April showers allegedly bring May flowers.

We'll see how that turns out.

(750 stats)

"Remember! Girls are more prone to whiplash... so headbang safely."

Jin invited me to come down for Warped Tour in June! That'll be awesome. Technically I'm the backup in case this other girl can't go, but since I don't mind being a third wheel (I embrace awkward situations) I'll probably end up going anyway. Oregon is literally the last stop for the tour, so instead of waiting 'til August (and I might go to that show anyway) I get to go two months early! Hooray for me! The lineup looks pretty neat. The band I'm most excited to see is Mayday Parade, but Motion City Soundtrack's gonna be there, All-American Rejects, The Rocket Summer... uhmm, well, a lot of bands that I can't remember right now because I'm tired and I think this week's totally fried my brain.

"You take the breath right out of me—"

So tired.

I need more sleep. But I also need to study more.
Obviously I just need more hours in the day. Sometimes it feels like I get home from classes, pass out and then go back. This is not a very pleasant feeling!

Whoops.

I've been super busy lately, which is why I've been so behind in the blogging department here. Since I'm too lazy to make several filler posts for my 750 stats, I'll just tack all of them to the end of this one. Whatever!

"Which of the bold-faced lies will we use?"

"Hello! How are you doing today?"

Hm. Well.
I guess I would say I am sincerely bewildered.

I honestly wonder how people put up with me. Even I would not want to be my own friend. It isn't like this is a new development or anything—I've always felt this way. The only reason it's particularly fresh in my mind is because I was talking to Jin about it the other day. Once again I failed to make someone see me the way I see myself. Maybe that's for the best? I know I'd go mad if I didn't have any company.

But is there something about me that just attracts people? Rollyn made some comment jokingly, about "how popular you are!" I didn't know what to say. Instantly I'm the one everyone defers to in my little Victorian Lit group. I did the least amount of work but got the most praise. It seems unfair. Professor Mercer was delighted. But I didn't do anything... why am I getting all this credit? In my poetry class I've ended up being one of the people the professor turns to for comments on students' poetry when no one offers anything. What right do I have to spend so much time criticizing other people's poetry when they offer so much positive feedback on mine?

This is not to say that I do not love the attention—it is really quite endearing. But it certainly does not come without guilt for not deserving the vast majority of it. I often feel that I am unusually lucky when it comes to interactions with people. I have nothing to offer any of them, and yet I take so much from all of them.

Sigh.
Why the hell am I even complaining? Do I just need a reason to bitch?

I am sorry.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"...so nod your head because you know that I'm right."

So I was actually somewhat productive today. Certainly not as much as I really should be, but I don't have really high standards for myself when it comes to Saturdays. Still got a lot of work to do tomorrow... midterms are next week. Feels like this term's going by pretty fast!
Two weeks to the concert -- unfortunately I just found out Danielle and Tony are having their big housewarming party that same night.I told her I'd see what I could do... but it's literally during the show time. I feel kinda bad! I'll make it a point to hang out with them another time, I suppose. Iron Man 2's out that weekend as well and apparently the plan is to hit the midnight showing in IMAX somewhere Thursday night. It'll be a fun weekend! Good way to wrap up midterms, eh?

(750 stats)

"I'm the black Macgyver—Blacgyver!"

Saw The Losers tonight. Great cast, but pretty weak ending. Wouldn't really recommend it, at least not in theatres. I had a free ticket, so I couldn't complain haha. I was a bit disappointed the sun didn't come out to play today. Then again, I slept in til like 1 something so it's not like I had tons of time to enjoy it.

My shoulder's been bugging me a bit lately... I dropped down to only one visit a week to the chiropractor because he said I was making good progress, but I had to go in early this week for an adjustment (Monday instead of Wednesday, so not too bad?) because it was just bothering me too much. Apparently doing my stretches is extra important now with less visits. I've been having to cut the neck stretching (Dr. Ramsey recommended half an hour a day) and my usual yoga routine (~45 minutes?) short or skip it completely lately because I've been either too busy or too tired with school.

(750 stats)

3 in the morning

3AM

and I

have never really ever got along. that's safe to say, isn't it?

and long gone

are the
(days) times (nights) where I could call for you and you would be (waiting) there (smiling)

on and on

I tell myself that

"it's okay," (trembling) "we're it's okay,"
"I'll we'll get through this together, baby."

come lazy
afternoons we will
say hello and exchange pleasantries in these lives
of ours that have grown apart ever-
(so-slowly (and yet so instantaneously))
y single day
and

the irony
of the matter is
that whether or not you say a word to me ever again I still need you to be there to (hope) know (pray) that I have not failed completely (again).

Needs moar slp

So I just woke up from a 5-hour nap.

Life is good.

Still tired though -- my body's been bitching that it hasn't had enough rest for weeks, so I'm giving in for the weekend.

Greenstadt's back. Modified syllabus -- the rest of the term sounds like cake.

Counting down the days to Breaking Benjamin! ♥.

I went to Walgreens to buy more gummy bears. They were sold out. Apparently I had bought the last of their stock on Saturday. Oops.

Bought a 3lbs bag from Fred Meyer instead.

Life is good.

(750 stats)

"I'd say your worst side's your best side—"

Filler post to hold 750 stat page link.

(750 stats)

"He's from the Renaissance!"

So Professor Greenstadt wasn't in class again. My Victorian lit professor told us about it on Monday, since she was originally supposed to sub in for her again but had some other engagements, and said that we would enjoy him and he knew much more about the history because "he's actually a Renaissance guy!" while she just liked to look at pretty pictures from the Renaissance. After a moment of thought, she thought to clarify that she didn't mean that Professor Wolk was actually from back in the Renaissance, but  we found out in class today that she wasn't far off. He was really old. I mean, he was a very knowledgeable and friendly guy, -- he'd often joke that he "didn't know what they said exactly" at particular historical events regarding the War of the Roses and whatnot because he "wasn't there." Silly. But anyway, what bothered/amused me was that he would literally pause mid-sentence and blink, as if he'd suddenly forgot what he was talking about. This led to the most random tangents, thus ending with us only having read and discussed most of the first soliloquy in Richard III. We're... we're pretty behind.

(750 stats)

App store gem

Today I discovered that HARIBO, my beloved German gummy bear (and worm and licorice) company has an iPhone application. I got it immediately and tried it out. It's pretty simple—you have a "bag" of HARIBO gummy bears. You "tear" off a corner then shake the iPhone to move the gummy bears around inside the bag. It seems to end when you've poured all the gummy bears out and gives you a score (at least I think it's some sort of score, I don't know German and apparently they had not bothered to translate the text in the images before submitting the app to Apple). Anyway. I took a bunch of screenshots because I thought it was just the most amazing thing in the world.

Ladybug, revised, and submitted

To you, my darling,
what am I

—your pretty red insecticide)?

If I become a ladybug,
shall I be your savior, love?

or         your

condemner?

I’m thinking and thinking and overthinking—
an answer for

the aphid plague on your garden—

Well, maybe's it's okay.
  and maybe you'll let me loose
because "it's okay, we’reit's okay,"
though I know you know that I know
damn well it won't be that way,
because I

will taint

the nectar you drink

with my futile attempts

to defend the tiny red—
spotted
—lump that is my heart.

(&whenyouaredonedrinkingiwillripoutyours)

                   This poem, oh, this metaphor,

                   it's really little fucking more
    than a caricature of art

       ( like us to happiness, no? )

and I can't do it

I can't do it
, darling.

I can only dream of being a ladybug,

     that lucky little insect who could never possibly comprehend

     the unending agony of ending day after day after day

     looking around her empty little garden to see everything

you've left behind.

I can only dream.
I can only dream (of you).

"...got half a mind to tell you half of my heart won't do."

Still addicted to Mayer today. Of course. I'm very thankful Eric took me to his concert last month... kinda to the point that I feel a bit bad for not really talking to him much. Yeahhh, I know. Just not really interested in the least.

Quite frankly, I'm not in any position to be getting into any sort of new relationship for a while. And yes, I realize how odd that is for me considering the fact that I've been involved in a long-term relationship for the vast majority of the past decade. The longest I can remember being single... 2-3 months? That's probably a bad thing. So I'm cool with this whole vulnerable still-devoted ex-girlfriend role I've got going on.

That is not to say that I've resigned -- I'll probably get back into the game after a while. I've survived some pretty rough break-ups. I know I'll be okay.

My heart's a little soldier.

(750 stats)

"Yeah, I don't really know what to do with my arms now. They worked better around you."

"I'd steal your heart before you ever heard a thing—"

Lots of reading today. Some school stuff, but mostly recreational -- it's tough to read literature on genocides when you're sitting outside on a beautiful day sipping orange juice. Well, at least it is for me.

While wasting time on Facebook, I had poetry readings playing on my laptop so I could listen. I'm a very aural person, so I find that listening to speeches or readings or audiobooks are really helpful for me. Now if only they had textboks like that... hmmmm. Smells like a somewhat untapped market to me.

I've had "Assassin" stuck in my head the entire day. I don't care much for the rest of John Mayer's latest album, but I adore that song and I can still remember his live performance of it last month when he was in town. Epic.

(750 stats)

My day, in a nutshell:

Facebook. Chatting. Reading. Writing. Eating. Sleeping.

Roughly in order of time spent, descending.

(750 stats)

"She takes these pills

&she MOVES along.

She takes these pills and i(t')s better."

Oh Mr. Sun, Sun~ ♫

It was a lovely sunny day today.

Professor Greenstadt didn't show up for Shakespearean Tragedies again today -- of course there was no explanation, there never is any explanation -- but my Victorian Lit and old Intro to Shakespeare instructor Professor Mercer came in to substitute. "Man, this is like Guest week or something," Rollyn mumbled. Our previous class period was covered -- for only a few minutes 'til he had to go to his normal class -- by Professor Walker, who taught Shakespearean Comedies last term. I can't say that I mind Greenstadt not showing up since it meant my favorite professors coming in instead -- but I dunno. There's something to be said for consistency and reliability. Whatever.

Lost one of my earrings today somewhere on campus. This made me sad. But it was sunny and beautiful out, so I got over it really fast. I also went through three bags of gummy bears today. It's a miracle that my blood sugar isn't insanely irregular. But it made me happy and happy is good, ya?

(750 stats)

"The time is passing by--

--you're my insecticide."

Far too tired to even attempt at a coherent blog entry. This week is killing me!

(750 stats)

Happy Tuesday!

Nothing better than getting out of class early because your professor doesn't show up and one of your favorite professors subs in for a few minutes before dismissing you.

New music on Rock Band -- two new tracks from Serj Tankian. I got "Empty Walls" -- which, after attempting it on Hard, should really be called "Empty Lungs" and some other songs that'd come out semi-recently like Skillet's "Monster" and Breaking Benjamin ♥. Tons of fun! You should play Rock Band with me if you're on Live.

(750 stats)

"Lighthead's Guide to the Galaxy"

by Terrance Hayes

Ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and children of the state,

I am here because I could never get the hang of Time.
This hour, for example, would be like all the others
were it not for the rain falling through the roof.

Scrapped poem for my writing class

to you,
what
am I?

If I become a ladybug,
do I change you or do you change me?



I'm thinking and thinking and overthinking—
but hey, maybe it's okay if I only live for a few weeks.
Maybe's it's okay.
Maybe you'll let me loose
because "it's okay, it's okay,"
though I know you know that I know
damn well it won't be that way
because I
will taint the nectar you drink
with my futile attempts to defend the tiny red—
spotted
—lump that is my heart.

(&whenyouaredonedrinkingiwilleatyours)

this poem, this metaphor,

it's really little fucking more

than a caricature of art (like us to happiness, no?)

and I can't do it

I can't do it

Lord, I can only dream of being a ladybug, that lucky little insect who could never possibly comprehend the unending torture of ending day after day after day looking around her little garden to see everything you've left behind.
I can only dream.
I can only dream (of you).

Not-So-Lazy Sunday

I'm a tad stressed. Lots to do today. In particular, a group project for Victorian Lit... since no one's emailed me back at all. I have no idea what we're planning to do and it's kinda irritating. Had to bail on a movie with a friend because I'm not able to finish my homework otherwise. Long sigh goes here.

Back to work.
Remember to celebrate National Poetry Month today! Like, oh I dunno, buying your favorite poet gummy bears.

(750 stats)

Celebrating National Poetry Month~!

Some iPhone apps for the iProduct addicted like me:

Poetry Everywhere -- My favorite! Free thanks to some great sponsors, this app has videos of poets discussing poetry and reading their own works. I love it.
Love Poems @ Coffee -- very cute, and free right now.
Touch Poet Lite -- I get bored of this sort of stuff easily, but I know a lot of people like building poems word-by-word from a pool. So here you go!
iPoet -- Another one of these build-a-poem thingies.
Poems of William Shakespeare -- It's normally $.99, but currently free. Nice UI. I'm assuming you can guess what it features.
Let's Write Poetry -- This is a fun application that lets you write poems with other people, one couplet at a time! I also like free.
Poem Flow -- it's free to download and comes with about 20 poems. Although you do have to pay to subscribe ($.99-$2.99), some of the money actually goes to the AAP, which is pretty cool.

I haven't found many paid apps that looks good enough to try out. A lot of them are really ugly and typo-ridden. Ewww.

(750 stats)

"Let the sweat drop

Thanks to my hero Grammar Girl, I discovered that April is National Poetry Month. This tradition started in 1996 by the Academy of American Poets (AAP), around when I was... oh about eight-years-old? I don't suppose it would come as a surprise to anyone that I consider myself a poet. The earliest I can remember writing is back in 4th grade. Just some short and cheery stuff I'd carefully transcribe onto colored construction paper I'd cut out in various shapes. But writing poetry doesn't feel like a sufficient way to celebrate the month -- I mean, I write a lot anyway. What's the difference?

So naturally, I decided I would devote more time to reading poetry -- particularly work of poets I'm unfamiliar with, which seems to be just about all the contemporary poets. I'm taking Intro to Poetry Writing (sigh, prerequisites) this term so I have a giant textbook filled with poems, many of which I would never read on my own free will. But besides that, I think I'll hit the library again for any anthologies of note and use the magic of The Interwebs to find specifics. This will be fun! What? Don't roll your eyes at me.

In case anyone was actually interested, the AAP website has composed a clever little list of ideas for how to celebrate Poetry month a different way each day in April. 

(750 stats)

Random metaphors

--but what if I'm making a mistake?

How can I know? How can I ever be sure?

There is no fast-forward and there is no rewind button out of this scene for this movie we've made. (&it was a hell of a good one, wasn't it?) There is no script to scan and there are no lines to foreshadow the next part.

Sick of filming in all these places -- give me a city, give me a setting. (give me a sign?) I can't play my part without you. None of your understudies can get into the character like you do (did?).

"... and just like the MOVIES ,

 we PLAY out  our  last  scene 

.you won't CRY;i won't scream."

A painted face?

A stage kiss?

A fake set?

where did the starlet go?

she's backstage drowning //

where are you?

I remember coming here
with you holding my hand--

I just can't find you anymore and there is no PA system to call you back to the front register of my heart like when you used to hide in the clothes racks of the department store when you were young.

I cannot browse through every wheel of garments in sight,
pushing aside each carefully-hung item with anticipation

hoping I might
find you
smiling behind it.

Libra Horoscope

So this was my daily horoscope:

"If you have grievances about your love life, Libra, today is the day to speak up. Indeed, today requires only total honesty and forthrightness in all areas. You can expect to confront "the other," whether it's your mate or co-worker, on the basis of truth and righteousness. Rest assured you'll command his or her attention! Be careful that the weight of your words doesn't surpass that of your thoughts."

And my "love" one (people often try to use the zodiac to predict that sort of stuff):

"Love is not smooth like milk chocolate; it is full of angles and electricity. Today's position of the planets brings excitement into your relationship with your beloved. You will find that you want to do things differently, to enjoy the differences between you, to celebrate them even, and to marvel at how wonderful it is that amidst all these contrasts and conflicts, you love each other so much."

Well, that's interesting.

I'm not one to take these sort of things as prophecy -- I mean, obviously, since shortly after reading these I took about a five-hour nap. Yeah, I'm pretty professional like that.
I must admit that I'm a bit disappointed in myself for not acting on that and saying anything. As if I haven't been desperately trying to restrain myself from saying anything to him at all lately, right? Besides, I've already said everything I need to or could possibly say. There's no point in blaming myself for not taking action; relationships -- both romantic and platonic -- are about compromise between two people. If I do everything possible to save a relationship and still fall short, the fault can't be mine, can it? There's a point where you have to be met by the other person.

...meh, I still feel like shit.

;watch those JAWS drop."

Uh. So I just woke up, haha.

When I got home I did a bit of reading and a pretty long yoga routine (~40 minutes?) that felt good. Then promptly passed the fuck out. Uhhh, I guess I was tired. I've got this app on my iPod, Sleep Alarm or something like that, that you stick on the corner of your bed at night and it detects your movements over time to determine what state of sleep you're in. It's pretty neat. Anyway, I've been using that for.. I dunno, a little more than a week? And apparently the average amount of sleep I've been getting is ~4-5 hours. Which isn't so bad, until I realize that I spend a lot of that time tossing and turning or just staring up at the ceiling, unable to tell my brain to STFU for the night. Ehhh. I realize that the body adapts to your habits -- I notice that some days I've gone into REM sleep (well, according to the app) remarkably fast. Clearly my body isn't too optimistic about the amount of sleep I'll be giving it.

The Triggering Town

Textbooks are a bitch. I was an Organismal Biology major. I know. I try to get used ones or just rent them at the library to cut costs. But since I switched over to English/Writing, I've come across a few books I just don't want to get rid of at the end of the term. The fiction and narratives I understand -- there are some great stories and it's not worth it to try to sell them.
But this book we've been assigned to read, "The Triggering Town: Lectures and Essays on Poetry and Writing," by Richard Hugo has captivated me. I've got the library copy -- it was actually the last book I got because there's only one copy among all the Multnomah County libraries and I had to put it on hold. It's old and very worn out, pencil marks are around various sections and a word or two in the margins. I must have it.
I can't say I've particularly learned anything new, but rather that I've found words to explain what I just sort of knew intuitively, and it's a lovely feeling. I dunno. I'm a nerd!

(750 stats)

"Aha!" It was like you came out of nowhere.

I blinked, slightly bewildered. "But how did you find me?"

"Easy," you laughed, "I followed the scent of strawberries!"

(750 stats)

Monday.

Fuck Mondays.

(750 stats)

There are totally not nearly enough hours in a day. :(

(750 stats)

Product of whim on 750Words.com today

(the breakdown)

Spinning round in my head
I don't know what to do
what to do without you, love

I need you here with me--
to dream unlonely dreams
to sleep unsleepless nights
to hold when my world's about to collapse.

Oh, "if you only knew! I'd sacrifice my beating heart before I lose you."
I'd lay it on the floor for you to do whatever you decide.
I'd give it all -- anything you ask of me.

My heart leads me and it leads me only to you.
It beats only along with every breath you take.

Darling, if you only knew.



All the times I regret, all the times I cherish, I can't forget a single one of them -- they're burned into my memory like an unbridled flame. You are my everything, you are my anything. You make me a better person, you inspire me and give me hope. I love you, boy. I love you so very much. So much that it hurts every damn day I wake, having spent another night dreaming of you.

Is it not sad, that even now I find myself longing to hear your voice still?
Is it not sad, that even now I find myself seeing your face whenever I close my eyes?

It's funny how the words just come to mind so easily, how the letters flow out of the pen or the keys under my fingers nearly press themselves -- as if the goddess Erato herself sat in the back of my mind, plucking the strings of her lyre with such purpose that all around her inspiration bloomed.

It's funny how you turn my poetry
into prose and rearrange the letters
back again--how you cause lyrics to spring
to my lips with simply your existence.

Did you know you are my inspiration?
Effortlessly, you still light up my life.

The memory of you even sweeter
than the scent of the flowers you held out --
with a sincere smile on your gentle face --
just for me on that July afternoon.

(I will love you forever,my darling)

When roses stopped appearing with you, dear,
I did not mind-- they are temporary.

But when was it I stopped being special?
I can't remember the look in your eyes
and the soliloquies you had in them
every morning you woke smiling at me.

I don't know when the television screen
became more worthy of your interest,
I don't know when I became a burden
or why it was you'd turn away from me.

It hurts to know that I can bear my heart
to you and you just yawn and turn the page,
Or how quickly I lost value to you.

It hurts to think and it hurts to breathe and it hurts to hold my head up in the dark all by myself.
It hurts to remember and it hurts to be ignored and it hurts to hear every song I've ever heard with you.

I don't know; what do you think?
Is it sadder to see your face whenever I close my(brown)eyes,
or that I can no longer remember the last time I saw it smiling?

Is it more pathetic that I tremble on my own before I fall asleep at night
or that I wake in the morning and look for you?

I don't know and I don't know that I can keep caring.
I can't stand this and I don't know that I ever could.

Why couldn't this sadness go away when you did?
Why couldn't this pain stay as far away as you are?
(--and how long have you been there?
Far longer than I could -- could've -- could ever possibly
imagine.)

I'm slipping, sinking, suffocating.
To breathe feels like inhaling the thick mud enveloping me,
dragging me down deeper, deeper.

But I suppose that's just what happens when you cry with eyes like the dirt.

Can't blog.

Busy playing with iPhone.

(750 stats)

"We could combine... Twitter and-... and Viagra! Twitagra."

Saw Hot Tub Time Machine with Kyle and David. Fucking hilarious! I totally recommend it, particularly if you've lived any amount of time in the 80s yourself. Twitagra. Precious.

In what scientists are now calling "Really Super Awesome," I picked up my iPhone from the AT&T Store. It was quick and painless. The lady helping me -- Ally was her name, and she had cute french tip nails -- actually owns an iPhone so she knew what she was doing and even offered me tips and stuff. It was great! From all the bitching and moaning I read about on the AT&T forums I was expecting to be there for ages and contemplated bringing some sort of sharpened kitchen utensil in the event that I find that I cannot take it any longer and need to stab myself in the eye. I did not, luckily. And researchers in the "Holy Shit" department discovered that the iPhone I'd bought was an MC model (the one with the older bootrom) and v3.1.2 firmware. If you know anything about hacking iPhones, you're probably seething with hatred at my spectacular luck -- I was thus able to successfully jailbreak it so I could use my cracked apps and customize the UI. It's so deliciously pink right now I can't stop smiling whenever I look at it. Teehee.

Lots of errands to run tomorrow -- not as much time to tinker with my iPhone as I'd like. Sadface. I suppose once in a while you have to pretend to be responsible.

(750 words)

"What you feel is what you are—"

So.

Within twelve hours, if all goes well (that is to say, if AT&T doesn't somehow manage to fuck me over once again) I will be the proud owner of an iPhone -- whom I will affectionately name Chelbot (IV). That, of course, is the Roman numeral for 4000, since my iPod Touch is currently Chelbot 3000 and my video iPod is Chelbot 2000. Whatever happened to 1000, you ask? Irrelevant.
So I'm headed to the AT&T store at Gresham Station before my appointment with Dr. Ramsey tomorrow morning since they apparently open at 9. If something happens to prevent the purchase and activation's completion... well. CHEL SMASH.
This is all thanks to Thomas. "You deserve nice things," he insists. Despite my best efforts to convince him otherwise (I almost always seem to fail in convincing people of this), I eventually cracked and accepted the monies. "You deserve good things," was the argument to a mopey Chel one night, "and you'll get them sooner or later."

I can't say that I am convinced of this or that I can fathom anyone truly believing it, but... surely there's an app for that.

(750 stats)