Inner Musings

Wednesday, June 20, 2001

Getting ready to jet off to school. Yuck. Two days to go and counting. I think I'm getting sick from having to wake up so early. Well, ungodly globs of makeup call me. Wink wink. Peace for now.

(And Josheroo, if you read this: have a fabulous day.)

Anemone Ra 6:38 AM

Tuesday, June 19, 2001

Being susceptible to a virus increases ones' inclination towards irritation. Nothing like a snotty nose, petulant throat and fluctuating temperature to send my little anger chemicals straight through the roof. And the continued correspondence with Poetry Hater continues to deflate my faith in humanitys' good manners...but then again, I don't suppose we ever had any. Anyone here like to get insulted? Can I get a hand count? Anyways, he's telling me that if I ever want to get published, I could take a lesson from him, who is similarly unpublished and not exactly offering a mentorship sort of relationship. I'm supposed to gain leaps and bounds of literary wisdom through osmosis simply by being in his stellar, shining presence. Via e-mail, and one angsty little poem. Go figure. I don't get it. And I think I'm going to stop pursuing an explanation as the whole ordeal seems to be a big fat waste of my time. Funny, indeed.

Also, this inclination towards irritation makes it increasing difficult to deal with my similiarly sensitive mother, whom I love to death, but two overly emotional people in the household tend to tread on each others' toes a little too much, if you know what I mean.

I tried to call Wesley, but his mother informed me that "Mr. Groucho" forwarded a message to tell "whoever is calling that (he's) sleeping, and (he'll) call them back." Bizarre. I wanted to talk to him because I think he may be leaving for Mexico tomorrow, in which case I wouldn't see him for a while, since I'm leaving for Canada this coming Friday. I've half given up on him, really. Keltin is looking SO MUCH better. Is that sick? I dated a senior when I was a sophomore. Why should it be any different? Damnit.

This is going to be the summer, folks. I'm going to try and be healthy! Don't laugh. This means a few things. I'm going to give up pop, massive quantities of saturated fat, and I'm altering my daily regime by intaking massive quantities of water and eating at regular times. Let's see how it works, hm? I'm hideously out of shape...not fat, persay, but feeling a little lethargic.

Wondering where Boell is. He hasn't written me back for a good number of days, and I'm missing my dose-o-German. Perhaps after I gave him this URL, he was also repulsed and disgusted by my horrifyingly mediocre poetry and had to be hospitalized for several weeks. Sigh. What a macabre fate. I should stop letting my imagination run so rampant.

I have three tests over the Thursday/Friday period, all of which are propping up my wheezing grades. I'm procrastinating right now, an action which could be likened to that of a sharp pin, stabbing my soft underside and sending my academic entrails all over the place in a bloody, cataclysmic, explosive mess.

I need counseling.

Anemone Ra 5:45 PM

Monday, June 18, 2001

I just went to the Westcrest graduation with Uma...two graduations in three days...quite a grueling feat. I saw the evil Conchita there, along with five million other people...Saw Wesley, of course, and felt heartpangs of grief. Not really, he looked surprised and touched that I was there, even though I was pretending to be there not exclusively for him. "You came?" he said, sounding surprised and happy. I'm trying to convince myself that it was because of the post-graduation flush, and not some sort of mind fuck that I'm praying this whole thing won't turn into.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I find myself inexpicably drawn towards this freshman boy, my friend Uma's brother Keltin. Jesus, what a mess that could be. Uma tells me that he's brilliant, and an excessively bright boy. Four point and everything. More than I can boast, but I can tell this is going to be an interesting ride should I choose to embark on it. Wonder what it's like getting shot down by someone younger than you? Does the ego hurt? Also, I'm thinking the endeavor might be worth it, if it means that I can clear my perspectives about younger guys and stop with the whole age stereotype thing. Ah, well. Let's see how I can work it.

Enough teenage love-angst. Onto more important things. Like the fact I'm sick.

Also, I recieved a strange little note in my mail today. Some guy decided to write and tell me how shite he thought my poetry was. Initial knee-jerk reaction: Up yours. But I was curious and inquired further. Apparently, he thinks he's doing me a favor by telling me this. Unfortunately, I like to subscribe to something called manners, and unencouraged criticism, particularly of something so personal to me (my poetry is like my entire being poured out in words), is something which I take high offense to. Perhaps he thinks that instead of trying to write things that I like, I should try to emulate his psuedo-Allen Ginsberg style and become one amidst the pretentious hordes of suffering artists that drown the creative world today. So I guess in order to avoid this sort of thing, I should post something on the site that says "please do not send me e-mails telling me how crap you think my stuff is." Does that sort of thing even need to be said? Honestly. I'm all for free expression, but what about some flipping manners? I'm young, impressionable, and very fucking sensitive, and this sort of thing throws off all my karma.

However.

I'm going to go get some homework done.

Anemone Ra 8:05 PM

Sunday, June 17, 2001

And a pic of .

Anemone Ra 9:23 PM

Love abounds.

My sister has finally been enveloped in the comforting bosom of the World of the High School Graduates. I'm a-swell with pride at her accomplishment, and am similarly jealous. I attended the award ceremony last night, and although it was at least 200� F in the (Community College) hall. There was an endless sea of friends n' family fanning themselves with the graduation programs. I was getting all misty eyed and what not. Her school has a fabulous choir, and there's nothing like good music to get the waterworks going. Unfortunately, poor Aeran had a feverish 100� F temperature that day prior, but I don't think it dampened her commencable spirit. Her dumb boyfriend was working, too, and I hoped she hadn't noticed his absence as much as I did. I put together a PowerPoint presentation (appropriately cheesy) of our childhood which was humorous in the extreme. (Embaressing grade-school pictures, gratuitous naked baby pictures, the phase-o-braces...you get the picture.)

Last night I went to a bonfiredown at the Cove, a large driftwood-ridden beach that it altogether entirely appropriate for such gatherings. I still smell like putrid wood smoke, but overall it was a good experience. My friend Uma brought her freshman brother, Keltin, to whom I found myself strangely attracted. He likes Ani DiFranco, wants to be a photojournalist for National Geographic (my profession of choice!!!) and is a stunning conversationalist. Perhaps I should cross the transgender age limits in the reverse Hugh Hefner way...he's quite cute,too. I'm just wondering where I'm going with this. Anemone Ra, molesting the youth of America.

I'm out for tonight. On a closing note, I'll leave you with this revolutionary quote:

The last function of reason is to recognize that there are an infinity of things which surpasses it.

-PASCAL-

Oochie wally wally.

Anemone Ra 9:15 PM