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I wanna sit and talk and laugh with you as the ends,
I wanna shout about it,
I'm someone's daughter,
Keep looking for the reason high and low to let it go,
I wanna shout about it,
I'm someone's daughter,
-Beth Orton, "Someone's Daughter"
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maybe while I'm sleeping Aren't I big shit? Fess up if it's you. | 4 comments "They are the pepper, but we--we are the salt." Metaphors and other curious phrases uttered by my boss at today's Outback server meeting: "Outback is a barge and all the other restaurants are dingies trying to get in there, but we're pushing them out of the way." "I scratch Starbucks off the map!" [in reference to Outback being listed as the #2 place people most like to go, according to some poll--just behind Starbucks] "Are you a river or are you a rock? I hope you are a river, because rocks erode!" "Be ready for the alluge [sic] of people that will be coming in here!" "Instead of just taking, taking from the pie. Stop and think about what you are doing! Make a new pie!" Friday, August 16, 2002 06:55 p.m. miscetcmiscetc: i hate few people dong resin: really? there's such a large world of h8 I have to show you! dong resin: have you never been to wal mart? miscetcmiscetc: i was there just yesterday miscetcmiscetc: a super wal-mart even dong resin: you DON'T want to just randomly start stabbing people in the head? miscetcmiscetc: nah dong resin: we're very different Last sentences from 'A' papers I kept from college--for no reason at all. Except for Keith, who muttered he was "cold and Jewish," as he retired, somewhat grumpily, to his van. "Erin Brockovich" proves that classic material for a film can be made today into a fresh and entertaining product. If the author had spent less time apologizing and more time discussing women in theatre, as the title suggests she will, perhaps I would have been more satisfied with the text. The theme of "The Cider House Rules" is the same as that of "The Wizard of Oz," but people will forever return to Oz while The Cider House fades into overappreciated oblivion. It's closed when it rains or snows. If we are left with just this film to make a decision, no one is likely to care. Lester Burnham wanted what he couldn't have--and I have to wonder if he'd wanted roses on his grave. It seems for a woman, her sexual body is her social reality; her identity a product of her embodied knowledge and experience. Behind them a gaggle of girls followed. Pearl looks back over his shoulder and gives Hall a wide grin and a thumbs up. then and now (or, yay for my new scanner!) 
 fucking foul *pours cup of coffee in the sink* Discuss | 5 comments, muh friends She loves this blog! what gives? frosted brown sugar and cinnamon is the only way the quiet can be deafening I'm nearing the halfway mark to 30 and have found myself living alone yet again, this time without the comfort of a permanent bedtime partner. No one but me has drooled upon my new sheets and I haven't been anywhere overnighting. Besides my sister's which, while fun, left a little to be desired in the companion category. Not that I mind, mind you. Actually, living by myself is very new and exciting. It presents wild oppurtunities you don't find when co-habitating like the sheer freedom that comes from making Jiffy Pop wearing nothing but socks and finishing off Annie Hall in the exact same getup. I dance to songs outright when I feel like it now. I sleep til noon, nap from six to eight, then doze off again at midnight. Sometimes I refuse to shower 'til 9 p.m. But the lightbulb in my bathroom burned out and I'm not tall enough, or graceful enough, to attempt to change it with only the aid of my rolling computer chair on the slick, ridged tile. I bought a beautiful lamp that sits in pieces in the box waiting for assembly by someone with common sense and some tools. And, it really seems, I need someone to remind me to buy salt and pepper, as it doesn't come standard with the apartment (nor does a broom or toilet plunger or silverware) or it won't get done. But, I smoke indoors and use a whole roll of toilet tissue without ever putting it properly on the dispenser and sing and sing and sing. Overall a liberating singular experience. And I'm doing it all without cable and in a single room. But my favorite thing to do in my new, tiny place is curl up onto the window sill and watch. I can sit comfortably there, in whatever I want, and remain unseen by the scores of people beneath me. The window is mostly obscured by a skinny tree which does little to interrupt my view of the sometimes bustling streets of downtown Murfreesboro. I watch women in coordinating jumpsuits walking briskly and chatting, dragging toy dogs by leashes underfoot. Mothers wrangling multiple babies, trying to make it across the street without an infant sliding down her hip or a toddler darting in front of the cable van. I watch men in cheap suits check their cheap watches and kiss their cheap girlfriends. I see kids in cars, paying little attention to traffic or traffic laws, displaying their fly-by-night philosophies on home-made bumper stickers. I am just a product, the hand-scrawled sticker informs me. There are three churches within the one-block radius and last night there was a "fellowship" and auction at the beautiful Presbyterian church attended by what looked like 50-60 pleasant-seeming people. Today I make the snatches of music I hear from car stereos as they pass my soundtrack for a Monday. I watch and I sit and it makes me feel somehow connected on the nights when I think I start to feel alone. yes, yes, yup, yes, yep, yep, uh-huh, yes Are you gonna bark all day, little doggy, or are you gonna bite? "Fuck me, I'm Drubk" "In fact, only in America is ice cream such a universal sensation." -Columnist Barb Ford from Lifestyle section article "One month not enough for ice cream" * * * Rebecca and I are unaware of where we stand at the supermarket. I went parking.
[For Amy, and for the rest of ya'll fools] new level of slovenly wish list (abbreviated) -smaller ass -self-control -genuine interactions -your hair splayed like unwound yarn on my pillow and your hand on the small of my back everybody loves ellen discover me discovering jen What could it be? | 3 comments pass the lung butter situated
these tears are a luxury |
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