avon calling.

i'm sitting at three in the morning watching edward scissorhands on dvd and thinking about why i am up this late. you would have thought the beer, crown and ginger, modified car bomb, and the crown royal from a flask chased with cheap scotch would have done me in. instead it has simply effected my ability to spell.

tonight made me realize that i can never just be happy in either virginia or pittsburgh. i have more friends here, but i am so far removed from their lives the short time i spend here doesn't count for much. in pittsburgh i lack the friends but there is much more to do and see and in all honesty i've had more club oriented fun - all be it alone.

i need to start the "more cool people in the 'burgh" campaign.

When Night Gets Light.

I'm still up sitting in old yoga pants and t-shirt gumming on my clear plastic mouth guard hoping that Ashton Kutcher will finally hook up with Amanda Pete so there might be closure brought to some part of my life. It's true that I have spent the first half week of my vacation attempting to rival my mother's pre-paid Fresh Market stuffed turkey in weight and gummy complexion, but with the illness of the past two months weighing down on my motivation, I can't think of anything else that makes me happier than a 5am airing of Disney's live action classic, 'Sky High.'

On a happier note, I bought one of these today:



Like several before me I spent several hours typing in my tasks, contacts, personal information, and finally appointments with the dainty stylist. My hands grew sweaty around the pricy hunk of metal as I realized after putting in my schedule for the next semester I was still a little empty inside about the fact that I had no appointments until the 4th of January. I started to wonder about the folks that buy these devices in order to complicate their lives further by creating appointments for each day - over tasking themselves into oblivion. It was then I understood that I was thinking about all of this far too much and decided to cook three eggs and watch Donnie Darko for the 45th time.

I Hate New York City.

I gave it a chance. I've been twice, no three times!

Summer 2003: My graduation present was a one week trip with my family. The first day I saw a homeless man
defecate in the subway. I asked myself, 'Welcome to New York?' By the end of the week I just wanted to get out of there - I was choking on the city.

Summer 2004: Probably the most fun I had in the city. I stayed with my then roommate and former friend for a week and liked it alright - I gave it a real chance and I believe looking back it was fun because of the people I got to spend it with not because I did anything spectacular.

Winter 2006: JFK airport. People crowd the terminal like clothed animals grunting and growling - clawing and groping through security and then on to the different terminals. Everyone puts so much effort into connecting with others via their cell phones and ipods that they cannot conceive of giving a shit about anyone around them. Chatting with someone, asking questions, cracking a polite joke - all seen as trivial and dumb to the high and mighty NYers.

I never want to ever even have another layover in that God forsaken land. it just proves that when people are squeezed into a space that has them breathing down each other's necks ... I don't know, it's Lord of the Flies or something.

Some Girls Like June.

All that they really want is to go out and enjoy the time that they spend with friends instead of being crammed in cars with strangers praying not to get caught at sober check points on the bridges from the South Side. I get very annoyed when I'm standing at the bar with a friend that won't stop trying to touch my back or 'take care of me' whilst amongst the drunks. That's not a friend, it's someone to watch out for - because if you get too drunk you're going to get taken advantage of.

Can you answer me a question? Why can't a girl get that one guy she wants? Instead, it's the guy friend that won't stop making hideous passes at her. When ever the end of the night comes, and I settle into my apartment alone I'm not thinking about anything other than the fact that I love being alone. After being driven or walked home I cannot wait to shed the escort and then my smoke soaked clothes to be enveloped by internet radio and Velux blankets. The next step is shutting out those thoughts of annoyance and bring on the fantasy of the impossible in order to fall asleep.

I was invited to a party in the old apartment that I lived in. My former roommate was down the hall - who knows if she was sitting inside or out with me ex. I can't help but want to dig up the hatchet and split the old door into pieces that splintered across the room. (Even after a year of not seeing either of them I'm still attempting to suppress the feelings of hurt that manifest into rage.)

The moral of the story is that there is no moral. There is no reason behind how I feel right now because there are too many thoughts actually going through my head.

Once Again.

Like a child I have stubbled through this semester from one weekend to the next waiting for nothing to happen. Of course everything has happened - everything has changed.
A year ago I was in a relationship with someone I thought I loved and who I also thought loved me as well. I was torn about school I was even more torn about life and thought I knew what I wanted I just didn't know how to get it.
Now, I have no clue what I want. I have no idea how to get nothing other than by doing nothing. I can't jut stay still though... so what exactly am I supposed to do? Well for the past few months I have been working on the day to day thing. Just trying to make it through each class, each hour, each second of every day helps. Makes life a bit better actually.

Now, almost a year later I am continuing just that. School, Work, Studio, Work, School, Party, Boy, Work, Party, Studio. And now it is the end of the semester
and I need to start really gearing up, for something...

The Revenge of June.

I always wanted a twin sister. I always wanted to have someone I could share everything with. I love my friends very much and yet at the same time it wouldn't be the same.

So, for my senior project I have decided to create her for myself.
Using a mirror, I am scratching out a backwards portrait. By peeling and scratching the black paint on the back and leaving clear glass. A negative. I'm just hoping I can find her.

The Aftermath.

So he called.

We went out to Market Square in Downtown because I wanted to see the lights. Right in front of the PPG building we watched the ice skaters swirl and stumble around a huge Christmas tree filled with lights, ribbons, and ornaments. We then walked to a little restaurant and sat at the bar. Everything inside was glowing from the red and orange rope lights hanging around the walls. A woman with a strange accent served us as we talked, slightly awkwardly with a hint of giddy childlike happiness. It was a good night. I'm worried about Monday though. the more I see him, the more I know I am going to like him. I will slowly get rid of the other numbers of old playmates and his might wind up on speed dial. Then what?

Am I just thinking about this too much?

The Return of June.

This semester has been a blur of projects, papers, long nights working at the bar, and a few trysts with new playmates. Crappy dates, better dates, very good dates are all the same though at this point in time.
I sit now in my corner studio on the fourth floor of the College of Fine Arts building with all of my work surrounding me and yet I can't concentrate. Why, dear America do you ask? Well, for the exact reason that I have dreaded to be plagued with for almost a year now.

I am waiting for a phone call, (from a guy of course.)

Could someone bring me some kind of insight about why the fuck I am such a pathetic romantic? Could any therapist get rid of my ridiculous daydreaming and lonely wishing for male company?!

Wait dear reader! Here comes the irony... The second I have managed to get this company I don't want it anymore. I've kicked people out immediately after, or lain there pretending to be asleep hoping for him to sneak out quietly and never call me.

This guy though - I think I might actually like him. Now for those of you who have followed my tale this far, you are aware this hasn't been the case since the Killer. I can't have that again. No more complicated feelings while standing next to someone. Please no more crying at night knowing he will never return this feeling of want and respect. And most certainly please oh please no more scheduling my life into someone else's!! I can't have this my last year in school. I can't look to the future with someone over occupying my present.


In other news, there is nothing noteworthy to report. Just as was stated before - paintings, papers, and the bar.

the October D.C. Trip and Oakland Mornings.

Me and two friends will be departing at about two o'clock in the afternoon Eastern Standard Time, in order to go to the much anticipated Dresden Dolls concert. Let me just say now, I couldn't be more excited to travel right now.

In other news the city is getting colder everyday. Scarves, hats, and gloves are being pulled out of the back of closets once again, and the threat of snow come with just about every forecast. The mornings are still the best time of day though, simply because the chill is not too bad - yet. Students and professionals alike are power walking down Forbes and Fifth Ave. in sweatshirts and blazers still, and the panhandlers aren't starting to buy coffee with their daily collection. It's nice to watch the delivery trucks squeeze into side streets and block traffic with ramps while cars and buses aggressively maneuver towards a final destination without having to plow through snow. The smell of the streets has gotten better as well with the cold coming in. You don't inhale the McDonald's before spotting it, newly renovated, next to Fedex-Kinko's. The morning is the best time to mill around Oakland.

I picked up my prescriptions, got some coffee at the Panera a block away from the Rite Aid, and caught the 67F to Trafford back to Craig St. and Forbes Ave.

the Work That Never Ends.

So it has been a while has it not?

I have discovered something about my senior year that I never thought would have happened. I am now comfortable with the idea that I am an artist, and yet my academic life has never been so discouraging.

In the past, fair June, (aka Genevieve for those who haven't realized at this point,) has always done rather well at Carnegie Mellon University. Grade wise that it. And yet now, while my work flourishes, my grades have hit an all time low. Why you ask? Well, the reality is that all art school cannot grade artwork. Think about it. How would Leo have done with the Mona Lisa in crit during a Materials of Painting course? Probably horribly because he was unable to convey, (fill in pretentious comment here) effectively enough.

Otherwise the world still turns, the 'Burgh gets colder and Monday's turn into very free Thursday nights that are filled with applying a ground to a wooden panel for an experimental piece of crap that will be critiqued on Monday. Wish this fair girl luck. :)

the DC Weekend.

So it is 1am and I am lying on my belly on a comfy couch in a Homewood Suites in Alexandria, Virginia. My youngest brother is drooling on his comforter passed out in the armchair next to me. The other brother is talking in his sleep in the other room while my parents rest together in another bedroom. The Aunt and two second cousins are sleeping soundly two floors below me.

I am the only creature crawling around this lonely but quite home-ie hotel. We have come here for the National Book Fair in Washington DC and I am tagging along for the ride – I need to get out of Pittsburgh for a little bit.
Last year there were authors that I knew, and this year I was a little sad to not recognize anyone on the roster. This must be a sign that I need to read more, and then I remember that I never have time for my favorite pastime. One of my favorite smells in the world is a brand new book or a very old one. I loved going to the library as a child, and I still enjoy visiting the places books live to this day. Why don't I just put my computer down now and dive into one of the three different books I brought with me?

The fact that I just finished a major meditation session over a project proposal might have something to do with it. I'm working on a piece for an alleyway space. The frustration with the thought process led me to run outside and just walk around the little part of Alexandria surrounding the hotel. I sat on this peaceful grassy knoll and watched adolescent male party animals run inside the McDonald's across the street. I listened to the cars, the neighborhood sounds of dogs, and other creatures whining and howling. I took in the rhythm of traffic and imagined driving down the Leesburgh Pike with ‘them’ - radio on, caffeine pumping through our veins. I noticed couples returning from the city to the hotel, looking ready to crawl into bed together as the staggered hand in hand toward the hotel entrance. The best sight was the sky with clouds lit up by city lights. It’s an electric sky.

I came back inside and wrote the proposal. It's not all worked out and I need some input from a collegiate source but I like what I am thinking. I can't wait to hear back.

But now, I must retire.

It's 'Morning' Again

I need to start getting on the ball. then I realize I only thake four classes and can't possibly fill my entire day with school work. Let me just get through today and finish the little painting, and start on something quick for 2-D mixed media and worry about Senior Project later...

All of this means nothing to anyone except me, but it is the way I think during the semester.

Otherwise, I've just been hanging out, chain smoking, and riding in cars with boys. I need to find friends rocking the double XX... My friends from school, work, and outside of both those things are all guys. Less drama yes, but a bit weird none the less.

To Motivate.

So it begins.

This week, the real deal has set in over campus. Kids are refusing to leave dorms because of the little voice that nags at the back of our heads screaming deadlines.

Monday first painting due but not before the meeting with my professor, Tuesday is the crit on the two squares - plus the first homework of Abnormal Psych is due. Then there are the two days I work from 6pm until 2am - and the mini exam the following week where I haven't read a single part of the book for... The list goes on and on. The voice gets more and more persistent.

Today instead of appeasing the voice I fucked around. But the fact is the voice didn't reach me until about right now - at a little after two in the morning on a Saturday night. After grocery shopping, painting, movie watching, more painting, and drawing. I've gotten enough done, but it isn't about that. The voice makes you feel as if you are walking through quick sand and you can't finish anything even though there is enough time for all of it. I freak, and refuse to move - refuse to work - I can't concentrate - all I can think or feel is fear of failure. Yet I will fail if I don't work.

Let's stop procrastinating.

Just Watch Me!

A new school day is arriving and I can't sleep. Instead, I am sitting and listening to what I believe is rain hitting the roof of the apartment next door. My neighbor has wised up and raised the shades, probably knowing that my curiosity will have the better of me. No matter how humble your life may seem I am interested in the smallest details of your daily movements.

The cars are flying down Fifth Ave. and then coming to a crawl at the light on Craig St. I always wonder what someone could be doing up so early/later and where they could be going. I just hope it isn't an emergency - but the way that Yankees drive, who could tell the difference...

I never put my shades down and wonder daily if anyone can even see into this room. If they did, what exactly would go through their head as I made eggs, sat in the window and smoked cigs, laid down to go to sleep? Would they notice that I can't bring myself to turn off a light in this place and realize that I - even at the 'ripe old age' of 21 am still terrified of the dark? Would they find that a little strange as even I do?

Fifteen until three and I can't get rid of the stomach ache and go to bed. I need ginger ale but can't make it to the vending machine. Instead I'll chug Pittsburgh's best from the tap and crawl into bed in order to forget today and start working on tomorrow. The big question for this evening is which show am I going to watch in order to lull myself to sleep?

When It Drizzles It Never Stops.

This weekend is nothing but a party and a bad hangover. The weather sucks so what else is there to do then hole up and drink oneself into a stupor? Thank you tropical depression leftovers. The best part is being in a crowded fraternity on campus and falling whilst evacuating during a poorly timed fire alarm.

The city is the same as I left it. Just as depressed as ever and just as over run by stumbling college aged assholes. It's gotten colder fast without any sign of letting up. I'm enjoying myself mind you but I know what to expect each and every day I wake up in this god forsaken city. Smoke a cig, have a beer, hang out in my pj's and attempt to be witty. This week though, is the week everything really starts to pick up. The party will die down to nothing and the studying, stressing, and art making will pick up.

We art senior's had our art studio draw and I wound up in studio number one - with no complaints. I'm just happy I have a corner sans assholes.

Otherwise, I have been listening to an excess of Dresden Dolls and waiting for someone from VA to call. Nothing special really.

"Dear Mr. and/or Mrs. Sender-
We're pleased to inform you that your applications been accepted
Starting from the time you get this letter
Your life will be one never-ending
"hope you're feeling better"
You get your choice of an aesthetic
We'll need to chop your clock off (tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock)
It might not be what you expected
There is no money back once you've been ripped off..."

The Crybaby Essay.

Here is a view of Carnegie Mellon as ripped off from Wikipedia's entry about the school. It's pretty decent, I mean I pay a good $40+ grand a year to go so you would think it would be amazing. Well, it has it's ups and downs as everything does.

This semester I have swindled my way into only taking four classes, (instead of the average five.) This way I can work and have time to really concentrate on the three studios which are my true focus and fuck around in my Ab Psych class.
This week I find out I am the only motherfucker that wants to decrease the amount of classes I'm taking. I am surrounded by over-achieving assholes with ten word long double majors/ minors that have a stick up their ass about everything...

But, to be honest, I am not actually letting my frustration it get to me. I am sitting in my nice apartment with a gorgeous view, I've lit a Cowboy Killer, and have proceeded to start dancing around in my underware, with the shades up and the windows open. Got to let that Fall air in folks.

Now, if only I could get rid of this horrifying homesickness.

the 100th post.

So there should be something phenominal to talk about right? Usually for a hundreth episode a television series does some interesting theme like Scrubs doing an episode based on the Wizard of Oz. Well, I'm talented but not that talented and unfortunatly nothing of worth has happened as of late other than my apartment cooling down. School life is just boring, I apologize.

I'll be back though. Something has got to pop up at one point.

The Homesickness Essay

images of home.



a few friends.











and here is LaBella and BabySister.


end scene.

Count Down to Day One.

My first class of my last year starts in 7.5 hours. I'm not excited or dredding it, instead i am staying up late and watching DVD's alone in my big empty apartment. My roommate moved out today after simply smelling cigerette smoke on my clothes and while part of me is more than pleased the other part of me finds myself repulsive. She knew me for less than 6 hours so I have truly honed my repulsive nature into something very potent. I'm sure my enemies would be very happy to hear all of this.

I've decided though, that instead of dwelling on folks that are obsessive about their dislike of me, (which was never my style anyway,) I will instead focus on pushing everyone I know and could possible like away from me in as violent a manner as possible. This is much more the way I like to play things and my success rate is quite high. Fuck-um. Fuck all of them.

Tomorrow I will sit in the cramped studio and wax bullshit with folks that will pretend to care about my semester abroad. Then I will fain interest in my new professor and then proceed to fuck off and make the work I've been meaning to. Wet, Lather, Rinse, Repeat. By the end of it I will come out with a degree and a shit load of debt. Then it's on to grad school.

Enough bitching though - I'm stoked about

Weeds

, I'm even more stoked about traveling more then being here this semester, and I'm looking forward to the couple grand coming in from the bank so that I may pay a bill or two. Things don't look up or seem bad, they go on regardless.

Back Online: The First Pittsburgh Essay.

The new apartment is spectacular and the fact that my roomate is never here is even more amazing. I have this huge place all to myself and it makes me feel like, in a way, I never left Berlin. The people on the floor are nice and I've even been able to see a few folks I am friendly with so it has been an easy transition.

The only rut was the internet - but with the help of talented neighbors I am back online doing my thing and watching the first season of Weeds on DVD simutaniously.

There is nothing really more to say about this experience, other then I have been able to exercise my house repair skills which always make me feel self-sufficent.

Time for coffee and a smoke.

Send Off.

Fuck the promised Photo Essay.
Instead, keep this image in mind:

Me with five amazing friends and a few drunks from the bar standing tall and tipsy whilst screaming Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of our lungs at Winston's Cafe in Chesapeake.

I don't think I've ever had a better 'last night outing/party' in any town in the world.

This evening was originally filled with drama and panic. The A/C in the house is still broken, (keep in mind it is very humid here folks,) and the man who came today to fix it saw me in nothing but a towel. Next, the only functioning A/C unit in the house leaked on some of my most precious books in my library - things I had brought home from Europe and a children's book from my childhood that I still hold near and dear on top of other things. Then came Father with his pissy attitude and computer problems, then Brother #1 with his unfunny sense of humor, and finally Mother who was just tired and 'not in the mood'. During all of this I did manage to grab a relaxing lunch in with an old friend, but by 8:30pm EST I was in no mood for anyone and everyone could certainly sense this in my voice.

As I leaned over the bathtub ringing out another soaked rag from underneath my leaky A/C I couldn't help but think that I would end the MotherFucker who dialed my house digits one more time. I mean I still needed to finish packing... (!!!)

The problem was, I needed to return things to people, CD's a dress, books, etc... And I shouldn't be rude to some of the only people in the world who put up with me and my bullshit. So I made stressed phone calls while stuffing more towels under the window frame and attempted to pull myself together before my ride showed up, (this girl has traveled much for having never in her life owned a car. I'm not proud of this.)

Winston's Cafe was the spot at around 9:00pm this evening, and at first with only a vodka tonic in front of me I was red at the idea of singing during their Thursday Karaoke Night. After two more beers though, it was 'Criminal' by Fiona Apple. I stood there laughing most of the time and grasping my friend's hand like a vise. After another beer, it was a group of us singing Radiohead's 'Creep.' Then for the finale, Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody' with the whole bar, (including our waiter,) belting at the top of our lungs. It's really was one of those nights you don't want to forget.

And now I am sitting in my cramped attic on the mattress left for me on the floor. The dripping from the A/C has stopped for now and the house sleeps. I've just finished packing and am delaying the dragging of Suitcase #4 down the stairs seeing as it might wake the dog. Instead, I think I will catch a nap before I'm rudely awakened and shoved into my father's Tahoe.

I will leave you with one picture taken the first week I was in town. It's of one of my dearest friends dancing with her little sister while listening to the jazz music channel on Cox Cable, (yeah, we think the name is funny too.)

Yes Please, Virginia.

It's not the most exciting Commonwealth amongst the four in the Union, but it is my birth place and childhood residence. I can't help but miss it everytime I leave. Dear old Viringia...

Sic Semper Tyrannis!

Thus to Tyrants!

Well tomorrow bright and early I will have loaded everything into the back of the Tahoe and be on my way to the next best Commonwealth. I do think though that I should be more excited about returning to Pittsburgh, but I'm just not.

Tomorrow, I'm moving in here with a sophomore I've never met from the Music dept. Fun Times.

I'm not trying to complain, I'm just ornry - like a five year old that hasn't had a nap.

Photo Essay to follow.

Don't Raise Your Voice At Me.

With seven husbands and eight marriges Lana Turner is an example to live by. Here she is testifying at her daughters murder trial after Little Lana (Cheryl Crane) stabbed Turner's lover Johnny Stompanato.

After witnessing a small explosion in Newport News I have decided that I will never get married. Mind you I have been dreaming of that magical day when I make that promise to 'love - honor - and cherish' forever since I was young enough to daydream, but yesterday I was swiftly disillusioned. Last night, I did not want to be in that small apartment sitting in the other room while my best friend and her guy had a screaming match in the bathroom. It doesn't matter what they were arguing about, it isn't any of my business anyway. I just felt like a toddler trapped in a house I couldn't escape. The reality is, she was my ride.

My parents have never fought like that within earshot of their three children, so I missed out on how to cope with mommy and daddy fights. The highlight of the experience is her guy coming into the room I was waiting/hiding in with a red face and bugged eyes looking down at me and attempting to pull me into the 'discussion' with questions that tried to garner him sympathy.

My friend, her friend, and I finally got ready and went to TheClub. While She finished putting on make-up and venting to her tag-a-long idiot of a married friend, (it's an epidemic btw - everyone is getting married between the ages of 18 and 24 in Hampton Roads) and I hit the bar with the fury of every scorned or abandoned woman in the history of the world. With so many people flooding TheClub and having to deal with greeting assholes I haven't seen in ages and will never see after this night, I needed to be as lubricated as possible.

Two beers, three different shots, and two mixed drinks later, (not in that order,) I was dancing on a stage with bars and mirrors like an asshole. I hate that I do that, but who doesn't when they are wasted.

In the end, I still think it is better that I put all men off with asshole-like dancing and drunken hugs then to deal with a Tuesday Night Fight like the one I witnessed. Let me keep all my male friends, and may I never commit to one of them as more then just friends. Cheers! To Spinsterhood at Twenty-One!

bullshitpost.

Your results:
You are Hulk

Hulk 90% Spider-Man 80% Green Lantern 80% Iron Man 75% Catwoman 75% Supergirl 70% The Flash 70% Wonder Woman 60% Superman 50% Batman 40% Robin 35%

You are a wanderer with amazing strength.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz



i'm so lonesome i could cry.

Fuck UnHappiness

Who could be unhappy when sitting on a couch watching the sweetest little girl spin round and round in a Chucky Cheese hat? Her fair blond curls are bouncing around underneath the little blue hat and they glow making a sweet golden aura around her porcelain complexion.

If I had a child I wouldn't want a guy in the picture. Easier said then done I am sure, but today sort of validated my claim. Although, I would want a son.

Go to bed with this:



Apologize to all of your Genevieve's.

P.S. I'm so hungover I would die if I had the energy.

the Virginian Sunday Morning.

With the last three seasons left unseen I am amusing myself for the rest of the weekend, (i.e. today) with a show that uses lines like: "I am not that big a candy ass! Everybody loves guns!!" I was a bad fan of the show and didn't watch really any of the third, fourth, or fifth seasons being the victim of insufficient cable channels in college. At least this go around I get to listen to commentaries.

Saturday night was good old drunken fun up until I discovered my Designated Driver in the bathroom in a really horrible state. I babysat and communicated with her significant other as to how to find the party until He was there to help me get Her in his jeep. I feel awful since she had to leave the brand new car she bought that same day parked on the street a good drive away from where she lives.
I remember as He guided Her to the car, I ran over to Her vehicle, and grabbed everything she needed for work the next day as well as snagged all the CD cases I could find and threw them in the trunk. (It’s a safe neighborhood but not that safe.)

Otherwise I mingled and got to see people that I hadn't seen in a long time as well as chain-smoked my way into a whole. Feeling my chest tighten up this morning really makes me consider quitting. But then I would have to wear my glasses again in order to continue this faux art intellectual look I have going on – or start wearing more pretentious clothes from thrift stores.

Other than this news, I have just learned this morning of the tragedy in Amsterdam. I feel really bad that I laughed when my mother told me...

a Fucked Friday Night.

Not that there is anywhere else that I would like to be in this broke dick town, but sitting in the attic with very dry eyes from wearing contacts for more than five minutes and scanning the internet/Direct TV for entertainment isn't as relaxing/fun/whatever as it should be. Jason Biggs, Jessica Lang, and the Ricci girl are doing there best tonight as Prozac Nation is the only worthy film on tonight. I feel like I should be reading something instead of staring into the glow box.

This girl is disturbed. I can relate in a way, but not a drug induced coma or intense psych sessions with Anne Heiche kind of way. It's more like, 'wow it's hard to be a female in a decently fucked time period' kind of way. It is funny though to see people you know in the fights on the TV screen. I feel very removed from that life, but I know a few families that are very similar. Watching it play out in real life is the same as looking at it now on the silver screen but with 'edgier' dialogue.

Other news from the home front includes my sore jaw from the twelfth and thirteenth fillings placed into my mouth this afternoon. I love my dentist, he is the only one I have ever seen in my life and I trust him more then other health professionals. We decided to try filling on of my molars without Novocain, which I have had done before. When he hit the nerve it was the first time he has ever done that in the many years I have seen him. I jerked and threw a bit of a fit in the dentist chair with the drill still in my mouth. I stared to tear up and couldn't stop shaking as he told me I should never to that again. He numbed every part of my mouth after that and as my tongue started to swell in my mouth he injected a second shot on the left side. By the end of the visit I was cracking jokes with a horrible Novocain lisp. It's just the sore jaw I have right now that still has me a bit creeped this evening. Nothing a shot of Johnny Walker Red won't take care of though...

Recycled News and Comics.

I have already linked to him in the side panel here, but today I enjoyed Wyndham even more than usual. It's the review on Monster House posted the 8th, (yesterday.)

Also, enjoy this from Questionable Content:



Otherwise, nothing ever happens in Virginia worth mentioning. Ask anyone.

In a Good LateNight Mood.

For no reason at all.
Here, have a picture:



I just liked the light.

Another Day at Home.

I haven't done much, except search the web for interesting/useless things that amuse me. One thing of interest found today is as follows:

Een auto en een man en een rivier
Vanaf hier is alles wat het lijkt
de kaart waarop hij kijkt
de sneltram en het kruispunt
en het zwembad
U bevindt zich hier

Herfst en Nieuwegein
in alles wacht
vandaag de eeuwigheid
altijd samen zijn
de herfst en ik
en Nieuwegein

De liefde slaapt in donker cellofaan
’s nachts in Nieuwegein
ze zweeft tussen de snelweg en de maan
de maan is doodgegaan
het was misschien z’n tijd

daar ligt ie nou
je vraagt je af
wie morgen in z’n auto rijdt

Herfst en Nieuwegein
in alles wacht
vandaag de eeuwigheid
altijd samen zijn
de herfst en ik

Altijd samen zijn
De herfst en ik

I can only hope that one of my many Dutch speaking friends can translate the parts that I have yet to do. I love this song, (Herfst en Nieuwegain by Spinvis) and can sing along somewhat, (clumsily mind you.)

Otherwise it has been an afternoon of thunderstorms, cleaning of the bedroom, books-on-tape, vegi-burgers, bleaching, and Gilmore Girls, (yes I am a pathetic fan.)
Another 'vacation day' in southern VA.

There is Nothing Wrong with Nothing.

I really shouldn't judge anyone. The only person who can truly judge is the one you meet at those big gates in the sky right? I hate the fact that I can get on my high horse and become bothered by things that really shouldn't bother me.
Today I have sat on my ass and done a whole lot of nothing, and how could I say anything against anyone who has done the same thing but differently? Anyway, I must say I should apologize for judging people's habits, and I know that my disdain for said habits truly comes from the prolonged exposure to the X-Factor. Unfortunately he actually has disturbed my ability to be accepting.

In other news:

Sitting this afternoon and watching Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil has been a treat except for the fact that my parents house is disgustingly unorganized.
Pillows and blankets all over the living room that is also stuffed with magazines, old jewelry, parts of an inheritance, old crafts from my mothers ill fated project binges, dog toys, baskets of clean laundry that needs to be put away, and tons of books - everywhere. I just want to throw things into boxes and airlift half of this crap out of here.
My childhood was spent accumulating things that this family doesn’t need and now that we are on a hot streak for buying even more shit my family has come to find that we have no place to put any of it. So things are piled on top of each other and shoved together like a jumbled Tetris puzzle.
There is no real point to my rattling on, I’m just tired, a bit bored, and not really reaching any kind of end.

the Chance Meeting on Brandon Ave.

On a whim today I decided to call a friend in order to hang out for a bit as well as give her German gifts. Getting into the truck which was an oven on wheels, I inserted the Eraser into the CD player and headed into Norfolk. After parking the Tahoe I walked towards the apartment and spotted his car right away. The person I speek of is none other than theKiller, who I had thought would be out of town for the weekend. You see the friend I was visiting was his roommate and I assumed that he would not be there so I could relax with people for a bit on this very slow Sunday.

I thought to myself that perhaps he isn't there, just his car, that's all... but this didn't keep my heart from racing furiously and I started to sweat for once from something other then the heat.

When I knocked on the door of the apartment I was so thankful to have someone, anyone other than him answer the door, but he was definatly there. He sat in the living room and looked in my direction as I came through the door. I wanted to melt, run, or at least blush furiously but instead I looked away quickly and consentrated on greeting the J-Bot. He got up and after my hug with J-Bot, he tells me, 'Welcome back to theStates.' and hugs me as well. I pulled away a little soon just out of sheer uncomfortable shyness.

The afternoon that followed was a very relaxed one but it took me a little while to settle my mind down. I kept running outside to 'Get some air,' when really I just wanted to grip my chest to keep my heart from escaping out of my throat. It was already hot in the apartment, but I felt ten times more unconfortable just sitting within 20 feet of him. I felt the most unattractive and unintelligent I believe I have ever felt in my life. Question: How does a man do that to a stupid girl after four months of being so far apart?

After finally settling down we were able to talk, listen to music, and watch others play video games with ease. The Others were more interested in smoking as much pot as humanly possible in under 20 minutes which I have to say annoyed the Hell out of me. I always liked the fact that he was able to distance himself from certain habits that others around here occupy too much of their time with.
By the end of my visit the others were sitting stoned out of their minds watching a movie while theKiller and I stayed out on the balcony. We caught each other up as well as talked about plans for the future. His big move to C'ville is more on his mind then anything else so we talked a lot about his job application to UVA and the band that he will be working with up there... etc.
It was nice, and I felt satisfied that I didn't make an ass of myself. I'm of course wanting to see him again before I leave and can only hope that it won't be so dramatic inside of my head next time. I really need to settle down.

The Celebration.

My return was not the only reason to gather friends at an Undisclosed Location somewhere in Southern Virginia. A mutualFriend also wound up getting married on her birthday, (Aug. 3rd,) so glasses were raised, JagerBombs were dropped and 'good' American beer was more than available.

It was strange twisting the caps off bottles again.

As we sat on the back porch talking, laughing, sharing tattoo experiences/advice/artist's names, and downing Coors Light - I kept thinking in the back of my head that this is my last vacation for a while. Then I thought: why am I looking at my hometown as a vacation spot and not my home?
It became so clear last night that I don't live here anymore. I mean, I don't really have a permanent residence at all. I live at Carnegie Mellon for most of the year, but I don't tell people I'm from Pittsburgh. At the same time I am not registered to vote here in Virginia. The only mail I get at my parent's house is from the local bank, and mail that has been forwarded from Pittsburgh from my P.O. Box in Oakland.
I also don't carry membership cards from anything, or save those repeat spender coffee cards when I don’t frequent anything for very long. I have two bank accounts, (and at one point three,) to make travel easier. I haven’t had a job for more then three to four months at a time. I have managed to dwindle down all of my belonging to fit into three bags - one of which is specifically for my computer. The artifacts from my childhood are in a storage unit 30 minutes from my parent’s house along with more of my mother’s inheritance. When I’m in town, I sleep in the attic, not my childhood bedroom, and share a space with Christmas decorations and my mother's forgotten craft projects.
All this when written down and organized sounds a little sad and I might seem a bit lost. The reality is though: this is the transition from high school to the adult world that is known as College for most folks my age here in theStates.

I was asked by Someone last night, (as I always am here,) if I am coming back to stay after theBigDay in May 2007. I answered the way that I always do, “I’d like to, but we will have to see what happens this year.”
Give me about four months and theFuture might seem a bit more clear.

Greener Grass?

::preface:: I'm exhausted.

I fucking hate Heathrow Airport.

Otherwise the trip was cramped but enjoyable considering I sat next to another German speaker and was able to live a bit more of the Experience before exiting the plane and seeing nothing but signs in English.

As I exited the gate and into the main terminal I heard a click and saw my Dad, Nikon in hand, behind the main frosted barrier that keeps people from rushing at their loved ones. Turns out, we both bought the same brand of booze to celebrate my return. We sat up late with CNN on mute and talked about everything and lots about nothing- the good kind of nothing.

The ride home was much longer then expected, but my first real meal made up for it. The vegitable plate at Crackle Barrel consisted of fried okra, mashed 'taters,' steak fries, and hashbrown caserole. Add that to the two fried eggs over heard and you have the perfect southern meal in my eyes. The only requests I had after that were for more sweet tea and butter.

La Bella got her gifts, and enjoyed them, but couldn't enjoy me long enough seeing as jet lag had caught up with me. I watched Proof, and sit now in my humble attic on the old mattress resting on the floor in the corner. I'm missing Berlin like crazy, but at the same time feel beyond happy to be home.

Last Berlin Essay.

Last Night in Berlin,

and i think i just might cry.

the city has just cooled down and tonight is just so beautiful.

a few people are coming over to visit me and we will say our goodbye's. then tomorrow i must go and reliquish my apartment to the next girl.

i will cry right now just thinking about it all.

Another One Bites the Dust.

This morning while I slept, another Spaniard left via Lufthansa. The picnic yesterday was in honor if him seeing as it was the last time we would all be together in that fashion. There was a lot of “Have a good and safe trip!” and “Good luck with your last year, and in life as well!” but no one cried this time. And yet there was a definite heaviness in the air last night.
After leaving the park a small branch of people went off to Morgenrot, (or is it Morgen Rot?) and we grabbed a few Becks and sat along the ripped up tracks on Kastanian Alle. They are refinishing that part of the street so by day there are bulky Germans working diligently and by night it collects people poring out of crowded bars.
After an intense and slightly drunken search for falafel with another Spaniard and an Italian I ran like hell to catch my late night tram off home. I sat munching my now very messy falafel next to a guy who took some sort of interest in watching me eat. Regardless of the time of day here, Berlin scares up some strange folks.

Each of these days has just been so normal as if Thursday is never going to happen. Yet, I have already started packing, started collecting my things from the shelves, and started to decide what I am going to leave behind/donate to the next tenant. By Friday this will be her apartment. This comfy chair, as ugly as it is, will be her ugly chair, and so/so forth with everything in this place. But I will be happy to see people. I will be happy to see Virginia again. I miss, strangely enough, the way it smells there – especially when one is driving down Battlefield Blvd. heading toward the N. Carolina border. In many ways, as much as I love this city and have taken advantage of my time here, I can’t help but think deep down I was meant to live between a field of collards and corn.

Last Sunday of the Last Week.

I'm going to miss the Sunday mentality of the German's, even if three and a half months ago I couldn't understand it. (Sundays and holidays are celebrated solely by purchasing discounted electronics and clothing in the good old US of A. I didn't follow why the Germans had yet to catch on to this.) Now, I get up late, make coffee/breakfast, and just enjoy my very much-needed alone time.
--
On this special Sunday is a little gathering of the other Students in a park for food, wine, and music to celebrate another person's last night in the formerly divided Hauptstadt. I made the mistake of not preparing ahead of time and grocery shopping before Sunday so there will be a makeshift potato dish substituting as my contribution this evening. If all else fails there is always a bottle of wine that can be purchased.
---
Before Thursday there is much shopping at the Galleria that needs to be done, (after I see how much money there is left in my wallet.) I’ll be looking for another piece of luggage, some chocolate, more books, (just say it… nerd,) and maybe some knick-knacks for my new studio next semester.
I half imagine that it would be cheaper to take another trip to Poznan where the only phrase I know, Nie mowie po polsku, (which is probably spelled/conjugated incorrectly,) has gotten me by rather well.
But thankfully, I can shop tax free at the Galleria Kaufhof, (one of the few perks of not being an EU citizen,) so I think I’ll stay local for the next few days.
----
I know that Berlin will always be here, and I have every intention of returning, but I hate that feeling of time running out. I arrived only yesterday with a 20 Degree temperature difference, my life savings in my purse, and a suitcase containing everything I own in my left hand. Now, as it always seems to do, time has crept up on me once again after getting settled and comfortable here. Yet, on the other hand, I cannot wait to see friends back in theStates and give them all of the souvenirs I know they want so desperately. We’ll have a beer, catch up like we always do, and then run off into the night to get tanked in the vast cornfields surrounding the suburbs of Norfolk. The homecoming this week is bitter sweet though seeing as my final fall semester will begin the last week of August in Pittsburgh. I’ll have enough time to shrug off the jet lag in Virginia and then must pack up my life once again and move for the third time in seven months. I am going to look at it this way though; at least I have an apartment so call home on Fifth Ave.

I see and understand now why Berlin sleeps on Sunday. I'm going to miss it.

less then a Week.

Flight: BA0985
Status: Confirmed
From: Tegel (Berlin)
To: Heathrow (London) Terminal 1
Depart: Thu 3 Aug 2006, 16:35
Arrive: Thu 3 Aug 2006, 17:25
Duration: 1hr 50mins
Class: Euro Traveller
Operated by: British Airways

Flight: BA0225
Status: Confirmed
From: Heathrow (London) Terminal 4
To: Dulles (Washington DC)
Depart: Thu 3 Aug 2006, 19:40
Arrive: Thu 3 Aug 2006, 22:35
Duration: 7hrs 55mins
Class: World Traveller
Operated by: British Airways



and then a four hour car ride to Chesapeake. then an eight hour car ride to the 'Burgh.

See This Train?!

I caught it, (metephorically,) about seven or eight months ago out of Pittsburgh and even took a plane across the ocean to get out of dodge.

.yet.

I'm still getting ghosts in my inbox.

Better news later.

the second Photo Essay

Shopping in Poznan

Signs in Poznan

Random Obersvation

I already sent it into Engrish.com