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| The End |
| 03.11.04 (12:57 pm) [edit] |
I've decided due to people not being able to handle the content of my blog, I will no longer have a blog. This is not to save the feelings of others, people should realize this is a place where I can truly express myself and they should be able to handle that, but because I am sick and tired of dealing with the aggravations of others, goodbye.
FOREVER.
Oh my pretty pink journal, I'll miss you.
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| A message for Caitlin |
| 03.11.04 (12:34 am) [edit] |
Caitlin, one last thing. This is my private place to vent. I allow you to have your personal place to not have me intrude on you, so please stay away from my personal place.
Thank you.
Megan
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| Bruised Skull |
| 03.10.04 (6:32 pm) [edit] |
Okay, remember me talking about the lime-green lamp from Target? The one that I might have raved earlier about how cute it was and how it was on sale?
Remember that fucker?
Well, as those of you who actually read this will remember, on Monday night it oh-so-uncourteously hit me in the back of the head. Well, I thought things would get better because I didn't black or anything. I didn't even find some blood or a lump, so I thought, hey, it's going to ache for a while, but it's nothing to write home about. WRONG.
Yesterday, last night, and today, I had a persistent... persistant ( I'm forgetting how speak english) headache which even resulted at times with my ears ringing a lot. They rarely ring after coming back from concerts, but obviously taking an eight (?) pound (i don't know, but the fucker is heavy. Ask Zach.) in the head, I guess they would. Anyway, I was even taking tylenol for it, but it just hurt so fucking bad that I convinced myself to go to UHS.
UHS seems to be a popular hang-out for me this year.
Anyway, Zach and I went to UHS where I filled out a form that went something like this
How did this injury take place: Hit on head with Lamp
Where is this injury: HEAD
When did this injury take place: MONDAY NIGHT
Was I tempted to check the box that said this injury wad drinking/drug related? YES, PLEASE!
What did I find out after filling out these forms and having my head (Yes, the doctor did say, "My, you have thick hair.") probed around for lumps, swelling, and scabs was I given this lengthy diagnosis.
Doctor Whose Name I Forgot: This will brighten your day.
Me: (feeling my hair to see if if feels like straw) I can only hope so.
Doctor: While your skull is not fractured, it is extremely bruised. In fact, you might even have a contusion. That's not [u]that[/u] bad! Isn't that a relief?
Me:.... I guess.
All of that lead to her telling me to take FOUR advil at every meal until I feel better. (I refused the greater wonders of narcotics) But, I can't bring myself to guzzle down four (even though I think they taste pretty good) advil at a time. It makes me feel like Courtney Love.
There's two benefits to this: After speaking with my daddy-o on the phone about my bruised skull, the nice physical therapist in him told me that I should only sleep for three hours at a time if I'm going to lie down. That i need to set my alarm for every three hours, rouse myself, walk around a bit, and such. Man, my roommate is going to [b]LOVE[/b] love that. 2) Since the incident, my Japanese skills have gone up considerably. I'm not saying that I am not losing my English skills as time goes on, in fact, it's pretty obvious that I am. (See my past and present confusion on the spelling of the word persistent... which I think I am indelibly right about. It's persistent.) But, Kinoo nihongo o hanasu no ga jouzu desu.
I bet I misspelled a word in there though.
Whatever.
Anyway, I'm going to go now. gabba gabba gabba hey.
Listening to nothing but my aching ears.
Painfully Yours,
Megan
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| Merritts and Crows don't just talk to everyone. |
| 03.09.04 (11:28 pm) [edit] |
It doesn't have to be coherent:
I am presently shaking. I'm not sure why, but I am. It's a strange feeling, as if my brain has had enough of all of that being carried everywhere bullshit and would prefer to just for once take a jog on its own. Or I might be shivering, because it's cold down in in Rez (the z is to make it more exciting)comp. I don't know, since yesterday's (I suspect, maybe, I don't know, but this is more dramatic at least) mild concussion inducing incident, I've just been not feeling well. I've had a semi-continuous headache from last night until about 8:00 tonight. At eight, I fell asleep after taking two tylenol with my soup while reading next to Zach and for a good hour until he woke me up, I was fine. My headache's coming slowly back right now, but I think it might be less lamp-induced and more, I'm trying to write a five page paper in the span of three hours while trying to compare and contrast a painting I've barely looked at it with a play ([u]Julius Caesar[/u]) I've barely read. Okay, I read it, but I didn't really retain it.
I was thinking today about what an absolutely wonderful song "Love" by John Lennon is. When I listen to it (which I've done twice in the past three hours) it makes me feel as if every love poem ever made could be summed into the three minutes and twenty-three seconds that are the reality of that song. If I could write something half-so-nice I would be a satisfied girl.
Today at work was hectic. I don't like hectic things, they make my stomach turn upside down, inside out, and sideways at the thought of them. Hectic things like running late for class, chasing after a schoolbus, or dancing with a lot of unfamiliar too-friendly people. Hectic.
I'm shaking because it's cold.
I really like how Zach types. I keep sneaking peeks at him out of the corner of my eye as he types his SATFIR paper and it's really the ninth wonder of the free world. His right hand, his [b][u]typing[/b][/u] hand curves over the keyboard as if he is half-velociraptor (I think it's on his dad's side) as he pecks out word after word using only his right hand pointer finger. His hand looks like a claw because while he is pecking out words with his pointer finger, his middle finger is curved over in a claw shape as if should the pointer finger dare to type a wrong word, the middle finger will claw anyone who decides to laugh about it in the eye. What makes this process even more bizarre is the fact that while he is doing all of this with his right hand, his left hand fingers rest where they would usually rest if he were typing in the proper position. So, when he is pecking things out, they occasionally absent-mindedly contribute to the on-going process.
What a weird boy I'm dating.
Siblings weekend is looking like Megan and Katie weekend. Which I'm kind of looking forward to, because this means that I get to know Katie better as a person. I don't really get to spend that much time alone with Katie, and I would really like to get to know her better as a person before I inevitably move out. I don't watch enough anime to succumb to living in my parents' basement.
I like Zach's haircut, now I don't spend nearly as much time reaching into my mouth and pulling out dyed black hairs.
Today, the sky was deep June blue as I walked to work. The clouds were thick as if they were made out of campfire marshmellows. It looked as if somehow March had tricked the sky into thinking today was June. It made me really happy to think of summer, but at the same time, whenever I looked down at the ground, it was all the more depressing to remember that there are three whole months until June.
June would be the nicest Christmas present of all.
In ten days is my and Zach's six month anniversary. I've never had a six month anniversary before. This is sounding reminscent of that Valentine's Day spiel, but it's not going to be enough. It's just a reminder that I've never loved anyone enough to make a relationship last for this long.
It's hard not to talk about Zach when he's not talking to me.
A bad thing about Jack White not even being put on probation: I will not get to attend a White Stripes: Well, We Can Tour Michigan! Tour.
A good thing about Jack White being sentenced to anger management classes: This could lead to the inevitableness of him leaving the industry of rock and roll and becoming a kindergarten teacher. I can't think of anyone else who I would rather have teach my future children the alphabet.
Meh.
I should work on my paper more, but I won't.
The world's most biting comeback: WHY DON'T YOU JUST... JUST... JUST... MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!
It works at 2:24 am.
I'm tired exclamation point.
I like how this is becoming more of a stream of consciousness than a blog entry.
"And then a merritt and a crow appeared and they told me, 'You're asleep!'." - Michael Palmer at his poetry reading.
I wish a crow and merritt would come tell me I'm asleep right now.
Listening to nothing, but just finished listening to [u] Plastic Ono Band [/u]
Love, Love, Love,
Megan
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| Lamped To Death |
| 03.08.04 (10:54 pm) [edit] |
Ouch. Ouch. [u] OUCH [/u]
For the first time in a long while, I spent time alone tonight. No Dan, No Roz, No Zach, No Demon, just plain old Megan in her room listening to my winamp and occasionally singing along (deafeningly out of pitch) to any favorite songs that happened to come up on my list. I felt kind of weird at first being alone. At home last year, when I was home, I was quite often alone. Sometimes, to the point where I was bothered by being around people, but now everytime I'm not at class (and often when I am in class) there is always someone there.
I'm not saying this is a bad thing, because I genuinely want to spend all of my time with Zach (the main reason why I am never alone), but when all of a sudden I'm all alone, the seclusion of it is absolutely deafening. Tonight, I got really excited thinking of all the things I could do by myself without having to share like eating a bag of popcorn, playing the ever popular [u] Oregon Trail[/u], writing poetry, singing along to my music, or fuck me, even listening to my music without someone typing furiously about the idea of me listening to my music (gasp) [u] WITHOUT[/u] headphones. Horror Horror Horror. Because John Lennon's [u]Plastic Ono Band[/u] is disgustingly offensive.
Anyway, I did all of those things (minus taking my Conestoga Wagon to Oregon City) after first almost bashing my head in Kevin Spacey style. Yeah. I took a shower (I decided I didn't want to wake up early tomorrow morning) and as I was leaning over my drawer (that word never looks right) my desk lamp which I thought would be cool to throw on top of my bookshelf early in the year decided it would be a funny thing to smash directly into the back of my head. I saw stars and light and maybe even a mushroom cloud from the full effect of that fucking lamp from target. I even got really dizzy and sat down for a little bit. I decided after that experience that God did not wish for me to change my shirt. He wanted me to desperately wear an Owosso Hoop Camp shirt that I had stolen from Ducky a long time ago.
Whatever.
But other than the headache which is still a bit of a jolt (Yes, it certainly does still ache, despite my gulping down tylenol like skittles) it was a nice night getting to know me again.
Other things: I am looking forward to Siblings' weekend srangely enough. Seriously. I miss my kid brother and kid sister like I would never, ever admit to doing at home. I don't know, I already know that I am basically [b]NOT[/b] going home for Easter, so this weekend is looking like the only time I get to spend with the gruesome twosome until I go home. Oh... Gabba Gabba Hey!
I need to write a five page shakespeare paper where I compare a caravaggio painting to the subject of martyrdom in Julius Caesar.
Yuck.
I want to go cuddle up to Zachula, but he's looking stressed right now. Cuddling up next to him right now would be like risking a mauling just because you think a black bear looks like a teddy bear. It's silly. And I don't want to end up on When Boyfriends Attack.
Listening to nothing, my head hurts.
Megan began
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| Sorry to Mary Kate and Julie for being sassy |
| 03.07.04 (2:50 pm) [edit] |
I'm done disliking people today. There are somedays where everything grates on you, like when you read a semi-friend's, the friend of one of your best friends (Hi Mary Kate... you know who this is about), blog and think badly about this person because they spend their whole time talking about how good their music is, how special their thoughts are, and you have to think this person is friends with my friend?
And then what you have to realize, is a part of the things you dislike, the part of the things you absolutely hate, inside that person? Are those the self-same reasons why one of your best friends adores you? I don't know anymore. It's so easy to think, "I'm a good person. I don't judge people. I have tried to like this person, but can't do it. I [u] AM [/u] a good person." But really, is it pure dislike or a bit of fear?
Yeah, Mary Kate, I'll talk to you tonight. I'm sorry that I made fun of Julie. I'll be nice for now on.
Sorry to the funniest girl in the free world and Julie,
Megan
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| Gabba Gabba Hey |
| 03.07.04 (10:46 am) [edit] |
Last night, I watched [u]Rock N' Roll High School[/u] with Zach (as always) and I now have another thing to add to my list of things to do before I die:
I want to have a fantasy about DeeDee Ramone playing guitar in my shower.
That shouldn't be a hard thing to accomplish, other than the fact that this fantasy cannot be accompanied by hysterical laughter. It has to be a serious, I need a cigarette after this, fantasy.
I thnk I am going to have to start smoking pot to achieve it. But I will do it someday.
And honestly, yesterday wasn't all bad. I got to eat a whole carton of wild berry supreme tofutti with Zach without having to share with those grubby bastards known as dan and roz. they don't deserve to have anything in reference to them capitalized anymore.
Rock, rock, rock n' roll highschool.
Okay, I'm done blogging for right now. I just had to leave it on a good note.
ROCK, ROCK, ROCK N' ROLL HIGH SCHOOL.
Because the Ramones [u] didn't [/u] write their own songs. Whatever Riff.
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| Brain Me |
| 03.07.04 (10:39 am) [edit] |
A problem with blogging:
The more I read of some people's blogs, the more I dislike them. Everytime I finish reading one of their blogs (there's at least two people like this) I always think to myself, "Well, that was unpleasant. I won't come back again.) But, I keep coming back. There is something addictive in discovering how much of a jerk a person you really only mildly disliked when you first met them is. I mean, there are probably reading this blog who are thinking the same thing about me, especially the seeming loyal legions of fans of my roommate that read this blog, but there is something terrible in the reading. Or at least something that leaves a bile on your tongue for a couple minutes.
And I know you're all thinking, JUST STOP READING IT THEN!, but I can't. Every day, there's a part of me that takes a great interest in finding out what annoying, pretentious, plain out stupid thing this person will say next from talking about how she was raised on great music to every once in a while gloryifying herself in the deep thoughts she has.
If I ever write abou how great I am for thinking a certain way, someone should just brain me.
brain me: (v) to clobber, to hammer, to slam, to sidearm, to smash, to bludgeon, to knock senseless, to beat, to bash, to smush the skull into the brain.
I'll relax soon. I promise.
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| I've got the my-roommate-is-a-douchebag blues |
| 03.07.04 (10:28 am) [edit] |
Dig if you will a picture, I am asleep in my bed. I have gone to bed at four 'o' clock after spending a delightful day ALONE (!) with Zach. A day that was made especially great by the chance happening of getting to watch Consenting Adults (can't get it to underline on a Mac.) featuring the best actors of the century: Kevin Kline and Kevin Spacey. I've seen this movie before last year on daytime television while sick with bronchitis, but I had forgotten the wonders, the thrills, the terrors of watching Kevin Spacey an insurance agency con-artist gone mad killing person after person with a baseball bat or at one time (attempting) to murder Kevin Kline with a semi-automatic shotgun. The thrills! the wonders! Oh man... it wasn't an Under the Cherry Moon, but it was in that cheesiness genre.
Anyway, go back to the picture of me being asleep in my bed. Now, imagine this: the door is slammed shut as if a person is being chased into my room. Stomp, stomp, stomp! A bright light like an interrogation lamp is switched on and then SWOOSH! this being, this seeming demon from hell, begins making a ton of noise. Enough noise to totally rouse me from sleep. Especially when that noise comes from MY computer. Enter me, drowsily demanding what is going on, and my roommate saying the internet isn't working.
It's FIVE FUCKING AM. FIVE. And my roommate appears to have an uncontrollable urge to write in her blog or to chat online with people. I roll my eyes in annoyance, throw my blanket over my head, and go back to sleep. But, still, it's just really annoying to me that she cares so much about the internet being on or off that she has to make enough fucking noise to wake me up. But then again, she has woken me up at night so many times I should be used to it.
Not all people are considerate. And, I know, (See counseling session) that I have done things to bother her. But, have I ever complained to her or demanded that she changes the way she lives to suit my purposes? No. Because I understand that you have to compromise. The problem is, when two nineteen year olds, two seeming adults, share a room, both members of the room should be mature enough to make sacrifices. The problem is, I am sharing a room with a fourteen year old girl.
One who expresses her anger by slamming things, turning on lights, and stomping around. One who is outraged by the idea of me having friends over. One who is outraged when I shut the window because it is raining INSIDE the room. One who slams the door because she is angry that I dare take a nap in the room after a long day at school and at work. Or even worse, take a nap next to my oh-so-offensive boyfriend. (Maybe if he smelled like Corrie's roommate's boyfriend did, I would understand, but Zach smells nice.)
And yes, I am complaining in here, but now I feel as if I've left her have her way for so long and I only have six weeks left here, that it would just be ridiculous to now be like, "Hey douchebag... i've had enough of your shit." I mean, it's pretty obvious that I have. I haven't said a single word to her until last night. I don't plan on talking to her again, unless some rage builds up in me that demands expression. Or if she starts fucking with my computer again. Or making a ton of noise at FIVE fucking am.
I get the feeling that my blood pressure is so high at this moment if someone was to poke my arm, a geiser of blood would shoot out of my arm and take out their eye.
Angrily yours,
Megan
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| Teacher Loses Bet Over Leap Out Window |
| 03.05.04 (4:28 pm) [edit] |
Roz sent me a news article a couple days ago:
http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/news/ local/8084763.htm" title="http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/news/ local/8084763.htm" target="_blank"http://www.miami.com/mld/miam...
I'll write more about this later. Because the article put me in a bad mood, but talking to ducky has put me in a good mood.
Megan
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| Ko and the Knockouts |
| 03.05.04 (3:53 pm) [edit] |
I haven't bought a cd in a long, long time. In fact, what I was thinking about earlier this week is I still haven't gotten all the way through Love and Theft (for some reason, this computer is not allowing me to underline Love and Theft. Maybe it has some sort of problem with Bob Dylan's mustache. I'm not sure.) which I received for Christmas. Then again, it always takes time for me to make my way through an entire Bob Dylan Cd.
Anyway, today at an awe-inspiring fifty-nine degrees, Zach and I took to the streets in search of a Gun Club cd for his highness. Unfortunately, there were no Gun Club cds to be found in Ann Arbor, so we ended up FINALLY finding our way into Underground Sounds which is situated next to a semi-eerie looking anime rental place and a salon that looks like it fell straight out of nineteen eighty-three, fluffy, teased bangs and all. I have been thinking about buying the Ko and the Knockouts cd for a long time, ever since I read in the Metro Times an attack upon them by the Fags.
If the Fags are music that will last forever then I am Virginia Wolfe. (I will admit that while I enjoyed List, the rest of their ep grated on me. Miss Take? Fuck Take.)
Anyway, I bought my ko and the knockouts cd. it's beautiful. and I never realized that Eddie from the Sights ( aka tiny sassy man with long hair that hates ann arbor college kids) was in it until I saw his tiny mod body on the cover of the cd.
I'm not as smart as I look.
Other news:
I've been making myself look crazy on my jamboree committee because I honestly thought that the large group jamboree meeting was tomorrow. It's next week. I'm a douche. And I don't get the books I wanted to get either until NEXT week. But, that is life.
I don't really have much else to say, because I'm consumed to go listen to my cd.
Megan.
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| Zoo Wish |
| 03.05.04 (12:24 am) [edit] |
If I could, I would spend every day at the zoo eating cookies and cream ice cream.
But only if I could also hold Zach's hand for the entire day.
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| White Elephant Dream or Tyler needs to be spiced up. |
| 03.05.04 (12:18 am) [edit] |
I was sitting around at work today (well, for the last fifteen minutes while I feverishly worked on my Japawork) and out of the blue, I remembered how fucking good of a singer Janis Joplin was. Or it might have been because one of the mix cds I was listening to at work had Janis Joplin on it. I'm not sure.
(Notice, I'm not sure seems to have replaced I don't know.)
Anyway, when Zach and I took a nap together tonight after we both returned from our mutual workplaces (Stop crying Cole.) I had the strangest dream that was set to Janis Joplin's [u]Piece Of My Heart[/u]. It was black and white, so of course, it was dramatic. Everything in monochrome is dramatic. It was about Tyler and I writing a white elephant (because there was no other colors) around and around the zoo. We had got Zach to let the elephant out because neither of us were tall enough to reach the lock, but he refused to ride the elephant with us. He told us quite vividly, "Elephants are not made for writing."
So, what happened is the elephant seemed very nice and friendly at first. And I thought, elephants such as these are delightful!
I thought in terms like that because I was carrying a parasol. You carry a parasol and not be pretentious. I dare you.
Anyhow, out of nowhere, the elephant went apeshit and started trampling things: benches, peacocks, people, roommates, the whole kit and kaboodle. But here's what truly made the dream memorable: Zach started laughing hysterically as I've never seen him life before. Like everytime the elephant would go crazy, he would crack up because of the dismayed looks on my and tyler's faces. His biggest laugh riot was when the elephant tried to eat Tyler, but spat him quickly out.
I guess Tyler wasn't salty enough for him.
I think I'm starting to prefer the blog entries where I write in a ton of non-sequiturs to the blog entries that actually make coherent sense. Hands?
Listening to: Zach type with his clawed-finger of death.
Megan who was salty enough
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| It's not MTV making me want to smoke crack |
| 03.04.04 (3:57 pm) [edit] |
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Work + Crazy People + Fear of Equipment Hold Up + Japanese = Crack Smoking
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| They can never understand a black man... |
| 03.04.04 (2:38 pm) [edit] |
tiny thoughts like tiny fingers:
My thumbnail just ripped off 2.5 minutes ago. Okay, to tell the truth (and why am I always so keen on using alliteration? It's like talking to a walking rhyme) I ripped it off. There's something really gratifying about the look of the raw red skin that used to be where my megaultra long catwoman finger nail used to be.
When I was younger, I read a story somewhere (it might've even been the newspaper, I used to read the newspaper much more when I was younger and more desensitived) about a person who kept their fingernails as a collection. I was wondering as I looked at the thumbnail before I threw it away in a bit of Megan-Smash anger, what did their relatives do when they found the box of old fingernails within their loved one's belongings? Did they make them into fingernail jewelery or did they toss away the last part of their relative's body that was above soil?
Today has been one of those days where everything *well, almost everything* can quirk itself into a joke. Like, today in Shakespeare and the Figure in Rome, we were talking about how Marc Antony was this huge forty-year old partyguy after we read a scene where be basically reveals his true, inner deviousness to Octavius "Political Phenom" Caesar. Anyway, when C.S. was talking about how Antony revealed everything to O.C. in that scene, I was suddenly struck by the image of Antony being Partyboy from Jackass and ripping off his toga and dancing around Octavius Caesar. Even now, thinking about *yes, I can hear that techno backbeat in my head* I start giggling.
One day, I should reunite all of the cast of jackass for a theatre performance of [u]Julius Caesar[/u].
There is something fundamentally pleasing about the phrase "banana chips". Maybe, because it's a happy, happy Shonen Knife song, or maybe because the word banana is really rhythmically fun to say. Any word that can have rhythms or be elongated is fun.
I itch.
(Honestly, if you haven't noticed, I've stopped caring about making sense anymore.)
Yesterday, Zach and i decided to make headline poetry. He uses some fancy schmancy name for it that I never learned because I only did it in eighth grade, but it was a good time. The poems we created are logical only to those drinking their third bag of wine, but that's what makes them good. The point isn't to make a masterpiece, but to make something.
I was thinking about love, forty-five seconds ago, and it's such an easy emotion to choke you up. Just an email from someone can make everything seem better. When I just finished reading the e-mail Zach sent me, the stain from the vegetable beef soup I spilled on my t-shirt disappeared and my mouth felt milky full as if I had just eaten another piece of chocolate stolen from Erich. I don't know if what I felt was love, or if it was thankfulness, but whatever it is, it made me feel as if I reached self-actualization. I'm not very religious anymore, but sometimes, I feel like praying and thanking God for Zach because he makes me so happy. Like when I was younger and I used to pray to God and thank him for Christmas and Nerf Bow-and-arrows, and Barbies.
I was a very materialistic child.
This has been an unseasonably busy work day. I keep taking stops to do work. Maybe that's why everything I say in this is a non-sequitur.
If you see Stevie Wonder, tell him I see.
Ouch.
Man with the golden arm is not looking like there's going to be a happy ending at all. Ten to one Frankie Machine dies of an overdose. Ten to one. When I say it outloud, it sounds more like "tend to one.
I think I'll write a real blog entry later.
Listening to: The Dirtbombs- Ode to a Black Man
Megan Loves You
They say I don't give a damn!
Damn!
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| I don't know = abolished |
| 03.02.04 (9:58 pm) [edit] |
I know what I should give up for Lent:
Saying, "I don't know," all the fucking time.
It's time to make a stand.
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| Literary Crushes |
| 03.02.04 (2:26 pm) [edit] |
I wonder why some people are so self-conscious about being different, while other people go out of their way to be different. A girl just walked in here (I'm at work) with bright blue hair and wearing *yick* legwarmers and she was complaining to her friend that no guys ever notice her. Her friend told her, "Maybe it's your hair."
Personally, I liked her hair, it reminded me of one of those tiny blue fairy butterflies that fly around the mackinac (w) island butterfly emporium.
I was just wondering today if animals ever notice if they're different from one another? I mean, yeah, I know they notice the different smells of one another, but I wonder if two different dogs look at one another and notice that one has spots and one is just plain. I mean, I know they don't, and I know this is starting to sound really children storyish, but the point of the manner is I keep wondering why people are so aware of their differences from one another. I've been thinking about this since last night actually, when Zach was talking to me about the way I spoke on the telephone.
Instead of saying "She's not here," I always say, "She's not there." And he was all surprised that I did that too. And I know that this sounds like a small incident (really, it [u]was [/u]compared to the grand scheme of things) but it's gotten me thinking about the little things like that since.
Like, another thing, why am I so scared to speak in class when a teacher calls on me (I literally started shaking today in Japanese. And what made it worse, was I knew the answer to her question, I was just so scared and nervous that I just couldn't answer it. I couldn't even pronounce a word that I've used at least ten times before in recitation. It's just, I hate, hate, hate being put on the spot like that. I mean, that's why I raise my hand in class so much, just to ward off teachers calling on me.)? I think the problem is when a teacher calls on you, they expect you to immediately regurgitate whatever you were thinking, and my problem is I'm rarely focused on just one thing in class. Especially in the morning. A lot of time in class, my mind starts playing wordgames and mixing things back in forth. It's something I used to do when I was little and bored to entertain myself, and has now involved into a habit that leads to me not paying attention in classes such as Japanese or Historical Anthropology. Another issue of this, is when I raise my hand, I've already composed an answer in my head. Which is why I don't stutter.
I don't know. Just all of these thoughts have been weighing on me a lot today and making me restless. I feel better letting them out, but I know it doesn't make for an interesting blog entry.
I'm still a little restless, but that can be cured by taking a walk and eating some ice cream. I really would like some ice cream right now. I keep looking at Dave, my boss, and hoping that he'll say something like, "Gee Megan, you've just done a ton of work. (and for the first time all semester at this job, I have.) Why don't you go treat yourself to a big cookies and cream ice cream cone?" ANd there's where I would say, "Golly! This is the best job ever!"
Because that's how I talk.
Maybe I'll settle even for sharing a thing of tofutti with Zach.
I don't know.
On another unrelated tangent, Nelson Algren's [u]The Man with the Golden Arm[/u] is really fucking good. Because of it, Mr. Algren has joined the ranks of people I have literary crushes on.
People that I have literary crushes on:
Nelson Algren
Kurt Vonnegut
e.e. cummings
Langston Hughes
Salman Rushidie
Stuart Dybek
Nietzsche (just because I like him, doesn't mean I can spell his name correctly.)
Ray Bradbury
Borges
Nathaniel Hawthorne (who was my first literary love)
Tomi De Paolo (Who can say no to Stella?)
I thought you all should know.
ANyway, I am going to attempt to read some more golden arm before the record player comes into work.
Megan
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| The only thing approaching to schoolwork today is these silly quizzes |
| 03.01.04 (5:56 pm) [edit] |
I'm back at school again and my room smells pleasantly like the candle Laura Lorraine bought me from the witch store for my eighteenth birthday. I also noticed that while I was gone, east quad seemed to have super-charged heatwise because some of that candle had melted to the top of my microwave. Either that or my microwave is going to explode the next time I use it.
*Insert one of many white stripes tangents in quiz form brought to me by candycaner*
You're "De Stijl."
Anyway, after the gloom and doom of this week (mostly brought upon the war between the North and the South i.e. my parents...) I enjoyed going back to school. It was a warm, beautiful day in Ann Arbor (like fifty-eight degrees... for february, that's fucking warm here in Michigan) and I got to spend time alone with Zach without anybody else.
*another quiz break here*
You are the MC5. You are an incredibly intense
human being, and people are often mesmerized in
your presence. Your politics are crucial to
your demeanor - you are an angry young man, and
you are determined to let the world know about
it.
What Proto-Punk Band Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
(a quick note about that MC5 picture.... why are both Dan and Zach in it?)
Anyway, we went out to dinner at Kabob Palace. Kabob Palace is where we always go out to eat when we don't want to be around people. In a sitcomish fashion, the restaraunt's one waiter ( hey, there's a reason we go there to be alone) now knows exactly what we'll order. It felt like being on Cheers, other than the waiter doesn't exactly know our names, but refers to us as "Guys".
And then, as is our normal pattern, we came back to East Quad to spend a great deal of our time cuddling. Which we did while playing Oregon Trail. Yes, I did end up bringing it back to school and installing it on my computer. And yes, it is fan-fucking-tastic. The only problem is no one really seems to be dying the way we're playing that. I think we're putting the setting on too-easy or something. But, I vow before the end of this week, someone we know and love, named Tyler Merkel, will die of cholera.
I actually was so relaxed yesterday that I ended up falling asleep at 12:30. YEAH, 12:30! After weeks and weeks of going to bed at three, TWELVE THIRTY! I feel so weird being so excited about that fact, but for me, I think it's some sort of turning point.
Another quiz result (as you can see, i'm doing both at the same time, for a huge, long blog entry)
Your song, my friend is "Apple Blossom".
You are looking out for a friend who is in a
bit of a rut at the moment, and what a good
friend you are. You tend to be the shoulder
people cry on, and you perhaps are in love with
this person...whether it be sibling-like or
otherewise.
What White Stripes Song Best Describes You?
brought to you by Quizilla
I feel weird, from somewhere in the computer lounge, Hotel Yorba started playing.
Anyway, today was just as relaxing. I decided to go to absolutely NO classes today (meaning, I only skipped two) and just relax. I woke up early today, so I ended up taking a nap with Zach. No Cole, "Taking a nap" is not a euphenism for sex. I ate semi-good mediterranen food in the cafeteria... crunch crunch crunch says the little lamb, and we played Oregon Trail Again. I'm happy to say that my standards for having a good time haven't evolved much since second grade. I just think this was the nicest start to a week I've had in a long time. *insert large, cheesy grin*
final quiz results here:
You are off-stage Jack! You are somewhat reserved
and quiet. You are very creative, very
old-fashioned, and are perfectly happy staying
in on a Saturday night. Just don't get so quiet
that we might not ever see you again! Same goes
for buying a full-pedal steel guitar.
Which Member of the White Stripes are You Most Like?
brought to you by Quizilla
All right, I should go now. I made big plans to study with Dan in the diag. And when I mean study, I mean go read Man with the golden Peni- I mean arm.
What a cheap joke that was.
Listening to? NOTHING, seeing as Hotel Yorba has abruptly disappeared.
Megan Began
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| Coquette? |
| 02.28.04 (10:46 pm) [edit] |
Okay, one more distraction before I keep writing:
| I am the Coquette The ability to delay satisfaction is the ultimate art of seduction - while waiting, the victim is held in thrall. Coquettes are the grand masters of the game, orchestrating a back-and-forth movement between hope and frustration. They bait with the promise of reward - the hope of physical pleasure, happiness, fame by association, power - all of which, however, proves elusive; yet this only makes their targets pursue them more. Imitate the alternating heat and coolness of the Coquette and you will keep the seduced at your heels. Symbol: The Shadow. It cannot be grasped. Chase your shadow and it will flee; turn your back on it and it will follow you. It is also a person's dark side, the thing that makes them mysterious. After they have given us pleasure, the shadow of withdrawl makes us yearn for their return, much as clouds make us yearn for the sun. |
What Type of Seducer are You?
created by  polite_society
I AM SO SASSY!
Megan
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| Sister Carrie |
| 02.28.04 (9:48 pm) [edit] |
It is 12:30 on a Saturday night, and usually I would be nowhere near a computer at this time on this day. And really, I wish I wasn't. I wish I was watching The Whole Nine Yards with Ducky, but instead, what am I doing?
Banging out the essay I should've written earlier in the week for Chicago Literature. I mean, it's not a hard essay, in fact it's probably one of the easiest essays I've had to write since going to college due to the fact that it's so open-ended. Basically I chose one of the books we've read so far (Yeah, I chose the one I hated the most: Sister Carrie) and write an analysis about the text. I mean, this is basically something I've been knocking out since freshman year of high school. Read a book, talk about it. Okay, third grade even, just minus the analysis part.
So, anyway, I am blabbering on and on and on and on and on about Caroline Meeber being symbolic of middle class women in Chicago. I mean, most of you don't care what my essay is about, this is more me giving Zach a reason to stop telling me that maybe it's not a good idea for me to be writing an analysis about a book I hate. I mean, earlier, he had full reason to worry because my lists of topics were:
1) Sister Carrie:the evolution of the modern day lady of the evening
2 Theodore Dreiser? What a douchebag!
3. Theodore Dreiser should have gassed himself in a whorehouse because his novel sucked
4. Sister Carrie is bad because it is bad.
Number four proves to everyone walking the earth that I am a literary genius.
Speaking of literary geniuses, I have just spent a glorious hour in the half in my bathtub reading Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions. As a result, I am in a giggly mood. When I'm not reading any Vonnegut, I forget how truly hilarious a person he actually is. There's not many writers out there anymore that make me want to be friends with them. You know, that feeling you get after reading a book, where it would be cool to hang out with that author? Okay, maybe I'm the only one like that, but that's how I feel after reading something by him, Sandra Cisneros, and e.e. cummings.
No, Nathaniel Hawthorne is not on that list. Nathaniel Hawthorne is too much of a dreamboat to talk with the likes of me.
*sigh* *Cue fluttery hearts* Nathaniel Hawthorne? Me-OW!
Okay, I should get this done so I can spend plenty of time with Zachula tomorrow.
Listening to: Ducky giggle.
Megan
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| Quiz |
| 02.28.04 (4:14 pm) [edit] |
Here, if you're bored....
take this quiz:
http://connect.tickle.com/test.html?id=vw6EWvzoIerJeQL_& " title="http://connect.tickle.com/test.html?id=vw6EWvzoIerJeQL_& " target="_blank"http://connect.tickle.com/tes...
Have fun and be careful.
Listening to: Entertainment Tonight
Love,
Megan
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| It doesn't have to make sense |
| 02.28.04 (11:53 am) [edit] |
when i look outside and see the tentative brown and green lawn peeking out from the white death of winter, i feel better inside.
I need spring to come now.
things would be so much easier if i could lie outside in the dark dewyness of summer with a halo of lightning bugs circling my drawing pad while i draw a thousand trees in a million different colors.
it's only fifty degrees but i feel like knocking on my neighbors' door and asking to go swimming in their white tiled pools. i would like to stick my head in the water and gurgle around until a thousand rainbow bubbles are on the surface of the water.
I would like to kiss him inside the pine trees.
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| Prince |
| 02.26.04 (10:07 pm) [edit] |
My life is worth living.
Prince is touring this summer and he's going to be playing in Detroit... Oh I'm going to wear a RASSSSSSSSSSBEERRRRRRRRRR RYY BEREEEET!
I heart Prince.
Listening to Kiss by Prince
Megan
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| Oregon Trail |
| 02.26.04 (2:09 pm) [edit] |
A good percentage of my childhood was spent wasting away at St. Paul's Catholic School loving the lord and so and so forth, but there were some highlights, and one of them was Oregon Trail. If I remember correctly (Correct me Dwyer if you ever read this) but we spent about maybe a month playing Oregon Trail, braving the wilderness, shooting bears, looting abandoned buildings, bartering with mountain men, and inevitably dying like thirty miles from reaching our destination. I had forgotten the joy, the agony, the triumphs of that game, until today when I popped Oregon Trail TWO into my computer and once again began the great journey in my Conestoga wagon (cue John Wayne laugh) towards the promised land of Oregon.
Oh man. Things were looking so good for a while, we had like $87 (which my friends was an assload in 1850 something, whenever I was playing) people were being nice to us (no native americans had attacked us or anything!) and I HAD KILLED AT LAST THREE BEARS! THREE! Because I'm Megan and I'm great! I was in such a good mood... until Bertram died of cholera. But it was okay, because Bertram was a moron anyway, I didn't even give him a proper burial because I hated that boy. And things were fine again, apparently everyone in the train had hated Bertram so much that they didn't care about me throwing his thirteen year old carcass to the vultures. But things got worse, Otto got this mysterious fever which was accompanied by rashes... oh snap. He died a long suffering death. And THEN, the wagon tipped over and Alice died of internal injuries. AND EVEN WORSE, we pretty much rain out of food. I WAS THE WORST TRAIL LEADER EVER! It all ended with me drowning to death in the Snake River.
Of course, this means that I will be bringing this game back to school with me. Of course this means, I will never leave my dorm room again, because I will be far too busy traveling the Oregon Trail. Oh.... I am overjoyed.
Speaking of overjoyed, I slept until 1:15 today, and even at this moment, I am sitting around in my pajamas contemplating my next move which will be to make dinner, then take a long bath.
I think I've even come up with something to give up for lent. The only problem is I still haven't started my essay for Chicago Lit. Snap.
Speaking of things that are also joyous, I get to see Count Zachula tomorrow too. Yabba Yabba Yabba.
Don't ask about the Yabbas... it just sort of happened. (Have I been watching daytime children's television? Yes please.)
I'm in such a good mood compared to yesterday.
Listening To: Jeff play Missy Elliot from his bed room.
Megan Began
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| this is silly |
| 02.25.04 (9:07 pm) [edit] |
Feeling tired and sick, also angsty because I wrote a thousand tons of bad poetry today.
a thousand, trillion, zillion tons of bad poetry.
I have nothing else of importance to report.
Other than I'm dehydrated from eating cheese because as Zach has often claimed, yes I do get sick off of dairy products.
I'm craving a black olive right now.
I'm craving drinks.
I'm craving Zach.
I'm craving sleep.
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