Hindsight is 20/20

Now I see that English Language was the painfully obvious choice all along.

What is my problem?

Lolley Land

Click here for paintings. Simply lovely.

Click

http://www.procreo.jp/labo/flower_garden.swf

Just click all over on this page and even click and drag the mouse. Cute.

This Bunny Has No face

Because I ate it.

Happy Easter

Fact:

People from Liverpool are called Liverpudlians

Can't Sleep!

I wish pillows were 33% thicker. Why don't they make thicker pillows?

Wait maybe it's just my pillows. Maybe I need new pillows.

I Want You All to Take a Look at This

http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200303/rauch

Now leave me alone.

Stop Abductions

Make your own HELMET, for your sake and your family's

Ew

Skittles should really stick to their fruity roots

It Comes Down to:

I disapprove of relationships in general. That's why I'm destined to be miserable.

Oh Now Really

Seriously. Watch.

100 Chairs in 100 days

Look

Repercussions

Since my last post, several friends have come to me and said "You've never had stuffed crust pizza?! Oh, Caitie. Ohh, it's SO GOOD." Inevitably amended with, "oh, but it's so gross."

I'm pretty excited.

I admit:

I've -always- wanted to try stuffed crust pizza.

Bad

I'm trying to make myself stop and go eat something else, but the truth is I only want to eat Ben and Jerry's for lunch.

So. Take THAT, everything Mom's taught me!

Weirdest thing anyone said to me all day:

"I like your musk. or at least what I imagine to be your musk."

Nerd.

I'm getting really tired of losing friends.




But this makes me really happy.

Boo.

The best part is, I had the worst morning and THEN I realized it was Valentine's Day. Oh boy.

I'm tired. I want sincerity.

Should I move to Salt Lake in the fall?

Ellen

Now Ellen's gotten in on it.

I laughed until I cried.

Really.

Now this is ridiculous

Conspiracy

I think Zach Condon and Andrew Bird are secretly the same person.

Couldn't Pass This Up

Sarah Brightman should thank her lucky stars she met Andrew Lloyd Webber so she wasn't stuck doing this the rest of her life

Hate

DoEs AnYoNe ElSe ReAlLy ReAlLy HaTe It WhEn PeOpLe TyPe LiKe ThIs? CaUsE i Do. I tHiNk I mIgHt StAb ThE nExT pErSoN i CaTcH dOiNg It. It'S sUrPrIsInGlY hArD. wHy WoUlD aNyOnE wItH sUcH lImItEd BrAiN pOwEr AlReAdY wAsTe So MuCh Of It JuSt To MaKe ThEiR mYsPaCe PaGe LoOk MoRe QuIrKy?/?/

Smelly :(

Last night I had a dream that I was hugging my friend and I asked him if I smelled funny and he said yeah kind of.

I'm going to go put on some perfume now.

A couple other gems from today

Get out of here! I'm trying to watch my favorite show with my favorite toe intact!

My toes break every week! Every week they break!

--Name witheld

The Best Overheard Phone Conversation All Day

...was spoken by a guy I was walking behind on campus. It went roughly like this:

Yeah dude, we're going out to dinner tonight. And like, you know me, man, I don't like doing boring, everyday things, like things that everybody else does, especially in the Provo scene[EXACT PHRASE]. So, like, after dinner, we're going to draw pictures of each other, and...[inaudible]...fish sticks(?)...[inaudible]...you know, just something really creative like that...yeah dude. No. Dude, where do you think I'm going tonight, dude, I'm going to dinner...

I wish I could have followed him longer to hear more, but I really had to run up to the library to blog about it before I forgot anything.

Morning Theft

"You're a woman, I'm a calf.
You're a window, I'm a knife.
We come together making chance into starlight."



....???

Uh-oh

Dark chocolate snickers are reeeeaaally good.

I've

recently realized what a huge snob I am.

...sorry

Merry friggin Christmas

I was in the kitchen.

There was a pounding on the door. I called "come in."

They didn't come in, they just started singing. Because they were carolers.

I ran and hid behind Heather's dresser as they continued to knock and wish me a merry Christmas.

I am a terrible person.

It just occurred to me

me: ummm finals blow. so does this stupid computer class i'm taking. why am i taking it? someone said it was easy

amyleah: i don't know. bleh.

me: it's not easy. it sucks

amyleah: why am i even in school?

me: why am i alive?

pt. 2

You know it's getting near the end of the semester when you find yourself hoping to be hit by a car so you don't have to do your final projects.

Heather already has been hit by a car. Lucky.

Amy wants to know how to break her arms.

We are in trouble.

Finals countdown

Studying contains the word dying.

Tied with this!

Dang, I forgot. This wins most terrifying.

This year's winner

...of the semi-annual birthday drawing contest is:



by Amy L. Nelson

A Wonderful Thing

Amy and I turned on the heat to our house today.

It was 55 degrees in our house at the warmest part of the day. We figured it was time.

busted

Has this ever happened to you?

My eyes are cold.

Also I think I sprayed straightening spray in one of them. I'm convinced the two events are unrelated though.

A Complement to Us All

"We don't have any grotesquely unattractive friends."

Thanks from us all, Amy.

Next

A sextet, featuring John, Pearl, and some new friends!

So you like John Daker?

Meet his friends. First is Pearl Gross, with bonus material: stand-up comedy

A stolen question

Would you rather be ridiculously good at one thing or mediocre at many things?

When asked this question, I said I would want to be really good at one thing if that thing were learning how to do things really well. Friend said that didn't count.

So you can't use that one.

Downer

I burned a whole pan of brownies today :(

This ended up being kinda funny

Otherwise I wouldn't post it.

Put your iTunes on shuffle and ask the iTunes Gods each of the following questions or scenerios

What were you like as a baby?
Song: Something--the Beatles

How was your childhood?
Song: Arrival to Netherfield--from Pride & Prejudice (yeah not funny--this one doesn't make sense)

How was high school for you?
Song: Bachelorette--Bjork.

Your first kiss?
Song: Like Eating Glass--Bloc Party. Yikes.

Your first boyfriend/girlfriend?
Song: I'm a Believer--The Monkees

Describe your Wedding.
Song: A Mistake--Fiona Apple

The person you're going to marry.
Song: Mean Mr. Mustard--The Beatles (I'm not making these up)

How are you going to die?
Song: The Boy With the Thorn in His Side--The Smiths

Describe your funeral.
Song: Find My Baby--Moby (??)

How do you feel about religion?
Song: My Baby Just Cares for Me--Nina Simone

(And my personal favorite):
What do you do on vacations?
Song: Stoned--Dido

Mission Accomplished

One month. No soda. Done.

I just drank like 32 ounces of DP. Crap.

I have a dream.

The other night I had a dream that I, along with Amy and Heather, rejoined my children's choir. However, we were all in my CHum class that I am currently sitting in which meets from 3-4.20 on the same day as rehearsal (in real life my class goes from 4-5.20. Oh well). So we had to alternate between missing class every other week and missing choir. I can't tell you how stressful it was.

"You look like Satan!"

Thanks, brother-in-law Andy.

All right then

In response to Austin's comment on my previous post, here is said joke:

Q: What's the opposite of George Strait?
A: George Michael

It was funny at the time.

The worst

It's the worst thing to make up a really funny joke on the way to school, and laugh at it all day, only to realize, several hours later, that it really wasn't funny at all.

Who wouldn't?

I would like someone to rig up a video camera inside a dishwasher while it's running, so I can see just what's going on in there.

Wouldn't you?

Thank you, WebMd

I think it's a boil!

I suddenly feel less remarkable.

It's happened

The day I dreaded arrived: at work a man asked me, surreptitiously, if we sold any edible products such as lotions and oils.

I stood there staring at him for a minute before I could say, "Uh, no, we have nothing edible."

"Oh OK, so it just smells good?" he asked.

"Yeah. I wouldn't recommend eating any of our products."

Shudder.

Um.

I don't like it when couples or men come into my store looking for massage oil.

It turns out...

pregnant women are jerks.

...and Family

This one time, my sister sang in sacrament meeting in my parents' ward and my niece gave a talk in primary and no one told me about it.

This other time, I told my family, hey, if you ever go to ______ again, tell me, cause I want to go. Then that weekend I went to my house and no one was there and I called my mom to see where they were and they were at that place and they said they forgot about me.

Another time they went to dinner and didn't tell me about it. Twice.

Another time my mom said, "oh we forgot to call you about________, but I'll call you tonight and tell you what we're doing." She then proceeded to forget.

Around this same time my mom said, and I quote exactly, "You need to check in with me every once in a while so that I remember that I have a sixth child." I had talked to her earlier that day.

So very very loved.

Friends

I decided that I'm going to only be friends with my niece cause she likes me a lot more than everyone else does.

Just kidding I like you

I've said it before and I'll say it again:

Everything Jeff Buckley touches turns to gold.

(http://hypem.com/search/jeff%20buckley/1/
Listen to his cover of Elton John's "Curtains". and if you have time, his cover of The Smiths' "I Know It's Over.")

Classy Stuff and Music and Drugs

Sometimes I call Ralph the dog "Rafe" like Ralph Vaughn Williams. It just makes him seem classier. And it makes me happy. His toes are clicking on the tile. Also makes me happy.

Guys, I read this story yesterday that my creative writing teacher recommended to me cause it was about music and I wrote a thing about music once and he said I'd like this story. I did, cause the writing was really good but it was depressing. He said my story and this story were similar in content and evoking blah blah blah...but I read it and the big difference is, in my story the effects of music were positive. In this one, it seemed, music was an escape for this guy from life's pains. Music and also heroin.

But it was a cool story though cause it made the point about how everyone is trying to escape something painful in life and everyone has different methods of doing that. It contrasted these two brothers, a straight-laced school teacher and a jazz musician who keeps getting busted for drugs, and eventually the first brother comes to understand how the second brother is able to deal with pain through his music.

Pretty cool.

Malcolm just put his head on my wrist and now it's hard to type.

Addiction

It's gotten bad.

Oddity

Sometimes I go to my blog and am disappointed to see that there's been nothing new posted.

Gay Pride

Get it?

Dear Africa:

Wow.

Love,
Caitie

At last

We somehow got to Dubai. We had to wait in JFK for 12 hours to be put on standby for an 11.00 pm flight since we missed our 11.30 am flight on account of our flight from Salt Lake being 6 1/2 hours late. Wheee! It's a long story, you don't want to know.

Well ok, here it is: Our flight from SLC kept getting pushed back for some reason, and left after 6.00 am when it was supposed to leave at midnight. So we got to JKF at 12.30 and our flight to Dubai left at 11.30. The Emirates airline lady was kind of a jerk and said the flights that night, as well as for the next 3 days or so, were completely full and good luck getting standby for any of them. We were wondering what to do, or if we'd have to by all new tickets on a different airline or what. We decided to try our luck on the 11.00 or 11.15 one that night.

The lady said this booth would open up at 4 so we could be put on standby. So we went at 3 to be first there in line. When it did open, the computer wasn't working, so we waited 45 minutes for the tech guy to come fix it. Anyway, we eventually learned that we couldn't be put on standby YET because that guy wasn't authorized to do it w/o his supervisor, who was MIA, so we had to come back to this other place that opened up at 7. The guy said to look for him, and he'd take us first and make sure we were put at the top of the list. He was really nice.

So we did more waiting, which was fun, and got there at about 6.15. We were near the front of the check-in line and this other guy that was helping us (our friend wasn't there yet) didn't know how to do it so he said to ask this other lady. Our friend guy came running up and said something to the lady about how we should be put at the top of the list. So we finally got put on the standby list, and I figured we wouldn't get on either flight since they were both so full. But we were told to come back there at 10.15 to see if we were on the flight or not.

After 3 more delightful hours of sitting and waiting, dead tired, in uncomfortable chairs, listening to a noisy Indian family reunion or rally or something, we went back. People kept asking us what we were waiting for, and we'd explain we were on standby, and they'd say "Oh OK" and go off to fix us, and then someone else would ask what we were doing. So then this group of like 7 million Orange Shirt Missionary people came up at like quarter to eleven, so they got swamped checking them in. At this point the lady told us there was no way to get on flight 202 (the 11.00 flight) and we could wait to see if we could get on the 11.15 one that makes a stop in Hamburg. Ok so I'll skip some story and go to the part where all the airline people were looking for us apparently, and we were standing right in front of them, and they didn't realized that WE were the elusive family of three (which, as I mentioned, were standing right in front of them where they told us to wait).

So eventually this guy's like, "oh, you're that family of three? Oh yeah, you've had seats for a while." So he gave us our boarding passes. At this time it's like 10 to 11 and he said, "oh I can guarantee that flight won't leave at 11. You're fine." We couldn't believe it and practically skipped toward the security place. There, this guy was freaking out at someone and saying some -very- colorful things. Right when we were about to go through the door to the security line, an airport person said "Close the doors!" So the door to our freedom was slammed in our faces. (Noooooo!) Anyway, I guess this guy was a security threat but we FINALLY got let in, almost fainting from relief.

So we got on the plane and sat right behind Peter's parents. I watched a movie (there were over 200 to choose from!) and the ceiling, when the lights were off, had little lights in it that looked like stars! So cute! Anyway, my mom gave me this sleeping pill and last time i checked, it said there were 10 hours left of flight. When I woke up, there were 2 hours left. Yesss. So nice.

Then, it turns out, my mom's suitcase made it but they think the other three bags were put on the 11.15 flight that would get in at 8 the next morning (this morning) and they'll deliver our bags to us this afternoon. So. Hopefully that will happen, cause I'm tired of wearing these clothes. Luckily Amy has toothpaste and shampoo and other stuff for me to use.

Ok bye.

K, bye

Um...bye guys. I'm leaving tonight. So enjoy America for me, and celebrate its formation on the fourth.

Is it bad that one of the things I'm most excited for is going to Zanzibar because that's where Freddie Mercury's from? Cause I am. But can you blame me? I guess the other stuff will be cool too.

So if you want a giraffe, put in your order in the next few hours so I can know how many to bring home with me.

TRY to have fun without me, if you can. It'll be tough.

Eh? Eh?

Treasure Hunt

See it?

Ikea

Swedish people are rad. What with their putting dots over all those vowels. Heh. What were they thinking?

No but seriously you should go to your nearest Ikea if one near you exists. If you don't live near one, go cry. Hard.

And also:

Tee hee

A Cold and Broken Hallelujah

Just as an unexpected surprise, I'm writing about Jeff Buckley today, this being the tenth anniversary of his death.

If I were a genius or at least more talented than I am, I would pay him the poetic tribute that he deserves. But I'm not, so I'm just going to tell you that I like--nope--love his music. His lyrics are poetry and his music is perfection.

If you don't know who I'm talking about, shame. Shame on you. Go get whatever albums you can get your hands on and listen to it all day long.

May this demi-god rest in peace.

Yes, the irony has struck me that this was written by a young, idealist moron

I was looking in my black book of wonders for things to post on my blog. I dug up this little number. Enjoy:

You know what's not fair? Ageing. Aging? I looked it up; both are correct. Ageing looks right in handwriting, while Aging looks right in type. Weird.

Your young, vital, relatively attractive years are wasted on half-formed minds and poverty. Then, when you're experienced and sage and above all, rich, you're still the same person except you're not--you're and old person now. So you no longer count. You're discounted, swept off the stage to clear the way for "the future," the young, idealist morons who think they know. They think they know everything you've had to suffer and hurt and struggle to know. And they're wrong. They don't know. They don't know at all. And these are the people were modeling our society after? They set our trends, dominate our media, run our every institution? Whose idea was this?

People should be born with an old body, and get younger as a reward for their lives. Everyone should die at twenty.

cool

i like how some of you guys actually did that

Sending Out an S.O.S.

Hellllp.

The time has come--I have to trick some people into thinking that I'm a good writer.
Everyone pick your favorite blog and tell me which one it is. The only thing is, I have to have written it. Ok. Go.

Seriously, read ALL of my blogs and tell me which you like.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

It's time for a change. Several. Everyone tell me what to change and I'll...well I'll think about it. Ready, go.

Now I have that song stuck in my head.

One more thing: More poetry. There needs to be more poetry in the world, or at least my life. Everyone write no fewer than three (3) poems and send them my way in one form or another. Then I'll do something with them. Or not. Whatever. Ready go.

Maybe I'll Be a Hermit

No one on this planet is normal.

And it's nice to be niced to.

Why I love everyone

People are great. And I say that with no sarcasm whatsoever. Hordes of people are even better.
So Dick Cheney is coming to speak at graduation. Of course, this attracted a mass of protesters outside the JFSB. Fine, whatever. But one sign said: "Who's speaking next year, Osama bin Laden?"

uuummmm....

I don't know everything, and I try not to pretend otherwise.

I often say, don't listen to me when I say things cause I probably don't really know what I'm talking about. I think this can be applied to more people than I usually realize.

Almost like poetry

Care for some poems?

There once was a young girl called Masie
She was famous for being quite lazy
She just lay in bed
And it went to her head
And now, I'm afraid, she's gone crazy
-------------------------

THIS ONE'S FOR MAURY:
On a fine day all warm and sunny
Hopped a young loveable bunny
He heard a soft sound
And when he turned 'round
The hunter got him with his gunny
-------------------------

High up on a hill stood a chapel
And one day there was quite a loud grapple
Preacher rang out a bell
But it was just William Tell
Who'd aimed at his brother, not apple
-------------------------

Now some haikus. The first one's about spam.

The famous dinner
That meat which comes from a can
Why must we eat this
-------------------------

Round, chocolate cookie
What is that in your middle?
I still will eat you
-------------------------

Hero at the sword
First cries out his famous call,
"Freedom! Freedom! Free--"
--------------------------

The first sign of spring
The young buds look toward May
Oh my--how cliche

Lesser of two evils

You know how when you're sad or mad or something, and some clever one's like, "You know, it takes 34 (or however many) muscles to frown and only [17] to smile"? Do you ever think, Well then frowning would burn more calories wouldn't it?
So is frowning good for you? Like how they say shivering burns calories.
I'll try that one out next time someone tells me to smile: "It's my new weight-loss program" I'll say. You should try it too, smiley.

Um...?

Do you realize that in John Denver's song, "Sunshine on my shoulders" there is a line that says "Sunshine almost always makes me high"?

Is anyone else feeling a bit unsettled?

I have a secret....

...a secret called socks.
I love socks, because no one gets to know about them. If I want to throw something into my outfit that no one can no about, I can. I can wear black and pink argyle socks with tan and orange shoes. Sometimes I buy ridiculously colored socks that I'll never be able to wear with anything, just so I can wear them with something. And no one will know. No one ever has to know, because as long as your trousers cover your socks, no one is the wiser.

Just a release for that urge you get to have a secret sometimes.

I've never been disappointed NOT to have strep throat

...but I am right now. The quick test came back negative, and I'll get the overnight results tomorrow, but I don't hold out much hope for having strep throat. If only it were, they could cure me. But alas.

There's got to be a way to sit at home all day sleeping and watching tv, justifiably eating ice cream for dinner, AND getting sympathy without spending at least an hour or two per day lying on the floor crying. My mission is to find that thing, while not being a really broke bum. Any ideas?

Ah, man I'm so hot. Ech.

Today's menu:
2 pieces Sees' molasses chips
1 Lindt dark chocolate truffle ball
1 Bagel, cream cheese
1 Jamba juice
Some V8 splash. Mmm.

Also I'm now thinking of being an English major, for those of you who are keeping track. (Turns out, Accounting is really hard)

Blame it on the Inversion

Everything smells/tastes like exhaust
I can't see my mountain
I've forgotten what the sun looks like
When my hair swings in my face, instead of smelling like conditioner and the sweet scent of my green Paul Mitchell hair goo, it smells like industrial supplies. Just one more simple pleasure wrested from me.
Everyone I know is feeling more depressed. Most of all me.
Outside is in no way beautiful.
Did I mention the headaches?
This is all the inversion's fault.

Bad grades? Inversion
Oh, I'm sorry, I punched you in the face? It's cause of the inversion

A-ha

It was my ringtone

I may be crazy

There's been this tune running in my head all day. What is it? It's light and carefree, and I can't shake the feeling that it comes before something else. Like the theme song of a TV show. Except it's not that. It also makes me laugh. Help.

Study aids

You may have noticed by my last blog that finals week has arrived here at the London Centre. Here is an incomplete list of ways we Londoners have come up with to avoid all things school-related:

-holding late, late-night sing-alongs
-teaching me how to play the guitar (i know four chords and can almost play part of 'leaving on a jet plane')
-composing elaborate poetry (containing nothing of educational value)
-spontaneously going to kahn's
-excessive napping
-myspacing and facebooking like never before
-encouraging others to create new blogs
-grocery runs
-overeating
-this one time we played settlers of catan
-1,000 piece puzzles
-homestar runner
-playing the google game
-reading pirate books (this one's mostly just me)
-watching "hook"
-gossipping
-blogging

If anyone thinks of more cool things, I'm running out of ideas

Ode to Finals Week

I see no light at the end of any tunnel.
These walls hold in all thoughts and imagination
As we will never see London,
for we are to be confined to cement
and badly lit rooms of bitterness,
as we forge along in anger, we become
forever entrenched in a battlefield of
thought; we lose all hope of escape.
We are knights wandering hoplessly, looking
for salvation but find no hope through
desolate, dreary slumber.
We trudge
begrudged
sludge, sludge
as we fudge and muddle
through difficult passages
of speech and knowledge
as we fight...fight
stay alive
and regain consciousness
of the world
and city, yes city
London, we are
in London

By Ashley Anderson
Copyright Ashley Anderson 2006

Guilty and celebrating

I just stole the good computer chair from the other computer. Think anyone will notice?

Also, I made it home from church today in just over one (1) hour. That is a semester-long record.

AND, I'm going to go the whole Sunday without a nap. We're making changes today.

Grapevine

Today I overheard someone talking about me and she said, "she DOES have an interesting jawline."

It made me think.

I've learned a lot about geese

Goose facts:
1. They can't jump. Or they won't.
2. They don't like having yogurt thrown at them.
3. They still bother you even if you have thrown yogurt at them.
4. They look funny with globs of blueberry yogurt on their backs.
5. They can get vengeful gleams in their eyes as spiteful as any human or beast.
6. If you feed it to them, they'll eat turkey--their kin.
7. Ducks are their worst enemy.

On an unrelated topic, I hate life momentarily. Why must 86.8% of Things suck, all at one time? And how do I switch plane tickets if I'm not sick, and it's not a family emergency? They don't bother telling me that.

Holiday ruminations (slightly grumpy)

It's official I'm never coming home.
Yes, I have reasons. Plenty of them.
Home only pretends to be relaxing. It's only that way on the outside. I get thinking of Christmas, and I think, ooh, house full of good smells, running around in comfy socks, sledding, and, especially, reading all day long. But really, I don't actually read all day even though that's how I say I would like to spend a day. If I try to, I feel all anxious and stressed, like I'm missing out on something else I should/could be doing. And I call someone and we just say 'what should we do.'
Don't get me wrong, I'm still looking forward to Christmas. But I know that on December 26th, the instant I'm bored, I'll want to go back "home." Here. This is where I'm with people who just met me and are like my family. Yes, this is going to be one of those blogs that make you all hate me, and say, what a jerk, she goes to England for a few weeks and turns into one of those America-hating snots, who act like they've lived in London their whole lives and now try to make us all feel inferior. I'm not one of those. Not permanently.
I like America. I like Provo. I like my friends.
But I used this to escape Provo-related things. And it's worked for the time, and it's been great. But, still. Bad idea. My 4-month vacation from Real Life is coming to a close, and really, nothing's changed.
There are also other reasons for wanting to stay that I don't feel like going into right now.

One more thing: why does everyone hate Thanksgiving? It gets such a bad rap. I've been reading all these Thanksgiving-hating blogs and articles, and I'm like hey man, it's not Thanksgiving's fault that we eat turkey on it. And if you don't eat meat, fine for you, don't tell me what to do. Heather, that wasn't directed at you.

In conclusion, I'm not coming home...for three weeks. Actually, maybe four now. But most likely that won't work out, so just the three. See you all then.

Happy Thanksgiving.
Gobble gobble.

Unsettling

Don't you hate it when you have a blog that you think only three people know about, and then somebody else says to you, "hey, I like your blog, I've been reading it" and then you're like "oh crap, what have I been writing"
I do. It kind of freaks me out.

Unpleasant experience

I inhaled my gum tonight.

The aussie

It all started on a bus tour in Killarney, Ireland. I saw him on the bus, of course, and thought he looked like Kent. Cause of his hair, you see. Then I was trying to decide if he was attractive or not. The verdict: lovely eyes, but would have benfited greatly from a shave of the unfortunate goatee. Our first stop was in some random town that you had to pay to get into, so we didn't [we didn't have enough time anyway]. So we spent the time there in a gift shop poking around. That's when he decided to start a conversation with me about that "clever mug" that was supposed to look like it was upside down [ah, he's Australian, I noted by his accent.] Needless to say, the conversation didn't last long, cause how long can you talk about a cool mug?

Next encounter was in another town called Sneem (heehee!). We discussed the modern sculpture. I thought it represented a polar bear, Ashely guessed a wadded kleenex. Then we found a random dog and I started petting it. That was when he came up and asked us if we'd been to Athens. I had. He went on about the stray dogs there and how he and his friend named them all Larry. A more subsantial conversation than the mug one ensued. We established that he is indeed Australian (ha! go me) even though Ashley thought he was Scottish (??) and found out that he's been travelling around Europe for the past two months. He's alone; he did have "a mate,"as he put it, with him for the first month.

Last stop was at a waterfall, where Ashley, being the boy-crazy maniac that she is, followed him around, keeping him talking. Eventually she came back round to us and asked if we cared if that Australian guy had dinner with us that night, and that his name is Paul. Uhh, ok, we said. After the tour he met us at our hostel, at six. After some rigid introductions we set off in search of moderately-priced pub grub, which we eventually found.

Dinner itself was an interesting experience, to say the least. There were a few rocky points, such as when the conversation inevitably led to us revealing that we are Mormons. After that, though, it was much more easy-going and he fit right in, mocking where mocking was deserved. Dessert at a place aptly named "dessert place" went accordingly. At one point I apologized for our great strangeness, but he assured me it was much better than sitting alone all evening.

Then, as there was a castle near town named Ross Castle, guess where Ross wanted to go? Bingo. I was hesitant, as the only thing we knew about it was that it was approximately a mile away. Didn't know how to get there, or if it was going to be cool, or just what. But Ross was going regardless, and he said whoever wanted to come was welcome. Now, as Paul was in Ireland on a three-day tour, we asked if he had been yet, and he said no, but I'm going. Oh, with the tour? we asked. Eh, no, with Ross and you guys. Oh! Well good! We didn't think you'd want to.

We found Ross Road and started walking along it, me making polite conversation with Paul when I sensed a foreboding presence behind me. What was it? Oh, it was a huge black dog that was following us! He stayed with us the entire night and was very sweet; we named him Duke. (It was Larry at first, but the aussie decided that only Greek dogs can be named Larry). Before too long, the streetlights on Ross Road stopped entirely. Oh good. I always wanted to walk almost two miles to a scary castle late at night, with no light, in the freezing cold, through a terribly misty forest with eerie water trickling through it, in Ireland, with a wild dog and a strange Australian. So that's what I did. And Paul thought he was sooo clever, saying he saw figures in the trees, and freaking out the girls. Not funny.

We were almost ready to accept the fact that there WAS no Ross Castle, that it was just a myth. We decided it was definitely more than a mile away on that road. But Ross was adamant. And right. There were lights in the distance. The seven of us celebrated. It was even lit up. We weren't sure it would be. We arrived on a bridge, where Duke jumped in the water that apparently was there, but we couldn't really see it cause it was so dark. We decided to go right up to the castle to get pictures; we didn't think it would be open. Oh, it was. There was no door. This delighted the group to no end. No end, not any end. We spent the next hour? two hours? long enough that we lost track of time entirely, at that castle. Including Duke. We climbed dangerous and most likely illegal walls, took very dangerous pictures on precarious ledges, and had the time of our lives. It was exhilerating, like no-good teenagers must feel when they've vandalized something and are on the run from the cops. Too many unforgettable things took place at this castle.

After the long walk home we all went back to our hostel; Duke left us in town where he got distracted by something interesting-smelling and didn't find us again. Goodbye Duke. We talked and talked all of us; some dropped off to bed. In the end it was me, Ashely and Paul, talking the night away. I discovered I need a puzzle ring. Guess I have to go to Florence to get one like his. So. Cool. Finally, sometime after midnight, after the great email address exchange, he left.

But I think he's coming to my birthday party.

London showers

I hate it when outsiders discover the Good Shower.

There is a small contingency of us who know of its wonders and have sworn off the "other showers" forever. Yesterday I shamed myself by introducing it to another, who had never even used it. The inferior, commoners' showers had stopped working entirely, allowing only a small trickle to flow. Or so I heard. From the commoners who were using those showers. I suggested to a certain lowly serf showerer that she use the Good one, since it always worked and was a trusty, reliable companion every morning, noon and night.

I created a monster. She liked it; the outsider, that is. She calls herself Kristi Ann, but to me she is now just another competitor for the comparitively high water pressure and privacy afforded by Good Shower. Why did I tell her? Perhaps I like a challenge.

Imagine my disapleasure, nay, dismay when yesterday there appeared on the Good Shower a note, written by Keri, saying 'do not use until further notice, because this shower is leaking into room #2.' Well, guess what Keri. Your precious room is not as important to me as Good Shower. So this morning I had to break my several-weeks-long streak of not using Crappy showers. So inferior. Will someone please fix good shower, I need him back.

Can I please be Virginia Woolf?

...I mean without the bi-polarity and the bi-sexuality and suicide and all...

Just read this:
"Directly one looked up and saw them, what she called 'being in love' flooded them. They became part of that unreal but penetrating and exciting universe which is the world seen through the eyes of love. The sky stuck to them; the birds sang through them. And, what was even more exciting, she felt, too, as she saw Mr Ramsay bearing down and retreating, and Mrs Ramsay sitting with James in the window and the cloud moving and the tree bending, how life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it, there, with a dash on the beach."

That's what I want to know how to do.

Sticking it to the man

I didn't make my bed today. Eat that, roommates.

My imagined day

What shall I do today?

Lie on a bed of flowery sheets by an open window, reading some useless fluff that I'm paying no attention to. Really I'm only paying attention to cars and imagined butterflies, and that spring breeze slithering around me, sniffing me like a dog. Oh look, a platter of segmented fruit appears on the bedside table. My bedroom door is open to all, and people--sibings, friends, Malcolm and Ralph--filter in to say hello. They don't stay long, they know I don't want them to, but they provide stability. What music is playing? Doesn't matter, but it's there.

In reality:

It's October. And I'm happy. Right? No, yes, I am. I must be. I just found a hole-in-the-wall used bookstore that I've been meaning to find. I'd like to work in one of those one day. I think I would. And in reality today, I found no pasty shop. Where are they all hiding? Today, the real me is going to Westminster to hear that music my insides have been asking me for. Take me back to spring. I must stay here till spring. Today I want to be subjected to spring.

What's my brain doing

My current list of majors to consider; drawn directly from my notebook:

-Accounting
-Violin
-Sociology
-English language
-Photography (not really considering it but it would be fun)
-English
-Nursing
-Psychology
Anyone see a common thread between all of these? If so, do let me know. It may save me some time and tuition money and later, stress therapy.

I lead a new life, sort of, and in most ways it's a relief but in other ways it's more frustrating. This is solely because i'm living with approximately forty very focused, determined, smart studious students who know just what they're doing and how to do it. Plus they do a lot of homework. Why must I be different? Is misdirection one of those things that's a blessing and a curse? I hate those. Just be one or the other, I say.

Just let me explain why I have sociology on there: it came to me yesterday, as I was, not for the fist time, swooning over Jeff Buckley. Part of the draw to him for me is that he was messed up. I asked myself why, and it occurred to me that I'm oftentimes drawn to the weird ones, the ones that need help [no, I am not referring to you--i mean artists, musicians and the like]. This begs the question, is there a reason I'm drawn to people that need help? I'm not trying to make myself out to be Mother Theresa or anything, but maybe I should help messed up kids or something. Maybe cool?

Disclaimer: don't be fooled, this in no way means that I have an idea what I'm doing

Lyrics of the Day

Perhaps it is the color of the sun
Caught flat and covering,
The crossroad I'm standing at;
Or maybe it's the weather or something like that.
But mama, you've been on my mind.

I mean no trouble; please, don't put me down.
Don't get upset, I am not pleading.
I'm saying I just can't forget you.
I do not pace the floor, bow down and bend,
but yet, well, mama, you've been on my mind.

Even though my eyes are hazy and my thoughts,
they might be narrow, where've you been; don't bother me.
Oh, bring me down with sorrow.
I don't even mind who you'll be waking with tomorrow.
But mama, you're just on my mind.

I am not asking you to say words like 'yes' or 'no,'
Please understand me.
I have no place I'm calling you to go.
I'm just whispering to myself so I can pretend that I don't know.
Mama, you're just on my mind.

When you wake up in the morning, baby look inside your mirror.
You know I won't be next to you, you know I won't be near.
I'd just be curious to know if you can see yourself as clear
As someone who has had you on his mind.

R.I.P. Jeff Buckley