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First Day of the Rest [Aug. 28th, 2007|08:25 am]
[Current Location |hoooome.]
[mood | chipper]
[music |Ray LaMontagne--Till the Sun Turns Black]

So yesterday was my first day of classes as an official full-time student. I'm in five classes and one lab this semester for a total of 16 credits, with three classes Mon-Wed-Fri, and two (plus lab) Tues-Thurs. So far, my teachers seem enthralled by their subjects matters, excited to be there and be teaching, and that exuberance is infectious, as if I need any more enthusiasm about school. I was actually moved to near tears by excitement yesterday in class. Is anyone else noticing that a lot of emotional excitement-related words begin with "e"?

Basically, it seems to me that I am most excited above all about being so close to school for this year. Living nearby allows me to dive headlong into the experience, to go to office hours more regularly and attend external events and the like, because I no longer have to worry about things like rush hour and my dogs being home for eight hours at a time, alone. These days I'm just a skip away from campus (kind of literally, with that particular bus route being called the Skip), can bip back and forth with whatever frequency I desire. It's fantastic.

I had this little mini-crisis a few weeks ago, feeling like maybe I had to get the hell out of Boulder and into a new place with a university that's more challenging. But then I laid everything out and realized that that wouldn't be the smartest thing to do at the moment, and so I decided to commit to Colorado for the next two years until graduation, and then go from there. And since I decided to do so, since I decided to make this the most worthwhile and gratifying two years possible, everything has been falling into place. I now play softball on Wednesday nights and will start going to an open studio at a ceramics lab on Saturdays (with a cute man who runs it). I'm meeting people, including a very attractive young man from less than a mile from where I grew up who's just moved to Boulder and works (temporarily) as a bouncer at one of my favorite bars.

It's just that old thing, tried and true, where when you put it out there, and when it's meant to be, everything comes back to you times three. Did not mean for that to rhyme. Anyway, life is good. And I have to walk the dogs and get ready for class now.

!
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HA. [Aug. 3rd, 2007|09:29 am]

 
The Nymph
Deliberate Brutal Sex Dreamer (DBSD)

    Sly. Sensual. Guarded. Different somehow. You are The Nymph.

    It appears like you're looking for a fling or a casual sexual relationship, but it's not that simple. You're a hungry but also very careful person, and this generates a certain amount of sexual tension within you and in your relationships. In other aspects of life, you get what you want. In relationships, that's not always the case.

    It's possible you intimidate potential lovers. Most likely, though, you're a little closed off--therefore mysterious--and, naturally, people find that difficult to get with. Maybe it's just part of your selection
Your exact female opposite:
The Peach

Random Gentle Love Master
process, though. You've been in enough relationships to know to expose yourself slowly.

    When you do feel comfortable with someone, though, your torrid sexual appetite will make him very happy. Your cautious nature is also a big asset in a long-term relationship. It might take longer for love to establish itself, but when it does, it's all the stronger.


ALWAYS AVOID: The False Messiah (DBLM)

CONSIDER: The Playboy (RGSM)


Link: The Online Dating Persona Test @ OkCupid - free online dating.
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On the Eve... [Aug. 2nd, 2007|09:33 am]
[mood | awake]
[music |Once Original Soundtrack]

Best to break this down.

a. The roadtrip with my mother was wonderful. While I remembered before we even started how volatile it is to travel in enclosed spaces with thy mother, we also had wonderful moments. Those would probably be dinner in Seattle at a phenomenal, hip restaurant (shaved asparagus with parmesan? Yes.), the boutique before dinner that allowed my dress to find me through the conduit that was the French owner/designer, and our first day hugging the coast through northern Cali. I've never seen that coast before, and all the fog and the cool temperature and those severe, dramatic cliffs with their waves were enough to literally have me bursting into tears at the scenic overlook. Incredible.

b. Portland was on the list for that trip as well, and we stopped to see my aunt and cousin and the glass studio that they own and work at, and then stayed with her at her adorable condo downtown. As a result of all this stimuli, I've decided that Portland is a city to explore for possible moving after the graduation... in two years. But something fun to think about.

c. Roughly six weeks ago I got hit with this freight train of bad hormones. I have no idea what brought it on or why nothing's helping or how to neutralize them again, but I have been a crazy person for these last six weeks, and it sucks. But last night and into this morning, I feel like I've had a brief repreive, and I'm very happy. Perhaps it's my impending birthday. I don't know.

d. I think there's sex in my immediate future. Really good stuff that I've never had before and that gives me goosebumps when I think about it. And I'm really excited. And terrified in case anything emotional leaks into the picture. But my roommate gave me a really long, drawn out lecture last night about how I need to give that shit up and just see what happens with people and stop being so emotionally retarded and aloof. I half agree with her. We'll see which half wins.

e. Tomorrow, twelve family members and close friends (that aren't mine, ironically) are coming out to dinner to celebrate my birthday. I will wear my new dress (black, slinky, strapless, designer with tasteful keyhole), look stunning for the bartender whom I mentioned above, and generally have a great time. Lately, everyone has been harassing me saying, "Yeah, 23 going on 35." I need to be careful about that, damnit. Oh! And my sister's bringing a chantilly cake with frruuuuit. Excellent.

f. The vet thinks Bronson's infection is resurfacing, and that that means we either didn't hit it hard enough last time, or that there's an underlying tumor that they couldn't find last time. So far Bronson's still in good spirits, which is great, but if she gets sick again, I'll have to put her down. That, obviously, has not relieved any stress lately, but I'm trying to stay here in the now. Whatever.

g. I can't wait for school to start, damnit.

h. Once, that cute little Irish indie musical film, is phenomenal. And all should see it.

i. The Bourne Ultimatum comes out tomorrow on my birthday, and I'm taking it as a sign that I'm meant to spend two hours watching Matt Damon do dangerous things. So it is.
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(no subject) [Jul. 23rd, 2007|08:24 am]
[Current Location |hoooome.]
[mood | awake]
[music |Chocolat--Original Score]

H'ok. So my quitting the cigarettes is official, because it's now been over a month, and though I've slipped up a couple of times while drunk, I haven't smoked one while sober. I am a non-smoker. Fantastic.

Tomorrow I must get to the airport by 6:30 AM in order to catch my 8:30 flight to Seattle, where my mom will pick me up and then she and I are going to road trip back to CO together, including a stop in Portland where my aunt and cousin live, and they are super cool on top of owning and working in a glass studio. Fucking awesome... I've never been out there, so I'm muy excited.

I went on the most extreme date of my life on Saturday. Tom from Denver took me on a three hour bike ride in the 96 degree heat. I'm selectively competitive, which means that in physical endeavors of the like, I cannot quit. So basically, by the time I left my face was beet red and puffy and I was probably suffering from like... severe dehydration and heat exhaustion, but I made it home alright and then passed out. In my house. Which is also over 90 degrees since I don't have air conditioning. Can you believe that? Over ninety degrees--INSIDE.

Anyway, don't know if I'll see him again, but maybe.

In other news, I've decided that I'm going to do a semester abroad. Probably a year from this fall so that I can get my living situation under wraps and figure out a way to have someone take care of the dogs, which might entail a lot of money that I'll need to make, which means I need time to make it. But I'm going. I've realized that I -need- to travel... it's just the next step for me. So I'm really excited about that, too. Scotland, I'm thinking, to fulfil my ridiculous romantic notions. But if I'm ballsy, I'll do something in Egypt or somewhere vaguely dangerous and totally unfamiliar. We shall see.

And that is all. My life has been less than exciting as of late. This is the last time that I take the summer off... Next time, I either work full time or I go to school full time. None of this relaxing business. Although it has allowed me to read 100 Years of Solitude and Brave New World in record time. Brave New World? From a prose standpoint? Utterly unimpressive. And as far as the social critique goes, it seemed pretty heavy-handed, although interesting and obviously prophetic. I sound like a snob saying that, I think, but honestly? Those reviews the book got when originally published were pretty spot-on, I think. The relevance, the fact that his prophecies came true, are the only reasons I think that book has been heralded as such a "classic". But maybe those are reasons enough... Who am I to say.

Ok. Off to clean the house.
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Update. [Jun. 25th, 2007|08:00 am]
[Current Location |home.]
[mood | awake]
[music |see above.]

H'ok. First of all, a few songs:

Amy Millan- "Baby I"
Rodrigo y Gabriela- "Tamacun"
Ben Taylor- "I Try" (cover of Macy Gray)
John Mayer- "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" from the Village Sessions EP, not Continuum.
Sia- "Breathe Me"

So I think I've almost recovered from the nightmare that was my sudden illness. In its place, I have a little cough/congestion issue because I quit smoking which is very hard to believe and kind of exciting at the same time. I'm taking it one day at a time and telling myself that I will fuck up, because if I don't fuck up it means I already smoked my last cigarette without knowing it was my last and then I'll have a little panic attack. Sick, right? Yeah.

Yesterday, my water world adventures at the new house continued. I bathed all three of the dogs in the backyard, and it worked something like this: One by one, I tied the dogs up to the swinging loveseat beneath the lilac bushes. I wore a bathing suit for my own comfort (95 degrees outside) and used the pistol-like attachment for the hose. Surprisingly, Kota did the best of all three. She tolerated the hose and the soap and all the rubbing, though she was happy to get out and is only now, the morning after, completely dry. Damn all her fur.

Mama Bear, however, the whippiest dog on the face of the planet and seventy pounds strong, hated the hose and proceeded to take me down with the leash around my knees. I soaked her extra good.

So after the dogs were fully bathed, I moved on to my truck, which hadn't seen soap since last... fall? Talk about gratifying, scrubbin' the truck down with a sponge by hand, but a word to the wise: that soap they use at car wash places is spot free. Regular soap is not. This means you have to rinse immediately after scrubbing with soap, and then dry immediately so as to avoid spotting. Who knew? New appreciation.

Lastly, I have decided that now, two years exactly after breaking up with le fiance, that I am ready to date again. I am ready, that is, to be open to the idea of being involved with someone, of talking, of opening up, of being meaningful, of sticking around for more than a date or two or a romp in the haystack or however the hell they say it.

I think a number of factors have conspired to allow me to feel this way. For one, two years of loving the singleness of my disposition has put me in a unique position. I know for a fact that "need" doesn't enter into any relationship of mine, except in the most fundamental of aspects, like I need to have people in my life, and I need to open up more. But I don't need to be in love to be happy, don't need a boyfriend to be happy or to feel successful, blahblahblah. Liberating stuff.

Secondly, spring fever. Irresistable.

Thirdly, watching my sister get involved with her beau has been inspiring. He's a consistently and adorably stand-up guy. He really likes her. She really likes him. They flirt. Nothing immoral or dangerous or sketchy about any of it. Who doesn't want a little of that every now and again?

Fourthly (a word?), my mom and my sister were both out of town while I was sick, and my roommate was in Denver (and has been since early Thursday morning), leaving me totally and utterly devoid of human interaction save the RiteAid cash register attendant. That is a scary thing, especially when I recall that as of August, I'll have lived here 4 years. Now, to be fair, my closest friends in Colorado have since moved out of state, so it's not like I never had any here. But I'm not actively allowing any one else to walk into my life. And that must change. If only because I know that that's the healthy thing to do, and one shouldn't remain unhealthy when one knows one is behaving in such a way. Whatever.

Aaaaaaannnd I've been thinking that this whole not-smoking thing opens up a world of opportunity in the fitness department. Maybe I'll swindle my mother into getting me a personal trainer and morph into Jennifer Garner from Alias. Mwahaha.

Have a lovely day.

-j.
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(no subject) [Jun. 23rd, 2007|09:04 am]
[Current Location |Boulder!]
[mood | sick]
[music |Sia--Colour the Small One]

"Rising Seas Threaten to Destroy U.S. Beaches" -- AOL News, 6.23.07

Obviously. That is not today's news, that is yesteryear's news. Let's get up to speed here, people!

So I've been down, down, down for the count with what I think is strep throat for the last few days. I haven't been sick in over a year, and even then I don't recall how long its been since I've been this sick. Probably close to a decade. I have no idea how this happened, but I wish this upon no one but my mortal enemies. Of whom I'm not even aware.

On the upswing, this has kickstarted my quit-smoking plan. So I haven't had a cigarette in...60 hours. Which is impressive. And I'm super-fiending right now, but I think I'll make it. Cold turkey is no fun, though.

I really have nothing else to say at the moment. I need to go clean the house now.

-j.
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Finally. [May. 25th, 2007|07:37 pm]
[Current Location |New House!]
[mood |buzzzed]

So. Life is approaching normalcy. Bronson is out of the hospital and making an incredible recovery. The doctor's can't believe how well she's healing, although she's still limping, which is slightly worrisome. They don't know what caused the infection and probably never will, but they thought for a while there that she might not survive it. So this couldn't be going better, really.

I'm almost entirely moved into the house. I've been making small trips every day since last week, and things are starting to feel homey in this great house. I'm loving being back in Boulder, being so close to everything, and my roommate kicks ass.

This class is pretty much a joke, but at the very least, it's worked out that there hasn't been a lot of work since I've been at breaking-point from stress between Bronson and the move and everything. Interesting stuff, though, when the professor bothers to make a concrete connection between the disparate elements of the class.

Otherwise... I don't know. I"m buzzed on margaritas and settling in for the first stress-free evening in nearly 2 weeks. Love the weekend. Hope all's well out there!
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(no subject) [May. 15th, 2007|05:47 pm]
So I picked Bronson up from the hospital this evening. After a number of tests with no results, they finally did an ultrasound and pound a pocket of fluid in her arm, which means all this swelling is a result of an infection. What they don't know is what's causing the infection. The words "cancer" and "sarcoma" came up, though they're not betting on anything until they get the results back late this week/early next week.

All of this and more could be yours for $1400.

My mom keeps telling me, "Maybe it's time to just let her go," meaning I should have her put down.

In other news, I fucked up last night and didn't get enough stuff packed, and so have not moved yet. But I did start class. Looks really interesting. That's all for my negative bitching.
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No Sleep Tonight [May. 14th, 2007|12:39 am]
[Current Location |amid boxes.]
[mood | stressed]
[music |John Mayer--Continuum]

I don't know if I accidentally consumed caffiene too late in the day or if I'm just this stressed, but my stomach is in knots, and I can't sleep for the life of me. And now my mouth is on fire, thanks to midnight snacking on salsa.

i. Roughly half of my house is stacked into boxes in my living room. This is excellent progress for the move on Tuesday.

ii. Roughly half of my house is not stacked into boxes, which leaves much progress to be made before Tuesday. Then again, I don't have to move everything on Tuesday.

iii. Maymester starts on Tuesday. This is the badass seminar, Environments and Peoples, which as it turns out is actually a study of peace and conflict in the Middle East. So tomorrow, sis and I are getting all five of the books. With what money, I don't know.

iv. On Friday, Bronson couldn't stand up on her own, not even for food. When I helped her up, she could hardly walk. I took her to the vet. They couldnt' find anything on the x-rays, so they gave us some pain meds to keep her cozy and said to hope she'd heal on her own. As of this evening, her arm and shoulder are swollen to twice their normal size, and all she'll do is sleep and eat cheese (and pain killers) out of my hand. Tomorrow, between packing and buying books and not freaking out, I'm going to have to find some kind of a specialist to consult. Keep in mind that this is the dog who was hit by a car down in New Mexico, and thus has really weak back legs that she normally avoids depending on (i.e. carries 90% of her 115 lb. frame on her front legs, of which only one is currently usable). I don't know where I'm going to get the money for this, or what they're even going to be able to do. Jesus. I don't know how to make her feel better.

v. I have a lover.
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Mooooooving. [May. 9th, 2007|12:02 pm]
[mood |Hungover.]
[music |Josh Ritter- The Animal Years]

Claustrophobia. Right around six months after I've last moved, all the memory of what moving is actually like starts to fade. Now here I am, two years after I moved in almost to the day, and I've completely forgotten how miserable moving actually is. You know, you look around the house, and you say, "Sure. Pack that, pack that, pack that. BFD. Piece o'cake."

But then you get the boxes and actually start packing, and it's a whole other deal completely. There are, like, drawers to go through, and the contents don't fit nicely and can't be labeled comprehensively. And then you run across those funny news clippings and old birthday cards, and you have to decide right then and there whether you ought to just toss them out (yes) or save them as keepsakes (damnit).

So now I have half-packed boxes sitting on all the surfaces of my house, shit scattered on the countertops that I can't decide if I should pack or not, ill-shaped boxes at the front door, and no packing tape. That should probably go on the to-do list.

Ick.

And getting hammered last night probably wasn't the best idea. I'm starting to get hangovers, which I think means I'm getting old. Interesting. Which reminds me what a fucking duplicitous slut I am. Yeesh. Ok. Back to packing.
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Gooooood Morning [May. 5th, 2007|07:08 am]
[Current Location |home.]
[mood | sleepy]
[music |Tsotsi (Original Score)]

So! This is me thoroughly denying that I'm worried at all about any of my finals, which begin in three and a half hours. I have never actually had a college final exam before. I've had papers and the like, portolios, but no exams. Today, though... Today!

When those are over, I'll officially begin the moving stage, packing all my myriad things into boxes and getting read for the move in 10 days. Hoping that won't get too stressful, since the day before I move, Maymester begins. I'm really looking forward to that class, though--Environments and Peoples. It feels like a dream come true, and I'm taking it with the sis, and I've never taken a class with her before, not even in high school. I get to watch her squirm in discussion! And probably get made fun of a lot for being a nerd...

My sister was talking about this idea of being "addicted to when". Apparently somebody on Oprah talked about it. It occurred to me, though, that I am not addicted to when. Of all the things I might be, of all my neuroses, I am not addicted to when. I can count that on my blessings... But it's such an interesting thing to me, and I see it all the time. "I'll be happy when I graduate." "I'll be happy when I turn 21." "I'll be happy when I get a boyfriend." That kind of stuff, except that the people never actually get happy when that happens, because the unhappiness is not a result of a single external factor. Pretty obvious, no? And yet rampant in the community! I'm getting wired...

Anyway. As usual, I don't have anything remotely important to relay, and thusly this entry shall end. Adios!
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(no subject) [Apr. 25th, 2007|04:19 pm]
[Current Location |Amante Coffee]
[mood | tired]

Anyone else worried about the fervency with which scientists appear to be seeking out a new, sustainable planet?

Anyone?
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Uhm. [Apr. 3rd, 2007|07:18 am]
[music |Joshua Radin--The Fear You Won't Fall]

Well, this isn't really an update. I don't have much to say. But it's 7:20 AM and I don't want to get rollin' yet.

I'm headed to Detroit this weekend, and it kind of snuck up on me. I hadn't realized when I booked the flight that it's the weekend after Spring Break, as if that really matters, but I'm scrambling to get everything together now. When you have three dogs and they have to go two different places, that increases the stress factor, apparently. The night before I leave I'll be running home from school and then taking Bronson to the groomer and M-Bear and Kota to my mom's, then running to pick Bronze up from the groomer and taking her, plus suitcase, to Lucy's where she'll be staying for the weekend and I'll be spending the night. Then I'm up at 5 AM to walk with suitcase to the bus station down the street and hoping that this SkyRide business really does take me to the airport in less than an hour.

I'm really looking forward to it. As usual, the closer my arrival gets, the more crowded the weekend does, and all of it is exciting. I can't wait to see my old teachers and hang out with my dad, and talk to my Yiaya. It's ironic that the weekend I choose to visit is also Greek Easter, but it's not like anybody'll be dragging me to church.

Blahblahblah. Nothing else to contribute. But oh! Is the debate currently between whether Global Warming is anthropogenic or natural? Or are there still deniers of the warming in general? Crazy, crazy.
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Reading [Mar. 30th, 2007|10:31 am]
[mood |inspired]
[music |Tsotsi (Original Score)]

So during this lovely spring break, I've been doing nothing but exactly what I want to do. I've found myself a house in Boulder to rent, I've spent time with friends, I've taken the dogs for hikes and walks, I've relaxed and not left the house for 24 hours at a time, and I've been reading, too.

This reading part is important. I picked up Ishmael (by Daniel Quinn) from my bookshelf the other day. It's a book I read in 9th grade, except that in high school I never actually read anything. Rather, I skimmed it for whatever might be on the test and otherwise absorbed nothing. Rereading it, I had another one of those delightful life-changing experiences. I feel motivated, particularly to keep on learning and consume all the information I can.

That said, I picked up Collapse by Jared Diamond again. I'd put it down over a year ago when I started school, and since I picked it up the other day, haven't really been able to put it down. The density is that of a textbook, but I've laughed out loud several times and overall feel like I'm getting two semester's worth of information in a single read. Incredible.

All of this is confirming my interest in Geography, and the importance of it. I had thought that perhaps my interests were more in terms of Environmental Studies, but that's a combination of Geography and Geology anyway. Geography seems like a rich science to me, a conglomeration of so many other sciences and fields, and ultimately one of the most timely sciences of all--the study of people and places. I love that while reading Collapse I've been able to identify why certain regions of the world experience dry seasons or wet seasons, why they're dry or wet in general, why deforestation leads to lack of rain, etc. Starting in the middle of may, I'll be taking an intensive 5-days-a-week class with my sister on Environment and Peoples, which is a four thousand level seminar course, less than 20 people in it. I'm super-excited about that, too, for all number of reasons.

Anyway, it occurred to me the other day that I used to view life (or my life, anyway) as this beautiful, smooth, closed flower bud. It was simple and shiny and green, and perfectly formed--no weird angles jutting out or screwing with its simplicity. But then recently, with my return to school and all that's come with it, the bud has been opening one petal at a time, flinging open. And it's beautiful. It's unfolding wildly. And I've been stepping back and realizing that I'm actually in a field of these flowers, all of them in various stages of bloom. How naive I'd been to focus my attention solely on a single bud.

Excitement!

Before my sister left for Detroit last weekend, she said to me, "It must be really hard for you. You see all these injustices in the world, where I don't bother to notice them. They must depress you."

But it doesn't, not really. It doesn't depress me for a world of reasons, but among them is the fact that I don't feel powerless. I'm not infected with idealism, either...but since I feel that the only way to change something is through one step at a time, I do feel a sense of purpose. I'm not really concerned with solving the big picture--I'm concerned with solving each footstep at a time as it relates to me. If I make everything a personal journey, then the only thing I have to fulfill is myself.

That's comforting, and also very realistic, I think.

Enough rambling. Off to clean the house.

Also, Tsotsi, the foreign film, is a must-see. And the original score is breathtaking.
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Nothing important. [Mar. 27th, 2007|08:25 am]
[Current Location |home.]
[mood | cheerful]
[music |Pete Yorn, et. al.]

! So I'm finally set to move into Boulder. I found a house--an adorable, sunny, conveniently located two bedroom with a fenced in backyard--and also a roommate. The landlord has four dogs herself, and has absolutely no problem with my three dogs living there with me. In fact, her problem with it is so non-existant that she wants to keep her adorable couch and loveseat in the house, and doesn't care if "muddy dogs sleep on it!" I'm in heaven.

And my new roommate starting in June or July is a gal from the salon who I met briefly before leaving. She seems like my ideal roommate--she's basically just looking to rent a room in a quiet house in Boulder. She says she's never home, isn't the least bit intimidated by dogs, and is willing to pay exactly what I'll need to cover the difference between renting out my Longmont house and renting this Boulder house. Ideal, I tell you. My move-in date is May 13th.

In other news, I've been having a blast the last few days with a friend from high school and college who's been in town. He's actually here with another girl I went to middle/high school with and her boyfriend, they've been fun to get to know. The girl is awesome--she's done all this traveling with all these random, awesome jobs in Alaska and China and wherever, and now she and her boyfriend are heading up to Montana for another venture. We exchanged numbers, and I fully intend on taking a trip up to see them sometime soon.

It's funny--I've been missing my sister dearly since she left for Spring Break the other day, but the feeling is sort of warm. It's pleasant, as if the feeling is only telling me how much I love her and how close we are. I couldn't have predicted how close we've gotten since she moved out here, let alone as we've grown older. I feel lucky, really lucky.

Lastly, I'm giving up getting "dressed up" to go out at night. I wore a baseball cap, black tank-top, black hoodie, jeans and cowboy boots the other night out to the bars, and I have never received so much attention from men in my life. Bizarre, but incredibly convenient. No more heels!

And that's all the useless babbling for now.
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A rumble... [Mar. 9th, 2007|04:15 pm]
[Current Location |home.]
[mood | blah]
[music |Amy Cook-The Bunkhouse Recordings]

And then, cataclysmically, I was a Geography major.

And contemplating a double-major in Environmental Studies.

Bye-Bye English.
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Narcissa [Feb. 27th, 2007|07:15 am]
[Current Location |Kitchen.]
[mood | awake]
[music |Cat Stevens--Tea for the Tillerman]

I relish my mornings. They are like childhood to me, when life is a conglomeration of excitement and joy and giddiness, contained only by the occasional tantrum.

Anyway, this is my effort to post more than once a month. Not that I can think of anything meaningful to spout.

I've fallen in love with Hemingway, particularly his short-short's, like "Soldier's Home" and "A Very Short Story."

My own not-as-short story is being workshopped today around 2:00 pm. Giddy, nervous... I don't trust this class. Everybody thinks they're professional writers already with years and years of experience and "specialties" and productive habits set in stone. And they're catty, relying on the word "like" as the major vocabulary of a criticism. They defend their friends and are often cruel to others attempting to make themselves sound intelligent. We shall see.

I'm starting another short story for the Center of the American West Thompson Awards, round two for me. Looking forward to that story, its future confirmed by the eerie coincidence (fate?) that was Sunday afternoon. As usual, I wonder where the story will end up, how far from its inaugural (?) conception it will venture. Andre Dubus once wrote in an essay that he would ponder a story until the first two scenes materialized in his head, and then he knew it was time to write the story down, longhand. I find this a valuable idea. It seems to me that, as stories go, that's often how it works.

In other venues, I'm considering minoring/double-majoring in Environmental Science/Geology/Geography, depending on how many classes I plan to start taking and how long I'm willing to put off graduation. Writing, reading--they are what I do naturally, when no one is looking, including myself. Earth science is what fascinates me, particularly the relationship we people have with the environment. I got so excited the other night, realizing that my reading corresponded with my recent rental of An Inconvenient Truth. I got goosebumps during both. I love that shit.

I think back to elementary school, and this is what I remember: I wrote (driveling) little stories all the time, for class and for pleasure, and I started a "club" for the environment. We met in the storage room on the second floor of my house, between the boxes of miscellaneous memories, and I gave each member a polished stone. By fifth grade I organized a school-wide fundraiser to buy an acre of the rainforest. I figure I was 10 at the absolute oldest, since I can't remember if it was 4th or 5th grade when I did that.

Who does that? I had convictions as a little person.

So perhaps this is life coming full circle. My mom once quoted someone to me--I can't remember who it was--but the essence of the quotation was that for those people who don't know what they want to do with their life, look back. What you wanted to be as a child, chances are, remains today. In a way it seems like there's no escaping that, and why would you after all?

I have always felt, all the way back to kindergarten, that I was bound for greatness. That sounds conceited and unfounded, perhaps, but you can't help feelings. I felt that I knew from a very young age that I was to do great and important things in this world, that I would affect great change, that I would matter, I suppose.

When I get excited about science, when I get excited about fiction, that feeling comes back in waves. Or maybe it's the inspiration that comes back. I feel, oddly enough, that the knowledge never flees, but the inspiration often does. Which begs the question: can we be reluctant heroes? Unwilling? We shall see.

Well. That's what happens when I fear that my entries are too ego-centric. I am a lost cause.

-j.
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...Update. [Feb. 20th, 2007|05:54 pm]
[Current Location |home.]
[music |Jonatha Brooke and the Story]

I flipflop like the bipolar person that I am between feeling that my life is invaluable beyond my wildest imaginations and that, if I could only just make it through this day, tomorrow might be better. Often times I wake up feeling the former and go to bed with the latter, which I might add is a horrible lover and worthless for company.

When my life is invaluable, I am fascinated by my geography class, reading extra chapters for fun. I am thrilled to write, thrilled to read. I remember how important my dogs are, and we smile at each other. In these times I have the patience to wait out the less than desirable aspects of my life because they are only that, and not life-threatening. I bounce thinking about my future, all the myriad directions it might and will take. It is all intoxicating.

When my life is a struggle, I remember all the faults of my geography class, the inefficiency and the missed opportunities for greater learning. Reading is depressing on the basis either that I cannot achieve it or that the author couldn't either. Writing is depressing for similar reasons. Like this, I wrench my hands away from the dogs, panic about the state of my backyard, shudder with claustrophobia in the car, which is over 10 hours a week, and cannot stand the sight of doghair dusting my furniture.

I got a great job at the locally owned, well-respected bookstore in Boulder, down in shipping and receiving, and then gave it up the next day, realizing I can't keep commuting and keep my relative sanity. Compounding this, I am getting more phobic of people as time goes on. If I thought I was a hermit before, I clearly didn't foresee this. But it's a mutated phobia... This time, instead of not wanting to be social (which I usually don't, still) it's more of a phobia of actually getting to know anybody. I don't want to give any of myself to anyone, don't want to create intimacy or owe anyone anything. And so when my Greek boss's appreciable, professional interest in me metasticized into fervent romantic desire (in less than 8 hours of work), I panicked. Yeesh.

Anyway, life is on-the-whole good. Most days are the good days, and the bad days always pass with a good night's sleep.

These entries are starting to feel too narcissistic, even for me.
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A Night Out [Jan. 26th, 2007|06:25 pm]
[Current Location |home.]
[mood | excited]
[music |Jamie Cullum]

So. It's been a while.

I've been in hiding (again.) I'm in school, a whopping 10 credits this semester. I'm looking for a job. Settling in. Life is good.

And tonight... Well, tonight I'm headed to a place called The Funky Buddha Lounge in Denver, meeting up with a bunch of Creative Writing grad students, all but one of whom I've never met in my life. And... I'm excited. Breakin' out the red lipstick and the red pumps, 'cause it's Denver and Denver's trendy, and I don't wanna be any more of an interloper than I fear I'll be regardless. Hahaha...

There's something about not writing for a while... Like not talking to a friend in months, and then when you get the opportunity, you don't want to anymore because of all the catching up to do there is. It's overwhelming, almost. Or else, if there's nothing explosive to relay, then why bother? Is it worth the title of "First Conversation in Forever"? Or rather, "First Post in Forever"? Hard to say. But I won't delete this post like I've deleted the others, because I'm a ridiculous person and I never should've started doubting in the first place.

Jesus. Talk soon.

-j.
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Storm Update [Dec. 20th, 2006|11:48 pm]
I-25 is the main freeway in Colorado. It runs more or less through the middle of the state, catching, from South to North, Colorado Springs, Denver and Fort Collins. To give you an idea of how bad the snow is, let it be known that I-25 is currently closed from Fort Collins to the Wyoming border, and from Denver all the way down to the New Mexico border (Denver is north of the center line of the state). I already have more than a foot in my backyard.

Snow kicks ass.

When I left my house this morning, there were maybe three inches on the ground. By the time I came home, less than five hours later, all of my footprints outside my house were gone, and no indentation of where my car had been parked that morning remained. The dogs are muy happy. And so am I, though that will surely vanish tomorrow morning during my double or triple commute time. Note that I don't work in any government job, or any kind of business one would expect to remain open during what the governer is calling a "Disaster Emergency". I work at a salon, but we will in all likelihood remain open tomorrow, because it's the holidays and you wouldn't believe how desperate middle aged women can be about the state of their hair. Weather be damned--they will get their roots done in time for holiday parties this weekend.

Oh, yeah. Denver International Airport? Closed. Totally closed. As is the 9 mile road that leads to it. They're talking about sending in the Red Cross with cots and food supplies. Merry Christmas!
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