Sporadic titling: the work of a visionary


To do today:

- pay my taxes from 2001.

- worry about the Uhaul.

- not make them draw my blood "the baby way" at the doctor's office.

- a million little things I'll never remember to do.

Two things


1. When emailing to JP about the whereabouts of my last paycheck, I accidently called it my "unemployment check" (as in "Where did you send my unemployment check?") Luckily, I caught it before I sent it.


2. Mom and I found a video of my 8th birthday party. Eva is 5 and she is so cute and shy but energetic and good at the wierd soccer game the guy made up with 3 teams and 2 soccer balls and shifting goalies. Many of the games were like this, thin excuses to make us run around chaotically til we got tired. But I got to pick captains for the 2 other teams and Eva had her hand raised and I put it down and walked by her and made her cry. Then I cried watching it. Eva, ever the trooper, came right back into the game when I picked her for my team.

I was a confident 8 year old. It's amazing. And my mother was SO much like Eva. She still is, but the resemblance was amazing. They move in exactly the same ways. I also got to see my old crush Dov. Once he, this other girl, and I were walking and I asked her who she had a crush on and she whispered, "Dov. Don't tell". And I turned right to Dov and said, "she has a crush on you Dov". Still a good trick I use now and then. I think I'm bringing a copy of that viedo back with me. I want to watch it with Eva and make Stef watch too.

That's it for now, good night.

So Feynman's all like, "light is made out of particles and stuff" and I'm all like, "um, whatever. You're made out of photons." And then he starts saying all this stuff about probablity and arrows and how the theory of quatum electrodynamics can explain everything and I'm like, "yeah? Can it explain why this one part of my hair always sticks up in the front? Cuz I've tried everything." And did not know what to say to that.

If I keep titling, does that make me a follower, or a leader, but the kind of leader who follows?


I should be staring "QED" by Feynman, so I can go back to Swat and start my sentences with, "As Richard Feynman says in his books about Quantum Electrodynamics, " and then say anything, because who's going to contradict me? You? I highly doubt it. My grandmommy (mother's mother) gave it to me because she had two copies. That woman has more brains in her finger than Swat students even pretend to have when they're making casual commentas about Wittginstein like "he really needed to get a life." I have no idea who Wittgenstein is, but he was mentioned on an episode of the Simpsons by Homer when he was trying to sound smart (20 points to anyone who can name the quote and those surrounding it and episode context). As Richard Feynman says in his books about Quantum Electrodynamics, you should go with what you infer from the Simpsons, especially if it's about Wittgenstein.


My Mom is doing her daily vitamin taking, which is extensive and probably the most organized thing done by her, Eva, or me. These are zip-locked bags filled with well-researched tablets containing everything she could possibly need. Sometimes I will take one out at random and ask her what it is. Most of the time, she says, "you know, I don't know."


She has researched and gotten me a multi-vitamin for which I gave one requirement: "It must be easy to swallow". And she did admirably, the pills seem big, but are very managable. I have a gag reflex so bad that when I was little, I had to make a special visit to the Dentist to get X-Rays because I couldn't handle biting the little white plastic thing for long enough to let them "take the damn picture, you little brat. Give her some more laughing gas".


I have four new cavities now being filled (2 down, 2 to go). I'd had none for the past 4 or 5 years, so it was a let-down. Or a triumph, if you're looking at it from the bacteria perspective. My dentist is actually pretty cool. So cool that when he was using the ultra-violet light to dry my tooth and I swallowed and the filling he had been working on for the past half-hour popped out, he just grimaced, discreetly checked his watch, and redid it.


I have to go in for a filling at 8:30 am tomorrow, but the way I see it, the more tired I am, the more likely I am to be in rest and digest instead of flight or fight. My Dentist is significantly less cool after I've punched him and run away.


Splitting a UHAUL is difficult. I've spent so much time thinking about it, I don't know how to talk about it with other people and I say stupid things I haven't thought out. I don't know how to negotiate. Sigh. That pillow-top full with a box-spring better be worth it.

Because everyone else is titling their entries and never let it be said I don't bend with the wind


The question of the day: if you were a website, what would your extension be:

- .com
- .net
- .org
- .edu
- .gov
- .uk
- other (please name)

and why?


I am a .com for obvious capitalist and consumerist reasons.


This is a good question both for its ability to paint an accurate picture of the answerer and its apropos nature in this age of electronic communication.


I have made a really important decision today about my future but cannot blog about it now. Which I guess is for the best since only my truest and best readers seem to be checking (thanks, by the way, to everyone who assuaged my ego about my hair. You're right, I am a sight to behold) and I will probably end up telling them about it at length in person.


Eva left for College today and Swat had better treat her well or it's gonna answer to me. Mom and I made her an awesome present that you had better read about on her blog or Swat won't be the only one answering to me. She is going to love it at Swat. And have more friends than me*. And then I will be resentful. But the good kind of resentful that you use to fuel your academic work.


Mom and I watched the end of season 4 and talked about my future. It was good and I am going to sleep feeling calmer and happier than I have in a while.


good night.



* If you thought to yourself "than I, not me!", then I will have you know that clearly I was using it for comic effect.

Eva and I were having a discussion about what she would do if she found out her 10-year-old child was a ketchup bottle (okay, well, it was more like I asked her that and she was like, "Elizabeth, that's stupid" and I kept bugging her until she answered). And then I was like, "hey! You know what people would say? Heinz-sight is 20-20!" C'mon folks! What, do I owe you money?

And I had not thought of it before-hand. It was just one of those once-in-a-lifetime witticisms that you can never even hope to approximate.

<--- And all new archives!! (well, I guess that's oxymoronic. You're oxymoronic!)

God, I am really fixin' this place up. At this rate, it'll become a livejournal soon.

Alright, I worked really hard on all these pictures, so I had better get a whole lot of comments like "wow, that is the most attractive haircut I have ever seen! You are the zenith! THE ZENITH!" or "wait, which picture is the composite again?".

A picture of me and Eva cuz I know how to put pictures in and why the hell not, huh?

The Elizabeth haircut series. Presented in Dolby Surround sound. This will be presented as a simple equation with a prerequisite of only Math 9, with Math 6B strongly recommended.


Note: the composite was done in paint shop. Yes, that is what I thought I would look like.



What I worked out using only Microsoft paint and my knowledge of the laws of physics:



+

=





What I actually look like:

So, Mom and Eva and I were riding along and I go, "hey, isn't that wierd? Is it supposed to say that?"







I think it's cool. And so will Conan. And then all of you who have shunned me will pay. None of you will be invited to my premiere! And when I walk down that red carpet, I will spit, if not on you, on others I will pretend are you and they will cry your misbegotten tears. And you will wonder where your tears have gotten to.


Code to get this on my page is from Ester's Blog. It took the CS10 to get the code for my blog, then CS21 to realize that I had to figure out which directory to put it in and that I had to change the permissions. Then History 005 to understand the beginnings of McDonalds in a socialogical context. Then Judith Butler to say "gender is a construction".

The long-awaited pictures ... (drumroll, rolling thunder, a hundred pigeons fly off into the night)

Check out the new blog links:


<----- My awesome sister.


<----- Sorelle's awesome Addie.

I fixed my comments! Things are CLICK-ing. People are POST-ing (which I now see they had been). I will be posting the most awesome pictures soon. Soon, my preciouses. For now, I am reading Micheal Connely, watching Friends Season 4, and getting ready to make fried chicken. Everything in due time.

You're thinking to yourself, "what kind of a pathetic excuse for a blogger doesn't post for 4 months, then posts twice between 3 and 4 am?" Well keep your judgments to yourself, judger. It's the kind of blogger who wants to change, to become the blogger she knows she can be. The kind of blogger who looks at every day with fresh eyes thinking, "what amusing anecdotes will take place today? What happenings that I will be able to describe with a wit and humility unmatched in this century? When will I know how to play Mrs. Robinson like Eva does?"


DAMMIT, when will I finally stop wasting my life and learn how to play the guitar and start reading the New York times instead of waiting for Eva to mention things and then say, "how can you not know about that?" and explain them to me. When will I start going to sleep at a reasonable hour? When will JPMC send me that freaking job offer so I can start strutting? What will I do if they don't? They will. Calm yourself, Elizabeth. You are a professional catch. Any company would be lucky to have you. You are the goose that lays the golden program. You are the East and JPMC is on the East Coast. Just give them one more day til you make that desparate phone call.

So it's past 3 am and I am searching online for recipes for vegeteble tempura maki rolls and that sweet, creamy house dressing I keep having at Japanese restaurants. I should not have taken a nap. This always happens.


Stef and I went camping and it was great. If anyone had told me camping basically involved eating hot dogs and reading Sweet Valley University, I would have gone long before this. It also involved eating corn.


Soon I will put up pictures of my new hair, but it is already longer than it was. Well, I think so. Even though it's only been like a week and 2 days. It feels longer to me. And I have another AWESOME picture that is going to make me more famous than any of you losers could ever hope for. And then I am going to leave you idiots behind and ride off into the sunset, yelling "so long, suckers!"


Yesterday, while I was waiting for the bus, a bird pooped on me. And the guy next to me looks at me and goes, "wow. That's gross". And he was right.

Sigh.

Alright, no promises. It's late and I'm posting. The quick and dirty version of my life:


I cut my hair short. Really short. Kinda butch, kinda high school queer/indie girl short.
This short
The top-right picture. That's the picture I went in with and the guy who's site that is cut my hair. And he is AMAZING and moving to Florida, so I ran to him after work my last day, burst into his shop, shreiked "cut it off!" and threw the picture at him, then rushed off to the airport.

Actually, I TRIED to rush off to the airport, but ended up being laughed at by cab drivers in Brooklyn Heights when I asked if they would take me to La Guardia. Then this guy who was watching me dissolve slowly from obviously-queer and in-control business woman to crazed mess chasing after Taxis FLAGGED a cab down for me and convinced the driver to go to LaGuardia. Then he just drove off with his friends. THAT is a New York story. Or Brooklyn Heights, anyway. In NY the guy would have waited for ME to find the cab to La Guardia, then taken it himself.

The point of the haircut is that I am SO glad I did it. This is the haircut I was meant to have. Well, it should be a bit longer, like half an inch. But really, I don't know what I've been waiting for. It's what I've wanted since high school and now all I can think is, "THIS is what you were scared of?". Haircuts are like really cold lakes. You are so scared to go in and then you dip a toe in and its so cold you freak out and run around and shiver when you should just JUMP in and swim around ... in ... your hair. Right, but anyway I love styling my hair with water and those little combs and brushes that are attatched to each other. It is so low maintenance. And I can spike it and pretend I'm a lesbian in the eighties (which some phsychologists think I was). Even Eva and Mom like it, which is AMAZING.



I worked at JPMC all summer, getting up at 7:45 am and rushing along with everyone else down Park Avenue in pinstriped pants and a cel phone. And it was VERY busy and VERY stressfull and now I am waiting to see if I was busy and stressfull enough for them. And then I have to decide if I will take the easy way out (and the signing bonus) and say "yes". Or pretend the job market isn't what it is and say, "thanks, but no thanks. I to look fear in the face and laugh. Laugh until I cry. And the just cry and cry and cry"

So we'll see if they even offer it. Man, if they don't. I worked my BUTT off for them. I showered (most of the time). I pretended I wasn't wearing the same outfit I wore yesterday. I wrote some of the clumsiest and complicated Perl ever seen in WinVI (does anybody get that? Please somebody).

And Stef and I lived in NY for the summer together and all the greatness and tragedy and issues and resolutions that come with that. And I cannot wait to do it again.



I am at home and I made the best yellow curry chicken in the universe and you should be so lucky that someday I make it for you.



But the REAL point of this post: I hate the daily jolt. And I used to be one of those people who thought it was funny how horrible and cruel and blatantly offensive they were in the most thoughtless, sometimes hurtful, way. But that was before they made fun of my grammar. Race, religion, politics, moleman is one thing. Unresearched, blatantly unfounded opinions I can stand. But my grammar?!?! Who the HELL do they think they are????

So Stef and I are driving this UHAUL from NY to Philly and trying to see if anyone wants to split it with us (anyone moving from NY to Philly or Swat to Philly or Philly to Swat). So I post on the Jolt thinking, "Hey! Here is a FORUM that maybe I could put my IDEA on, since that is what a freaking FORUM is." But NOOOOO. I post an innocent post about driving "up" to Swat, and this idiot posts back calling me a cheapskate and telling me that it is "down". Since, of course, "up" clearly isn't an expression, and since "up" and "down" themselves are incorrect substitutes for NORTH AND SOUTH!!! HELLO, PEOPLE!! Don't you freaking tell ME about geography you high-and-mighty, got-nothing-better-to-do-than-post-pointless-insults-to-people-who-might-actually-want-to-ACCOMPLISH-something-while-you-pick-cheetos-from-between-your-couch-cushions. (Trails off into muttering). Anyway, it has spurred a lengthy grammar debate that is so ridiculous I won't even try to detail it out here.



Okay, so this wasn't very quick or dirty. Oh well, can't always please everyone. Working 50+ hours a week has made me appreciate college, though. And scared the hell out of me for after college. I could barely handle 10 weeks. Alright, that's it.


Oh, and I found a drink I like. It's not a margherita or Daquiri. It doesn't even require the #1 Consumer's Reports-rated blender I bought. It is just coconut rum, pinapple juice, and grenadine and it is GREAT. Everyone who doesn't like alcohol should try it (better yet, come find me and we can make a little party out of it. Cuz I really want to, but I need someone else to instigate). Also, if anyone knows the name, I would like to be able to call it something besides "um, some cocounut rum, and, uh, a little pinapple juice, and maybe some grenadine?"


And now begins the long wait to see who, if anyone, is still checking this blog. If you are, you should comment. Because it is hard to post if you don't think anyone's watching. It's kind of like showering in a dorm that way.