30 June, 2008, 1104 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

So ah.  My computer cannot read any of my CDs.  I justify my downloading all these CDs from blogs and such with the simple fact that YES I BOUGHT THIS ONCE but my computer is just fucked up.  Rabbit Fur Coat and all my Bright Eyes stuff are the most painful to scrounge up parce que vous ne pouvez trouver tous les chansons parce que personne aime tous les chansons.  The reason I have to do all this shit?  Dad got me a large iPod for graduation.  And you know I’m a freak–I have LARGE amounts of music and I go back and forth from one song to the next.  Know how many times I’ve listened to “The Stakes Were Raised” by Slow Runner today?  I dunno!  I love it so fucking much.

Actually, fuck, yes, let’s talk about music.  Let’s talk about my Current Obsession #1.  “The Stakes Were Raised” by Slow Runner.  It’s just everything unfulfilled about my life and how little I take any sort of risk for fear of I don’t know!  Being disliked?  What I really needed, really needed badly was for someone to give me a slap in the face and say, “PAIGE.  IF YOU MAKE AN EFFORT, PEOPLE WILL NOT DISLIKE YOU FOR TRYING.”  And I did get that figurative slap in the face when Ali and I were walking to Carol’s one evening.  It’s one thing to read on websites and in books that my worst-case scenario plotting is weird and that some people do want me to make an effort regarding my friendships, but you know…you don’t really get the message until someone confirms it and kind of shoves you out into the real world.

The Stakes Were Raised | Slow Runner
[zshare] [mediafire]
[buy] [direct link]
Slow Runner’s Website
Slow Runner’s MySpace

I just yelled at you in type a lot.  All the currently italicized words used to be in caps.  Feel grateful.  I am just passionate right now.

So this song makes me consider all the potential I have for the rest of the summer.  Right now, I have all these people helping me out, pushing me into different situations, but maybe someday I will be the one who pushes other people.  I hope so.

Also, I think I left my phone at Charles’ house.  Fuck.

The above photograph was taken by Ali and it is perfect.

I now yearn for Europe.  Carol, Ali, Brent, and Paige are all back, and I feel as though they’ve experienced some amazing enlightenment but I am the most American now.  I guess I’m not, but I’m greedy.  Some of the people on that trip didn’t even appreciate it.  I would have died if I’d been given the opportunity to go to fuckin’ Dresden or Berlin, let alone Paris.  Instant gratifying orgasm.  Plus, I just feel as though I need to test out my French and work on my accent because I am so embarrassed at how undeveloped and American I sound.  The grammar doesn’t matter as much as the accent does, not for me.

Thus, I’ve taken action to educate myself in the French ways.  We start with French podcasts, French slang, new French vocabulary, and French music.  And then I guess I don’t know where to go from there.  Maybe accent?  Writing this in French?  I dunno.

Oh, but Current Obsession #2.  “Girl Sailor” by the Shins.  Oh.  I swear, je suis ce chanson.  It just speaks to me.  And then listen to the guitar solo.  C’est mon âme.  It makes me want to melt.

Girl Sailor | The Shins
[zshare] [mediafire]
[buy] [direct link]
The Shins’ Website
The Shins’ MySpace

I am in a very peculiar mood right now, on the verge of something, maybe.  I want to go out and do something weird or amazing because almost everything I’ve done this week was not enough.  Just sit up at the park and listen to these songs and some smooth stylings of Jenny Lewis and cry.  I want to cut my hair slightly weird just because I probably can.  I want to sit at Slippery Rock and break down and I want someone to come and help me out, but I am not sad right now.  I just have too much energy and too much to think about.  Did I let you slip away?  I don’t even know where my phone is right now.  And I don’t really care, either.  Why am I letting myself get away with so much Avril Lavigne and Switchfoot and radio pop lately when it makes me feel so weird?  What if I revert back to the way I was before, because that is terrifying?  I have a bunch to tell you all tomorrow, and another song for you, but I don’t think the song is good for right now, tonight, currently.

I’ll just ask you:  How come I am so satisfied with my corruption?  And it’s not even me–I am not the most corrupted girl ever, but that doesn’t always prevent me from feeling like a tooootal slut whenever someone throws attention my way because I fall into secret floods of cold, dampened, fantasized love very easily.  I use the excuse that I’ll never be sexy, so I’m allowed to do this, be painfully flirtatious on occasion.  Just, why does it make me feel so good sometimes to corrupt other people even a little bit?  Because sometimes, it doesn’t end up being all that emotionally satisfying.  You know.  You don’t get a bond out of corrupting someone, necessarily, or some level of enlightenment that you’d never experienced before.  You’re just the same.  Drugs, alcohol, sex, morals, whatever.  I don’t know the person I’ve corrupted as well as I would have liked, despite how much I care about them.  Take this however you want, but know that I will never again be the Catholic Avenger or the reliable moral authority.  I’ll just offer advice if you ask.

28 June, 2008, 1236 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

1. Paige’s Studio, 2. Mango, 3. IMG_3344, 4. green revolution, 5. Jim Sturgess, 6. in grape juice veritas, 7. La Citadelle, 8. raspberry sorbet on a very hot day, 9. Red.Petals, 10. Untitled, 11. You can only be young once. But you can always be immature., 12. je t’aime

Here’s how it works:

* Type your answers to each of the questions below into Flickr Search
* Using only the first page, pick an image
* Copy and paste each of the URLs into the mosaic maker


1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you.
12. Your Flickr name.

24 June, 2008, 1030 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I could be a huge creeper with a hobby like this.  Stencils (besides “shake”) are backwards, obviously.  And I know that Santogold looks nothing like Santogold.  I’m getting better, though.


Read. That is what I am going to do with my summer.

You probably think I’m taking the valedictorian speech too seriously, but after picking up the habit of reading the news, I feel empowered or maybe just knowledgeable.

When I was twelve or thirteen, maybe fourteen and just filled with angst, I had my mother take me to the library at the beginning of the summer. I borrowed loads of books, maybe seven or ten. And when I got home, I just started reading. I read for hours. I lounged on the couch and absorbed these books. When I finished the first one the next morning, I immediately began the next. I kept going, and my mother thought that it was unnatural and unhealthy. Maybe it was. I don’t care. Perhaps it helped seal the fate of my eyes. The reason I wear contacts and glasses, after all, is that when I began reading in elementary school, I didn’t want to stop. I remember in second grade, when we moved to Richmond, that’s all I wanted to do. I would lay on the couch and read. Sit at my desk in school and read. Go to recess and read sometimes (or play kickball, hopscotch, hang-glider, or swing). And goddamn, at that point, I hated writing. It wasn’t until fourth grade, when I wrote an essay about how I got this scar on my forehead, that I began to enjoy writing.

I forget most days about that scar. My bangs cover it, on the left side of my forehead. When I think about it, too, it seems so insignificant. A fact of life that has been present since I was four, and I can’t remember life before it. But it’s a story I’ve never shared with you. And you will not hear it today, either.

Anyway. Yesterday, I went to the library and chose seven books, but they weren’t enough. I want to gobble them up. I know, though, that it will take me at least two weeks to read them all. July 3rd. That’s when they are due. I finished the first last night. Montana 1948 by Larry Watson. Which is an incredible emotional journey that you won’t be able to stop reading until you’re completely finished. Maybe I will make a list of the books I read and want to read this summer. I have missed reading for pleasure, and now that I have the opportunity to do it again, I will take full advantage.

I think that it should be noted that while I am a fast typer even by my peers’ standards (but certainly not by my own), I am an incredibly slow reader. I don’t know this in words per minute or anything, but I know that it takes me maybe a minute or two to read a page. While some people would probably pin this on my stupidity, I like to think that I am absorbing the book better than anyone else is. And it’s probably at least partially true. I tend to remember details better because I am spending a longer time with the words than other people are. When I did Book Bowl in fifth grade, they nicknamed me “Buzzy” because I always got the Bonus Round questions so rapidly, and they were correct. Thus, I would never want to change my habit of reading slowly. I do not want to become a skimmer. I enjoy letting everything season in my brain for a bit.

I haven’t written about music in a good long time, though. I wonder who visits my blog every day, and I just assume that it’s probably random viewers from search engines, mixed in with perhaps five solid readers. Merci, though.

Here’s the thing. Today, I will write about the Wombats, finally.

I borrowed the Wombats from some other music blog, most likely All Things Go. I mean, if they ever did an article on the Wombats. Thing is, while I normally don’t like cymbal-heavy Brit-pop, I love the Wombats. And it’s not like they only have one catchy song that will resonate with a few people. Their music is entirely contagious, universally catchy. It’s everything about it that makes it so great, and it’s one of those bands where every time you listen to the songs, something new will catch your ear. I love that.

Anyway, the Wombats have followed me on many important journeys. On my first trip to New York City, I kept listening to “Moving to New York.” I hated New York but continued to love the song. On my first trip to Bounce Funplex with Ali and Carol, Ali included this on a mix CD and added that I should check out “Backfire at the Disco.” So I did, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

Thus, today I present you with the track that Ali so strongly recommended. What’s funny is that such an incredibly successful, serious band spawned out of a grand joke.

The Wombats | Backfire at the Disco
[zshare] [mediafire]
[buy] [direct link]
The Wombats’ Website

Also, guys, I’ve been inspired by Sara and my sister. I’m going to compile a list of songs that I greatly enjoyed when I was maybe fourteen or fifteen and was heavy into pop-punk and I worshiped it. I’ll upload it soon, after I finish Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut. Et je veux lire des livres en français, mais je ne sais pas où je pourrais les chercher.

16 June, 2008, 1100 am
Filed under: Barrels of Fun, My Experience with Existence

Here’s my one plan.  And if I get in trouble with tha authorities, I’ll blame Mr. Jennings.  He gave me this idea when he said during Diversity Club that there’s not enough graffiti in Lewisburg.  Not muh fault.

I’m making stencils and spraypainting all over the place.  Well, okay.  I’ll try to avoid doing it on houses.  But the streets are game.  Um, almost anything downtown is game.  Except houses.

Here’s one thing I have noticed.  If you walk from the school to Zelda’s via St. Louis (Lewis?  I don’t care) Street, you’ll see little black cell phones on the curbs.  Here’s another thing I’ve noticed.  Despite its close vicinity to the police department, Kidsburg would be a good place to vandalize.  For one thing, teenagers hang out there on a regular basis.  For another, there are so many opportunities.

The thing about Lewisburg is that you can’t just do it in an open place like Banksy does.  The authorities probably won’t understand that you are attempting to beautify the city.  They do not appreciate art.

Here’s where I got the idea.  Mr. Jennings.  Banksy.  Ali.  Mr. Towslee.  This kid from my Geometry class in ninth grade who asked me if I made the stencil that Mr. Towslee lent us to make tee shirts.  Is it bad that half of my inspiration comes from fucking…teachers?  Or adults, rather.  I think not.

Well, I’m off.  I need to finish making stencils.

16 June, 2008, 1208 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

I should have decided this earlier.  However, from now on, I will make an effort.

While it is certainly great that I’ve started to gather news and make art, it’s not necessarily enough.  I have to share it with people, and seriously…how many people are impacted my my blog?  Let’s say I get 100 hits a day.  Sometimes, that’s one person hitting me multiple times.  More than one person does that.  I am not impacting many.  How do I impact many?  I make my acquaintances into friends.  I share information with my friends.  I still read.  I spend less time on the computer.  I read the newspaper.  I ride my bike.  I make art.  I share.  That’s the whole point of enlightenment.  Sharing.

So tomorrow, I will probably go to the library.  Sometime soon, I will buy my first sketchbook and record images.  And this week, I will make plans on my own with friends who are not in Germany.  And when my friends in Germany return from Germany, I will make plans with them.

How about I write down some summer goals, as inspired by Ali’s list of 66 things she wants to do before the summer is over.

1.  Have a picnic.  And not a half-assed picnic, like, oh hai I just happened to bring my sandwich outside, but a real vibrant piquenique with muzak and maybe even a basket.

2.  Make newspaper-reading a habit.

3.  Read at least two books/week (though if I try hard enough, I may be able to make that two books/day, but that would be enlightening yet depressing).

4.  Make another issue of zine, post first issue online in PDF file of some sort.

5.  Finish another headband.

6.  Clean room and keep it clean.

7.  Throw away things I really don’t need (makeup, things in closet).

8.  Make a new bag.

9.  Attend at least one Skankathon.

10.  Attempt at conversation with person with nice eyebrows.  He intimidates me, but he did make an effort in the past, which was repelled by me because I was intimidated.  Threatened in unfamiliar territory.

11.  Sell at least one bag for a decent price.

12.  Turn in job applications.

13.  Cut out gelatin, carmine, and things that may be cooked in animal fat completely.

14.  Make stencils and spraypaint somewhere.

15.  Get my eyebrows waxed so I have a definite outline to follow since they are uneven.  This sounds simple, but the last time I went, I mourned for days because they made them too far apart in the middle and I looked like a circus freak.

16.  Get a happy bathing suit that allows me to accept myself.  Right now, I have a morbid tankini that hates my body.

17.  Make my camera a regular.

18.  Little black dress.

19.  Walking slouched makes me look like a drunk hobbit.

20.  Postcards.

21.  Jam.

I’m fucking tired.

12 June, 2008, 1243 pm
Filed under: Barrels of Fun, Film, My Experience with Existence | Tags: , ,

Upon the opening of my eyes, Divya decided to pop in Amélie.  We watched it with English subtitles, and from the first lines, some things were lost in translation.

However, upon the ending of the movie, I was changed.  I must make art.  I must continue with my plans to give strangers anonymous love and encouragement.  Thus, I shall make my postcard(s) this weekend.  I shall go to Barnes & Noble today.  The thing that saddens me slightly is that perhaps someone will get my message and believe that I am a sappy creep (which is exactly what I am).  Or maybe no one will get my message.  It’s the anonymity that makes me happy, knowing that there’s a chance that I helped someone because many people do, in fact, believe in signs (even the skeptical, sometimes).  But in order to increase that chance, I need to spread out my hits and make each note of encouragement different and meaningful.

On the way home from Divya’s, I sang to myself in French, conversed with other drivers in French, and pretended that I was all-around French.  It felt good.