Well, well, I guess someone did read my blog. Someone who's a pretty big deal. I thus dedicate this blog entry to you, Amanda. I just did your Johari window, you crazy hippie, and then I went on to do my own NOhari window, the evil twin of the two. Apparently. So even though the link isn't so much a link, it's there and I encourage all of you to cut and paste it. The small effort on your part will be repaid thousandfold when you get to anonymously tell me what sucks about Anne. Not that anything does, I'm just saying.
So how's life, you say? Pretty lame, but thanks for asking. On the heels of Worst Valentine's Day Ever things can't get much worse. So there. In other news, I skipped yoga tonight to eat a four-course dinner and drink a bottle of red wine. Well worth the guilt.
I can't find a dress for Kelly's wedding, and I have this nagging feeling that if I stopped skipping yoga to eat four-course meals, it might be easier for me to fit into a dress. But whatever, I'm deep into feeling-sorry-for-myself mode and Amanda is the only source of logical advice in the universe right now. Not that she's the one forcing me to eat fried tomatoes, I'm just saying.
Hey, is it just me, does every single one of my friends have an evil boyfriend? I feel like such a statistic. Speaking of statistics, school is a such a rock-bottom failure right now that I yearn for the days of December when I spent my Saturday nights poring over confidence intervals and hypothesis tests. I am a sad, sad case. I think it's time to put this lame day to bed. I have work to look forward to tomorrow: there's nothing like getting to work at 9 and staring at the pencil cup which once really captivated my fancy. Maybe after I look at the pencil cup, I'll turn on my computer. Then I might water my plant, or eat a banana, followed by a little "professional development:" Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing. I just can't get enough of that Chameleon Game - doesn't he ever get sick of eating letters? By the way, I'd like to point out that I type 40 wpm with my index fingers and 15 wpm with all of my fingers. Well look out world, because by the time Miss Mavis is done with me, I'm putting all of you Katherine Gibbs School grads out of a job! Yay grad school!
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Monday, February 06, 2006
poco de todo y todo de nada
Holas, loyal readership. You will soon seek me out like the squirrels seek to come into my room through the closed windows. It is just like a Windex commercial up in this mother.
I went to see my musically proficient friends Tripping Lily last night and mentally beat myself up for bing such a piss-poor guitar player. It was a great time though, and it was wonderful to see my long-lost Cape Cod homies at Molly's, where after months of living in Lowell, the bouncer still stated that he didn't need to see my ID because I'm there "all the time." I guess that Cape-Cod-for-life quality shows on my face.
I have literally eighteen hours of reading to do in the next 3 hours, hence my procrastination in the form of blog-writing. Now I feel guilty, bye.
I went to see my musically proficient friends Tripping Lily last night and mentally beat myself up for bing such a piss-poor guitar player. It was a great time though, and it was wonderful to see my long-lost Cape Cod homies at Molly's, where after months of living in Lowell, the bouncer still stated that he didn't need to see my ID because I'm there "all the time." I guess that Cape-Cod-for-life quality shows on my face.
I have literally eighteen hours of reading to do in the next 3 hours, hence my procrastination in the form of blog-writing. Now I feel guilty, bye.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
flava of love
Um, so I am writing a blog now. I never saw this coming. I wonder if anyone will ever read it... If you do you must tell me. Fan mail may be sent to me care of Kathleen Keefe of the Lowell Keefes. Well, where shall I begin, MySpace minions? How was my day, you ask? It was a pleasure and a delight, thank you.
I began my day by drinking a large iced coffee and proceeded to waste over two hours watching Flava Flav's reality show. This turned out to be not a waste of time, but rather an alarming insight into the ethnography of a really fucked-up household. A grad student in the social sciences, in my opinion, must never take a break from learning about the human condition. I went for a walk in the state park and cleared my head. Flava had given me a lot to think about and I really needed some time alone, away from the troubles of the material world. There was an amazing mist over the swamps and all the baby pine trees are starting to grow.
On the way home I was listening to Simon and Garfunkel's "Only Living Boy in New York" and had one of those "I fucking love LOWELL" moments. I was stopped at a traffc light forEVER and I had a perfect view of a construction worker returning to the site from across the street with a brown paper bag. He walked over to the guardrail along the river,hopped over, sat on the guardrail, and looked around about 15 times to make sure no one could see him. This seemed a little silly to me as he was clearly the only construction worker there, but there were cars everywhere. Who was he looking for? He was in the middle of the city traffic... Anyhow he opened his brown bag and took what seemed like a full 45-second swig. I couldn't even drink water like that, but apparently this guy's first 5 hours at work (it was 2pm) were pretty stressful. Then he lit a cigarette, took another sip, and looked contentedly out at the river. The traffic finally moved, so I drove away, having shared this weird secret moment with some guy I'll never meet. I felt all conflicted, because on one hand I felt bad for him being an alcoholic, but at the same time he seemed so free and peaceful. I couldn't stop smilig, it literally made me happy to be alive and to be in Lowell. There's nothing like a third-tier city to get the voyeuristic juices flowing.
I began my day by drinking a large iced coffee and proceeded to waste over two hours watching Flava Flav's reality show. This turned out to be not a waste of time, but rather an alarming insight into the ethnography of a really fucked-up household. A grad student in the social sciences, in my opinion, must never take a break from learning about the human condition. I went for a walk in the state park and cleared my head. Flava had given me a lot to think about and I really needed some time alone, away from the troubles of the material world. There was an amazing mist over the swamps and all the baby pine trees are starting to grow.
On the way home I was listening to Simon and Garfunkel's "Only Living Boy in New York" and had one of those "I fucking love LOWELL" moments. I was stopped at a traffc light forEVER and I had a perfect view of a construction worker returning to the site from across the street with a brown paper bag. He walked over to the guardrail along the river,hopped over, sat on the guardrail, and looked around about 15 times to make sure no one could see him. This seemed a little silly to me as he was clearly the only construction worker there, but there were cars everywhere. Who was he looking for? He was in the middle of the city traffic... Anyhow he opened his brown bag and took what seemed like a full 45-second swig. I couldn't even drink water like that, but apparently this guy's first 5 hours at work (it was 2pm) were pretty stressful. Then he lit a cigarette, took another sip, and looked contentedly out at the river. The traffic finally moved, so I drove away, having shared this weird secret moment with some guy I'll never meet. I felt all conflicted, because on one hand I felt bad for him being an alcoholic, but at the same time he seemed so free and peaceful. I couldn't stop smilig, it literally made me happy to be alive and to be in Lowell. There's nothing like a third-tier city to get the voyeuristic juices flowing.
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