Distractions

You know what's a total bitch?
That's right.

But it's a decision too, because I can very well say, "Screw you! I'm studying!"
Or rather, "Screw you! I want to write a kick ass paper and I have to do it tonight!"

I can! I'm confrontational when I choose to be...

But I like this distraction... I like them all so far. It's not about obligations tonight because he is my friend, brother and roommate. They, my sisters. And them, they are two good friends of mine--both of whom I love and admire--who are, in soft voices, confessing and exposing themselves to each other. It's beautiful. I'm writing a paper about Raymond Carver and the idea of being concise/descriptive... I might post it up here, actually. It looks like it will turn up to be a good read.

Tangent over: Are they flirting? Him??? I knew he was a bitchin' mofo. But I'm really impressed because he's doing a good job and reading her very well; she's responding. And it's happy, I'm glad to be here, with their full knowledge, staring intently at my bright screen and typing these words with vigor as they pour out.

Johnny Cash and June Carter are talking about heading down to Jackson together. It's all fitting together. Tonight, in the midst of academic chaos and physical strain, it is beautiful.

I'm happy. Oddly enough, I'm happy to be the third wheel-ish character in this situation again.

Soft voices. Feet swinging back and forth. Bodies facing each other, but not making contact. Mirroring the other.

This is the room
One afternoon where I knew that I could love you
And from above you how I sank into your soul
Into that secret place where no one dares to go

Oh, it's Valentine's Day today. Isn't it strange how we bitch about Hallmark and consumer-driven culture and single-awareness day (You bitches!), yet are prodded by the red and the pink to think and talk about our intimate feelings? I like this day. I liked it last year too.

Iron & Wine is awesome. We're talking about making a combo cover band of him/them and Neutral Milk Hotel. The Iron & Milk Hotel? Neutral Milk & Wine?

Meh.

Kafuffin'

Can I say something?
I went to see The Queen the other night because it will be gone this Friday, replaced by shit and shit... which I may end up viewing also, because, if you got free movies, you would too.

I went to see it with moderately high expectations... and, though I didn't like it much (4/10), I will say that I was distracted, yo.

First and more significant.
There was a preview with Kal Penn in it. Within the first three seconds, I felt it trigger in my brain. That book... the last book I read.
Interpreter of Maladies, Jhumpa Lahiri, Gogol Ganguli, Namesake.
The Namesake.

Now, I am a big fan of both Harold and Kumar...
also, I love that Jim Carrey broke out of the wacky comedy...
so I would look forward to Kal Penn in a serious-er movie...

but this movie, Namesake, is probably my most anticipated film... in a long time.
The book was gorgeous; I have trouble deciding who to give it to next... probably Piper, 'cause she is a big fan of Interpreter of Maladies also... and it is an important book. Concerning everyone with parents, a name, a life and decisions to make, it is an important book.

And the preview was very well done. I know! You can't really expect the trailer to be an accurate representation of the film's bad-ass ness. Let us all remember Fun with Dick and Jane... but we still do! We are fooled/fueled by the Cameron Diaz' character's work!

I am interested in Indian culture. You know.

...damn, it was such a good book.

Aside from that, even. The film looks to be something of a well-told story.

...and if it's not, Imma be pissed.

Second... if she places her hand on her thigh... well, what is she doing? That's distracting, yo!

-

I took pictures for this next edition of the campus newspaper because we lost a photographer. Last semester, I wrote review after review of plays, orientations and films. And they kept assigning me reviews. I really enjoyed writing them and being approached by people, analyzing them with my English and Journalism prof.
But I took pictures, which was great.
So I stood aside and let the new guy take the review assignment... a few days later, I was down with the nerds copy-editing the articles. New guy... had a good idea to expand on for his article (he reviewed Freedom Writers). But, yeah I know-here it comes, he flabbed around for the entirety of the article. His lead was weak. His body was mumbo-jumbo... it honestly seemed as if he wanted to sound intelligent, witty... as if he saw an episode of Frasier and attempted to mirror it onto paper.

And he jacked the ending... jacked as in stole/plagiarized/re-fabricated/duplicated.

I was more surprised than angry, I tell you the truth. It was like, "Wait a minute... what the hell? What the hell?" Not loudly and with ferocious eyebrows, mind you. It was more like... is he serious?

Also, yeah, Hillary Swank IS sort of a big Hollywood name.

-

A friend told me, during the summer after senior year, that people and friends will change in college. I was terrified. Today, I thought about her advice and realized that I am okay with it... for the most part. Friends have changed... shifted around, but they haven't completely transformed. The truth is that while more and more of us become more and more disgusted, Dick is still Dick. Jane is still Jane. Basically, you and me, we stay the same.
Friends require effort. Friendships are hindered, watered-down, when you just say I Love You freely and without deliberation. Love is not merely an emotion.
I'm not angry because the idea of love is being abused/misused etc. I'm more annoyed at the frolics... and I hate consistent annoyances.
You know what else love is? Forever.
You know what love ISN'T? A bitch. Love doesn't quit after an amount of time of whatever did or didn't happen. Love doesn't cop out like that.

-

Love is a burning thing.

Bah-ba-la-ba-la-baaa-lala.

Optimism is, usually, not the way to go when in an argument. You can't justify watching Sex and the City by saying, "Well, at least it's not the View." (But, let's be honest, isn't it still?) And to hell with compromises! Say you were young again and you found a five dollar bill on the street. Your friend wants to give it to that homeless man down the street. You want to get milkshakes for all the boys in the yard. "How about... we buy ONE milkshake... and give the rest to the man?" "...fine." No way. That's bullshit.

I buzzed my hair the other night. Well, I guess Pauly Hana did most of the buzzing but I agreed to it for a number of reasons. In order of significance for racketball, because Poel -- one of my roommates -- moved out and another roommate, Kenny, was gone for the week at a theatre workshop... thing. Also, because the bush was borderline uncontrollable. "And, what the hell, put a small mohawk in there while you're at it." So he did and I like it.

"Why did you do it???!!!"

No, I didn't say, "At least it's not a huge one and I'm not going to color my hair." I try to stray from the bullshit.

I like it mostly because it gives me motivation to play racketball and work out harder. I like it also because it dries almost instantly and is much easier to maintain.

So you don't like it. Well, usually that would make me want to argue. But you don't and I do and we can leave it at that.

Can't we?

I'm in college; I should be allowed to decide how to buzz my own hair.

So, Mom. As you can see, I came home so I could drop off the car and have lunch with you. I left the car and will see you once you calm down because I can't talk to you while you're screaming at me, while you're so erratic that we couldn't sit down and have a meal first. And talk like civilized people. I'm at the grille, now. Eating fries and a gray hamburger. I will walk to work and stuff. This is not teenage angst; I'm not blaring Radiohead in my room and telling my roommates how much you suck and are gay. I like my haircut and I wish you could have behaved otherwise before screaming in my face and telling me that I'm going to live at home from here out.

$2.75

That's how much I am in the red because of this semester's books.

The good news/slim hope is that I paid the various peoples by means of various checks... and told them that they might want to wait before cashing them... because I get paid this Friday.

Does it feel good?

Actually, it feels like the other night when we were playing racketball and, right before we puked, we had that mega huge rally going. And all three of us progressively moved closer and closer to the wall, wrapped in the fury of boyhood competition. And I send one screaming, and then, exploding off the wall so quickly. And Ben does that thing where he positions his whole body paralell to the ground and reaches to send the ball back from where it came... and it skids the ground twice before I can even respond.

"Awwwww you mofo!"

It feels good/not good like that.

Caffeine

One can of Mountain Dew was consumed, by me, in order to properly view a late, private screening of Freedom Writers. I hate Mountain Dew. The screening was cancelled due to fatigue.
One cup of green tea was consumed, by me, shortly afterwards. Snow had been falling softly, magically, and called for the comforting process of brewing.

It is now 5 a.m.

I am more aware of the headache that has been with me all day.
I imagined a photography minor.
I hear the snowplows outside.
I have thought about death... and my student loans.
I am thirsty.
I replayed select scenes from Million Dollar Baby in my head.
I smell the blank scent of myself.
I'm fucked for tomorrow.
I've assumed all sleeping positions.
I can get four and a half hours... starting now.
I have stopped trying.

The Decemberists are grooving about the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime.

The house creaks something mysterious and terrifying. As if it were to collapse upon itself. Implode, House of Usher style. A momentary sweep of headlight streamed through the window above my head and I imagine an old Cadillac crashing through. It destroys my guitar to my right and, to my left, my laptop. It also lands on my skull and I go out like a poor bastard. I hope they say that at my funeral, "The poor bastard..."

I should chase Mountain Dew with green tea in the mornings...

Pistachio Shells in our Front Lawn

Among other household decisions my parents make in order to gain that boost for our various plants and landscape settings. I'll start a little earlier for, you know, context's sake and stuff. I had a cup of tea. Usually I take a spoonful of loose black tea from one of the three aluminum canisters that we keep next to our coffee. (We also have green and white tea.) But the fancy box of Tazo: The Reincarnation of Tea caught my eye. Of course it did. That's what they pay the graphic designers for, right? For that ancient text faded into the background of the display, right behind the "caffeine free" notice.

Oh crap... this is caffeine free?

I had a cup of strong, gorgeous looking, smelling and tasting "deep, red tea made from hibiscus flowers, exotic herbs and natural tropical flavors." And had prepared another cup when my dog jumped onto my lap. I let her sniff the edges of my cup playfully. She inhaled spastically and then, when she grew bored, she exhaled sharply, sending an army of dog snot and flakes of whatever-was-on-the-floor-that-got-tangled-up-in-her-whiskers into my new cup.

Oh, stupid me.

Oh, silly dog with your big, bashful eyes.

So I cleaned my cup and glanced up onto the gray, unforgiving Iowa winter - snowless on January 13 - and saw the pile of pistachio shells. They were maybe four large handfuls in volume and congregated in the woodchips set by my father this past summer to house the liveforevers and rose bushes. Do they decompose that quickly in the winter? Do they compose that quickly at all? There are other such examples of my parents' ingenius ideas. Whether they are Korean or why-the-hell-not ideas... or both, I have no idea.

The potted plants are surrounded by up-turned eggshell halves. They smell like death. I remember once while I vacuuming, I crouched low to reach underneath the couch and was simultaneously befuddled and gagging.

I have a glass of orange Hi-c in the car, coming home with my father. He advised me to dump it on the lawn so the sugars and vitamin(s) could help the patch of grass grow and conform with the rest of the lawn. Magically maybe, switch species to whatever the the majority is. I don't know if it worked... I'm going to bet not.

While the eggshells may sit there for the entire rest of this year, the shells in our lawn may have to be dug up and discarded by the time Spring rolls around.