the lone fiddler

There's a sillouette on the wall, fiddling, sawing away on his instrument. you'd think his life depended on it. his heart and soul are one with his violin.

standing on the wall, with the ugly, potent factory behind. it's belching who-knows-what from the smoke-stacks. monstrous powerlines stretch over his head, off into the distance.

and he fiddles, and fiddles, pours out his heart with his song, on and on.

his features are invisible, he is just a shadow with the light shining from behind. a black figure, moving, playing...but it's not a game.

there is singing in the background...an odd language, unintelligible. it's all very eastern european, and more human than pain.

can you see it? it moved me, but i don't really know how to describe it.

(my feeble attempt to portray a polish music video i saw recently)

outstanding class discussions

"I'm just having a hard time with this idea of an incorporeal being who knows what i'm doing." -Blum-dawg

"Well, you know, people DO have back hair." -Tonk

"So, say I have a hot body..." -The Dean

paperwork is EATING my soul.

so i really think Mr N shoulda had a DD after the tutor dinner tonight. guy drinks wine like it's water!

we ARE politically up to date.

The Roomate (reading the daily paper aloud over lunch): they are trying to suppress the shits and other political movements...

me: WHAT!!!???

TR: They are trying to suppress the shits...

me: SHE-ITES!!!! Shiites!!! the iraqi dudes!

TR: oh.

just so you know

my cell phone doesn't work. i DO love you. really!

so i've been reading Gulliver's Travels...

and my favorite quote so far is in the About Jonathan Swift thing. he said it himself, and it was put on his gravestone:

He has gone where savage indignation can lacerate his heart no more.

6

it's not every day that...

...you get a $1600 check in the mail.

but then it's not every day that you get rear-ended by people without insurance or a driver's license.

AND it's not every day that you can't get to a bank to cash it, and the dorm store doesn't take checks (or make that kind of change)!

too late.

i'm stuck. well, stuck enough that if i left there's a good chance i couldn't get back. i don't know which is worse. i think i'll just sleep 'til it's over.

ridley is the queen of consolation:

"I fucking hate it when people die.", she says.

it worked: i laughed.

i have GOT to get the hell out of here before the road washes out again!!!

Dear Everyone,

get holy. now. no, like RIGHT NOW.

don't ride motorcycles.

most of all, STOP DYING!!!

or if nothing else, follow step one.

basically it comes down to this: my pals are dropping like flies. yet another of my friends was killed this week. he and his buddy were riding dirtbikes, hit head-on, and were both killed instantly. another guy was severely injured. my friend's dad was the one who found them, shortly after the accident happened. i don't think any of them were christians. PLEASE PRAY!!!

y'all are killing me! this is too much! i'm going to have to quit everything sooner than i thought and just take up full time praying-for-my-friends!

fowl play, heh heh

today the-guy-my-roomate-likes and his friend T needed to get to ojai, so we gave them a ride. they were going to T's house to catch, kill, and BBQ pigeons to "get back at Nature for the crappy weather". it was quite exciting. it basically involved 2 hours of mad poultry-chasing, in the pouring rain. after we caught 3 pigeons we all headed off after a rooster. after a bit of excitement (with the assistance of 4 of T's younger, scantily-clad, barefoot siblings) we caught the rooster, only to discover that all of the pigeons had escaped from their rain-soaked box. we started from scratch, except it was like negative scratch since now all the pigeons were riled up and no longer hungry. after much ado (including T's 2 y.o. brother's attempt to lure the birds with two large, still-boxed freezer pizzas), the boys decided that we had enough victims for their revenge on Nature and we headed for home, permeated by rain and the smell of fowl.

steve 6 wouldn't hold my hand, even to get a bottle cap that says "what if the hokey-pokey IS what it's all about?".

damn boys who are scared of girls.

so i think i wanna be a nun when i grow up...

i don't know why fasting days and drinking winds always coincide.

i would get so much more studying done if i didn't have to go to class.

boys just don't get it.

i love hippy music.

i'm hungry for a big, juicy steak.

good ol' dad

so my dad and i have been chit-chatting (emailing) about my little sister's 15th birthday party.

this is a BIG DEAL in Hispanic cultures, as you probably know. since my sis has been living in Guatemala for over 3 years, they are going to have a traditional fiesta. the name for this event is a quinceanos, with a "~" over the 2nd "n". my dad informed me of the importance of the "~" in his last email:

When you write that it is great that Betsi gets quinceanos, I take it that you are happy she is having a quinceaños party, rather than having 15 butt holes.

well, it's official: i F'ed things right up with OT.

it's the whole, "oh, i'm so scared of boys because they hurt me" thing. ugh.

i didn't even give him a chance...once it was past the fun "does he like me or does he not" stage, i freaked right out and now we hardly ever talk. hmm.

i guess boy restriction continues.

reality...?!

"Fuckin' Shit! Dammit! Son of a B..., etc."

recently, at school #2, i was abruptly reminded how different my two schools are.

(the girl had accidentally gotten a bit too much water in her developing solution.)

it's like an alternate reality. at school #1 the girls don't even expose their ankles.

did you know...

...that bread has whey in it? that fouls my whole PBJ backup plan.

does anyone know the Spanish word for "tears" or "crying"?

i am really beginning to believe that it is impossible to do all my homework. it would be a superhuman feat. for serious.

Goth-Woman was dresscoded

so 90% of the TAC campus dressed as superheroes last night. unfortunately the rules for this event were: no spandex and no underwear on the outside. darn it.

to maintain tradition i went in my best fishnets and spiked bracelets. with a "cape" made from a grab-box skirt, with a giant "G" safety pinned on the back. oh yeah.

unfortunately within ten minutes i was asked to stop being such a slut for exposing MY KNEES in public. blast.

My roommate

My roomie kicks butt.

she had THE GUTS to go up to the carpet men and say, "Um, excuse me, you need to do this room first.", and led them to our room. they listened. and we got our carpet 1st.

she turned 21 today...oh yeah! the party hasn't started yet tho. yet...

i don't know what it is, but i AND all the my former roomates have foot issues. no, not fungus or anything! we just really think feet are gross. not sure why, and i've been trying to get over it for several years now, but FEET ARE YUCKY. it's not just smelly ones or crusty ones, or ones with really hairy toes...nope, even cute pedicured ones. now MY feet aren't really that gross. i mean i change my socks alot and always put lotion on, but i don't go out of my way to touch them, and if i do i wash my hands after. well, i've never met anyone else with this issue...except my roomates.

D and V both agree with me. D and i used to go sock shopping together, and stand outside pedicure places wishing we could justify spending money on something like that. well, the other night V said something about her feet being gross and how she needed to do something with them in the morning. this is about midnite. i went down the hall to brush my teeth, and by the time i got back she was in the middle of giving herself a pedicure. what is this!!!??? is it chance? or the gods? is the FEET-ARE-VOMITATIOUS gene more common than i thought? do you think feet are gross?

now i'm going to bitch a lil:

well, not really. i'm going to make my life sound hard, but really i'm enjoying very much.

in the last month i have:

~Moved out of an amazing house in the gorgeous oregon hills, near my favorite american city.
~Parted ways with my faithful truck.
~Ran into a snowstorm and missed my friend's wedding.
~Moved into a college dorm with a bedtime, a dress code, and no boys.
~Immediately was flooded out by a river that soaked all my boxes.
~Got stuck on campus for several BORING and PAINFUL days.
~Moved out of room and slept on friends' couch for a week.
~Moved back into room, putting rugs over the sticky gluey cement floor.
~Started classes and have been intellectually overwhelmed for 3 weeks now.
~Moved out of room to get new carpet.
~Moved back into room b/c they decided not to come for another week.
~Got 5 hours behind on work study.
~Was asked out 15 times by boss.
~Drove two hours to work b/c the road that is a 10 min drive will be closed for another 6 months.
~Got hit by an uninsured, unlicensed driver.
~Went 70 minutes over on my phone (at 40c/min) b/c of aforementioned accident.
~Quit job b/c car is crashed, two hours is too long to drive, and boss asked me out for the 16th time.
~Was a half-hour late for two classes in a row.
~Got insecure and started ignoring OT whenever he says nice things or talks about dating.
~Moved out of room and slept on friends' floor.
~Moved back into room, skipped two classes to do so.
~Didn't finish a seminar assignment yet.
~Put my photo class on my credit card (lack of funds, due to quitting of job).

oh hell, it could be worse.

Attn. Mr Rioux and Fr Micheal

Anyone who thinks that girls are delicate flowers should see what someone left in the last toilet in the St Therese bathroom.

found some real weirdos while ego-surfing.

i'm getting really good at moving all my worldly possessions in an hour or less. i got to practice again today, making 6 times in the last month. ugh.

Marley, Veronica, and I surprise-attacked a number of unsuspecting victims last night as they relaxed in their respective homes. we laughed and laughed and marley oinked, and we ran and the others ran after us and then joined in the fun.