My Public Diary.

My first quarter at UCI went pretty well, all things considering. I managed to drag myself to my Spanish class every week morning, save for four days. Fortunately there are decent restroom facilities en route- otherwise it would have been a very arduous ten minute walk. However, due to my unwillingness to ask for some sort of attendance leniency at the disabilities office, I was marked down two percent in said Spanish class for my absences, and consequently wound up with a B+ rather than an A-. At least my total GPA wound up being a 3.423, which I consider to be alright seeing as this was my first quarter at the University.

My life has changed in several ways since this summer- for those interested, I will highlight occurrences in several key aspects of my life:

Social life: I've tried to become an active member in a few clubs, but this has not yet happened due to me being sick to some extent all the time. I hung out with several people off campus, but did not go to any large parties or raves I was invited to. The most eventful outing I had was going to see a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show and drinking socially at a small Halloween party. Hopefully, this will change by the end of this year, because I really need to get out there more.

Love life: Hmm... I managed to offer to pretend to be someone's boyfriend, was some other girl's actual pretend boyfriend, and developed a liking for another girl (you know, the DUI one). The first one involves nothing emotional for me, the girl I actually pretended to be with eventually put the moves on me, then sent me a bunch of mixed messages and led me on, and I'm willing to just be friends with DUI girl- she is cool, just a little... unhinged at times. I am perfectly fine with starting anew in this department. Hopefully I won't repeat this cycle next quarter.

Drugs/Drinking: I got piss drunk alone in my apartment about a half dozen times, typically while watching some awesome sci-fi movie on my tiny television. Then I understood the reasons for me doing this are not the best, and that I should stop getting smashed because of my (probable) depression. During this process, I downed about 750ml of Bacardi 151 and most of my fifth of Jack. The smell of whiskey now makes my stomach turn, and I have moved on to other, more refined drinks. At least in my opinion.

Now that I've made some friends I trust at UCI, I don't think this will be a problem. I'll just have to pop a few Imodiums before I go out somewhere. Fortunately, I'm pretty laid back when I'm drunk. Unlike Manuel, as I recently discovered.

Oh yeah, and I smoked a bowl for the first time with some girls on Veteran's Day, but I just felt slightly depressed and nauseated from doing so. I probably wasn't in the right state of mind. But I will be in the near future!

Goals and Aspirations: I'm taking my first upper division history course next quarter (on gender in ancient Rome and Islam), and I'm going to apply for an internship through UCI's School of Humanities, which would necessitate improved academic performance on my part. It's paid, with a minimum wage of twelve dollars an hour, and would consist of ten to fifteen hours of work a week for the majority of my senior year. I hope I make it. 

I can't think of any other goals and aspirations for the time being, apart from better managing my colitis symptoms. I took a few Aspirins (on my mother's advice, despite knowing they wouldn't help matters) and have felt sicker ever since. I'm getting better though... although that crazy Arak Razzouk mixer I made a few nights ago may have delayed my recovery. My body hates anything that has to do with grapes.

So, in conclusion- this quarter was a mixed bag of goodies. But hey, my first semester at Saddleback sucked, and I dug myself out of that, right?

By the way Steph, I'm looking forward to the end of this decade- and your New Years party! I've decided to go to that instead of a giant rave in Los Angeles with a bunch of people I don't know, because frankly that would be way too stressful for me in my current physical state. And I know the people at your party.

So... yesterday I did a bunch of work, which included mowing the five lawns at my parent's new house, and the Sunell's lawn to boot. When I was mowing Scott's lawn, his dad went out shopping. Well, I had to go to the restroom, so I figured I would just use theirs. I open the door leading from the garage into the laundry room and guess what? The alarm was on! So, cue me frantically calling Scott and asking for the code to the alarm while sitting on the toilet amid a symphony of sirens.

But that wasn't the oopsies.

When I got back to my apartment yesterday evening, I decided to break out the Jack. Now: I hadn't eaten anything since early that afternoon, and I had done a lot of physical labor without drinking much water. I knew this was going to end badly for me, but I wanted to feel what it was like to actually get drunk. I had fifteen shot's worth of the Jack inside of an hour, and I quickly became more intoxicated than I've ever been before. It felt pretty great, actually. Soon afterwards I was compelled to take off all of my clothes and sleep face down on top of my sheets.

Well, I woke up this morning and was absolutely smashed. I mean, I was shitfaced; I may have even experienced an episode of triple vision, I don't know... the strange thing was, I was still able to send a coherent, grammatically intact text to my mom, telling her I wasn't going to drive over to the house today. I still felt pretty good, but I knew that I was not going to get away with this without paying for it. In an act of resignation, I said to myself (out loud), "uuuhhh. I'm drunk. I can't do anything," and fell back asleep.
I woke up two hours later and was still hammered, so I went to sleep. Then, at about noon, I was finally almost sober, and that's when the hangover hit. I didn't get a headache, but my stomach violently protested my attempt to fill it. It was so violent! It made Pulp Fiction play like an episode of Blues Clues... I was just now able to hold down some eggs and cereal. 

Oopsies!
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So I felt pretty horrible this morning, symptom wise. I feel like I'm back at square one and nothing is really working... sure, last night I had a microwaveable panini sandwich with bread (and also gluten) included, but it hasn't been just that. I've taken a nose dive during the past three weeks, and I'm just now starting to gain back any weight and restore my physique.

I remember when I first noticed something wasn't right with me- in fact, it was when we celebrated Stephanie's birthday last year; I had to use the restroom at that odd Target outlet off Los Alisos. It was one of the first times I can remember using a public restroom out of necessity. Now, exactly a year later, I feel much worse (although I now take better care of myself) than I did then... and my life is at a standstill professionally and personally. I could have had a job during all of this time, but I honestly can't devote myself to a task I'm paid for without feeling my best... or at least normal. And even if I suddenly disappeared tomorrow, it's going to take weeks, possibly months, for me to return to my former level of spontaneity.
So, school starts in a week, and I sincerely hope my condition improves in that space of time. I went to my pediatrician a few days ago (for my Menangitis shot), and she has Ulcerative Colitis as well... she wondered why I've been sick for a year straight, and referred me to her doctor. She's luckier than me, though; she was prescribed Asacol (four pills a day), and that put an end to her suffering. I on the other hand have tried taking 12 pills of Colazal a day, along with Prednisone, and several types of mesalamine and steroid enemas (gross, I know). Only 60 mg of Prednisone a day works, so I doubt he's going to do anything other than suggest I use remicade or some other intraveneous medication.

Dr. Skrenes' holistic treatment has had mixed results... sometimes I feel better, sometimes not, but otherwise I feel healthier and a bit more energetic. 

Aside from that, I'm almost moved into my little studio apartment. It's pretty cool, but since I have no roommates and college doesn't start for a week, I'm going bonkers. I hung out with these girls I knew from high school and we totally hit it off, but I still need to get out more, even if my colon disagrees. I guess the best way to start is by going to Stephanie's birthday party at 11:15 on Saturday morning!

Hello, Shannen, Tiffany, Steph and Delaney. Half of you know what's going on in my life right now. I've always wanted an ardent admirer/stalker in my life! But I knew that it would only be fun for the first twenty four hours, before it got old. Well, that's what's happening right now. Allow me to provide those who are not aware of this with a little back story:

Shannen and I, as you all know, have decided to take a break (at the very least) from our relationship. We're still good friends and there are no hard feelings; we won't be seeing each other much during this upcoming semester anyways, and since I'm going to have my own bachelor pad, I sort of want to get myself out there. You know, get some experience under my belt and try to get a more casual hook up buddy or something. So, I've been fishing around and, well... I think I hooked one. Not in a good way, though.

This girl I knew from high school finally got a facebook and we recently became "friends" on the site. I remember she was a little odd and consequently not very popular at Mission, but so was I, so I didn't judge her in that respect. We had a chat or two on the site, during which we caught up on stuff. She asked about the "it's complicated" status on my profile. I told her that I had recently broken up with my girlfriend for the time being, and that I was looking for something more casual in the future. I also mentioned that, as her friend Tom insisted on telling her back in high school, I definitely have a kinky side... but I'm pretty sure you all know that, I'm pretty open about it if you ask me directly.

So, she seemed interested in hanging out with me, and suggested we go bowling that weekend. I said sure, partly because I wanted to hang out with someone new and partly because I wanted to scope the situation out and see if I might pursue the whole hook up buddy thing with her. We went to Saddleback Lanes with her friend Tom, and with Jesse Campbell by my side. She also brought her somewhat odd sister, who is Tom's girlfriend at the moment. We had a blast, went back to Jesse's house to watch a bad horror movie, and then I dropped her off at her house on my way home. I suggested we hang out again before she goes up to UCLA, and she was okay with that. Cool, right?

Wrong...

That evening we were idly chatting on facebook again, and she wanted to show me a movie I hadn't seen. We agreed that I would come over sometime in the future and see "Run Lola Run." Nothing creepy about that. But the next morning, my stalker radar began registering a blip on screen, as if a meager tropical depression was slowly gathering strength in the Atlantic.

I gave her my cell phone number to text me about details for the Saddleback Lanes outing. That's reasonable, right? Well, the next morning (this past Monday morning), she calls me at 9:00 am. I didn't pick up, as I had just woken up. I listen to the message and it's creepy. (Steph, you thought it was funny, but... it was too odd to be funny even for me. I probably would think the same thing if a strange boy left a similar message on your phone, though). Basically, the message went something like this: "helloooooo Ryannn... I'm thinking you should do away with your plans for today and hang out with me. We'll watch "Run Lola Run..." Okay. I'm going to find you... I don't know where you live, but I am persistant and determined, so... yeah. Goodbye!" I don't even want to listen to it again because it gives me the heebie jeebies. I'm kind of a wierdo but I don't leave messages like that for my best friend, let alone someone I've hung out with once in the past two years.

I texted her after I heard the message, telling her that I was going to be busy today helping Steph's mom move things into her apartment. That was true, and not an excuse. She calls me again about thirty seconds later and insists that I'm just trying to get out of hanging out with her. I had to tell her four times that I was helping move stuff that day and that I would be unavailable before she reluctantly allowed me to say bye and hang up.

That evening, after I was done moving things, I texted her about how I was done moving and that my back hurt, to kind of reinforce that I was actually working. I didn't type it in correctly, so it said "doing oozing" instead of "done moving." Oops. She responded with "what?", to which I texted, "you know, I told you I was going to be moving stuff this morning?" Her response was, "I know, but I wasn't sure if that was legitimate or not." What? I cleared up the fact that I typed the first text incorrectly, right? She knew I was talking about moving after I made that clear with the third text. Why on Earth would I have lied about that?

What ensued was a very odd conversation, with me asking my friend Elizabeth what to write back:

Me: Why not? Why would I not be (legitimate)?
Her: You are quite the enigma.
Me: Okay... but you didn't answer my question.
Her: Because I am quite the enigma.
Me: That or you just don't want to answer relatively simple questions...
Her: Questions are never simple, babe.
Me: Well it's unfortunate you think that.

Silence for a few hours, until:

Her: I know the best song to strip to, but I'll never tell you. That would be too easy!
Me: Again with the random tangents!

This is the point where it stopped being amusing and started to be unsettling: she called me three times on Tuesday, left another really strange message, and then called me four times on Wednesday, and left another strange message. I didn't pick up any of those times, and texted things like "sorry, I'm having dinner at the moment," and "my parents are sleeping in the room next to me." Yeah, she called that late- after ten at night. She's called twice today (so far), although my phone was off this morning- I didn't want her to wake me up, like she had the previous two mornings.

I answered this afternoon about thirty minutes ago, and the conversation we had was barely coherent. She says she hasn't slept in days (I hope it isn't because she's building a shrine to me in her closet or something), and was rambling on about how she "downed a carton of tic tacs in her class today just for the hell of it" and other inane things. She even said several times "I'm going insane!" I told her I was busy moving and packing, and said "okay, well I'm going to go now... bye... I'm hanging up now," with the only response being what I assume was exasperated laughing on her end of the line. I'm not kidding.

Other fragments of conversational oddities:

Her: That's right- I'm virtually incapable. I'm an overly zealous perfectionist, truth be told. I just hide it immensely well.
Me: Really now?
Her: I can be relatively naughty sometimes. Especially since no one expects it. I am your worst nightmare.
Me: My worst nightmare? I can only hope you're kidding.
Her: I'm an incredibly smart gal and everything I do is deliberate. I'm sweeter than cake and only want to make others happy especially those I can trust.
Me: That's good to know...
Her:Tell me, Ryan, am I making you happy?
(I didn't want to say no, so I just said this instead:)
Me: Uh, sure, I guess... you're keeping me somewhat amused.
Her: Well you better hold on, because I plan on making your head spin!

Suffice it say she is no longer on my list of fuck buddy candidates.

Any thoughts from the reading audience?

P.S.: Shannen, you are so much more rational than I originally gave you credit for. Just saying!

I would not simply take a pill to exercise- by doing so I would become suicidally depressed. The time I normally spend exercising would be used instead to dwell on my abject laziness and subsequent worthlessness.

I have recently begun to invest a great deal of time doing stop motion videos with my friend Scott. Nerve wracking and frustrating activities have always appealed to us, and stop motion seems to possess just the right level of inherent masochism to tickle our collective fancy. In fact, it is in some ways more forgiving than my other abhorrently self-punishing hobby (I engrave on clayboard occasionally), in that you can make as many mistakes as you want and still produce a satisfactory video. All it takes is a readjustment of the set, or a reshoot of the scene.

Of course, when a twenty second video with a few moving objects and cardboard props takes several painstaking hours to complete, having to reshoot can cause you to lament your very existence. I honestly don't know how professional stop motion animators have achieved such impressive levels of technical expertise- the amount of patience required to complete such works is formidable, bordering on abnormal. Watching Wallace and Gromit shorts is pretty discouraging now... how on Earth has Nick Park managed not to abandon the art of stop motion entirely while making those?

Scott and I, with occasional help from the Brown siblings, have managed to pump out a few short stop motion clips. I must say, over the past four or five days our technical abilities have grown exponentially; our first video is a two second clip of a cell phone rotating on the floor, and now we're constructing several characters from non drying plasticine clay. I plan on creating some better props today as well. In time, Scott and I will release a collection of the videos we've created. Most revolve around "art man" and his monochrome cardboard world, and typically end with his death, be it from falling, hanging, drinking some mystery substance... the list goes on.

Anyways, I think I've found an awesome hobby for this quarter at UCI. I'm going to try to make a somewhat impressive video or two, with voice acting and everything. Also, I will turn 21 this October 27th, so I can buy as much booze as I want to drown my frustrations in!

Also, here is some advice for anyone out there (among my three or so friends on this site) who have been inspired by this raceous monologue of mine:

1: You should use a still camera, not a video camera. Video camera bad!

2: Unless you have a remote triggering device for said camera, than you need a good camera man behind the lens that clicks when told (read: doesn't text too much).

3: Being a camera man is not as simple as you would think: you don't just press a button- for stop motion, you have to check for shadows, undesired set and character movements, hands/body parts on screen, and occasionally compare the current shot to previous frames.

4: Be sure you get along very well with the person/people you're working with. Scott and I have been best friends for the better part of two decades and we still want to kill one another after two or three hours of shooting. That's getting better, though.

5: It is very difficult to work alone; conversely, it is more difficult to work when too many people are around. Scott and I have agreed that nothing pisses us off more, and have vowed not to have more than one friend over during our shooting. It isn't that we don't like our friends! We love you. It's just really, really frustrating having a group of people watch you shoot frames while simultaneously blurting out ideas... and it drives us to binge drink in Scott's room when we're "editing the video" after about ten minutes of enduring this. I'm sorry, but this must be said!

6: Aside from the obvious (scissors, etc.), our essential tools for the job so far: for posable art models, packing tape and fishing line are a must. For plasticine models, exacto-knives are great for knicking off corners of clay bricks, and you should wear gloves when you're posing the figures. I didn't do that for our latest video, and I smeared green clay all over everything that was a different color.

7. Also, I've found that plasticine models are most forgiving at room temperature. The first time I tried shooting a video with a plasticine figure (I had it do a somersault), it was 80-82 degrees inside, and keeping his position for any length of time was very difficult.

I'm sure I'll add on to this as I go along... goodbye for now!

Of all manners of provender available on this planet Earth, I would like nothing more than to indulge in the lively cuisine of the Inuit peoples, situated in the northern latitudes of the American and Eurasian continents.

 I had to include the above title, as I believe it is the most appropriate alternate description for that strange show I watched on ABC. You know, the one about the "worst case scenario" with climate change, malthusian pressure and loss of farmland? Yeah...

So, I finished my last semester with a 3.75 GPA, earning a B in what is quite possibly the most boring class I've taken so far- American Literature: 1864- present. I read SO MUCH in this class, and most of the material was enjoyable and inspiring, but my professor had absolutely no passion for teaching. We were told to read several stories every few days, and answer the questions he handed out the class before. He did not stray from this path once. Boring!

The following is a list, in order, of all we had to read and analyze:

-Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself".
-Emily Dickinson, "I taste a liquor never brewed", "Wild nights - Wild nights!", "There's a certain slant of light", "I felt a Funeral, in my Brain", "Because I could not stop for Death", "I heard a Fly buzz - when I died", "A narrow Fellow in the Grass", "Apparently with no surprise".
-Mark Twain, "The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County", Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.
-Henry Adams, The Education of Henry Adams Ch. XXV The Dynamo and the Virgin.
-Ambrose Bierce, "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge".
-Native American Chants and Songs (collection of untitled chants and songs. Very repetitious).
-Henry James: "Daisy Miller: A Study".
-Sara Orne Jewett, "A White Heron". 
-Kate Chopin, "The Storm".
-Booker T. Washington, "Up from Slavery".
-Charles Chesnutt, "The Goophered Grapevine".
-W.E.B. Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folk.
-Charlotte Perkins Gilman, "The Yellow Wall-paper".
-Edith Wharton, "Roman Fever".
-Theodore Dreiser, Sister Carrie.
-Zitkala Sa, "Impressions of an INdian Childhood", "My Mother", "The Legends", "The Coffee Making", "The Big Red Apples", "The School Days of an Indian Girl", "The Land of Red Apples", "The Cutting of my Long Hair", "Iron Routine", "Four Strange Summers", "Incurring My Mother's Displeasure."
-Stephen Crane, "The Open Boat".
-Jack London, "To Build a Fire."
-Edwin Arlington Robinson, "Richard Cory", "Miniver Cheevy", "Mr. Flood's Party".
-Willa Cather, My Antonia.
-Robert Frost, "Mending Wall", "After Apple-Picking", "The Road Not Taken", "Fire and Ice", "The Figure a Poem Makes".
-Sherwood Anderson, From Winesburg, Ohio.
-Carl Sandburg, "Chicago", "Fog", "Cool Tombs", "Grass".
-Wallace Stevens, "The Emperor of Ice-Cream", "A Postcard from the Volcano", "Of Modern Poetry".
-William Carlos Williams, "The Red Wheelbarrow", "This Is Just to Say", "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus".
-Ezra Pound, "In a Station of the Metro".
-Hilda Doolittle, "Helen".
-Marianne More, "Poetry".
-T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock".
-E. E. Cummings, "in Just-", "Buffalo Bill's", "The Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls", "anyone lived in a pretty how town".
-Zora Neale Hurston, "How It Feels to Be Colored Me".
-Jean Toomer, Cane, Seventh Street.
-F. Scott Fetzgerald, "Winter Dreams".
-John Dos Passos, "From U.S.A.".
-William Faulkner, "Barn Burning".
-Hart Crane "At Melville's Tomb".
-Ernest Hemingway, "The Snows of Killimanjaro".
-John Steinbeck, "The Leader of the People".
-Langston Hughes, "The Negro Speaks of Rivers", "The Weary Blues", "Mulatto", "One of the pillars of the temple fell".
-Countee Cullen, "Yet Do I Marvel", "Incident".
-Richard Wright, "The Man Who Was Almost a Man".
-Robert Warren, "Bearded Oaks".
-Theodore Roethke, "Cuttings", "My Papa's Waltz", "Dolor", "The Waking".
-Elizabeth Bishop, "The Fish".
-Robert Hayden, "Those Winter Sundays".
-Randall Jarrell, "The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner".
-Robert Lowell, "For the Union Dead".
-Gwendolyn Brooks, "We Real Cool".
-Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five.
-Flannery O'Connor, "Good Country People".
-John Cheever, "The Swimmer".
-John Updike, "Separating".
-Raymond Carver, "Cathedral".
-Alice Walker, "Everyday Use".

That's right, I read all of these poems, short stories, novelettes, novellas and novels for one class that was three units. It took me a half hour to look up my assignment sheets and type out the list! Oh well.

I've decided to write a few original stories of my own this summer, it's going quite interestingly so far. At least it's something to do. Maybe I'll even submit one or two to a magazine and try to make a little money.

The following is a brief summary of my visit to the Goddess Temple in Irvine for my "witchcraft" class. Enjoy if you dare...  
         
          Last Tuesday, I visited the Goddess Temple with two fellow classmates of mine, Brian and Trevor. Trevor's girlfriend Kim, a very spiritual and curious individual, also came along. The establishment was nestled amid a collection of nondescript commercial offices near the John Wayne airport. Large passenger jetliners flew directly overhead on a regular basis, adding to the somewhat surreal aura of the surrounding environment. I knew we had arrived at our destination when I espied a stack of magazines with holistic, shamanic healers on the cover. It erased all doubt in my mind as to whether or not we had found the Temple.

          For a while, Brian, Kim, Trevor and I were the only people around, as we idly lounged by the front door. We exchanged stories and took turns exploring the area, eagerly anticipating the festivities that were to take place later that night. After a half hour or so, a portly, bespectacled man in a work-suit (I do not remember his name) ambled towards us and introduced himself. He was soon followed by a woman decked out in an entire outfit for the occasion, complete with a stylish, albeit stereotyped, pointed witches hat. By the time the Temple opened for the night, more than a dozen people had formed a line, waiting to be blessed before entering. For this, I stood in front of aforementioned bespectacled man, who held a large amount of burning sage in his hand. I was instructed to close my eyes and hold out my arms while facing him, and then to turn around with my arms still outstretched. During this, the man stated a brief monologue, much like a pastoral prayer, wishing health, wellness and other good graces upon my person. After finishing this particular ritual, he kindly motioned for me to enter the abode. I turned my back on the deep, tangerine hues cast by the setting sun and stepped inside. 
         
          The interior of the temple was very dimly lit- it took several seconds for my eyes to adjust, despite it being late evening outside. I was directed to a desk by the doorway, where I was politely asked to pay an eight dollar entry fee and provide an e-mail address so that I could be contacted. The fee I happily paid, but I declined to the latter request- not due to a lack of consideration on my part so much as the fact that I never check my e-mail. I followed Brian and Trevor into the area behind the front room, which was richly furnished and lavishy decorated. Numerous masks and figurines occupied the walls and shelves towards the far right corner, their features heavily accented in the exceedingly low level of lighting. A collection of floor cushions lay below the wall decorations and behind a pair of low tables supporting several candles and an ornate set of teacups, the latter set on a silver platter. I did away with my Nikes and sat down on the surprisingly comfortable mats, joining my fellow brethren in conversation. 
         
          The main ritual being performed that night, a celebration of fertility and the coming of the Summer months, did not begin until eight o'clock. The guests filtered into the back room where the event was to be held; a large space with beige walls and a high evergreen ceiling. There were collections of related items in each of the four corners of the room, which I immediately ascertained were meant to symbolize the four corners of the Earth- north, south, east and west. The paying practicioners, of which there were thirty two, formed a circle around a table occupying the center, on which several candles, books and chalices were placed. The leader of the ritual, Lady Debra, called up the corners with her assistants, while the melodic drone of beatless ambient music emanated from a set of stereo speakers. Every once in a while, a sound like a great gust of wind or swell of water would occur; it took me several minutes to realize that the noise came from the airplanes landing at John Wayne.

          After the corner invocation was completed, we formed two separate rings around Lady Debra at the center table and drew tarot cards. The inner circle rotated around, and showed those in the outer circle the tarot cards they chose from a wicker basket- those with matching cards were paired up as "lovers" for the night. The newly united couples took turns jumping over a fire, very similar to the one I hurled myself over in the beltaine ritual that took place in the Saddleback quad a week prior. We then sat facing our respective partners and took turns asking one another questions about our livelihoods, our dreams and aspirations, and our backgrounds. This was done while braiding miniature bells into strings of yarn, which we handed to each other after collectively wishing for the well being of our makeshift spouses. To conclude the gathering proceedings, we drank a delightful rasberry/cranberry blend of juice from the plastic plastic chalices grouped atop the table, finally applauding Lady Debra and her assistants for their commendable efforts. 

          With the final formalities completed, I glanced at my watch, and was utterly astonished to discover that it was already after ten o'clock- I had lost complete track (or rather, sense) of time. Afterward, the majority of the parishioners lingered in the front room, mingling with one another and sampling the collective stock of food set about a large wooden table. My group decided to stay around as well, and I introduced myself to several people sitting contentedly on the floor cushions. Everyone, without exception, were very congenial and welcoming, and I left the Temple feeling very satisfied to have participated in such fascinating activities.

So these are the two poems I posted on "poetssociety," a group celebrating poet's month or whatever it is (the month of April, which I thought was Autism Awareness Month. Oh well). The first one I typed out in about twenty minutes randomly. It just sort of hit me, so to speak. The second poem, as pretty much all of you know, was framed by me and was a gift to my history professor at Saddleback. 

Those Back Roads I Live By

The back roads I live by are incessantly hungry.
They gobble up cheerful teenagers to no end.
They are like terrifying monsters, or mythical beings-
but instead of using hands to pick at cars, they use trees.

After the initial feastings, the entrails (both mechanical and organic)
          are strewn about the asphalt like the work of a dadaist master.
By the next day, the buzzards, news reporters and coroners
          usually devour what remains.

When I see the pictures of the mayhem in the newspaper,
I play a game with myself-
I call it, “guess the car model!”
Despite my formidable knowledge of automobiles,
I don’t always win.

I’ll drive by the locations a few days later,
minding the starving, gnarled trunks and their booby traps-
those blind corners and reverse camber angle turns,
and the trash cans and mailboxes by the driveways,
and I wonder if I could be next.

But I know I’ll never fall prey to the their devious contraptions;
my car may not have those newfangled doohickeys…
like air bags,
or traction control,
or disc brakes,
or shoulder belts,
but it has a wonderful exhaust system, and besides: I’m twenty.



My Thoughts on the 1910 Mexican Revolution

The Mexican Revolution!
...was simply an administrative overhaul;
with bits of succulent bloodshed
sprinkled on the moist cupcake of modest upheaval.
You see, Diaz over baked his cupcake
and used salt instead of sugar.
It was obvious that a new cupcake had to be made:
a delicious and satisfying pastry of change.
Diaz was an asshole.

So let's see how many comments I get for these- I already have a total of two outside comments for the Mexican Revolution one!

 I've had an eventful week, that's for sure. I can't believe I haven't posted anything since last weekend! Of course, that was because I had an awesome time down at USD with Shannen (as anybody and everybody able to see this is no doubt aware of). The masquerade ball was totally amazing; I met some of Shannen's friends, made them laugh with my voice acting and exuberant dancing, and I felt great, probably better than Elizabeth by the end of the night. My mask held up pretty well, too- I was surprised. I still have enough rhinestones to decorate my car, or perhaps my house, so if you ever need rhinestones, text me about it or something.

The icing on the cake was the fact that I felt pretty good the next morning. Maybe that was because Shannen and I shared the common room couch that night. I don't normally employ little virtual facial expressions there, but rest assured that if I did, I would have inserted a smiley face at the end of that previous sentence. Or perhaps one of those winking faces... but alas, I'm too uptight in that regard.

Also, on Monday Stephanie and I tried out some of the drink recipes in this wonderfully nostalgic book titled, "Mary Meade's Recipes for the Electric Blender." It was published in 1952, and is an amusing read to say the least- so many unintentional sexual euphemisms! The recipes are great for the most part, save for the sauerkraut smoothie one... I'm not sure if I'm going to try that anytime soon- I'll save that for the smoothie making masters of the world.

I'm going to go back down to visit exactly a week from now, too! I have a bunch of essays to do before the end of the semester, five to be more precise, so hopefully I can finish off two or three of the smaller threats on my radar screen before returning. And I'm going to bring a bunch of pineapple juice, lemon juice, a honeydew melon, orange juice and other miscellaneous ingredients for smoothie making goodness. No sauerkraut, though! And then of course I'm just going to have to share the couch with you again, Puffin. I'll just have no choice.

Also, do you guys think that I should add more friends on this site? It's pretty uneventful when you only have four other people, and only the Cravens sisters actually write new things in a consistent basis (not that not doing that is a bad thing or anything...)

Your Ultimate Purity Test 2.0 Score Is...
	Your Score:	Average For All Users	Average For All ( total)
Dating	50%	34.26%	Dated seriously
Self-Lovin'	59.09%	60.77%	Master of your domain
Sex Drive	97.62%	75.01%	Monks are envious
Straightness	55.56%	39.2%	Done the nasty, but not creatively
Gayness	98.15%	77.83%	Repressed, are we?
Dominant	91.67%	86.54%	Afraid to cross at "Don't Walk" signs
Submissive	96.83%	86.86%	Submits to no one... almost
Fucking Sick	96.94%	89.75%	Refreshingly normal
Shamelessness	100%	77.32%	Has yet to see self in mirror
Total Score	85.55%	73.62%
Take The Ultimate Purity Test 2.0 and see how you match up! (By The Ferrett)

Hmm... lots of stuff has happened since I've returned from the mystic Salinas valley. I've been accepted to UC Davis, so that means that every UC I've applied to has accepted me save for UCLA, which has yet to respond. That's all fine and dandy, but I'm surprisingly nonplussed by the good news- I simply see it as a task that has largely been fulfilled. I suppose I feel less like a "basement dweller" knowing that I have the discipline to stick it out in community college for two years without going crazy. I just need to keep my nose to the grindstone for five more weeks. At the moment I have As or near As in all of my classes, but I would expect no less from myself at the moment- my workload is nothing compared to last semester (I only have about 40 pages of essays to do) and I'm feeling a lot better. I've tapered off my Prednisone once again, and I'm doing fine. I'm beginning to regain my more typical, chiseled physique around my midsection, and I'm not running out of breath as quickly when I walk up hills. I'm going to work out doubly hard tomorrow before going to the Berry's house.

I should be doing a demonstration project for my feminism course in two hours and twenty seven minutes, but I'm going to save that for next week. After all, I'm only two points away from a perfect score in that class, without extra credit. Hopefully we will talk about something more user friendly than genital mutilation this week. That being said, such a topic, however disturbing and repulsive it may be, necessitates discussion. Maybe we'll have a guest speaker tonight- so far we've had an Orange County police captain, an extremely spiritual woman who "believes in the power of the goddess" and that Abrahamic theology has disenfranchised and marginalized females, and a transgendered couple come in and speak with us, and all were very interesting. They've been the icing on the cake, so to speak.

I'm especially looking forward to this weekend, because I'm going down to San Diego to be with Shannen! We're going to a masquerade ball on Saturday night at a nearby Hilton, which should be fun. Seeing as USD is a Catholic institution, I'm assuming it isn't going to be like that get together depicted in the Kubrick film Eyes Wide Shut... just kidding! It's so true, though. I bought a really cheap mask at Costume Castle for the occasion, hopefully I possess the level of craftsmanship and creativity necessary to spruce it up a little. Afterwards I'm going to spend the night with Shannen in her dorm, which I am sure will be a novel experience. I think I'll feel well enough to complete the challenge... I'm pretty sure we'll be sharing the couch with her in the main room, which I'm fine with because it is a very comfortable couch. I'll be sure to bring some nice underwear with me! (On a side note, Shannen, I'll totally sleep with my mask on if you think I look hot in it!)

So yeah, this weekend is going to be awesome, aside from me having to write out an article critique or two for history class. I'm pretty sure hanging out with Shannen outweighs that, though. Haha who am I kidding? Of course it does, because you're awesome Puffin! Not to mention gorgeous...

This weekend was quite hectic for me... on Friday morning I drove up to Salinas with my sister and my mom. We barreled up the I-5, and then turned on our Garmin about 250 miles in. It instructed us to take a detour through this really scary looking town called Coalinga (complete with a Perko's Diner!), and then drive along highway 198, which is my new favorite road in the world. It's four times as long as Santiago Canyon road, two lanes all the way, and it goes through some of the most scenic country ever.  Seriously, I saw everything from massive valleys to forested mountains to majestic, 3,000 foot views of the ocean and everything in between.The locals fly along it, too; this tanker in front of us was completely out of sight by the end, when we joined up with highway 101. When you and I check out Santa Barbara in a few weeks, Steph, we're going to drive along this road. It isn't too far out of the way, we'll take the five up or something. Unless you just don't want to do that, in which case I'm alright- I understand completely... that you don't know what you're missing, that is!

So we "camped out" at this Marriot Residence Inn, which came complete with a kitchenette and two bedrooms and bathrooms. It was pretty nice, considering it was about $150 a night. I bought an entire block of smoked cheddar cheese, a can of overstuffed Ravioli (that I had to cook on the stove top and eat out of a metal pot because the bowls were too small), a six pack of minute maid Orange juice bottles, a half gallon of milk, a ten pack of assorted General Mills cereals and a personal sized cup of mango shebert ice cream. I was able to eat and drink all of this in addition to eating out at I-Hop and Taco Bell over the course of two days.

So on Saturday we drove up to Santa Cruz, which meant going through Castroville, "The Artichoke Capital of the World." The town is the artichoke's answer to Gilroy and their zest for anything and everything garlic. There are artichoke restaurants, artichoke inns, and artichoke festivals. The scariest part of it all is this; I'm pretty sure I could live in that town for the rest of my life and be much happier than I am in Orange County. The same goes for Salinas and Santa Cruz, I think... they have this festive/laid back feel to them. In Orange County, most people wouldn't celebrate fruit (save for a few choice exhibits at the O.C. Fair), but up there, it's something worth making an amusement park out of (I'm speaking of Bonfante Gardens, which we didn't have time to go to. I have a brochure of it with the happiest looking kid I've ever seen on the front, though).

So, we got to UCSC by the afternoon, and I was amazed at how spread out and scenic the entire campus was. We met up with Juan and went on a tour, which was very long and not very exceptional, but whatever. I was impressed with how large the recreation facilities are, and the fact that they look over the ocean and everything... it was like summer camp on steroids. I can definitely see myself going there, I would over UC Davis and Merced for sure. The only thing is, it's too far from home, and from Dr. Rahman!

Afterwards I visited my cousin Jill, who lives in a studio apartment in Santa Cruz and goes to UCSC. I got to see her massive phoenix tattoo on her side, which was pretty well done. My mom didn't approve of it as much, because thinks Jill is too gorgeous to get tattoos... those were her words, anyways. When we were talking with her, her ex called, and she had to tell him three times that she had her cousins and aunt over, and that she would call him back. It was pretty funny. The entire conversation from her was this: "hey, my cousins and aunt are here, can I call you back? ...Okay, but can I call you back? My cousins and aunt are here right now... That's great, but I'm going to have to call you back okay? Bye." Apparently he was going on about how his "life has really changed for the better." Apparently he's still completely in love with her, in a sort of scary, clingy, stalkery way.

So needless to say, Saturday was very tiring... my mom and sister went to Marie Calendars for dinner, which I hate, so I pigged out in the hotel room instead. I put on Catch Me If You Can, ate my ravioli out of the metal pot provided me by the housekeeping staff, and did a bunch of push ups. Oh, and I was texting you, Shannen, because you were in the ER. Just as a side note! Then I studied the poets I was assigned for this Tuesday in my literature class, one of which was named, oddly enough, Elizabeth Bishop (she wrote some pretty brilliant poems), and went to bed.

So we headed back down to the southland that morning, but not before stopping at the National Steinbeck Musem, which was awesome! I learned a lot about Steinbeck and his life and everything, about his rise to literary fame and glory, about how he became completely disenchanted with fiction after winning the 1962 Nobel Prize in literature, etc. etc. etc. I didn't get anything from the gift shop, save for an awesome iron-on patch for Mario. I think I'm going to give him a copy of Of Mice and Men, force him to read it in whatever way I can, and then give him the patch. I'll read it aloud to him if need be. The patch in question looks very cool, and will serve as a nice compliment to his punk oriented overcoat theme- it's more punk than The Dead Kennedys!

So yeah... that's all that happened, and I got back in one piece, amazingly enough. My colon didn't go bonkers! This is a good sign.

 A lot happened in my life this weekend: I thought I may have had mono, but it turns out that Shannen just had a cyst on her neck; my mother and sister rescued a chinchilla, which is now lounging in our downstairs bathroom, about four feet away from me at the moment; I read Hemingway's "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" and Steinbeck's "The Leader of the People" in nothing but boxers this afternoon, sitting on a small metal chair in the middle of my backyard lawn; in a decidedly decadent financial maneuver my parents have resolved to purchase a second house, feeding into our family's collective desire to acquire as many cars as possible- which includes picking up that 1978 Fiat 1800 Spider at some time in the future; I discovered that the Mantis Shrimp  may be the most bad-ass creature I have read about to date. So yeah... I feel as if I've done nothing amidst this chaos- it's almost as if I was sitting idly by, vacantly staring at a bunch of printed words in a book on the back lawn all weekend as life-altering events swirled around my turgid, listless body. On a related note, I watched Christopher Nolan's 2000 film Memento last night with about ten other people, which completely discounts the previously stated exaggeration and only adds to the atmosphere of total disconnection I am experiencing at the moment.

Reading "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" has definitely inspired me to write more, before I die of some gangrenous infection in the African savanna, even if I didn't fight in World War I (you should read the story yourself- then you'll know what I'm talking about). "The Leader of the People" is also a riveting piece, and seeing as the work's author was the one and only John Steinbeck, it takes place in- guess!- the Salinas valley. I don't believe I'll get around to writing something original on a literary plane of creativity higher than, say, this livejournal entry for several weeks, however- I've just discovered that I need to write 36 pages of essays by the end of the semester. I will try my hardest to establish some sort of precedence for that pestilent mound of assigned work over my more frivolous storytelling pursuits. This entry serves as a warm up exercise when it comes to typing inane statements off the top of my head the relate my own experiences, something that will come in handy for my feminism and "witchcraft" classes in the following weeks. 

Speaking of "witchcraft," I found it amusing when Mrs. Berry responded to my mention of the class with, "witchcraft-bad! That's what the Bible says." I was tempted to respond with, "well then you can just call me a witch and I'll just call you a Bible thumper, because one term is just as misleading and unbecoming as the other." Meh... maybe I should write a treatise on the damaging entity that is Americanized Protestantism and non-denominational Christianity. Of course, the most important thing I've learned in Anthropology 13 is this: theological practices in general are irrational, unfounded and unsubstantiated... and that is why they have been integral to the survival of the human species. It is fascinating to study the topic from a culturally neutral perspective. But I digress...

Oh, and one more thing: I'm so glad you're going to be alright, Shannen! And I can't wait until Thursday!

[Marital Status]	I wear no rings.
[Shoe size]	Very tiny, considering my height and all... I show others this in very creative ways.
[Parents still together]	They are, amazingly enough.
[Siblings]	I have a younger sister who is sometimes amazing, sometimes not.
[Pets]	I have Brown Dog and Ancient Dog at the moment, and in the near future I might get a chinchilla.
FAVORITES
[Color]	Different surroundings and situations call for different hues, shades and tints.
[Number]	I really don't have one.
[Animal]	The Platypus- the hybrid creature from down under!
[Drinks]	Orange juice, and most types of Naked Juice.
[Soda]	Sidral Mundet!
[Book]	Some of the stories from 1001 Nights are riveting.
[Flower]	I don't really have a favorite of these, either. Do Venus Fly Traps count?
DO YOU
[Color your hair?]	No.
[Twirl your hair?]	Only if it's long enough and I'm home alone.
[Have tattoos?]	Nope.
[Have Piercings?]	Negative.
[Cheat on tests/homework?]	Not on tests, no. But as far as homework is concerned, I have two words: Mr. Enge.
[Drink/Smoke?]	I do not, and probably never will.
[Like roller coasters?]	I do, especially the loopy ones.
[Wish you could live somewhere else?]	Yeah, sometimes... maybe back east.
[Want more piercings?]	Um... no.
[Like cleaning?]	I like cleaning the kitchen, especially washing the dishes. Other than that, not really.
[Write in cursive or print?]	I write in cursive, at times it is messy, at other times it is very ornate.
[Own a web cam?]	A crappy one, yes.
[Know how to drive?]	I do, yes. I can drive very well if there are no other cars around.
[Own a cell phone?]	I have one of those, too.
[Ever get off the damn computer?]	Yes, at times.
HAVE U EVER
[Been in a fist fight?]	No, I try to avoid putting myself in such situations.
[Considered a life of crime?]	Yes, and I believe I would be pretty successful at it if I decided to choose such an unsavory career path.
[Considered being a hooker?]	Nah... too many diseases out there!
[Lied to someone?]	I have.
[Been in love?]	I'm still not entirely sure what love is... that may change, though.
[Made out with JUST a friend?]	Never ever ever ever. I take these things very seriously, probably too seriously.
[Been in lust?]	Yes.
[Used someone]	I try not to, but sometimes it's just too convenient.
[Been used?]	Yes, but usually I choose to be used for stuff that I don't care about... like school projects.
[Been cheated on?]	Nope.
[Kicked someone in the nuts?]	I can't ever remember doing this.
[Stolen anything?]	I stole a pack of gum from Ralphs when I was around six years old. I hid it behind the franklin stove in our living room.
[Held a gun]	Yes.
CURRENTS
[Current clothing]	A tasteful collared shirt, American Outfitter boot cut pants, and nothing else.
[Current mood]	Satisfied.
[Current taste]	Sexy.
[What you currently smell like]	Like old spice.
[Current hair]	Mussed... just how the ladies like it.
[Current thing I ought to be doing]	Schoolwork.
[Current cd in stereo]	None- I just finished listening to Ali Hassan Kuban's "Walk like a Nubian" release.
[Last book you read]	Full book? Story of O. I more recently read William Faulkner's Barn Burning... the people in that story remind me of my neighbors.
[Last movie you saw]	The 40 Year Old Virgin- hilarious!
[Last thing you ate]	Pork chops and a bunch of other stuff.
[Last person you talked to on the phone]	My dad.
[Do drugs?]	I do corticosteroids and mesalamine at the moment. Not to be confused with anabolic steroids and mescaline.
[Believe there is life on other planets?]	Yes, I believe this is a given.
Remember your first love?]	Not really...
[Still love him/her?]	I wouldn't know.
[Read the newspaper?]	Yes.
[Have any gay or lesbian friends?]	I do, some of them have the hots for me, and I take it as a compliment.
[Believe in miracles?]	No.
[Do well in school?]	I do well enough.
[Wear hats]	Nope.
[Hate yourself?]	I despise certain aspects of my persona.
[Have an obsession?]	Not at the moment, I try not to become obsessed with things or people.
[Collect anything?]	I do: I collect neon signs, coca cola bottles, antique radios and scales, and alien dolls.
[Have a best friend?]	Yes, and I refer to him as my husband.
[Close friends?]	I have a small circle of close friends, people I like to hang out with and would like to see more often.
[Like your handwriting?]	I love it!
[Care about looks]	I would say I do more so than ever before, but not to the point of being unreasonable about it.
LOVE LIFE
[First crush]	I don't even know...
[First kiss]	...Amber Hedrick.
[Do you believe in love at first sight?]	Nah.
[Do you believe in "the one?"]	Again, no.
[Are you a tease?]	I think I'm more of a tease than I would like to believe.
[Too shy to make the first move?]	It depends- nowadays I'm thinking that, if you're not comfortable enough to make a move, than the person you like may not be right for you at the moment, because then you won't feel comfortable communicating with them on more important issues.
ARE U A
[Daydreamer]	Only if the class I'm in is really boring.
[Bitch/Asshole]	I can be a major asshole if I so desire.
[sarcastic]	Yes, though my sarcasm is more endearing than, say, Jesse Campbells... and more moist.
[Angel]	A part of me is.
[Devil]	A part of me is.
[Shy]	In certain situations I can be extremely shy.
[Talkative]	In certain situations I can be extremely talkative.
CREATE YOUR OWN! - or - GET PAID TO TAKE SURVEYS!

So Spring Break is over. It was, for the most part, boring and unproductive, save for one glaring exception: being with Shannen, of course! Since you're basically the only one I've friended, I guess I can just refer to you as you. I'm still thinking of a pet name, though. I still like "mam" more than anything else! And I love how much you don't want me to call you "honeybuns."

Anyways (this is off topic, I know, but I have to say it), I had a crappy night last night. I ate this really fibrous cinnamon cereal yesterday, and I had to go a lot more than usual that evening. I couldn't hold in my mesalamine enema for the target eight hours. I lasted maybe five minutes before I had to sprint to the powder room, and that was at two in the morning. Not fun... I'm better now, but I need to avoid Kashi at all costs because it's the devil. It's so good, though! Maybe when I'm in remission, hopefully that will be in a few months. I was supposed to call my doctor on Friday, but I'll call him today because I was too busy biting you! I still fell bad about that, I owe you a big favor now because of my inability to think ahead.

I find it amazing that, considering my ulcerated insides (not to mention lack of experience), I'm not nervous or anxious when I'm with you. I have almost no performace anxiety! I wish I could spend the night with you in your dorm, but at the moment that's just not happening. Fuck my intestine! Fuck it!

Anyways, I really miss you, but that's pretty much a given now. I've never been so emotionally attached to someone before, I've always been afraid of it but it's awesome.