27 March, 2008, 753 pm
Filed under: My Experience with Existence, School | Tags:

I have like five secrets.  Five secrets that would not be so bad if they got out, but five secrets nonetheless.   My main problem with them is that I doubt people would understand them, or they would misinterpret them.

This girl in my English class raised her hand to answer a question, and our teacher called on her to answer.  I listened to her and noticed that she said “like” about a million times.  This doesn’t bother me, since I probably do it too.  Plus, the girl is kind and fairly friendly, and despite her vocabulary, she often has rather direct points to make during that class.  Just, my awareness of that sort of thing turns on and off sometimes, and my brain just picks out the junk words and throws them away so I get the gist of what people are saying, or what they mean to say.  This is a bad thing.  I need to listen to what people are saying.

I actually do not think that I say “like” that much, because when I say something during class, it is normally fairly well premeditated.  As in, I have to plan out exactly what I will say and how I will say it.  I just wonder if I do it during everyday conversation.  I don’t know.

Here is something muy importante that I must bring to your attention.  The Day of Silence 2008 is on April 25th.  I participated last year and, for the most part, succeeded.  At the very least, I spread the message.  If you do not know what the Day of Silence is, then I shall inform your unfortunately uninformed mind.

All around the country, and even all around the world, people are ridiculed on a daily basis if they choose to express their sexual orientations or their true genders.  You have heard it at school–someone calls someone else “gay” or a “total faggot” for doing something stupid.  Ahh, “gay” is not synonymous with “stupid.”  Does that attitude, though, really give homosexuals and transgenders a safe haven to express themselves?

If you have read my blog before, you are probably aware that I am a staunch supporter of gay rights, et cetera, and that I am quite the pacifist.  If you are mighty conservative and you are ready to close this window or tab because you hate and strongly disagree with me, just wait one moment and read the next paragraph.

As much as I would like for this to be the case, the Day of Silence is not a day promoting gay rights.  It is simply a day to promote the end of bullying and discrimination.   Specifically, I suppose, or primarily, discrimination of those of the gay or lesbian orientation and transexuals and transvestites, as well.  What child deserves to be made fun of for self-expression?  In fact, what person–regardless of age–deserves discrimination?  And who wants it?

The kids at my new school are not only uber-conservative when it comes to gay rights, but they also discriminate against the comparatively poor kids (especially compared to West End/Short Pump kids), who are commonly referred to as “Dirties.”  This is fucking ridiculous.  I mean, the term “Dirty” mainly refers to poor kids, but they also use it to refer to girls who are shady and stereotyped as slutty, stereotypical rednecks, fat kids, and ugly people.  It’s messed up.  I mean, there were cliques at my old school, but you’ve never seen the social class barriers like this before.  Unless, of course, you are a Brontë and/or you grew up in England.

In Richmond, poorer kids did hang out with richer kids, and it was no big deal.  My family, for example, was the one on the brink of divorce.  I now know kids who don’t have a mom in their lives, or whose dads are in jail.  I had a smaller house than most of my middle school friends did–but it was a mansion compared to our new house.  I woke up to fighting every morning and fell asleep to it every night.  And money was stretched so goddamn thin.  I guess my mom accuses me of not knowing our financial situation, but it was bad enough that I felt guilty when I needed money for something like a new reed or a new backpack.  Nowadays, I imagine it’s even tighter, because I don’t ask for anything anymore.  Not clothes, I guess, because the temptation isn’t here.  I’ve been doing the French thing about collecting some versatile pieces, plus, I don’t shop anymore because I can make things.  And I use the Hype Machine and blogs for music.  I don’t wear much makeup anymore, and my social life is cheap and within walking distance.  Haircuts are unnecessary and I have not been to any sort of doctor in about a year.  For all I know, I could have gained ten pounds since I moved here (I’m lying–I would know).

Whatever, though.  My system of evalation is simply eyebrows.  I do not have the best eyebrows, as they are asymmetrical.  I am currently attempting to grow them in a bit in certain places so that they are slightly fuller, especially on the outside ends, so that I can perhaps tame them better.  I am just kidding about that being my system of evaluation, by the by.  If I rated myself on my eyebrows, I don’t think I would score all too high.  I can just appreciate a nice pair of brows.


A few things.

First, I have been playing Pokémon obsessively for the past two days. Pokémon Blue, to be exact. And I use an emulator. So here is the website for those of you who may be bored and unfortunate enough not to own a Gameboy or any Pokémon games.

Someone (mega-cough) left an Arizona Peach Tea can tab on my front porch on Easter. I now wear it proudly with my old one and yes, I can distinguish between the two.

Easter, by the by, was hellish. Everyone was fighting and I got pied in the face and my great-aunt cried for her beloved slice of lemon meringue pie or some shit like that. My family is nuts.

I actually have a twenty-three second clip of a high-speed chase in my cousin’s basement.  I can’t upload it places, though.  Ugh.

Also, my Tamagotchi family is growing up to be cute (for once in their miserable lives).

Here is the song that I have decided would fit so nicely on a sountrack.  Like the soundtrack to my life.  I think it would be on a walk before something really intense.  You could see it, couldn’t you?  When it breaks down, something intense is going down.  Like a drug deal or passionate eyes.  On YouTube, I saw a pretty neat dance routine to this song, but I wanted them to breakdance at the mood shift.  They stayed graceful throughout, though.  Not bad, but not what I would have done.

Derek | Animal Collective

Here’s the dance clip.  Someone commented, “I never pictured someone dancing to this.”  But I did.  Every time I hear it, I feel like frolicking for serious.  I feel like grabbing the nearest person’s hand and dancing.

And also, for old time’s sake, I shall present you three of my favourite Rilo Kiley songs.  I am in a real Rilo Kiley mood lately.  Not even Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins.  Just Rilo Kiley, plain and simple.  I am fairly certain, right now, that The Execution of All Things is my favourite album.  I don’t know, actually.  That’s probably a lie.  It’s so close.

“Capturing Moods” is uplifting and beautiful and patient.  “Paint’s Peeling” is quite different–slightly unhappy and unsure.  “Pictures of Success” is a favourite, though, from Take-Offs and Landings.  “Mexico can fucking wait.”

Capturing Moods | Rilo Kiley
Paint’s Peeling | Rilo Kiley
Pictures of Success |  Rilo Kiley

Maybe tomorrow I’ll do something different.  Maybe.

22 March, 2008, 1035 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Two things.  One:  Horton Hears A Who is a better movie than you give it credit for.  Two:  Read Phelan’s blog.  That is all.

22 March, 2008, 203 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Hey, INFPs, hit me up. I probably like you. I am also certain that I would like INTPs, since it came out that I am attracted to people who are 50% Thinking and 50% Feeling.

Jung Explorer Test
Actualized type: INFJ
(who you are)

INFJ – “Author”. Strong drive and enjoyment to help others. Complex personality. 1.5% of total population.

Preferred type: INFJ
(who you prefer to be)

INFJ – “Author”. Strong drive and enjoyment to help others. Complex personality. 1.5% of total population.

Attraction type: INFP

(who you are attracted to)

INFP – “Questor”. High capacity for caring. Emotional face to the world. High sense of honor derived from internal values. 4.4% of total population.

Take Jung Explorer Test
personality tests by

This one was grand.

Cattell’s 16 Factor Test Results

Warmth |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78%
Intellect |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Emotional Stability |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 86%
Aggressiveness ||| 10%
Liveliness |||||| 18%
Dutifulness ||||||||||||||| 46%
Social Assertiveness ||| 10%
Sensitivity |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 86%
Paranoia ||||||||||||||||||||| 62%
Abstractness |||||||||||||||||||||||| 74%
Introversion |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Anxiety |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 86%
Openmindedness |||||||||||||||||||||||| 74%
Independence |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Perfectionism |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 82%
Tension ||||||||| 26%

Take Cattell 16 Factor Test (similar to 16pf)
personality tests by

I have definitely taken this one before.

Advanced Big 45 Personality Test Results

Gregariousness ||| 10%
Sociability |||||| 18%
Assertiveness |||||||||||| 34%
Poise ||||||||| 26%
Leadership ||||||||||||||| 42%
Provocativeness |||||| 18%
Self-Disclosure ||||||||||||||| 46%
Talkativeness |||||| 14%
Group Attachment ||||||||| 26%
Extroversion ||||||||| 26%
Understanding |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Warmth ||||||||||||||| 42%
Morality |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 82%
Pleasantness ||||||||||||||||||||| 70%
Empathy |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Cooperation |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Sympathy |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Tenderness |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78%
Nurturance |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 82%
Accommodation |||||||||||||||||||||||| 79%
Conscientiousness ||||||||||||||||||||| 62%
Efficiency |||||||||||| 38%
Dutifulness ||||||||||||||||||||| 62%
Purposefulness ||||||||||||||| 50%
Organization |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 82%
Cautiousness |||||||||||||||||||||||| 74%
Rationality |||||||||||||||||| 54%
Perfectionism |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 82%
Planning ||||||||||||||||||||| 66%
Orderliness ||||||||||||||||||||| 63%
Stability |||||||||||||||||| 58%
Happiness |||||||||||| 38%
Calmness |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 86%
Moderation |||||||||||||||||| 54%
Toughness ||||||||||||||| 46%
Impulse Control |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 82%
Imperturbability |||||||||||| 38%
Cool-headedness ||||||||||||||| 50%
Tranquility ||||||||| 26%
Emotional Stability |||||||||||||||||| 53%
Intellect |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Ingenuity |||||||||||||||||| 58%
Reflection |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 86%
Competence ||||||||||||||||||||| 70%
Quickness |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 86%
Introspection |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 82%
Creativity ||||||||||||||||||||| 66%
Imagination |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78%
Depth |||||||||||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Openmindedness |||||||||||||||||||||||| 78%

Take Free Advanced Big 45 Personality Test
personality tests by

I was surprised by Physical Security. It’s always been low when I’ve taken this before.

Advanced Global Personality Test Results

Extraversion || 10%
Stability |||||||||||| 43%
Orderliness |||||||||||||| 53%
Accommodation |||||||||||||||| 63%
Interdependence || 10%
Intellectual |||||| 30%
Mystical |||||||||| 36%
Artistic |||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Religious || 10%
Hedonism |||||||||| 36%
Materialism || 10%
Narcissism || 10%
Adventurousness |||||| 23%
Work ethic |||||||||||||||||| 76%
Self absorbed || 10%
Conflict seeking || 10%
Need to dominate || 10%
Romantic |||||||||||||| 56%
Avoidant |||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Anti-authority |||||||||| 36%
Wealth |||| 16%
Dependency || 10%
Change averse |||||||||||||||| 70%
Cautiousness |||||||||||||||| 70%
Individuality |||||||||| 36%
Sexuality |||||| 30%
Peter pan complex |||||| 30%
Physical security |||||||||||||||||| 76%
Physical Fitness |||||||||||||||| 70%
Histrionic || 10%
Paranoia |||||||||||||||| 63%
Vanity |||| 16%
Hypersensitivity |||||||||||||||||||| 83%
Indie |||||||||||||||||| 80%

Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
personality test by

19 March, 2008, 1156 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

I am in English class and we have a free work period.  I feel like I have expended all my creativity for the week.  Tomorrow, the seniors have school over what is officially supposed to be our Spring Break.  We have been gypped, but I guess nobody else really knows what they are missing out on, since they grew up with this nonsense of an extended weekend as Spring Break.  This is the first time, though, that I have nothing to look forward to over break.  And it would be different if it was longer.  I have no plans in or out of town, and I will probably spend it like any regular weekend, which means that I will waste time on the computer and probably play far too much RuneScape–because my mother has the car and she is at Jan’s.  Or dare I say, “Jan’s.”  I might get a haircut, too, this weekend, and maybe I’ll rent some videos.  I will definitely work on my senior project, which (contrary to the boredom some of you must picture) will actually be amusing.  Relaxing, I suppose.  I just wish it was warmer outside.


This morning, I started to think about my senior project, which is going to be a zine.  I’m going to take photographs around Lewisburg.  I’m going to bring together some of my forgotten writings and make lists and I am going to compile it all into ten or twelve pages of concentrated literature.  I only have a few ideas for the name.  I could name it Chouette! based on the title of this blog since it would be a sort of hard-copy accompaniment, but I think that would be overkill.  Although I do love the word.  Chouette.  I have also considered naming it Sourcils or Pamplemousse, but then what would I put on the cover?  I will think of something by the end of this weekend.

Another dilemma is where to get the writing from.  I know that for the first issue, it will all have to be mine.  Every bit of it.  And then I shall ask for contributions from friends.  But I can’t just pull things out of my ass.  I considered new literature and things I’d already written earlier in high school.  Journals for English classes came to mind, then, and I pulled up my journal from junior year and my journal from freshman year and I began to re-read them.

My junior year journal is not so cringeworthy.  I have some great revelations about love, war, and religion in there.  I have changed a bit since then, but it’s just because I now love more people and I have an urge to know something about everyone in a non-prying manner.

My freshman year journal is atrocious.  I almost spelled “optimistic” wrong in it.  But then I fixed it.  I wrote about boring things like middle school and how Catholic I was and how much I loved Switchfoot.  Looking back, I admire my steadfastness to the band and to my beliefs, even if I don’t agree with myself anymore.  And I also love this passage, no matter how fluffy I was when I wrote it.

And suppose we had an atheist, lesbian, African-American president (obviously a woman) who was neither Republican nor Democratic?  I think that would solve everything.  I would vote for her if I could vote.  When I can vote.  That’s just me.  Bush needs to go.

I know that “Democratic” is the wrong term.  And in my head, I have also changed “African-American” to “multi-racial.”

Here’s where the revelation comes.  May 31st, 2005 Mr. Towslee gives us the quote, “When you punish [a person] for dreaming his dream, don’t expect him to thank or forgive you.”  By John Darnielle (aka the Mountain Goats).  I did not write about the quote, not really.  What I wrote doesn’t matter.  The Mountain Goats sounded so familiar to me, and then I realized that the day before, I’d listened to “Autoclave” by the very same band.

I hopped on Wikipedia to search John Darnielle, and sure enough, the Mountain Goats popped up by his name.  I opened iTunes and listened to “Autoclave” while reading the article.  Monsieur Darnielle was an English major.  And all of a sudden, this great respect cropped up in my chest, and I felt the connections.  Fate, maybe, being fulfilled.  This person I wasn’t three years ago, this person who can’t appreciate anything subtle, this person is gone.  And now I am fresh and new and I can appreciate subtleties because I know who the Mountain Goats are and I actually heard about them four years ago in English class.  Three years ago.

Last night, Travis came over and we hung out at my house.  Everyone means something different to me.  So I think that sometimes people get jealous of one another, “I am not Paige’s exclusive secret-keeper and confidant!  I am not the one Paige has loved since forever!  I am not the one Paige silently and secretly admires from across the room!  I am not the one who influenced Paige’s haircut!”  I’m not that popular or anything, but I think it slightly saddens some people to know that they can’t be my everything-at-once.  But let me tell you this:  you should not be jealous of what you are not to me.  Because you should know that you most definitely mean something to me that no one else will ever mean to me.  I should have a dictionary of all of the people I know, and each person will have a different definition.

Well, on Thursday, I went downtown with Travis and he bought me dinner and we talked a lot, and then yesterday, he came over and we watched YouTube videos and television and we talked more, too.  And we got around to talking about the Westboro Baptist Church.

If I had questions about my religious beliefs before that church, about the Bible and Catholicism and about Christianity as a whole, that church has answered them all.

I do not enjoy thinking about the afterlife because I’m so scared of dying before my time and never being able to tell my loved ones what I really think of them.  I don’t hold grudges and I don’t hate people because I couldn’t imagine dying pissed off.  After I read The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom, I started to picture my own heaven.  And I wondered who I would meet.  And I wondered where I would settle.  I decided that I would have to settle with people I loved.

But thoughts about heaven didn’t really satisfy me.  If I was a religious person, I didn’t have a church to belong to.  I can’t be Catholic because I don’t believe that there is a sin in being gay or in abortion.  I think their aversion to divorce makes people think harder about getting married in the first place, but Catholics still do get divorced.  Look at my parents, my aunts and uncles, my grandparents.

And I can’t be any protestant religion because of my support of gay rights and my staunch belief in choice.  God can’t hate anyone.  God has to be loving and forgiving.  This world may be going downhill, but there’s no Maximum Occupancy in heaven.

I tried reading the Bible once.  The people who can quote it randomly to fit life are ridiculous.  The more I think about it, the more it seems like a fictitious, made-up story to fit the time it was written.  A fairy tale, written to keep people in line.  Women are powerless, homosexuals are shunned and executed, first-borns are most valuable, and animals are meaningless.  The times have changed, though.

To think that some people could even interpret the Bible as some huge hate guide just turns me away from it more.  My life philosophy, I guess, is just to try and find something positive in everyone.  You can’t go wrong with that.  It’s a waste, anyway, hating.

I’ll write more later, and I’ll also post a mix that I’m making for Derek at the moment.


Almost every art class, I listen to the music of my peers.  Sometimes, I feel like forcing my music on them, “Here, listen to this enlightenment,” but I am scared.  When I do work up the courage to plug in my iPod, I become very defensive and shaky.  Once in a while, I will get a complaint to switch the song, but for the most part, everyone is quiet and I’m on edge.  Although I love to listen to “The Henney Buggy Band” by Sufjan Stevens while I am painting my projects, I do not enjoy wasting energy defending my favourite artists.  People do not understand me or my music.  Sharing my iPod is not a particularly pleasant experience.


Although I normally prefer my own music (and by that, I mean my favourite music), sometimes, another student will play some music that I can enjoy without shaking.  For example, one compadre (I like that word but I don’t know what it means but it seems appropriate) played the Arcade Fire once, and I was almost dancing in my pants all day.  My leg was twitching, kind of.  Another time, I swear someone was playing Johnny Cash.  I am not a huge Cash fan, but I can appreciate.  I smiled all class.  And then today, something interesting happened.  One of my fellow estudiantes played some intriguing music that I had never heard until that moment.  And it sounded very indie.  The voice sounded familiar, even if the songs did not.  In fact, upon thinking about it, the voice made me think of the Flaming Lips.  I bet it was the Flaming Lips, since I am not an all-too avid listener.  Anyway, I wanted to stand up and shout, “WHOSE IPOD IS PLAYING?!”  It would have scared the owner quite badly, since the two-dimensional tasteless boys at the table next to mine were yelling for a song change every five minutes.  And this art class is Design in 3-D.  Step it up, boys.  Anyhow, if the owner of the iPod had revealed himself (most likely a boy, since that class is swarming with them), I would have most definitely commended him on his superior music taste and then inquired as to the artist of the songs playing through the speakers over our heads.

But I didn’t.

Here is one thing I have learned from listening to other people’s iPods during art.  I listen to many, many female artists and I am not ashamed.  My peers may be incredibly open-minded enough to listen to many different races (including and probably limited to: Whites, Blacks, Latinos or whatever is politically correct), but they are the most narrow-minded when it comes to gender diversity in music.  At least as far as singers go.  Thus, whenever I make a new playlist that I could potentially play in art, I include many female voices to make up for those that other people exclude.

By the way, I hate it when people say “close-minded” to describe someone who is not open-minded.  The antonym of open-minded.  It sounds like you are saying “clothes-minded.”  You sound like a fool.  It’s “narrow-minded.”   Picture the mind as a stream.  It can’t really be closed.  It can just be constricted to let fewer ideas through.

The reason I am typing without contractions for the most part, in this voice with all my thoughts instead of in some funny voice to amuse you is because I am sad.  I tend to do that when I am sad.  And I am going to tell you why I’m sad because today, I was re-reading “The Shared Patio” by Miranda July today, from No one belongs here more than you, and this one tidbit really stood out.  It says:

If you are sad, ask yourself why you are sad.  Then pick up the phone and call someone and tell him or her the answer to the question.  If you don’t know anyone, call the operator and tell him or her.  Most people don’t know that the operator has to listen, it’s a law.

I have been the most monotonous person today, but I felt completely normal.  Other people, though, picked up on my deficiency of happiness and asked me what was wrong, and it wasn’t until I stopped to think if there was something wrong that I realized that I was sad.   I am almost always happy, no matter how silent I am.  But it made me even more sad that other people noticed, and not even me.

Well, I would call someone, but it is his sister’s birthday, so it would be a really short phone call and it would probably make him upset to know that I am sad.  So instead, I will say everything here.

The greatest reason for my sadness is that I miss Derek.  And I think that is quite natural.  He visited me this weekend, and I can’t think about it.  I never felt safer than when I fell asleep with my head on his chest while trying to watch SpongeBob.  And Travis was sitting there, too.  It makes me want to watch SpongeBob again, but I know that if I do watch it again, it will just disappoint me there because I won’t feel that comfort of Derek right there and Travis there, also.  I also felt safe in the car ride taking Derek back to the halfway point, when I fell asleep with my head on his leg and he was playing with my hair.  I wished I could have taken care of him as well as he took care of me.  And I kind of wish I always had someone to take care of me, to have my back all the time and play with my hair.

I feel like this numb, asexual being for the most part, about as attractive, unique, or interesting as a plain white wall.  Even the boys I date do not seem to be particularly attached or attracted to me, no matter how adamant I am about them.  It’s just those two or three days out of the occasional month that I regain the capacity to be loved, that I am loveable and adorable and beautiful, that anyone could see me as anything but wry and dry and plain.  It’s like I lose my ovaries for the better part of each month.  Even when I talk to Derek on the phone, I wonder why he would want to talk to me.  I have so little to say, but I guess we tend to express things less in words.  I had the hardest time this weekend telling him that I didn’t want him to leave, just because it felt so selfish when I ran it through my mind.

So I did not tell him.

Then when we were on the phone after he arrived back at his humble abode, he sounded so happy.  I get like that, too, though, when I get home.  It’s relief from homesickness and a return to normality–never at the fact that I was apart from him.  But it always seemed like he took my departure harder than I did, like a burden on the soul, but now I realize it must be the sensation of being left behind.  I tried to explain this to him, but I guess I couldn’t do it in words, so I gave up.  And I do not think I could convey how upset I was because I didn’t cry or anything.

This sadness leads to another one.  I feel like I am destroying the lives of young boys all over America.  Normally, when I date someone, I take time to get to know them and then I find that they are as distant and unattached as I am.  And that’s that.  They have a special place in my brain, depending, I guess, on how I treated them.  And Phelan has a special place in my heart as a friend, as does Brent.  But I feel like when I end it with a boy, it’s more of me being reckless, but I have never dated and dumped anyone who really needed me.  I have just dated and lost many people who I need.  And the one I was most reckless about was the one I needed the most.

But I suppose I feel guilty.  Because while most males fail to see how I treat them like shit, or do not reflect the ugly face I make at them, I am fairly certain that Brent had the clarity to realize that I was not acting as I should have, even when I did not realize it myself.  And if it wasn’t for him, I probably would have continued my serial dating spree with truly pathetic souls.  But Brent is not pathetic.  And I think that he instinctively played the game I was playing all along, and it sort of slapped me in the face and it made me realize, toward the end, what I was doing.  I was being a bitch.  And just because I had not gotten my period in two months did not grant me any extra-special right to be a bitch to everyone around me.  This last part of the realization came right after I got my period for the first time in two months.  All I can really do is beg for forgiveness, but now that I have been reunited with the capacity to shed the lining of my uterus, I cannot help but cringe at myself for being such a dumbass and want to make it up to him.  I am well aware that another shot at dating would not be fair, advisable, or nice.  Fair, because of the advantage Derek already holds over me.  Advisable, because I am a recovering serial dater.  Nice, because I have found that I take advantage of those who leave their hearts vulnerable for my scrutiny.  But perhaps a batch of cookies will patch things up.  At least I have found a true voice of reason through all of this.  We may have different opinions on authority, and I may have been saddened by the discouragement and negativity I faced while under his care, but I am certain that if I ever find myself in need, I can go to Brent for a good old consolation party.  Or just a hearty conversation in general.

And I guess that only leaves me one thing to be sad about.  This last thing is the simple fact that I will not be around to see my boys grow up.  And I mean Travis, Charles, Coleton, Torey, and Phelan.  They are freshmen.  I have almost known them for a year.  But I have to leave them soon, and I do not want them to forget me.  Because I will never stop waving at them in the hallways.

The Darjeeling Limited

Well, there is only one song I can give you today, but I can give you a bit of a story on it.  This Saturday, Derek and I watched The Darjeeling Limited around lunchtime.  The movie is about three estranged brothers who make a cross-country train trip in India in an attempt to reconnect.  It is a Wes Anderson film.  I love Wes Anderson films because they are timeless.

Hotel Chevalier

The movie is prefaced by Hotel Chevalier.  It is a short film labelled as “Part I” of The Darjeeling Limited.  And Jason Schwartzman from Phantom Planet plays our protagonist, Jack.  You do not learn his name until you watch The Darjeeling Limited.  Well, he is waiting for a woman in a Parisian hotel.  The woman is his ex-girlfriend, played by a bruised Natalie Portman.  And when she arrives at his hotel room door, he plays this ridiculous French-sounding song.  They act formal.  She snoops around.  Food arrives.  And then they have sex.

I could relate best to Jack.  The music, the height, the French.  Travelling.  Never settling down.  But I am terrified of commitment, and it seems that Jack is, too.  He has his one mainstay woman, the one he keeps going back to, the one with the most rickety relationship.  And he has all these other women he wants and eventually gets.  But the only one he loves is that mainstay woman, that Natalie Portman.  And those other women do not love him, either, so they leave him.  He just has them as a temporary drink of freedom, I suppose, and then he misses her and it shows.

Well, here is the song.

Where Do You Go To (My Lovely) | Peter Sarstedt

After I obtained this song, I added it to my iPod and I wedged my new earphones into my ears and I laid on my bed and I pulled the covers over my head and listened to this song loudly and I just cried.  But I love this song.

I’m sorry for being sad today.  Later this week, I will bring you happiness.  I promise, also, that I feel better after writing this down.

3 March, 2008, 1108 pm
Filed under: My Experience with Existence

GUYS!  I need some help.

I’m filling out a job application and I have a few questions.  This is my first job.  Well, my first potential job.

First, under the “Education History” section, it has a column for “Subjects Studied.”  Do I put everything I’ve studied in high school?!  I’ve taken loads of classes.  Let’s see, English every year, Health and PE 9, Health and PE 10, Honours Earth Science, Honours Biology, Chemistry, Physics, Geometry, Honours Algebra II, Math Analysis, Calculus, French I, French II, French IV, Band, Gym, Fabrication and Textiles, Design in 3-D, Honours World History II, Honours US History, AP Government and Politics, yeah, and a few more.  Or should I just put what I’m taking this year (which is still loads of classes)?

Second, under “General Information,” it asks whether I have any “Special Training/Skills.”  Can I put down that I am proficient in French?  Or does that not belong there?  Do they even care?

Third…I have no idea what to put for “Position,” “Date You Can Start,” or “Salary Desired.”  I’m applying at a café  downtown, and I’m really not sure.  I can start as soon as necessary and I’d be happy getting paid, period.

If you can help me out, thank you so so so so so much.  I’m incredibly nervous.