26 April, 2009, 830 am
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I smelled like it after this maneuver.

It was actually a grimace.

It was actually a grimace.

Belle Isle, though!

25 April, 2009, 842 pm
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She's crooked. I know. I can't draw straight people.

23 April, 2009, 1008 pm
Filed under: My Experience with Existence | Tags: ,

I encourage you to pick my mind.

I hope that you will pick my mind.

A lot of people don’t pick my mind.

If you pick my mind a little, you will see that I am an excruciatingly lonely person.

You should note that lonely and alone are not the same thing.  I could be very much not alone and still be very lonely.

If you don’t pick my mind, you may not see this.

If you pick my mind enough, you will see that I want someone who understands.

I do not have to hope for that.

I have only to hope that someone will pick my mind enough to understand.

Why I use the internet.

Why I use the internet.

I’ll say, stretching is underrated.  Stretch your arms way above your head, arch your back, twist around a bit.  You’ll see what I mean.  You might also yawn after, and then you will have to thank me.

Do you realize how profound a mother’s influence can be?  I was just reminded of a couple of girls (three, actually) I knew back in early high school whose moms got on their backs about their need to lose weight, to look a certain way, to wear certain clothes, to never forget makeup, and to retain certain ladylike hobbies.  All three of these girls are still pretty young, still in high school, but they’ve turned out to be Christian conservative girls with good posture.  They are beauty pageant daughters.  They don’t really enter beauty pageants, but I would not be surprised if they all attended Cotillion in middle school.  White, upper-middle class Southern belle dancing.  But in my humble opinion, these girls look fine the way they are.

Ma mère influenced me a good deal, too, and still attempts to reform my no-makeup, bad-posture ways.  And she can make me feel so self-conscious when she comments on my clothes or my hair or my skin or my eyebrows.  Sometimes it makes me not want to leave the house.  And she says that I absolutely cannot get piercings, except my ears if I want them, which I don’t.  But she allowed me certain liberties while growing up, maybe because I wasn’t an only child or even an only daughter, but one of three.  I was allowed to do whatever I wanted within reason, no sports, no girly activities like Cotillion, probably because it was too expensive and we were from the north.  My childhood consisted of making art, reading religiously, biking, playing outside, and writing.

The summer before I turned twelve, I spent all day reading every day for several weeks, and my mother grew concerned after a while.  She prohibited me from reading so much, but that’s the only time I can really recall that she stepped in.  I don’t remember how successful she was at that one.  Also, she hates the Shins because they remind her too much of the Beach Boys and doesn’t let me listen to them when she’s in earshot.  And she always used to say that she hoped that I did not listen to music about kids killing their parents.  Like I would.

Oh, “Jack Killed Mom” um…shit.  That doesn’t count!

Looking back, I’m glad she allowed me those liberties because even if I would look so much better if she were so strict about my appearance, she allowed me to develop into my own person, if somewhat reluctantly.  My mom let go of me at a certain point and allowed me to take control of everything from my hair to my eyebrows to my clothing to my music to my hobbies.  The only thing she will not let me control is body hair that is normally shaved.  The thing is that she doesn’t ever see my nether region, so she doesn’t know what’s going on.

Speaking of, here is one of the greatest scenes from one of the greatest chapters in all of the books I have read.   It is Everything Is Illuminated.  I guess I will only put some of it.

My grandfather and the Gypsy girl knew none of this as they made love for the last time, as he touched her face and fingered the soft underside of her chin, as he paid her the attention received by a sculptor’s wife.  Like this? he asked.  She brushed her eyelashes against his chest.  She moved her butterfly kiss across his torso and up his neck to where his left earlobe connected to his jaw.  Like this? she asked.  He pulled her blue blouse over her head, he undid her bead necklaces, he licked her smooth and sweaty armpits and ran his finger from her neck to her navel.  He drew circles around her caramel areolas with his tongue.  Like this? he asked.  She nodded and craned her head back.  He flicked her nipples with his tongue, and knew that it was all so completely wrong, everything, from the moment of his birth to this, everything was coming out the wrong way–not the opposite, but worse: close.

I can’t tell you how much of a funk I was in when I finished that book.  Right now, I feel out-typed, like I have been silkscreening my thoughts onto the internet for too long.  I can’t quite think straight.  I think that I just need vast amounts of sleep.

Between now and when I go to sleep, you should listen to some Stars.  I only obtained Sad Robots EP a few months ago, but ever since then, I am constantly listening to those six songs, minus “Going, Going, Gone [Live]” because it generally gives me a headache and reminds me of an alarm clock.

Undertow | Stars
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“Undertow” is a warm blanket on a cold night, an umbrella on a rainy day, and a bicycle on a sunny afternoon.  It is my crutch.  My favourite aspect of this song is that everything that is in the background is quiet.  So it’s really a tranquil song.  The breakdown near the end comes in at a close second place.

14 Forever | Stars
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Not like I’d like to be fourteen forever for real because I seriously hated being fourteen, but the feeling is so good.  You have to understand.  You know the tenderness that comes along with a first relationship, a first love.  I guess I don’t want to be left alone.

While we’re talking about being a teenager (“14 Forever”), I would like to mention the Hardee’s commercial which uses blatant meat pornography.  This is pretty much a double blow to me because while I could maybe handle some gorgeous woman sucking off a cucumber, it’s just disgusting to see her eating out a huge burger.  It’s not even the meat that really gets me, though.  It’s the pornography.

I’m a reasonable girl.  I can handle sex.  But I don’t think it’s appropriate.  I can’t quite wrap my mind around backup information as to why I can’t watch this commercial without thinking about a high-definition, high-budget porno.  You watch it, and it’s self-evident and shocking.  But it’s also advertising something that is despicable.  And the most interesting thing about this whole deal is that Padma Lakshmi, the model, used to be a vegetarian.  This is flipping a huge bird to the cause.

I don’t know.  You watch it and tell me what you think.

Just, I guess my probelm his that it’s sexual, sure, but it’s not sexy.  And it’s not doing anything to help the feminist front or the animal rights front.  It’s attacking both in one go.

Also, I just realized just how much I miss my mom, and how even if I was seventeen and had a nightmare and woke up screaming and sweaty because of a thunderstorm, she would let me sleep in her bed.  Even though I was just home recently, in March, I feel like I’m going nowhere.  I’m also so frustrated that I’m letting my grades suffer because of some inner crisis.  I also miss Lewisburg as a whole.  I miss Babygirl so much it hurts sometimes.  I miss Ali and Carol kidnapping me.  I miss Shannon coming into our house and eating our food and making up characters and gossipping.  I miss Aunt Peggy coming in and getting ice from the icemaker.  I miss making friendship bracelets without shoes on.  I miss biking around the neighborhood at eleven at night and crying so hard because I was so frustrated and I felt so helpless and alone, and then sitting in the back yard feeling dead, empty, and far from hungry and looking up at the stars.


I just zoned out and pictured Ali and Becca with Ed Zych moustaches.  Hahah.  Wow.

Speaking of Ali, she created a new blog.  I am going to advocate her blog for a minute.  You might like my blog because I am long-winded and really immature and I mope a lot.  You get to watch me grow up.  Go back to my first post, and you want to punch me in the face.  I like to explain things thoroughly so you completely understand whatever I’m talking about.  And I try so hard not to offend.  You will like Ali’s blog because she uses colourful pictures to illustrate her points.  She writes with an intensity that is unheard of.  Somehow, she is able to get her point across with few words.  If we both wrote about the same thing, I’m pretty sure that I would take a five-paragraph essay to convey what she can in five sentences.  The way she writes conjures up thoughts of vignettes.  They are little snippets of her life that require no backstory.  Ali’s writing is unique in this way.  The way I write is basically a very unpoetic epic poem or a journal.  I give you some backstory.  You can track my progress.  I change.

Dear Ali,
I will always find you whenever you start a new blog.  You can’t hide.
Love, Paige

When I put it this way, I wonder why you read my blog at all.  It’s probably for the free candy.  Free music.  Yeah.

Honestly, I don’t know why I’ve let the blog go for this long without some new music.  Because I’ve been listening avidly all this time, finding new lovely artists.  I’ve been tuning my iTunes to spring.

I feel that I should start slowly though.  First, I said back in February or March that I would write about She & Him, and I didn’t lie but I just haven’t done it yet.

Erika is the one who introduced me to She & Him.  She told me that she falls asleep to their album, Volume One, every night.  It is her teddy bear.  I was excited but a little skeptical.  It seemed like sacrelige to me to bed down with an album like that, to worship something other than Rilo Kiley.  And while they are no Rilo Kiley for me, while Zooey Deschanel is no Jenny Lewis and M. Ward no Conor Oberst/Blake Sennett, they put up a damn good fight.


If you like Jenny Lewis’ solo albums and if you love 50s/60s pop music with a slight bubblegum flavour, then She & Him is for you.  I really don’t know how they manage it.  It’s a mind-blowing mixture, slightly dangerous, but for what it is, it is perfection.  I would even venture to wholeheartedly recommend She & Him to older listeners, people who grew up with that 50s or 60s bubblegum pop.  I don’t think anyone out of their mid-twenties even reads this, but next time you and your Aunt Elaine are bonding over music, pop this one in.

As for the album itself, most of the thirteen tracks check in at under three minutes.  She & Him don’t go for the epic “Tereza and Thomas”-type shit.  That means that every song is bite-sized, kind of like a Sour Patch Watermelon.

I should never write reviews for CDs again.  My analogies are cringeworthy.

You Really Got A Hold On Me | She & Him
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Did I mention that they do covers that make me want to melt?  Also, maybe you can help me.  In iTunes and on, it’s named “You Really Gotta Hold On Me” but elsewhere, it is named “You Really Got A Hold On Me”.  Which is correct?

I Thought I Saw Your Face Today | She & Him
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Did I mention that I love sick beats?

While I’m on a roll, talking about amazing women, it is mandaroty that I mention Sarah Maple.  She is an incredibly accomplished and clever feminist painter and photographer.  I don’t want to just paraphrase the Bitch article that introduced her to me on a formal basis (because I had run into her a few times before, but the websites never cited her).  She’s just an incredible cultural commentator.

This ones my favourite.

This one's my favourite.

As for real-life occurrences, I go home in three weeks (less than a month) and I am stoked.  I will be able to sit outside and read all day while my sisters suffer at school.  And for those of you still in high school, yes, that is a pretty mean thing to say, but when you think about it, I suffered too.  I went to school for fourteen years before arriving at this position.  This is my fifteenth year, and it’s almost done.  If you’re in high school, you probably haven’t gone through that much school.

19 April, 2009, 255 am
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , ,

Before I start this entry, I need to write a disclaimer.  I don’t dislike people on the basis of their Christianity or whatever religion for that matter.  Just because I grew up Catholic and grew apart from that doesn’t mean that I automatically hate people who haven’t “moved on” yet.  I don’t even know if I’ve made progress by accepting no religion.  I think my life has gone downhill.  But I have more realistic expectations of everything and I don’t look to the future because it’s not guaranteed.

Now I’m going to give you a sample from my journal.  I would not divulge my deepest writings.  I will only share a conversation that I heard today.

Some guy next to me is talking about how more boys are diagnosed with ADD or ADHD than girls.  And it’s natural, “since they’re boys.”  They want to get up and run around, not sit still.  And we are drugging them to be docile.  And people wonder where all the men are.

Now he is talking about a man to whom “God” spoke.  This man was aggressive and then he turned Christian and wrote a lot and then “God” spoke to him and told him that if he took this new job, a part of him would die or some shit.

I have to stop here to point out that the story about the man to whom God spoke probably had a point, but I couldn’t write and listen fast enough, so I just dismissed it.

Now they are talking about DRHS and running into glass doors and emasculation.  I will never check this asshole out.  If he tries to talk to me, maybe I will give him the finger.  His friend is a big guy, but he appears cheerful and friendly.

This conversation interests me because the prick, the thin guy, is taking the lead, and the other is just appeasing him.  The prick plays guitar, performs.  Normally, you would get that the more athletic one is the prick, narrow-minded.  This makes me appreciate the situation.  The prick says he wants to tour, to give back to the city, to breathe life into it, to sell CDs.  He doesn’t want to come back to this campus ever.  He can’t appreciate things.  He thinks atheism comes from academia.  He thinks a practical life encourages “God” and religion.  I almost want to jump into the conversation.

He thinks people need to get into the world.  He thinks that giving up belief in God is giving up belief in the external world.  And he believes in creationism and can’t do well in science courses.  He does not believe the earth is 4.6 billion years old.  This is gold for me.  The prick doesn’t like the people, how they treat each other.  “This campus…is riddled with sin.”

He claims to be well-studied and thankful and great at arguing for creationism.  He argued with PhDs and philosophy majors and wants to organize some sort of a debate.  He does not agree with the Christian “presuppositional” apologetics.

A girl has joined.  Alicia.  She brought in the denial of the existence of evil.  She likes Jesus.  So does the prick.

I think Christianity is so often anti-feminist and wrong.  These people are good examples of this occurrence.  God has developed masculinity in the prick.

I could do all the work here.  I guess I really should, since I will have readers who won’t understand why I refer to him as a prick.

The reason I started eavesdropping so intently is that I heard something about masculinity.  The feminist in me automatically perked up.  What he’s saying is bullshit.  Studies show that kids don’t want to run around.  They want to watch TV!  They want to surf the web!  They’re lazy-ass motherfuckers.  And their problems spawn from overexposure to technology and this depersonalization of communication.  They can’t focus because they don’t read, and they don’t read because they really can’t read.  It’s not boys versus girls, active versus docile.  And trust me, calm men do not make emasculated people.

As for the guy to whom God spoke, the reason I dismissed it is because anything like that sounds like bullshit to me.  As do miracles.

The reason I started talking about checking him out is because he began to brag about women checking him out.  I suppose that I had better be careful of who I check out.  I normally am, though.  They generally have bikes.  Glasses.

It was mind-blowing listening to him ramble on about how academia makes people think, and that thinking eliminates God.  That is legitimately why he hates academia.  He claims, however that it is impossible to live a practical life without God and that atheism is fine in theory, but when you get to living life, you need God.  I think that this is a crock of bull because I feel that I could go through life without God just fine.  I did think later that people like Valentino Achak Deng probably need God in their lives.  But if anything, I think that surviving an ordeal such as the Sudanese Civil War would cause me to lose all faith, despite my survival.

I think that Christianity in this intensity makes people forget about all of the atrocities being committed in the world every day.  They forget that we use other countries and other people as a means to our ends instead of as people.  They can wear sweatshop-manufactured clothes and not feel the least bit guilty.  They can go on eating meat without thinking about it.  And they can fence their minority neighbours out so that it’s all white landowning patriarchy in the suburbs and make guitar music and sell it in a city they hate.  This campus is riddled with sex, but I don’t think that’s any kind of sin.  I’m sorry, but I don’t think petty things like premarital sex and drinking and doing drugs on this tiny campus can even be measured against some of the legitimately terrible sins being committed all over the world right now.  I agree in that I don’t like how people treat each other, but I have to say that at least I try.  At the very least, I don’t judge people by their un-Christian-ness.  How sinful they are.

Christianity is a patriarchy that entangles itself slyly with government and culture.  I am not demanding a matriarchy.  I think that could be just as bad.  I am demanding an egalitarian society.

14 April, 2009, 214 pm
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Even as I hurtle to the end of the semester, I am just becoming a really apathetic person.  And I hate it.

I just want to sleep all the time, and when I’m not sleeping, I’m hiding my face behind something, my hand, a hood, diverted eyes, the blankets.  Or I am crying about something I can’t help and have no control over.  Some days, the anxiety is not so bad, pretty tolerable.  I mean, I can smile at myself in the mirror and think that someone could think I’m cute.  I think, I could smile at a stranger today and it would be genuine and maybe even bring them a moment of bliss.  Yeah.  I’m going to do my best schoolwork.

Other days, most days lately, the anxiety is crushing, making me wish I could be unconscious for weeks at a time.  Just so I could sleep, escape, chill out.  I don’t think about taking my own life, because I am too gentle to be able to take my own life, but I think of all the freak accidents that could happen to me.  And I think more and more that nothing matters.  I get so sick of being here, stranded, with one friend that I see every day.  The rest are scattered, not constants, so I just don’t rely on them.  What frustrates me most is that I wonder if anyone else takes everything as seriously as I do.  It seems that most people dismiss human relationships as abundant, so they are picky about them.  Well, I guess I’m also picky to a certain extent, but I see something I want in everyone.  So I try to be nice.  I try to smile.  And lately, I don’t get a smile back from really anyone.  It’s pretty lonely.

The problem is, I don’t know what to do about this.  I’ve lost my appetite, I don’t know what I’m going to do to get through the rest of today, the rest of the month.  And even when I’m home, well, yeah.  Then what?  Things aren’t going to magically change.  Maybe I’ll be able to cry more openly, but hell, I won’t even have a room of my own there.  Part of me says I need my mom.  But whenever I think that and try to get in touch with her, she doesn’t call back because it’s not urgent enough for her.

What this apathy is caused by is not my atheism, though.  It’s something separate.  After knowing people for several encounters, religion often comes up in conversation.  My atheism.  And at this point, one of two things happen.  Either an argument is spawned or discussion just stops right there.  Because me, Paige, being an atheist, is too much for some people to handle.

I don’t know why people take the argument approach, honestly.  I’m a really gentle and nonconfrontational person.  Maybe they want to beat me to it.  Maybe they assume that I’m going to attack them for their views.  Anyone who knows me on the basis of being vegan knows that I don’t play that way.  It’s just surprising how belligerent many religious people are when it comes to potentially having to defend their own religion, even against a really shy person.  I wouldn’t want to offend someone by telling them that my views are contrary to theirs, but my lifestyle is just controversial, I guess.

And as for clamming up, that just pisses me off.  I was open enough to share that I’m an atheist, and I didn’t push the matter, but just because our spiritual lives are different doesn’t mean you suddenly can’t talk to me.