I am completely and utterly beat. My eyelids feel heavy, and when I blink my eyes feel more at home---because they're closed. Thing is, I still have this ridiculous DNA doodling homework. Or something (it makes ZERO sense to me), and some math... and regardless of how I feel right now (and I feel as if my body cannot function) I know for sure that I'm not going to fall asleep at a decent hour. I know how it goes: I'll sit here doing nothing for another hour. I'll take a shower. I'll sit here some more. I might touch my homework (or I might just do nothing for a while longer and do my homework tomorrow morning at school). I may sit by the phone, wishing for a phone call. But I can't expect it. I can't expect anything much; but I can be sure that come tomorrow, I will be paralyzed with exhaustion. And it sucks. Major ass.
I have such bad habits. I need to break them.
Oh my goooooooooooooodneeeessssssssss I need sleep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
hopefully I'll actually do something about it this time?
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
mistaken for strangers
oh you wouldn't want an angel watching over
surprise, surprise they wouldn't wanna watch
another uninnocent, elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults
surprise, surprise they wouldn't wanna watch
another uninnocent, elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults
Thursday, February 19, 2009
I think you're all chimpanzees.
The cartoon can be found here: http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-talk-new-york-post-cartoonfeb19,0,3058822.story
So, here's the deal: The New York Post published a political cartoon depicting two police officers shooting a chimpanzee dead, alluding to the chimpanzee-ripping-off-face business from this week. Upon this sight, one of the officers says, "They'll have to find someone else to write the next stimulus bill."
Of course, many people, especially folks like Reverend Al Sharpton, are denouncing the comic, calling it a blatantly racist attack on President Barack Obama. There are some who are even going as far as boycotting the Post for publishing what they view as a travesty.
Do you remember this thing called the First Amendment? I'm pretty sure it mentioned this right to free speech and freedom of the press. Or something like that. I can't be sure, because I'm afraid this definition has lost its potency throughout the years, considering how easily offended folks are these days. So the artist who doodled this for the Post is perfectly in his rights to, well, doodle as he fancies, regardless of however distasteful his doodle might be.
This First Amendment thing also promises the right to petition or assemble as a group for a cause, and frankly, those driven mad by the measly cartoon are also in their rights to complain until the cows come home.
Too bad these protestors (black and white, by the way, before I get blasted for this one, too) are coming off as self righteous opportunists looking for a reason to lash out against an artist who might very well not have had any racial motivation to begin with.
Too bad these protestors aren't demonstrating against something that actually matters a little bit more than a cartoon.
Too bad these protestors aren't realizing that you don't fight racism by shutting down a cartoonist and boycotting a newspaper. You fight intolerance by being a better person yourself, to other people. You won't change minds by getting an artist fired (which, as of yet, hasn't happened and I am HAPPY that it hasn't).
Yes, the cartoon may or may not be symbolic of a struggle that is hundreds of years old, but come on. CHOOSE YOUR BATTLES. Waste your energy over something else, something truly worth believing in, or fighting for.
George Dubya, the genius that he is, has been drawn COUNTLESS TIMES as a chimp. And why? Because he actually looks like one. No outrage here.
Condi Baby has been drawn as Aunt Jemima, the freaking syrup woman, as well. No outrage here, either.
But at least this controversial cartoon has gotten people talking.
The funny thing is, the more people bitch about the chimp comic, the more people see it.
So kudos for getting something you despise so much attention.
Ciao.
So, here's the deal: The New York Post published a political cartoon depicting two police officers shooting a chimpanzee dead, alluding to the chimpanzee-ripping-off-face business from this week. Upon this sight, one of the officers says, "They'll have to find someone else to write the next stimulus bill."
Of course, many people, especially folks like Reverend Al Sharpton, are denouncing the comic, calling it a blatantly racist attack on President Barack Obama. There are some who are even going as far as boycotting the Post for publishing what they view as a travesty.
Do you remember this thing called the First Amendment? I'm pretty sure it mentioned this right to free speech and freedom of the press. Or something like that. I can't be sure, because I'm afraid this definition has lost its potency throughout the years, considering how easily offended folks are these days. So the artist who doodled this for the Post is perfectly in his rights to, well, doodle as he fancies, regardless of however distasteful his doodle might be.
This First Amendment thing also promises the right to petition or assemble as a group for a cause, and frankly, those driven mad by the measly cartoon are also in their rights to complain until the cows come home.
Too bad these protestors (black and white, by the way, before I get blasted for this one, too) are coming off as self righteous opportunists looking for a reason to lash out against an artist who might very well not have had any racial motivation to begin with.
Too bad these protestors aren't demonstrating against something that actually matters a little bit more than a cartoon.
Too bad these protestors aren't realizing that you don't fight racism by shutting down a cartoonist and boycotting a newspaper. You fight intolerance by being a better person yourself, to other people. You won't change minds by getting an artist fired (which, as of yet, hasn't happened and I am HAPPY that it hasn't).
Yes, the cartoon may or may not be symbolic of a struggle that is hundreds of years old, but come on. CHOOSE YOUR BATTLES. Waste your energy over something else, something truly worth believing in, or fighting for.
George Dubya, the genius that he is, has been drawn COUNTLESS TIMES as a chimp. And why? Because he actually looks like one. No outrage here.
Condi Baby has been drawn as Aunt Jemima, the freaking syrup woman, as well. No outrage here, either.
But at least this controversial cartoon has gotten people talking.
The funny thing is, the more people bitch about the chimp comic, the more people see it.
So kudos for getting something you despise so much attention.
Ciao.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
I wish I could just
put a big X through that last post. In fact, I'll just delete it.
So Valentine's Day was nice. Spent it with Peter. He's a sweetheart.
Hopefully one of these days he'll ask me to be his girlfriend. I'd like to let the world know, you know?
I have little or nothing else to say
see ya
So Valentine's Day was nice. Spent it with Peter. He's a sweetheart.
Hopefully one of these days he'll ask me to be his girlfriend. I'd like to let the world know, you know?
I have little or nothing else to say
see ya
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Every inch of me is bruised, bruised.
I don't even know what to write. I set out to write something tonight that would have some kind of profound meaning for me behind it but I guess I'm at a loss of inspiration. I don't feel like recalling (at length, at the least) the thoughts, the scents, the hugs, the feelings, the kisses, the all-nighters, the movies, the mellow lighting, the broken hearts, the tears, the cozy beds, the warmth and the cold of last year.
All the things I told myself I'd stop missing sooner or later, the things I have stopped missing, the things that I surely still do.
I guess I screwed up by starting this thing because I'm going to make myself absolutely miserable.
All the things I told myself I'd stop missing sooner or later, the things I have stopped missing, the things that I surely still do.
I guess I screwed up by starting this thing because I'm going to make myself absolutely miserable.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
So this is the new year
and I don't feel any different
Why do we celebrate the new year exactly, anyway? Is it a celebration of surviving another year without blowing ourselves up? Without crying ourselves to death, getting ditched by all our friends, overdosing, losing our sanity, getting into a serious car accident? Is it about the hope that in the coming year, we won't lose any limbs, or that perhaps we might finally fall head over heels, madly in love? Is it about the faith we hope doesn't get lost in the complicated mess that life becomes when things get rough? Is it the hope that because it's a new year, we'll at last have the willpower to lose those unnecessary pounds? Is it every single hope and dream of every single human being?
I think it's all of these things, not to mention about a thousand more.
To be honest I really thought the New Year must be another super narcissistic holiday, celebrated on behalf of the human race, congratulating us on not bringing forth a premature apocalypse but hey, that's me being a cynical bitch. I think writing this has made me realize that unlike birthdays, which serve no real purpose, and unlike President's Day, which nobody actually genuinely cares about anyway, the New Year is symbolic of the entire world coming together with little dreams for each smiling face and each pair of glazed, drunken eyes at midnight. It's about the resolutions that we probably won't keep. But it's also about the promises we hold our wills to. It's about remembering that there's somebody there besides you. It's about getting drunk off your ass and hitting on every Canadian guy around. It's about your unforgettable student trips. It's about the role you never thought you'd get, the lesson you never would've guessed you'd learn, every boy you end up kissing even though you promised yourself you wouldn't, it's about every drink you always told yourself you'd stay away from, every best friend you lost, every value that changed and every belief that stayed the same, every tear that fell and every laugh shared. It's about everything that did and didn't happen. It's about the friends you never could have imagined that you'd make. The friends you didn't know you'd keep. The people who suddenly mean the most. It's about everything that changed and everything that stayed the same. It's about taking what you learned and bringing it into 2009.
And it's also about a clean slate, a second chance. Or, a third or fourth if two's not your lucky number. It's about every little thing you tell yourself on New Year's Eve you'll change, or fix. It's about the person you promise yourself you'll become, and the person you actually end up being.
"It's one year closer to your death," to the utter pessimists, but it doesn't mean that to me. It's one year passed, a new one beginning.
It's making all of the mistakes you never planned on, and making all the right turns you'd hoped you'd make.
It's the hope that on this new year, things will turn out for the very best. And by the eve of the next, it's the hope that we didn't screw ourselves over completely that year. It's the hope we learned something. Some of that hope's bound to be recycled from the year before, because nothing's perfect. Some of those hopes are bound to be new. Where they might take us is a different story. But let's not look that far into the future, because there's a year in the making---in the now--- and we need to take that in.
Why do we celebrate the new year exactly, anyway? Is it a celebration of surviving another year without blowing ourselves up? Without crying ourselves to death, getting ditched by all our friends, overdosing, losing our sanity, getting into a serious car accident? Is it about the hope that in the coming year, we won't lose any limbs, or that perhaps we might finally fall head over heels, madly in love? Is it about the faith we hope doesn't get lost in the complicated mess that life becomes when things get rough? Is it the hope that because it's a new year, we'll at last have the willpower to lose those unnecessary pounds? Is it every single hope and dream of every single human being?
I think it's all of these things, not to mention about a thousand more.
To be honest I really thought the New Year must be another super narcissistic holiday, celebrated on behalf of the human race, congratulating us on not bringing forth a premature apocalypse but hey, that's me being a cynical bitch. I think writing this has made me realize that unlike birthdays, which serve no real purpose, and unlike President's Day, which nobody actually genuinely cares about anyway, the New Year is symbolic of the entire world coming together with little dreams for each smiling face and each pair of glazed, drunken eyes at midnight. It's about the resolutions that we probably won't keep. But it's also about the promises we hold our wills to. It's about remembering that there's somebody there besides you. It's about getting drunk off your ass and hitting on every Canadian guy around. It's about your unforgettable student trips. It's about the role you never thought you'd get, the lesson you never would've guessed you'd learn, every boy you end up kissing even though you promised yourself you wouldn't, it's about every drink you always told yourself you'd stay away from, every best friend you lost, every value that changed and every belief that stayed the same, every tear that fell and every laugh shared. It's about everything that did and didn't happen. It's about the friends you never could have imagined that you'd make. The friends you didn't know you'd keep. The people who suddenly mean the most. It's about everything that changed and everything that stayed the same. It's about taking what you learned and bringing it into 2009.
And it's also about a clean slate, a second chance. Or, a third or fourth if two's not your lucky number. It's about every little thing you tell yourself on New Year's Eve you'll change, or fix. It's about the person you promise yourself you'll become, and the person you actually end up being.
"It's one year closer to your death," to the utter pessimists, but it doesn't mean that to me. It's one year passed, a new one beginning.
It's making all of the mistakes you never planned on, and making all the right turns you'd hoped you'd make.
It's the hope that on this new year, things will turn out for the very best. And by the eve of the next, it's the hope that we didn't screw ourselves over completely that year. It's the hope we learned something. Some of that hope's bound to be recycled from the year before, because nothing's perfect. Some of those hopes are bound to be new. Where they might take us is a different story. But let's not look that far into the future, because there's a year in the making---in the now--- and we need to take that in.
"Drop the last year into the silent limbo of the past. Let it go, for it was imperfect, and thank God that it can go."-Brooks Atkinson
Anthem of the Year
"The Resolution" by Jack's Mannequin
And I don't need a witness
To know that I survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
I just need light
I need light in the dark as I search for the resolution
I need light in the dark as I search for the resolution
I need light, I need light
There's a lot that I don't know
There's a lot that I'm still learning
But I think I'm letting go
To find my body is still burning
And you hold me down
And you got me living in the past
Come on and pick me up
Somebody clear the wreckage from the blast
And I'm alive
And I don't need a witness
To know that I survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
I just need light
I need light in the dark as I search for the resolution
And the bars are finally closed
So I try living in the moment
'Til the moment it just froze
And I felt sick and so alone
I can hear the sound
Of your voice still ringing in my ear
I'm going underground
But you'll find me anywhere I feel
That I'm alive
And I don't need a witness
To know that I survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
I just need light
I need light in the dark as I search for the resolution
I need light in the dark as I search for the resolution
You hold me down
You hold me down
I'm alive
And I don't need a witness
To know that I survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
And I don't need a witness
To know that I survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
I just need light
I need light in the dark as I search for the resolution
I need light in the dark as I search for the resolution
I need light, I need light
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