Thanks to Allison...

What Is Your Art School Major? by lakeallison
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Airborne website

I tried to include this link in my last post, but i'm either linkless or link deficiant...

http://www.airbornehealth.com/

listen to my mommy...

i've had a cold / flu / i don't know what for over two months now and it's been driving me MAD!!! All i want to do is sleep, sleep, sleep. as a big advocator for sleeping especially when it leads to dreaming, i knew it was bad when i was sick of sleep. but even more than sleep, i've just been so sick of being so tired all the time. i can't get anything done and i feel like shit. it hasn't been bad enough to where i feel the need to go to a doctor, (something i avoid doing unless i have broken bones or have vomited out organs or i'm coughing up my lungs because I HATE HOSPITALS and don't trust DOCTORS) but it is dragging on me. the thought of MONO has entered my mind several times, but since i've had it before, i know there's little the medical community can do for it except pump you full of all sorts of antibiotics to prevent any other ailment from attacking your weakened immune system. screw that.
but then my mommy suggested that i try this Airborne stuff. it works kind of like that "plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is" stuff, except the lemon and lime flavor ain't too bad and it's all herbal. i'm still a bit draggy, but i just started with it yesterday and i seem to be getting a hell of a lot more done than i have been. is AIRBORNE the new miracle cure???? i don't know. all i do know is i got it over the counter, i didn't have to see a doctor and it seems to be working. we'll see...

Soft Spoken??? --- a rant

I still can't get over it. In my conference with my least favorite teacher (a conference to which he was 20 minutes late and blamed it on the office staff even though I KNOW he was sleeping and should know when his conferences was anyhow), I was called , "soft spoken". Now I've been accused of many things in my lifetime, but not since high school, over TEN years ago, have I been called "soft spoken". Perhaps, I have allowed my personal disdain for him as a writer and annoyance at getting him as a teacher even though I was suppose to have a different teacher entirely to affect my usual enthusiasm for the class. But I don't believe for a second that I have been "soft spoken". And, as if that weren't enough, he then proceeded to say, "well, I can see that there's some real talent in there. I mean, you didn't get to Advanced for nothing."
Yep, he basically said I was a shit writer. What a little bitch. It shouldn't bother me so much, especially since I find his writing, his PUBLISHED writing to be the puerile drivel of a steroid fetus on a panty raid, but lately I've been feeling rather fragile. It pisses me off that I even care. I think what gets me the most is that these Workshop classes are always encouraging you to "take risks" and "try out new things" and "don't censor yourself". So that was what I was doing and he is too much of a ball brain to see it even though I expressly TOLD HIM that was what I was doing.

And then he has the nerve to call me "soft spoken".

I hate....

I hate everything I have ever written! I want to delete this blog, to burn my pages, to trash my computer, to turn off my brain. How can a few hours affect everything so profoundly? I know it's just self doubt, but damnit, everyone read and, like usual, only my writing gets the "constructive criticism". You know what, go fuck yourself and your constructive criticism. I feel raw in a way I have never felt about my writing. Is it the by-product of a migraine? A migraine of the artistic spirit, it leaves me stripped and sensitive. It's my own fault, I know. I always say I can take it, but sometimes I can't. I'm not always as durable, as solid, as tough as I pretend to be.

migrain motion-sickness

consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality consensual reality

Friday, April 01, 2005

April 1, 2005. April, the cruelest month according to T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land and I must agree. Today is the ten year anniversary of Joy’s accident.

Though I am on break and could very well spend the day with Joy, I chose not to. But I can’t help thinking about her. There’s something so twisted and wrong about her accident being on this day and and yet so appropriate.
In ancient times, the beginning of the new year was celebrated around the Vernal Equinox, usually March 20th or 21st. Unlike our present celebrations of the new year, their festivities would go on for an entire week, ending April first. When the Gregorian Calendar replaced the Julian Calendar in 1582 under the edict of Pope Gregory XII, January first became the beginning of the new New Year. However, many people refused to celebrate this change. They were ridiculed as traditionalists and called fools.*

I wonder at this new life she is living.

It is as if that April first were her new year. I try to see the positive, but it always comes up short. Things like, I have learned great patience from working with her, always seem petty when set next to her lost life and the life she wallows in now.
This has to be the worst April Fool's Day joke ever.


* Pearson Education,"April Fool's Day: Origin and History." Infoplease.© 2000–2005 publishing as Infoplease. 04 Apr. 2005 (http://www.infoplease.com/spot/aprilfools1.html)