in a factory farm and see how you like it.  Try being a cow hooked up to one of those machines for milk.  It’s not pleasant.  Try living in the Iams lab.  Yeah, really humane.  We have a responsibility that we’re not living up to.  And the people who are arguing for animal rights aren’t crazy; they’re just passionate about true equality.

24 October, 2006, 837 pm
Filed under: Barrels of Fun

It’s sad that Guillermo (hahaha I’m lamer than ever) couldn’t be with us (namely E) today, but I’m sure he knows he’s missed.  And that we’re documenting it all using photos…and videos…

I don’t have a proper net connection right now, so I can’t post them, but I guarantee they’re worthwhile to watch over…and over…and over again.

Paige: “Why don’t you call Gil and ask him if he’s wearing a SARI?!”
Erika: “What’s a sari?”
Me: “Girls wear them in India for special occasions, basically.”
Paige: “HAHA.”
Erika: “Yeah, and then he’ll go, ‘GOOD ONE, ERIKA: “…”

We are worth your time.

As well as the v-tree, which stained my pants temporarily white in some/many places.  And hip-hop music.  And Brad sharing a sweatshirt with his dog.

It’s times like these when I wish certain things (men) had happened in my past.  I only have two pasts.  But it was a fun day, regardless of being grounded on weekdays for the rest of my life.  Hehe.  Song.  “For the rest of my life…”

It actually wasn’t clever at the time, though, because my mother was yelling at me on the whole car ride home.  And she found out my real feelings about band, which felt half-good, and then she told me that maybe she wouldn’t “let” me quit band.  So I asked her what if I had a terminal illness like cancer, then would she let me quit?  And she said maybe, but I don’t have a terminal disease, as far as we know, because I haven’t been to the pediatrician since I was thirteen, that last time when he told me to loose weight.  So.  I might have a terminal disease that we just don’t know about.

I don’t get, though, why she wouldn’t just let me drop it.  I mentioned four-year committments, but am I really going to do anything music-related with my life?  If I get my dream job, which would be to work either for a zine or for a big music magazine, then yes, it would have a little to do with music.  But otherwise, no.  I want to write.  And lately, I haven’t had the urge to do anything but write and to document things, but band is taking that up.  And it’s boring to just write about happenings at band; I feel like I’m leaving everyone out when I do that, and this isn’t fair.  I don’t see friends anymore; I have coworkers now, and no time for a job, even.  It’s physical torture as well as mental torture.  A voluntary activity should not be like that.

SO WHAT’S GOING ON IN YOUR NECK OF THE WOODS?  I feel like I’m talking absently about things that only about four people and a dog would understand.  I met a sophomore (I think?) named Brandon who is nearly just like Connor today in the way he makes fun of people and talks.  Pretty epic.  He had a baby and told us about the conversation he would have with his mother about a stolen pumpkin.

By the way, Jenny Molewis = IT’S A HIT.