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Wednesday, August 10th, 2005
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'I think I'm going to die in this castle'
'I think whatever Ryan Gage tells me to think. Ryan Gage for president 2024!'
'Jason, all we did sophomore year was get hammered'
'That is not true. We also watched pornography.'
'That's going in the book'
'When niggaz go to Prague, niggaz gets wet.'
'Boston College is a breeding ground for triflin' hoez.'
'Did you just pick your teeth with that? After it was in my boobs?'
'What city are we in? Venice?'
'Vienna.'
'Damn right your fucking name is Angie in Hungaria'
'At this point we'd had like 4 or 3 and a half shots cause we spilled one of them'
'Fuck Sugar Ray'
'So I go to the bank machine again...'
'Damn. The best quotes are from when I was in bed watching Mean Girls'
'Quit making me laugh so I can drink more'
'Dude, if I get HPV from a stripper in Hungaria, c'est la vie'
'How do you say 'bwok bwok' in Russian?'
'I didnt fuck one of them. I have some scruples'
'Dude, you don't put your tongue up a stripper's ass'
'In Hungaria, there is sex in the champagne room'
'Dude, I'm like, 85% sure we're going to Florence'
'Oh. That's reassuring'
...15 minutes later...
'Dude, we are so going to Rome'
'We could ask someone who works on the train where the train is going: 'excuse me? where are we going?'
'Too many niggaz and not enough hoez. And by hoez I mean art and like, space'
Thanks to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) jasondrogers and johnzeman for an unforgettable trip!
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Saturday, June 25th, 2005
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| Subject: | RIP Kitty Baby |
| Time: | 2:37 am. |
| Mood: |  sad. | | Music: | String Of Life (Stronger On My Own) (Full Length Vocal Mix)-Soul Central Feat. Kathy Brown-Ultra.Dance 06 [D2]. |
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My Caymus:
Thanks for being such a great cat for 17 years
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Say hello to the Original Jackasses, or, as rdg thinks I should name them, 'Mark Prior and a bunch of Padres':
Batters:
C Joe Mauer (Min - C)
1B David Ortiz (Bos - 1B)
2B Mark Loretta (SD - 2B)
3B David Wright (NYM - 3B)
SS Derek Jeter (NYY - SS)
CI Phil Nevin (SD - 1B)
MI Ray Durham (SF - 2B)
OF Carlos Beltrán (NYM - OF)
OF JD Drew (LAD - OF)
OF Jose Guillén (Was - OF)
OF Austin Kearns (Cin - OF)
Util Reggie Sanders (StL - OF)
BN Todd Walker (ChC - 2B)
BN Jeromy Burnitz (ChC - OF)
BN AJ Pierzynski (CWS - C)
BN Khalil Greene (SD - SS)
Pitchers:
Mark Prior (ChC - SP)
Barry Zito (Oak - SP)
Chris Carpenter (StL - SP)
John Smoltz (Atl - RP)
Dan Kolb (Atl - RP)
Odalis Pérez (LAD - SP)
David Wells (Bos - SP)
Jeff Suppan (StL - SP)
Juan Rincón (Min - RP)
Horray for fantasy baseball!
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Friday, February 18th, 2005
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I'm stuck in bed with a cold, and I've been wanting to update my journal for awhile, but the question is, what do I write about? I'm too afraid of who might have access to my journal to be too honest, and posting friends-only is no fun, so I did what any girl might, ask Ryan Gage rdg to tell me what to do. He suggested I make a post about him. After some thought, and a cheeky suggestion from Charlotte, I have decided to do what us art historians supposedly do best, a visual analysis.
A visual analysis of this photo:
Originally taken in color by myself, the subject of this work has now become the author, having appropriated the image and making it black and white. An interesting photograph to consider in the moment of postmodernist discourse concerning authorship, this image takes on new meaning having been altered by the subject. This black and white treatment makes the image one of that bespeaks nostalgia, where is this mysterious sofabed and why is the subject swaddled in blankets when we can see the midday light streaming onto the pillows? Perhaps by altering the image in this way, the subject is seeking a return to childhood and simultaneously memorializing the time in which the photo was taken?
The pyramidal structure of the subject snuggled into the pillows recalls Renaissance painting, but perhaps the most intriguing and disturbing characteristic of this image is the gaze of the subject. Is he smiling uncomfortably for the camera, or have we caught him in a moment of personal reflection or activity? His stare confront the viewer directly but we cannot help but wonder what the secret hides between those eyes?
The whole expression is curious. Obviously the subject is of adult age, but there is something boyish about the way he appears in the image. Are we (the viewing) intruding on a private moment? Is he ill and waiting for his mother to take care of him?
I wish I had more answers for this piece yet when dealing with a subject of this level of mystery, can we ever hope to unlock the secrets of an image like this?
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Wednesday, November 3rd, 2004
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I am sitting on the Eurostar right now, about to depart London Waterloo. I'm not sure when this will actually post, I suppose that depends on whether or not I can steal internet from Jean-Baptiste's neighbors. Either way, something about this morning inspired me.
**UPDATE** McDonalds in Paris has Wifi! For free!
I'm sure its no secret that I love traveling. Although the part of travelling that involves seeing new places, visiting friends and all that is wonderful, there is something about the actual traveling that I really enjoy. Above all I love travelling by train. There is just something, well, romantic about it.
Trips can be as short as from London to Twickenham, trips of medium length such as the train upon which i currently sit, or longer ones like an overnight train to Rome or Prague or Berlin or wherever you fancy.
Contrary to traveling by plane, traveling by train isn't very demanding. You don't have to check in three hours prior to departure and should you miss your scheduled train it isn't usually the end of the world. However, you still get that same excitement of "going somewhere."
I like waking up early before most people are awake, often just a few hours after they have gone to bed. Rushing around, making sure that everything is packed, ticket, passport handy. Going over everything a few times to make sure I have adaquate comforts for both transit and my stay. Lumbering around public transportation with bags in a fairly friendly city like London is also strangely enjoyable. People offer to help you with your luggage as you board the Tube, wondering where you're off to with all that baggage yet not asking.
Checking in is my favorite part. There's just something about international travel that is quite sexy. Walking through those doors that you can see out but no one can see in. You insist that you aren't carrying anything harmful onto the train, then hand your passport over to the control agent. Some mornings, like this one, you get a particularly nice yet uninterested French man checking your passport, who flipped to my French Visa and stamped it, not even bothering to notice that it expired almost two years ago.
No matter.
Once you get through the housekeeping section, you really enter what to me is another world, the 'travelers' world. Men and women in business suits clutching briefcases standing in line at Costa coffee with scruffy youths carrying well loved backpacks. For some, this is a very exciting journey to a new city with adventure lying ahead. For others, its a short vacation. For others still it is such an often occurance that it is almost a nuisance, this 7am train to Paris.
There is also something about traveling by train that demands some sort of greasy breakfast, like the egg and bacon sandwich I had toasted up at Costa. A cold chocolately coffee drink and suddenly its no longer like I slept for three and a half hours.
You wait to board, you people watch, silently wondering what will be waiting on the other end of the Channel for the other passengers. Your train is called and you again lumber around with your bags, take your seat and wait anxiously for the announcement that the train is about to leave.
Which has just happened.
I'm going to enjoy the scenery now, another luxury you don't get on an airplane and bask in the unique experience that is traveling by train.
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Tuesday, November 2nd, 2004
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| Time: | 12:16 pm. |
| Mood: |  distressed. | | Music: | Call On Me-Eric Prydz-Call On Me - EP. |
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So last night I'm heading home from strrphkrr's flat when I decide to take out some cash to pay my rent with. For whatever reason, when I use my visa check card for large amounts my bank pays off the purchase, then holds the same amount of funds for three days. Ridiculous, I know, but I've been assured several times that "there's nothing we can do, Laura."
Which reminds me, I don't know if either of you have ever worked in retail, but often you're advised to address a person paying by credit card by their first name.
"Thank you, Susan. We hope you come back and shop here again and Bed, Bath and Beyond" with a big uncomfortable grin (inside joke).
I could never do this, because I always felt it was more than a little presumptuous to just call someone you don't know by their first name. I helped you pick out towels and Yip-Yaps, now we're old friends? Not likely.
Similarly, I do not like being scolded in the familiar by some asshole working the phones at my bank. Not that I like being scolded at all, but there's just something about the 'your-money-is-in-my-hands-I-make-7-bucks-an-hour-but-I-wear-a-suit-to-work-there's-nothing-I-can-do-for-you'attitude that really irks me. Especially when they tell me something completely asinine (and contrary to what they told me when i was depositing my money) and say something to the effect of "Well, just calm down, Laura."
There's just something about that that makes me the exact opposite of calm.
I seem to have wandered off the story a bit.
So, yes. After a few hours of rocking out to STP, Dre and SWV and driving over cops in San Andreas I was heading back to Paddington from Whitechapel in a pretty good mood. Tired, but good. So I saunter up to Natty West (the most evil institution in all of England) and put in my card to get out my 200 quid.
Counting Money it tells me with a familiar spinning noise.
The spinning noise continues for longer than usual.
Finally, the screen says "transaction cancelled" and kicks back to the welcome screen.
All before it has given me back my card.
Thats right people, the fucking thing ate my ATM card. My American ATM card, which, at this point I am imagining, will not be the easiest thing to replace.
So, I immediately call the number on the ATM where I am, of course, informed that there "is nothing I can do" and that my card will be immediately destroyed. She offers no explaination as to why this might have happened, nor seems particularly shocked that it has. Apparently, NatWest ATMs just randomly eat cards then? (Beware lamusemalade)
Okay, so you might be thinking, how bad can this be, right?
Well, I have a nonrefundable ticket to Paris leaving at 7am Wednesday London time. I have no Euros, no way of accessing cash or my checking account. I have a small amount of cash in British pounds here, but if I were to exchange it, I would have nothing to, you know, EAT with upon my return Monday morning.
None of this seems to have an effect on the woman on the phone, who insists that despite my desperate pleas, upon opening the bank branch will cut my card, so important to me, into little tiny pieces and throw it away. This is the very same branch that has neglected to send me a check card for the account I hold with them, so using that in Paris is out of the question as well.
So, in tears, I call my bank. I hysterically explain the situation and how I am leaving the UK to France, which uses an entirely different currency and oh please God, can she help me?
"Alright Laura, who is Carl"
*sob sob* "my father"
"Okay, he can come into a branch and pick up a new card for you."
So I'm thinking, okay, not so bad, he can FedEx the card to Jean-Baptiste's place and I will only be a few days without money. Not a great scenario but I will take it.
But then.
"Oh, Laura? I'm sorry, I was mistaken, we cannot do that at all."
She then suggests that I go online, transfer money from my checking to my Visa card, then use that to obtain cash as a cash advance. Again, kind of shitty considering the ass-raping in fees I would get, but, whatever.
But of course, there's a problem. Upon receipt of this Visa card, about five years ago, I was issued a PIN which I no longer remember, because NO ONE uses a Visa card to obtain cash, because of the aforementioned ass-raping. I inform her of this, to which she replies, rather dramatically:
"Well, then Laura. It is out of our hands."
She then tells me that the bank will not issue me a replacement check card unless I am physically present in a bank branch.
It is about this time that I begin to swear a blue streak at this woman. Something about how their fucking bank will take my fucking money and tell me everything will be fine should anything happen during my fucking stay abroad, yet everytime I have a problem some dipshit says they cant help me and how is this a fucking way to run a business, you know, something like that. I demand that she replaces my check card. And tell her that once I am able, all of the money me and my entire family has will be withdrawn from SDCCU accounts, all because of her ineptitude.
All the while i am crying an absolute fit, of course.
She goes and talks to her supervisor (with whom she refused to let me speak, by the way) and then says to me:
"we can mail a new check card to the address we have on file, but we cannot advise you further as to what to do with it once it is received."
Me: "ALRIGHT, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?"
Her: "We cannot advise you on your check card"
"is it going to be a replacement check card?"
"yes"
"when swiped, it will deduct funds from my checking account?"
"yes"
"and when inserted into an ATM, it will link with my checking account for the purpose of obtaining cash?"
'yes'
"earlier, were you just basically saying that its not your fault if my parents steal my money or if the card gets lost in the mail?"
"Exactly."
"THEN WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU JUST SAY THAT???"
"okay, we can send this card out in 2 to 3 business days."
Despite my anger knowing that it takes thirty seconds to imprint a new card, I let it go. Tell her to mail the card and that's that. So basically, I have to live off my 300 dollar limit visa card until I manage to get the card here in the UK. With absolutely no cash access. I can buy a purse, get online, pay it off, then do it again. Hahahahahahah how sad am I? So I get to show up in France, just as the election results come in, broke as a joke.
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Monday, November 1st, 2004
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Hi everyone!
Okay, since i am living in London now, and since I interpreted a recent comment from suburbanlegend to mean that I should update, I would really like to do so.
However, I am trying to think of what to write about.
I would also like to redo my journal layout.
So, any questions/suggestions? Does anyone still check if I update or not? Hello? Hello?
For inspiration, I am taking the camera out once again, hopefully I should return this evening with a device rich with images of my current life.
For now, I leave you with this photo of my new hat:
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Wednesday, June 23rd, 2004
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I need to vent.
I need to write in here without masking it with some silly book review or update on fantasy baseball.
The truth of the matter is, I am about to lose my grandmother, and I'm not handling it very well.
A little backstory:
Around my graduation, so about a month ago, my mother told me that my grandma had "something in her head" that was noticed after a fall she took a few days before going to the doctor. It was one of those situations that we chose not to think about so much, so that we didn't worry "about nothing."
A week or so later my mother calls me and we get into a fight about something or another, when she tells me that my grandma really isn't doing so well, and she doesn't know whats wrong.
This is the first time I cry about it.
A few days after that my mom goes to my grandma's house to pick her up, and finds her on the floor. She calls 911 and they bring her to the hospital. They don't know whats going on and start running tests.
Brain cancer.
She has surgery to remove the tumor, which was pressing on the area of the brain that affects motor skills, hence the falling down. Grandma seems to be recovering well, my mom says that my grandmother is in better shape than she is, very calm and serene. They send her to a sort of nursing home for physical therapy, so she can get back into the shape she needs to be in to go back to living in her own home.
Complications.
Grandma goes back to the hospital, again, the doctors aren't really sure what the matter with her is. and my parents feel that she's not getting the sort of attention and care she needs at the nursing home, prefers her in the hospital, where doctors are more readily available.
They meet with oncologists.
They have run tests and it has become apparent that the cancer in my grandma's brain spread there from somewhere else in the body.
The lungs.
**Let me just interject here: this is the second family member in four months that I am losing because of smoking. If you don't fucking quit, I'll kill you now and just get it over with. Vous comprenez?**
And it has metasticized, which for the love of God I cannot spell, but I know it means thats pretty much all she wrote as far as the cancer goes: there is no getting rid of it. The prognosis carries mixed feelings:
4 to 6 months without treatment.
8 months to a year and a half with treatment.
My dad says "You never know, she could be around to see you get your PhD!" The dual optimism (for my grandmother's recovery and my eventually obtaining a PhD) is moving. Still.
The doctors want to start radiation, to get whatever bad cells might still exist in her brain out. They say they can do some good, but they don't want to be too aggressive with treatment, because she is eighty years old and there, of course, are quality-of-life issues here.
This gives us (at least me) a sense of hope, because I mean, why bother with radiation if she didn't have a better-than-decent chance of having some good quality time left? Right?
So I book a flight home, for 4th of July weekend. Start making plans for Petco Park and barbecue with csh82 at my grandma's house. I start to get excited that I will see her when the physical therapy has kicked in and shes back living at home, plus its some quality time before I go to London.
The next day my sister calls me. My parents had gone to the nursing home to pick up my grandma for her radiation therapy, to discover that she isn't there. The nurses inform them that she had to be taken to the emergency room because they "think she had a seizure." Trying really hard to be strong I assume its some part of the treatment that they can stop. I call my mom at the emergency room, who is quickly losing control of her emotions, understandably.
So I sit at work waiting for news, then at home. Then I decide to just call.
She had two more seizures that afternoon, reports my sister.
At this point I am obvioulsy distraught, but still trying so hard to hang on and not lose it and bawl. I am successful. Things are looking bad, very bad.
Yesterday comes the big news. They're giving up. Its not hard to see that this is the right decision because the treatment is doing far more harm than good. She's wiped out, exhausted. She knows who everyone is, but is so tired that shes not totally in touch.
"She should be gone in a month, most likely less."
I decide not to go to the Red Sox game as planned, and Kurt invites me over for dinner so I don't have to be alone, which I greatly appreciate.
Then, stupid me starts to cry on the T. The first time since I heard there "might be something wrong."
I panic and realize I am not ready to deal. I get ahold of Dave, tell him to go ahead and get me a ticket after all, so that I can prolong reality for that much longer. Dinner was a ball, I got to see suburbanlegend (looking buff and bronzed) and read trashy magazines, the game is fun, I have little besides baseball and celebrity gossip on my mind.
But it all catches up with you.
As soon as I step on the bus home I'm crying again, trying to keep it quiet. Its not until I get home that I start absolutely howling, crying my damn eyes out into a towel, so that I won't disturb my neighbors, because thats how loud I am. Andrew consoles me in person, Adam calls me and does the same on the phone, rdg, jasondrogers, and daflashyone do the same online.
My mom can't talk to me for very long on the phone, because she starts to cry. My sister sounds dejected. I can't get a good read on my father, but my best guess is he's doing his best not to sound as sad as he is.
This is my maternal grandmother, so it isn't the same side of the family as my grandfather who passed in February, which is good in a sense, because a whole side of the family doesn't have to suffer two blows so quickly.
My sister and I do.
A while back, my grandparents moved from Northridge to stay with us while their house, a mile down the street from ours, was being built. We inherited a dog, who has also passed on, Dodger, named for the Brooklyn (where my grandfather was a cop) and Los Angeles (near where they eventually lived and raised my mother) Dodgers, in whatever year they won the World Series.
He was a really sweet dog. Who, interestingly enough, also suffered terribly before we finally had to let him go.
Grandma lived near the lake in San Marcos, in a cute house with a whole lot of blue, her (and my mother's) favorite color. She liked geckos that would run around in her well-manicured garden.
She really likes Michelob.
11 years and a week ago we lost my maternal grandfather to cancer, which isn't helping the emotions right now for my mother. It is a lot to deal with and I wish I could be there.
I can't stop from feeling horrible for living all the way out here. I am missing important things and just feel like the most horrendous person on earth, and I really cannot deal with it. I've been good for these past couple of weeks, not crying, masking my feelings, trying to smile through it.
But I really don't want to do that anymore. I am really at the point in all of this now where I cannot find solace in anything, because everytime I try to, something else bad happens. I feel terrible that this has to happen. Why do all of my grandparents who die have to get cancer and have a terrible time of it? Can't one just go in peace, for God's sake? It isn't fair.
Anyway, my mother told me that it seems like I'll be coming home sooner than planned, so as of now I'm awaiting word. I hope to get back to San Diego before she goes, I really hope for that. I've been on the phone with JetBlue about my options, chances are any day I could be heading to Logan to try standby.
"I'd have a bag packed." My dad said.
Goodbye Grandma. We love you.
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| Subject: | How Helter Skelter Has Changed My Life |
| Time: | 11:01 am. |
| Mood: |  scared. |
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So perhaps killaho can back me up on this one: Vincent Bugliosi's Helter Skelter is the freakiest damn book I've ever read.
For those who do not know me very well, I cannot suspend disbelief. I lack whatever chemical it is in the brain that allows a person to be scared when, say, Mel Gibson is being chased by tall and lanky aliens or when Neve Campbell is being chased by a guy in a cheap costume with a knife.
I laughed at the Ring. Thank God for HBO on-demand, for The Ring is one of the more entertaining films I've seen in awhile.
seven days
But I digress.
Back to Helter Skelter. Now, I've been hiding the cover and spine while riding the bus in to work, so that I don't appear to be the morbid creep that I apparently am. Thanks to Mr. Bugliosi and his publisher, even with the slightest glimpse at the book you realize there is something just a little "off" about the person holding it:
Subtle, no?
One of the attorneys in my office was quite impressed that I had chosen to read the book, saying that it had been suggested to him in law school as a good trial advocacy book. (I had overheard an attorney friend tell him it was being taught in some law schools) It also, he says, "demonstrates how the police manage to screw everything up and the prosecutor then has to go and fix it." Which, although a pretty harsh statement, comes across very strongly in the book.
The book is about 700 pages long, and I read it in a week. let me tell you, this shit scared the bejesus out of me. As you are probably aware, Charles Manson got together a group of weak personalities and runaways and had them kill people at his command. They wrote things like "Pig" and "Helter Skelter" in blood on the walls. One man was stabbed fifty times, shot three times and had his head bashed in with a shotgun. Sharon Tate was pregnant, stabbed thirty something times and hung by her feet. The graphic descriptions of how these teenage girls wanted to cut out their victims' eyeballs and squish them against the walls was just too much.
All graphic stuff aside, it was more the spookiness of the novel that got to me. I started to notice myself not wanting to turn off the lights, or go into the kitchen if it was dark and no one was home. Everytime the phone rang I jumped out of my skin. Last week I was chatting online with rdg:
Ryan: Thats weird.
Me: What is?
Ryan: I just answered the phone and it cut out in the middle of the caller's sentence.
Ryan: And now I picked up the phone and its dead.
Me: OH MY GOD DON'T TELL ME THAT, THAT IS SO CREEPY!
Ryan: It's not creepy.
Me: UGH YES IT IS I'M READING HELTER SKELTER!
Ryan: Its 3 in the afternoon, Laura.
Me: BUT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED TO SHARON TATE'S HOUSE BEFORE THEY KILLED HER!
I pinpoint this day as the day I officially "lost it" and became terrified of Charles Manson. Who, for the record, is locked up in California and is six inches shorter than me. I outweigh him by probably fifty pounds. *Sigh*. To my credit, he did leap ten feet across the defendants' table at the judge during his trial. Fear.
Joey B seems to think its strange that I can't suspend disbelief in movies, but this book is scaring the hell out of me. I think it makes perfect sense considering this shit actually happened.
The attorney in my office asked me: "I remember from that book how the used to just sneak around inside peoples houses in the middle of the night...they had a word for it. What did they call it?"
Me: "I don't know, I'm not there yet"
That night I read about it. They would dress in dark clothes and quietly enter people's homes while they slept, closing windows and doors and subtly moving things around the house so that the occupants would think, but be uncertain, that someone had broken in.
They called it "creepy-crawling."
So for the past few days I've been convinced I'm getting creepy-crawled. The other night my roommate Andrew was, I thought, in the living room or out on the deck smoking a cigarette while I watched TV in my bedroom. Hearing a noise I tentatively walked towards the door that leads to our deck saying: "Andrew? Andrew?' My voice got more and more desperate as I heard more noises yet no response from my roommate.
I locked myself in my bedroom.
Ten minutes later I decided I was being ridiculous and went to go see what was going on.
"Andrew? Andrew? Andrew???" very small voice: "Andrew?" I bravely step onto the deck.
Andrew's cell phone is lying there, and he is nowhere in sight.
I run back into my room and lock myself inside. I turn on the Disney Channel, terrified. About half an hour later I venture out again to see him calmly smoking a cigarette on the deck.
Me: "FUCK YOU FOR JUST DISAPPEARING AND LEAVING YOUR PHONE WHAT ARE YOU THINKING!"
I don't think I've ever seen Andrew so confused and startled. He explained to me he had been watering the lawn while I explained to him that I had gone insane, thanks to Helter Skelter.
The next night he came home from work to make sure I hadn't driven myself crazy being home alone all day, for fear "of a book."
Thank God I have finally finished the thing. It really is a superior true crime book, if you like that sort of thing. I want to read another book by the same author, but am far too embarassed to have it special ordered. Heh.
Pick it up, great summer reading. Bwahahaha.
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Wednesday, June 16th, 2004
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Having been inspired by Nikki and suburbanlegend, I am doing a charity walk this Saturday, June 19th.
Its a 7-mile walk, Miles For Miracles to benefit the Children's Hospital Boston.
If anyone would like to sponsor me, go to the Miles for Miracles Donation Page and enter my first and last names. If you do not know both names and would like to donate, leave a comment and I'll email the information to you. People have been great so far, especially the people in my office.
Every little bit helps :-)
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Does anyone still read this?
Anyway, I am at work with nothing better to do so I figured I would entertain my once-adoring live journal fans to a slight update of where I have been and what I have been doing.
As for graduate school:
This was a fun one.
Expect this all to go on...
( Acceptances/Rejections: )
And on...
( On The Mighty Powers of Nepotism: )
And on...
( On My Personal Life )
And on...
( On baseball: )
And on....
( On Fantasy Baseball )
Anyways, at present you can find me here, at my law firm job, playing on the internet, or outside *trying* to put some color on me and reading Helter Skelter. Because I am a creep.
Just to let you know, the reason I included links to the art department of every school I applied to is to demonstrate how the school I will be attending come October clearly rules all over the place.
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Thursday, March 4th, 2004
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Well, due to recent trolling, I have abstained from writing in my journal out of fear that my contempt for people in general might shine through a little too much.
As for my life recently:
My grandfather died. I did not want to write about it in here because I was aware he was sick before my younger sister was, and I didn't want her to find out about it in such an impersonal way.
I got a phone call from my mother, who told me that he was sick. He was seventy-seven and had been a smoker his whole life, so I guess it was only a matter of time. I was shocked by the news of the seemingly sudden turn and was very upset. I was planning on trying to make it home to see him.
6 days later he was gone.
A terrible night really. I was out for an after-dinner drink with Scott suburbanlegend when I returned a call from my parents. They still had not told my sister any of it, so I felt terrible for my father, my aunts and uncles, and my sister who had no idea of the bad news coming her way.
The worst is handling my father being upset. Of course its his own father that has passed away yet he is doing all that he can to ease the pain of his daughters.
So I went to my new job to tell them that I needed a day off already, even though I had just started, to fly home for the memorial service.
As bad as I thought the service would be, it was actually about ten times worse.
Not only does my father get up and read a poem written by one of his sisters, voice faltering at the end, but my uncle played "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes at the end of the service.
Have you ever heard "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes?
It has to be the saddest thing in the world, my sister and I went to pieces early on in the service and really didn't get it together until it was over.
Good thing I brought my six foot long pashmina from France, Kerry and I used it as a handkerchief.
In other news, Boston College, the evilest institution on the face of the earth, is charging me $2,000 to graduate early. In a letter dated two weeks before my diploma was issued, I was informed that "adjustments" were going to be made to my financial aid package. The amount started at $178, then it became $300, now its at $2,000.
They say its because I didn't stay the full year, they are taking away money from last semester's grant! So I do this to save money, and basically get a swift kick in the ass for it. So much for being done with school. Not to mention the fact that no one returns my calls from financial aid.
So in the midst of all this, I get random comments telling me to "get a real problem?" Fuck off in a dark hole you creep. And stay out of my journal, because I know for a fact my friends would rather read me amusingly bitch about my lack of a hot lotion dispenser* than sob over my dead grandfather.
Am I right, guys?
Anyways, I am still anxiously awaiting letters from grad schools, and its frustrating me so if I yell at you, punch you or abuse you in any way, try not to take it too personally until March 15th, okay?
I had a magnificent Valentine's Day, and thats all you need to know!
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Monday, January 19th, 2004
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What's the better karaoke song?
How Will I know?
or
Dance with Somebody
(both by Whitney Houston)
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I am miserably sick, and despite rdg's assurances that I'll get better with rest, here I am, late at night typing away. Perhaps writing is cathartic.
I haven't written in here for a very long time. I have a good excuse. For those of you who are unaware, I graduated (a semester earlier than expected) from Boston College. So I'm done, completely, with college. Now, I cry myself to sleep every night (the nights I actually sleep), being lonely and wallowing in post-graduation freak-out as I await my rejection letters from graduate programs.
Oh I'm in great shape.
I'm not going to lie to you, I am seriously considering moving back to San Diego. Of course, I cannot do this because it would be a major step back in the growing up process. I have this lease, a job, friends, responsibilities. Perhaps its my tendency for melodrama, but I view staying in Boston as a test of my emotional stability. Its time I stick out a hard time without running away from that which scares me.
Loneliness, I think, is going to be a cold, harsh reality of the next few years of my life and I need to start toughening up.
The end of the semester was difficult but really successful. I busted my ass to get grad applications out and I did my Independent Study. I loved my paper on Chris Burden and so did Claude, which, of course, made me glow.
Eric called tonight.
Jean-Baptiste hasn't written.
Valentine's day is in a month and my current situation labels me as "disposable." I know I shouldn't care. But, I really want flowers. Like, it would make my fucking century, you know? That some person felt that on this Hallmark-created fake holiday I deserved some tulips or something.
The past few days have given me a giant reality check. I'm not needed, I'm disposable, forgettable, move too much and have been talking like I'm going to New York in September when I'm not getting in to NYU.
I guess I can keep busy working.
I really want a hot lotion dispenser. They are backordered at Linens N Things and I can't find them anywhere else. Bah.
I think I need a kitten.
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Thursday, January 15th, 2004
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Tuesday, October 14th, 2003
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Did anyone else do policy debate in high school? Well I did, and I decided to make this an affirmative case for the resolution:
Resolved: That Laura needs a vacation. Like a big one, with cabana boys and daquiris.
( Contention 1. School )
( Contention 2-The personal life. )
( Contention 3-Baseball. )
So, as you all can see, I am a stress ball. I need to get outta here for a few days. Anyone volunteer to be my knight in shining armor?
Didn't think so.
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Saturday, October 11th, 2003
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I changed my layout, because I got really sick of looking at my own face everytime I read my friend's page.
Also, my paid account has expired, which sucks, so I'm back on the slow servers again.
I bet both of you that read my journal are really upset.
You suck Jeter.
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Thursday, October 2nd, 2003
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Just because I am from California
Does not mean I jinxed the Red Sox.
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Monday, September 29th, 2003
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This is so obviously stolen from Scott, and I have been meaning to do this for a while now, but for whatever reason the urge hit me tonight. I invite all to fill out my poll! I will then let you know how compatible we are.
Enjoy, clownshoes. I had a grand old time making this poll, now you fill it out!
Poll #185560 Can You Be My Special Someone?
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 12Write out the pronunciation of my last name. What color are your eyes? Girls with curves are On a night on the town, you would prefer: What do you think of Law & Order? Contemporary art is worthless. Cats are: I'm having a bad day. You: Art history is a valuble part of academia. Where do you see yourself five years from now? Ten years? On a whim, would you be willing to drop what you're doing, (i.e. school work, television) in order to go out for a great time with me? Its a lazy Saturday. Surprise me with something fun! I often like to ask many questions of people I am getting to know. Such as your favorite book and whatnot. Would this annoy you? Tell me what you think of the movie Ghostbusters, extra points if you can guess my favorite scene.
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Thursday, August 14th, 2003
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amused.
tired.
sick.
sleepy.
bitchy.
2 (16.7%)
