Illuminatara

16 boxes of granola

2008-10-21T13:58:00.004-04:00

Not on a shelf. Not in a granola-making factory. Not residing in the vision of a granola-addicted individual.

No, 16 boxes of granola placed oh so delicately in my shopping cart. Why? Because The Hubby must have granola for breakfast AT ALL COSTS. He also has a strange little quirk in his DNA that will randomly manifest as a desire to stock up on everything and anything - should it be on sale. Add in the fact that The Hubby had been without his beloved Quakers Granola (with and without raisins) for almost a week . . . and you have a recipe for disaster. A crunchy, ruffage-filled recipe - with a dash of organic milk. I take that back. About 10 cups of organic milk.

But come on, 16 BOXES OF GRANOLA at one time??! Standing in the aisle of the local grocery store, I alternated between crying from laughter and pretending I wasn't associated with said shopping cart full of granola. Seriously, questioning/youarecrazy stares from local patrons and grocery store employees can be intimidating.

All I can say is that we need to get The Hubby into Granola-hab (rehab for Granola crazypants people) STAT. I know you're with me on this.

P.S. - The Hubby is fully aware that I've been planning to write this post about him so you can't get me in trouble. :)

the hierarchy of power. forgotten.

2008-08-07T15:34:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I have to remind the people in my life that one day I will rule the world. And although I am not Ruler of All right now, the powers of such should be accorded to me now in anticipation of my future position. Some people ignore me. Some people laugh like they think I'm joking. The wise people listen.

So when The Shamana, one of my long-trusted advisors, commanded me to write more on this blog, I was a little taken aback. COMMAND?? What the? Come again? -shakes head in disbelief-

But because I am merciful, I will not make her life misery. I will allow her to keep her job as advisor and as punishment, will only recount to her in excruciating detail the "melted candy bar in the diaper" game sometimes played at baby showers.

Think melted Snickers, The Shamana. Melted Snickers.

because who needs size regulations in the pizza industry? not me. that's for certain.

2008-08-06T15:48:00.005-04:00

I had never, ever seen a pizza slice that big.

I have no clue how it even fits the definition of a "slice."

Why did no one tell me that ordering two slices of pizza from this place was like ordering an entire pizza pie? I only bring this up because multiple people questioned my ordering of two slices behind my back, without informing me that one slice was enough to feed a small country. Oh the injustice! -shakes fist toward the sky-

You may be asking, "Why does it matter? Pizza is pizza. It is yummy and delish no matter what the size. In fact, the bigger the better, in my opinion."

You have a good point. That pizza was goooooooooood. Even if it was the size of my head.

um. amazing. i wish i could do that.

2008-06-30T10:37:00.003-04:00

what if we lived in a world where the sky was orange?

2008-06-29T20:38:00.002-04:00

I got to experience that this evening during a tennis match with Nathan . . . and let me tell you it was like God took the clearest, most pristine piece of orange stain glass and channeled every free-standing light ray available through it.

Nathan and I decided at the 11th hour this evening (a.k.a. the last hour of available light before dark) to play a little tennis match on the courts near our apartment complex. Not too far into the game, it started to rain. Problem? Not so much. Everyone who knows me also knows that I love being out in the rain. Nathan had a bit of a problem because for some reason his glasses lack Go-Go-Gadget Windshield Wipers (a fact I pointed out to him) but he still managed to keep hitting the ball - bravo, love!

Anyway, so we're playing tennis and it's raining. The sky is turning gray, purple and red in one corner of the sky and then a brilliant orange light is radiating across a whole other half of sky. And get this - there is horizontal lightening . . . AND a full rainbow across the sky! I mean, rain, rainbows, thunder, lightning, orange sky . . . it was the best tennis game ever!

Nathan and I continued to play until we decided that wet courts would be a hazard to our health. As soon as we got into his Jeep it started to downpour, which led me to re-enact the scene from Jurassic Park where they are trapped in the Jeeps and it's pouring rain and the T-Rex is attacking them.

Rain: -downpour downpour downpour-
Me: -alternates screams and T-Rex roars-
-bangs on ceiling of Jeep as if frantic to get out or as if T-Rex trying to get in-
Nathan: -in some sort of accent- "Quick, get the flares . . . or the flashlight!"
Me: -rooaaar-

Simply fantastic.

today's lunch special . . . a delicacy

2008-06-26T21:22:00.001-04:00

Setting: Lunch Hour, Kelly's desk at work

Essential Side Note: I have a litter box under my desk because I'm allowed to bring my kitteh to work.

So, there I was, completely ravenous and looking forward to eating my nice pita sandwich with turkey and cheddar cheese. I carefully (or so I thought) unwrapped the sandwich . . . when all of a sudden it flew right out of my hands . . . and landed in the litterbox under my desk. I am not lying. Somehow it managed to curve mid-air, disassemble, and coat itself in the litter of the litter box. I still don't know how I did it.

Anyone care for some litter-encrusted turkey? Mmmm. So delish.

Needless to say, I bailed on that delicacy and went to Ellwood Thompson's instead, where I partook in some really good couscous and salad. (Seriously, their Greek style couscous is muy delicioso.)

"sweet no-thingks"

2008-06-26T21:20:00.001-04:00

Cute Overload has done it yet again. With the owls and the cuteness. And the cuteness. And the owls. Seriously the "aaaw" factor is off the charts. Nothing like a little sweet, sweet owl love to reassure you that everything is OK.

http://mfrost.typepad.com/cute_overload/2008/06/sweet-no-tingks.html

the oregon trail applied to real life

2008-06-26T21:19:00.002-04:00

Amanda: there's puke all over
Kelly: ford the puddle of puke!!
Amanda: yea, it was REAL oregon trail kinda stuff. i lost a wheel
Kelly: i can see the game version of this. YOUR OXEN HAS DIED
Amanda: yea, you never ever ford the river if its over 5 ft.
Kelly: your raft sank in the mississippi
Amanda: you just wait and pay for the guide for reals. don't get trigger happy on the oregon trail
Kelly: while you wait you get typhoid
Amanda: yea, or someone breaks an arm, always

Beannacht

2008-06-26T21:18:00.001-04:00

"May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life."

~ From John O' Donohue's "Beannacht" (which is Gaelic for "Blessing")

a post inspired by The Shamana

2006-08-01T14:54:00.000-04:00

The Shamana graced my email inbox this morning with a copy of some of the hilarious dialogue from "Failure To Launch." The character of Kit made the entire movie.

Kit:*snatches rifle*
Jim the gun shop guy: *stares*
Kit: What kind of bullets does this take?
Jim: That gun doesn't take bullets. You need shells.
Kit: Ok, then give me the shells.
Jim: Ok, one box of shells.
Kit: Oh no, I just need one.
Jim: You know, there are places you can call...
Kit: I'm not suicidal, I just want to shoot a bird.
Jim: What kind of bird?
Kit: A Mockingbird.
Jim: You can't kill a mockingbird!
Kit: Why not?
Jim: Well first of all theres the book "To Kill a Mockingbird..."
Kit: Copy of that too! Just put it right here.
Jim: It's not a manual!! It's a great work of American literature! How can you not know that? And anyway, its illegal to kill a mockingbird.
Kit: Oh yea? Well what about my rights? What about the first amendment?
Jim: The right to free speech????

someone take away their parenting license

2006-07-26T12:32:00.000-04:00

Ok, you would not believe what I saw. Seriously. Or maybe I should say - you would not want to believe what I saw. I was at the Starlite Cafe with The Marquee, eating dinner, when I happened to look over at a nearby table and see a mother helping her baby drink from a beer bottle. A BEER BOTTLE. (!!!!!) Excuse me? What?! For about 2.5 seconds I gave the mother the benefit of the doubt . . . maybe the beer bottle was filled with water and she was just trying to freak people out . . . but then I saw the mother and father take a swig from the beer bottle after the baby was done. I'm sorry. Those people should not be parents. I wanted to go over there and yell at them for being incompetent, but The Marquee managed to convince me to stay in my seat. I know that I'm not a parent, but I like to think that I have enough intelligence to know that letting my 9-month-old baby drink alcohol probably won't win me the Parent Of The Year award and hell - could put my child in danger. Gah. The whole thing just infuriates me.

row ye on home, land yacht

2006-06-27T18:41:00.000-04:00

There were a lot of people building arks today. But I, Imperial Majesty of All That Is, have my ever-regal land yacht ('95 Buick Le Sabre) to ford rivers (the James), valleys, raging oceans and tranquil, flooded streets. I have a plan if the downpours continue. Some of the plan involves saving humanity, but most of it involves floating in all my glory down the streets of Richmond.

Brilliant Plan Of Action:
(setting - Rain)

1) Backstroke to my parked land yacht (LY) and climb in through the hole that I will simultaneously burn into the hood with the cutting torch that I keep in my back pocket for occasions such as this.
2) Brush hair, re-apply lip gloss (A World Dominator must look good no matter what the crisis).

By this point, the LY is floating in the parking lot. I have attached flags to its four corners.

3) Get on my mega-phone and tell all of those people trying to swim to get out of my way, as I have business to do. I begin my journey with a regal wave out of the window.
4) I proceed to pick up my friends and favored advisors, as well as a few babies and stray animals along the way (good PR).
5) Pass around the bowl of chips and salsa to my three best girlfriends (who have secured a seat inside the LY). Check to make sure that my B-List friends are OK floating in the intertube attached to the back of the LY.
6) Float LY to town hall. Claim the city in the name of all that is Good and Just (aka, me). "Ride the wave" to Ultimate Power. (Haha, sorry, couldn't resist).

america's got talent?

2006-06-22T19:30:00.000-04:00

Ok. There is only one reason that you should watch the new TV show "America's Got Talent." And that is because it is so ridiculously horrible that it's worth your time to cuddle up on the couch with a bag of popcorn and make fun of it the entire time.

Let's get right to the point. David Hasselhof. And yes, I don't care if I spelled his last name correctly or not. Why? Why does he exist? Why On God's Green Earth is he a judge?? What qualifies him for it? The incredible acting that was required of him in "Baywatch?" The sensational singing voice that he possesses? So sensational that his cd will be forever mocked by sensible Americans? Forget it if the Germans like him. There is no explaining that. Honestly, I think that I would be offended if I got up on that stage and Hasselhof told me that I had talent. I would cry. But just watching DH get "moved" by a performance or "jam" to a dance routine is worth its weight in gold. Although, I need to point out that you have to really pay attention to him because he's had so much plastic surgery that it's hard to determine his facial expressions.

Ok, next judge. Brandy, of "That Boy Is Mine" fame and "Moesha." Why, oh why Brandy are you coming out of hibernation? Oh . . . that's right, you have a cd coming out. Well, Brandy, let me give you some advice. Fire your manager because this is not a good career move on your part. Another downside/goodside is the fact that Regis Philbin is the host. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. *twitch* Anybody else weirded out by him nowadays? Maybe it's all of his plastic surgery (new nose?) or the fact that he seems to overschmooze champion schmoozers. Blech. And the last judge - an ornery male Brit. Surprise there.

Oh, I'm not done. The creators and producers of this show (*ahem Simon Powell*) must really think that there are no intelligent people in America. Seriously, are there any Americans on the creative side of this show??? Watching it, I thought that if I saw one more red, white, blue & star combination or color scheme I was going to be sick. Yes people, the stars and stripes are nice. On a flag. Hanging from a flag pole. But it really doesn't need to be shoved down my throat. I know that I'm American, thank you. Secondly, the show is some weird mix of The Price Is Right, Star Search and Family Feud. Regis Philbin calls people's names from the audience (excitement! who is going to be chosen!) and then those people come up on stage and do their shtick. And then if Brandy, Hasselhof and Ornery Brit don't like you, they can hit a buzzer and a big red X appears over the stage. Three X's and you are out, suckah.

If someone made watching this show into a drinking game, the nation would be perpetually drunk. I can see it now . . . "Take a drink whenever someone does something weird or you feel like you will never be clean again." I realize that the producers are going to put the best and the worst out on stage for the ratings, but man . . . you never realize the worse could really be so bad. An 80-year-old stripper. A saw player who looked like a vampire. 2 women, a man and a horse (yes, no one quite figured out what their talent was). A nose flute player. Ugh. I'm just going to stop there.

But it's so bad that it's hilarious, so I guess the producers found one way to get people to watch. Anybody interested in watching it with me next week?

frank and teakettle, bff

2006-06-20T13:57:00.000-04:00

Teakettle: FWOOSHthud. Fwooshie . . . f-w-o-o-s-h-i-e . . .
Frank: I just slammed my head on the desk, too. A lot nicer in theory than in reality . . .
Teakettle: fwoooshiebangbangbang
Frank: Hmmm. Shooting each other. That might work.
Teakettle: fwOOOshdoomdrip . . . drip
Frank: Yeah, it would be a lot more messy for me. But I hate this outfit anyway.
Teakettle: foreverfwooshie
Frank: You want to publish your memoirs first? About what? Your scandalous time on the stove burner?
Teakettle: FWOOSHdunes!
Frank: Oh, I didn't know you braved the Sahara . . .
Teakettle: Fwooshburnfwooshiefire
Frank: . . . without sunscreen . . .
Teakettle: fwooshieaaaaaaah
Frank: . . . and then was the one to discover the soothing properties of aloe plants . . .
Teakettle: FWOOSHyukyukyuk
Frank: Yeah, sounds reeeally funny. Yeah. Real page-turner.

the karma office

2006-06-19T12:54:00.000-04:00

I seriously wonder if I ask for these things to happen to me. I mean, I have a feeling sometimes that an uber-bored desk clerk in the Karma Office has been assigned to watch every moment of my life so that I can be appropriately rewarded/punished for my deeds. Except, being the bitter desk clerk that he inevitably is, he wants to Stick It To The Man by way of maybe punishing me when I don't necessarily deserve it.

Case in point. Yes, I know that maybe I shouldn't have decided "just to windowshop" in Target . . . because windowshopping always leads to purchasing . . . but I had to buy cat food and there was a clearance sale and I swear, I NEEDED everything that I ended up buying. Seriously, I can rationalize it all. And my purchases helped humanity in the long run because it made me happy and correspondingly, everyone in my life happy. So was there really a reason to send three of the most gigantic and disgusting centipedes Ever To Exist after me in my apartment?

The first one I thought was just a random and brief moment with the seedy underbelly of nature. So, I killed it and moved on. The second one, I didn't find so cute. And the third one (discovered by the constant sound of Rue trying to chase it) thoroughly and utterly ruined any appetite for any food that I might conceivably desire in the future. Oh, I killed it . . . have no fear. But I also got to see the yellow pus of its innards squeeze out all over the napkin that I killed it with. I then flushed it down the toilet because By God I was going to make sure that multi-footed little monster was dead - but I was scarred for life.

Ok, so I figure by this point, I've evened out my score with the Office de Karma and showed that little bureaucratic bastard a thing or two. Well, maybe he was able to read my evil thoughts because when I woke up the following morning, I heard a gurgling noise coming from the toilet in my half bathroom. After adopting the surficial appearance of strength and serenity, I approach the toilet to discover that it is about to overflow with soap suds. Wha?? Excuse me??? Since when did my toilet turn into a washing machine???? I closed the lid on the toilet in a feeble attempt to keep the soap suds from creeping out onto the bathroom floor like those horrifying sitcom moments when some lovable yet idiotic character accidently pours too much detergent into the washing machine and the laundry room becomes the Land Of Slippery Suds. Aaaaaah! What did I do to deserve this??!

My sudsy toilet problem was fixed in the long run, but someone really needs to get that desk clerk a cup of coffee and a salary raise. Pronto.

beautiful doggies

2006-06-19T11:04:00.000-04:00

Location: Stony Point Fashion Park
Ladies: The Shamana and Kelly
Doggies: Lil' Bit and Izzy

deck lights, wine and girl talk

2006-06-17T11:37:00.000-04:00

Friday night was an enjoyable one at the casa de The Fabulous One. When you get together a group of eight women (two of whom are engaged) and a few bottles of wine . . . and then sit outside on a beautiful night . . . and a beautiful deck (with lights!) then there really is no way that the evening will be a bad one.

I wasn't really feeling a glass of wine, so I went with more caffeine (not particularily smart - but heck, it was Friday night - a night to be wild and crazy). Hah. Anyway, we had great discussions on a multitude of topics including, but not limited to: Gynological Tales Of Terror, how best to make one's breasts look bigger in a strapless wedding gown, how to subtly let your significant other know that he either needs to trim his facial hair or shave it off completely, whether people were inherently good or evil, the many positive qualities of Greece and the men who live there, the sweetest things some guy or other said to us at this or that point, why the heck wedding dresses are all made in ridiculously large sizes (a conspiracy so that we'd have to pay more to have it altered), the evils of butt bows on dresses, entertaining stories about pre-marital counseling , how one of us had ended up dating a guy who turned out to be gay, and the philosophical existence of Fate. If you notice a wedding trend in our line of discussion, I repeat, two engaged women were a part of the conglomerate. :)

It was a very fun night. :) Three cheers to The Fabulous One for hosting such a lovely evening.

shower repertoire

2006-06-16T14:42:00.000-04:00

We all know that the main purpose for the existence of showers is so that one can sing well, and with abandon. The acoustic capabilities of showers have continued to baffle scientists and acoustic specialists for decades. As I feel it is my duty to the world, and to the people who live above me, to not let the incredible acoustics in my shower to go to waste, when I'm in the shower - I sing. As the years have gone by, I have compiled a repertoire of songs. I may focus on one song in particular, or combine a few lines together from numerous songs. Either way, it is entertaining. Since I know that all my readers are just dying to get a glimpse of my repertoire, below, I have listed a few of my singing-in-the-shower favorites:

1. "So Are You To Me" - eastmountainsouth
2. "Blue Skies" (jazzy version, as performed by Eva Cassidy - I get to scat)
3. "Wade In The Water" (as performed by Eva Cassidy)
4. The entire "Songbird" album (as performed by Eva Cassidy)
5. "Killing Me Softly" - I know, I KNOW . . . it's just . . . you never know when you might be pushed onstage by your evil friends and forced to sing it in a karoake bar.
6. "Weep You No More" - a classic from the "Sense & Sensibility" movie starring Kate Winslet & Emma Thompson. Every now and then - I like to throw a little classical vocal work into the equation.
7. "If" (as performed by Jane Monheit - sung like I am in love).
8. "Blame It On My Youth" (as performed by Jane Monheit - sung with bitterness).
9. [Insert current Top 40 song that I can not get out of my head]
10. "Running" - eastmountainsouth

I am willing to take suggestions for further expanding my shower repertoire. Also, if you happen to be in my apartment at the same time that I am taking a shower, I may accept a few special requests on demand - assuming that I know your song selection, of course.

i hate you thursday

2006-06-15T14:12:00.000-04:00

Thursday: Hi Kelly. I've decided to be the longest day EVER.
Kelly: Gee, thanks Thursday. I hate you.
Thursday: You know, I really care. I do. I care about as much as I care about what Dubyah said yesterday morning during his presidential address.
Kelly: I feel loved.
Thursday: Well, the love ain't coming from this direction.
Kelly: I hate you.
Thursday: You said that already.
Kelly: WHY?? WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME??
Thursday: Because I am evil. And I like to be the center of attention.
Kelly: Get a boob job. Then you'll be the center of attention.
Thursday: I'm not a person. I'm a Day. Just so you know.

poor little grocery boy

2006-06-14T09:20:00.000-04:00

So, I think I scared a grocery boy last night. I'd honestly prefer to think that I just intimidated him with my wit and charm, but realistically . . . I think I scared him. I don't know how many of you have participated in, or are familiar with, the Ukrop's grocery store scene, but Ukrop's does this thing where they actually take your groceries to your car. It's a very nice customer service gesture, but I always feel bad that someone has to take my groceries to my car, so I always try to have a conversation with whomever is lucky enough to follow me to my parking spot, with groceries in tow.

Sometimes, I am more successful with the conversation starting than other times . . . last night, I definitely was struggling. Those of you who know me know that I have a tendency to bring up some of the most random topics in the world. Occasionally, certain people find that quality endearing (i.e. other random people), but the majority of seemingly normal people either look at me like I'm weird (which I am) or just pointedly ignore me in the hopes that maybe I'll just stop talking. That's what happened yesterday.

I had gone to Ukrops to stock up on essentials and I was already looking a bit scary - had to wear my glasses because my contacts were killing me. But, I like to think that I balanced out the whole glasses thing with the short dress and high heels that I was wearing. Anyway. The kid who was lucky enough to be chosen to take my groceries out was, I'd say, probably in high school. Seemed like a nice enough guy. And so begins the awkward conversation:

Me: Hello, how are you? *smile*
Grocery Boy (GB): . . . alright . . . *sullen look*

(Grocery Boy proceeds to push the cart with my groceries in it with one hand and the other cart that I was shopping with back into the line of other carts with the other hand).

Me: That was very impressive.
GB: . . .

*if there were crickets, they would be chirping*

Me: Um . . . hot outside, isn't it?
GB: Yeah.

*puts groceries in car*

GB: Have a good night. (<--- monotone)

disturbing

2006-06-13T09:27:00.000-04:00

I saw something on the drive home from The Fabulous One's house yesterday that I found very disturbing. I'm surprised that I never noticed it before, as it's located in the sketchtacular shopping center down the road from my apartment complex (a complex that hosts the "48 Hours store" and a "comic book store" whose windows are covered - ooo and a place where you can get a weave). Are you ready for this? It's a Chinese restaurant that sells fried chicken.

Why??! Gross. A Chinese place that sells fried chicken. Does anybody else find that disturbing? Its existence raises some very important questions. For example, why does it have so much excess chicken that it needs to deep fry the remainder and create a whole new non-Chinese menu item? Why can't the owners order just enough chicken to complete their "authentic" Chinese dishes? Is is really chicken? Why do they advertise themselves as a Chinese restaurant but also include a byline that screams, "Hey, btw, we have fried chicken, too, if you're craving the greasy stuff" ? Did they decide that they could make more money by catering to the stereotypical food choices of the nearby demographic? Who the hell sees a a Chinese restaurant and says, "Thank God. I was craving some fried chicken." There's a similar place that exists in Carytown, except it sells every cuisine under the sun - Chinese, fried chicken, seafood, cheeseburgers, probably freakin' baklava, too. Is it because the chefs are mediocre cooks in every genre of food and were like "Eh, what the hell, let's make it all?"

I'm sorry, I just find the whole thing as disturbing as the existence of all-you-can-eat seafood buffets.

Blech.

too much fame . . . not good

2006-06-11T20:42:00.000-04:00

I just realized that I've been writing a lot about Rue recently. I should probably try to write about other things . . . spoiled kitty.

war games

2006-06-11T19:59:00.000-04:00

I am currently writing you from enemy territory. I don't know how much longer I'm going to make it . . . I can't move without putting my life at risk . . .

Rue is playing war games with my bedroom furniture. My bed: The Enemy. My bedroom curtains: The Enemy. The cords hanging from my curtain: The Enemy. The carpet, the underside of my sheets, the computer keyboard, the laundry hamper, ME: The Enemy. Seriously, Rue rockin' a vendetta of some sort. And in truth, I'm scared that she's going to win this battle. Poor, innocent bedroom furniture . . . all you did was sit there, being all bedroom-furniture-like and then this orange tabby with Illusions Of Grandeur starts attacking you - Cadet Rue, that careless heroine.

AAAAHHHH! Geeeeez! I thought scary war game Rue had left the room for a brief minute (hence my hurried entry), but I got this weird "someone is behind me feeling" and There She Was - sitting right behind me, licking her paw in seeming innocence . . . plotting her next attack. I could tell by the look on her face. Seriously - she's got the stealth thing down. She could totally rule the world. Or at least fight all of my enemies in order to clear the way for my total world domination. Ok . . . now her butt is in my face. Why. Rue. Really. Why. (on all counts).

robert frost speaks

2006-06-08T08:58:00.000-04:00

I was listening to NPR at work yesterday and they had Bill Collins on, a former U.S. Poet Laureate. He had the audio of Robert Frost reading his very famous poem, "The Road Not Taken." Now, I've heard and read this poem a million times - pretty much everyone has heard and read this poem a million times - so much I think, that people don't truly engage with it anymore. When I heard Frost reading his own poetry though, it really added a whole new dimension to the poem that I have grown up with.

Not every poet can read his or her poetry well out loud. The inflection, volume and flow of the voice can enhance the line or draw out a layer of meaning that had been entirely unrealized. Someone reading poetry has to pay close attention to breaks in the line, to the emphasis of one word over the other . Robert Frost's voice was not entirely what I had expected - kind of like the physical appearance of radio djs is often one that you don't expect . When we read poetry, and actually, when we read anything to ourselves, most of us hear the words in our own voice. His voice was wisened, worldy . . . almost like a man who has seen too much , but at the same time, wished he could have seen more. It reminded me of some kind of grizzled man living off in a shack by himself . . . a la Thoreau (who actually, didn't stay in a shack by himself the whole time that he wrote Walden, but that's a discussion for another time). It was truly fascinating to hear Robert Frost speak and I found it even more poignant because he is no longer with us.

fwooosh!

2006-06-06T14:58:00.000-04:00

Teakettle: fwapforeFWOOSH!

Frank: OUCH! The green is THAT WAY *points at driving range*
Teakettle: fwooshienogreenswoosh.
Frank: Well if you weren't aiming for the green... then what were you aiming for??
Teakettle: tickleticklefwooshhehehehe.

Frank: ME?? Why were you aiming at me?

Teakettle: fwooshdorkfwoosh.

Frank: These pants are not dorky! *looks down at plaid golf pants*

Teakettle: fwooshhonkhonk.

Frank: HEY! I do not look like a walking set of bagpipes!!

Teakettle: Fwooshfire?

Frank: No you can't set my pants on fire!

Teakettle: fwoosh?

Frank: Because it will burn me.

Teakettle: swooshmcdreamyfwooshie!

Frank: No he works in Seattle...

Teakettle: Fwooshwooshwooshbangbangbang

Frank: ???

Teakettle: FWOOOOOSHGAHSWOOSHWEEEEEEE!

Frank: .......................................

Teakettle: FWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAOOSHFIRE!!!!

Frank: *backs away slowly*

Teakettle: Fwoosh?

Frank: Oh, um, I was ahhhh, just going to check on my begonias...

Teakettle: FWOOSHLIARRAAAAAAA!

Frank: *Deer in headlights look* Why are you so crazy? Did someone spike you with coffee again?

Teakettle: FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESH!!!

Frank: So that would be a yes *runs from room*

pump house park

2006-06-05T15:35:00.000-04:00

A gorgeous photo shot by my amazing photographer friend, TW. This is a small park near the river, where an old pump house from the early 20th century stands.

ok, weirdness

2006-06-05T08:58:00.000-04:00

Well, my week is starting off to a weird start with crazy dreams and Rue antics.

Ok, now I don' remember the dream that I had last night in its entirety, but it featured me and a friend of mine from church - we'll call him Harvard Lawyer. In this dream, Harvard Lawyer and I decided that we were going to go to Wintergreen . . . by foot. So we set off on this massive hike of hundreds and hundreds of miles and after say, Mile 8, I'm about ready to collapse. Then (and I don't know who's brilliant idea this was) we decided to steal money along the way. OH and I forgot, my brother ended up joining us for the whole stealing of the money part. I know that we stopped a lot of different places and rationalized our crime spree in a variety of different ways, but I do remember that we stopped at VCU (a university in Richmond - I don't know how it got on the trail to Wintergreen). In the attempt to capture the money that was rightfully ours, my brother and Harvard Lawyer got caught by a bunch of nurses. Bro and Harvard Lawyer then pretended that they were Catholic and as punishment for stealing, the nurses made them convert to Protestant Christianity. I didn't get caught, though. Because I am amazing. Once they finally escaped, we decided to give all of the money that we'd stolen to charity.

Yeah, weird.

And then this morning, I was sitting in my recliner, drinking my coffee and watching the news like I do every work day morning, and all of a sudden, Rue starts running and pouncing around the living room like she's chasing something. I thought she was just being psychotic like she normally is . . . but then I realized that she actually WAS chasing something. And although it looked like a fly . . . it wasn't. It was a freakin' wasp. A WASP. So I freak out and am yelling at Rue to leave it alone because all I can picture is her smacking the heck out of it and getting stung in the process and I was also taking notice of the wasp's increasingly agitated state as it was being chased and swatted at by crazy Rue and I just had a feeling that it would take its anger out on me, as well. So, I yell "NO RUE!" and she stops for a millisecond to stare questioningly at me before she attacks it again. So, I bolt to the kitchen, grab a massive wad of paper towels and kill the wasp myself before disaster strikes.

Wasps. Rampant dream crime sprees. I hope this isn't an indication of what the rest of my week is going to be like.

the greek festival

2006-06-04T15:10:00.000-04:00

I have found heaven on earth. And it is in the form of baklava.

Today, The Cyclist and I experienced one of the many festivals that Richmond has to offer - The Greek Festival. The festival was just a few blocks over from our church, so right after the service, we walked on over. Picture this: tons of white tents, Greek flags flying all over the place, the smell of amazing Greek cuisine, wine flowing like water, little children in traditional Greek dress running around, a stage with Greek performers and musicians . . . it was awesome.

It was also ridiculously hot and the lines were ridiculously long. I had prepared well for this adventure, in my little black dress because I figured why wear a color that reflects heat when you can wear one that absorbs heat? (The Shamana - btw, The Cyclist says "kudos" on the dress selection). But seriously, the food was good enough that I would have gotten back at the end of the line just to have some more. I refrained from getting some wine to keep me company in line due to my heat headache, but there were people walking around drinking from whole bottles of wine . . . now talk about a party!

Once The Cyclist and I got our food from some very nice Greek women, we sat down under one of the tents, at a table across from an old married couple - the husband of which was a graduate of the same school as The Cyclist. Naturally, as does everyone in THE ENTIRE WORLD, they assumed that The Cyclist and I were married. They were a sweet old couple, married 50 years (how great is that?). Anyway, the old guy at one point asked me if I worked outside of the home. I looked at The Cyclist, laughed, and told him that yes, I do in fact work outside of the home. The Cyclist and I didn't feel like crushing this couple's impression that we were married. But it was pretty funny.

After lunch and my first experience with baklava (incredible), The Cyclist and I checked out the section where they were selling jewelry and art. There were gorgeous gold cross necklaces, shawls and bangles. There was this mannequin with skimpy belly-dancing type clothing on it, with lots of gold bangles . . . I told The Cyclist that he should get that mannequin for his future home. Hehe.

Anyway, it was good time. I have decided that I'm going to go to Greece for my honeymoon now. Or Greece & Italy. Or Greece & Italy & Ireland.

The conversation on the way back from the festival:

Me: Thank you for being gracious enough to let me work outside of the home.
TC: Well, you know, I am taking a risk here . . . the guys at work give me a hard time.
Me: . . .
TC: Hello?
Me: Oh, sorry. I was, you know, thinking about the stuff women are supposed to think about - grocery lists, what I'm going to make you for dinner . . .
TC: . . . the excitement of polishing my shoes . . .
Me: . . . exactly . . .
TC: . . . because, you know, I've had a hard day at work.
Me: Exactly. You deserve a woman waiting for you in the kitchen.

Yay Greek Festival!

animals that make it difficult to play the piano

2006-05-30T19:19:00.000-04:00

When I refer to "animals" that make it difficult to play the piano, I am really just referring to one specific animal, of the orange tabby cat variety, who goes by the name of Rue.

Rue, Dearest,

It was a joy to have you in my lap, arching your back under my arms and walking over the keys of my keyboard, but you've got to understand my love, that it makes it extremely difficult to play the piano well (or at all) when I have a nose bumping my fingers off of the keys or a head lifting my arms so high that I can't reach the keys. In the "Allegro Burlesco" that I was playing, the key words are "Allegro Burlesco," which means that the notes are supposed to be played quickly and preferably, accurately. Unless your paws can contribute the correct notes at the correct time, perhaps you should just be an astute listener. And dearest Rue, when I was trying to sing the Italian aria "Sento nel core" while playing the piece on the keyboard at the same time, the keys you ended up pressing weren't quite (or at all) in the same key. Playing an instrument while singing in Italian isn't easy on a good day, and although "Sento nel core" means "Sorrow Unending" or something similarily depressing, it's not an entirely contemporary piece, so constant dischord is not the way to go.

I realize that you are a cat, and as a cat, it is your duty to walk all over whatever it is I am in the middle of doing. And yes, most likely you can't tell the difference between the incorrect d minor chord and the correct d minor diminished chord, but I propose a compromise. How about next time I try to play or sing at my keyboard, you sit on the floor near me and just meow along? I think that I can handle that. I still love you, Rue.

the dialogue of bonnie and clyde

2006-05-24T08:52:00.000-04:00

I spent last night helping The Cyclist pack for his move this weekend. It was great. My hands were completely black from newsprint by the end of the night and I left crazy messages on the boxes that I personally packed; for example, "Packed by The Hot One (Kelly)" and "Packed by the Smart One (Kelly)." I found those messages extremely amusing, but The Cyclist did this whole grimacing/whining thing (afraid that his new roomie would give him a hard time) which I didn't quite understand. Who wouldn't want boxes with comments about how great I am? I know, I know . . . it's hard to fathom.

But this is not the story that I intended to tell you. I have to share with you the experience of obtaining the newspapers that we used to wrap The Cyclist's stuff:

Now, The Cyclist and I are poor and do not have a subscription to the newspaper. Therefore, we had to take matters into our own hands. The Cyclist's great solution: Go scavenging through recycling bins. I raised my eyebrow at this idea, but went along with the plan.

THE FIRST ATTEMPT:
Location: The recycling dumpster outside The Cyclist's apartment.
The Cyclist climbs into the dumpster.

Me: Um, are you sure that we're allowed to do this?
TC: Yeah, of course.
Me: Huh.
TC: Here, hold these *hands me a stack of newspaper*
Me: Ok.
TC: Gross. Someone's thrown their trash in here as well. They aren't supposed to do that.
Me: These newspapers smell.
TC: Do they really?
Me: *wrinkles nose* Yes.
TC: Hmm, ok, we're going to have to go somewhere else. I don't want the newspaper stinking up my stuff.
Me: *gives him papers back* Um, how are you going to get out of there?
TC: I'll just . . . uh . . . climb up here . . . ack *falls back into dumpster*
Me: *smirks* Looking good. Haha.
TC: Shut up punk. *finally gets out of dumpster*

THE SECOND ATTEMPT
Location: Recycling dumpster outside of a fire station.
The Cyclist climbs into yet another dumpster.

Me: Of ALL the places to go climbing into dumpsters, you pick one outside of a fire station!
TC: So?
Me: There's a fireman standing right there outside of the building. He's going to see us and then we're going to get arrested.
TC: He's just a fireman. He's not a policeman.
Me: But he knows policemen.
TC: What's he going to say, "Sorry son, you're under arrest for taking those old dirty newspapers that nobody wants anymore?"
Me: Yes.
TC: Here, hold these.
Me: I see how it is, give ME all of the incriminating evidence to hold.
TC: That's right. I can see it now, "Um officer, I don't know this crazy woman . . . I uh, dropped my keys in the dumpster and had to go and get them."
Me: Gee. Thanks.
TC: Alright, I think that's enough.
Me: *laden down with newspapers, can't move*

The Cyclist and I head back to the car, putting the newspapers in the trunk.

TC: We're like that famous crime duo . . . even though we took newspapers that we were allowed to take.
Me: You mean, we're like Bonnie and Clyde?
TC: Yeah!

one little kelly, two little kellys, three little kellys, FOUR

2006-05-23T10:17:00.000-04:00

So, there is this huge phenomenon going on right now amongst women in their teens and twenties . . . and that is the selling of their eggs. And not the type of eggs that you eat . . . I am referring to the type of eggs that contribute to the production of human beings. It is ridiculous how much money us women can make off off selling our eggs . . . seriously, $3,000 - $5,000 per donation. True, you have to give yourself shots of hormones and go through extensive physical and psychological tests, but you're reimbursed for everything and you make thousands of dollars. Then all you have to do is wait to heal and then you can do it again.

How do I know so much about this? Well, I had a friend in college who donated her eggs. I found the whole thing rather disturbing. Not that I don't think that people who can't have their own children shouldn't get help and even though I can think of copious ways that I could spend thousands of dollars . . . I'd be bothered knowing that technically, I could have children running around that I didn't even know about. I mean, when I have children . . . I'd like to know about them, you know? On a side note - I heard on the news that this sperm donor guy has 12 children! Seriously, he must have had a very enticing profile to make 12 women choose his sperm. I wonder how many guys lie on those things . . . like "Hi, my name is Romeo and most women call me an Italian God. I'm a doctor and an astrophysicist, as well as a member of Mensa. I have olive skin, dark hair and a very white smile. I have a fabulous physique. In my spare time I like to read, save the world and feed the homeless. I play ten different instruments. I can calculate the tip in my head. I'm amazing!"

please. go. away.

2006-05-21T16:00:00.000-04:00

I cannot escape them. They are everywhere. And you know of whom I speak - Nickelback and Mariah Carey. Lord help me.

Nickelback,

WHY is it that every single time I turn the radio on, the station is playing you? I kid you not, I risked switching to the Top 40 radio station a handful of times over the course of this weekend and every single time you were there . . . playing . . . and singing . . . those horrific songs - and I end up changing the station back to NPR to regain the brain cells I lost while listening to you. I know that massive radio play is a good thing for you guys, but I swear if I hear that opening riff again, I might just rip the radio out of my car. Oh, and by the way, the song you guys have out right now . . . I could swear it's the same song I heard played overandoverandover at the karoake bar I was at, let's say . . . 3 years ago. That's right. I can't tell the difference. Take that as you will.

Me

Mariah Carey,

For The Love Of God when did body suits and bathing suits (as everyday wear) come into fashion?? And when did "singing" imply minimal sound and maximum breathiness? I swear, everytime I hear you on the radio as I'm driving, I check to see if my tires are deflating . . . or if some 50 year smoker has climbed into my backseat, unbeknownst to myself. I get it . . . you can roll around in skimpy clothing and straighten your hair extensions with a hair straightener AND you can get key hip hop artists to stare at your breasts in music videos (Snoop Dogg, Pharrell) but did you ever consider after making "Glitter" that maybe your lifetime career in the entertainment industry shouldn't be so "lifetime" oriented? The public will forgive you for retiring. In fact, I think a lot of people would help you find a new job. Oh and by the way, I thought I heard your recent single a few years back, as well.

Me

suitcases, strappy red sandals and modern satirical angst

2006-05-19T08:58:00.000-04:00

I've decided to resurrect two of my favorite blog entries from back in 2003 & 2004 when I had a xanga account. Enjoy. :)

November 20, 2003

"The most important quality in a man is whether or not he can carry your suitcases." ~ my grandmother

This was valuable knowledge passed on to me during a phone conversation with my grandmother this afternoon and I have to admit that it is important for a man to be able to carry my suitcases because Lord knows I can't . . .Haha. But I'd like to lay approximately 75% of the blame on suitcases themselves and their deceptive and oftentimes nasty little qualities. They pretend they have your best interests at heart: "oh look at all the roooom we have in here, come on, pack a few more things, we can take it." So, I pack and pack and pack and usually can get the suitcase closed without sitting on it. I then move on to suitcases #2 and #3. We're all getting along fine until it's time for the trip back home. When my back is turned while gathering my stuff for the return trip, the suitcases (with their evil and cruel intentions at heart) decide to shrink on me, therefore requiring me to a. sit, jump, or scream at them, or b. give a bewildered glance to my fellow travelers and insist that the suitcase shrunk and I DID NOT acquire more things on the trip.

These suitcases also make me look bad. They make me look like I CAN'T PACK or I'm one of THOSE PEOPLE. You know, the ones who pack a million things and have no packing skills or strategy. I have strategy. I do. It involves putting the stuff in my suitcase- in a lovingly and carefully arranged manner of course.

Now some people may argue, most of them probably men, that the real issue here is that I don't NEED all of this stuff. HA. My question to you is this: What if on our trip you got attacked by seagulls and were dying and the only way- THE ONLY WAY- to save your life was with a pair of sexy, red strappy sandals? You would be dagon glad that I packed my pair of sexy, red, strappy sandals to go with my red dress that I might wear that one night- maybe. If the necessity of something I pack is not immediately visible to you, just think "preparation." You never know if it will rain, or in this case, if you will be attacked by seagulls.

I hope whatever men come in my life will understand my philosophy on suitcases and packing and realize that truly, I am the victim here. I hope that they will lovingly say, "Let me hold those suitcases for you . . .no, of course they aren't too heavy . . . yes, yes, I understand what a brilliant mind it takes to pack the way you do."

October 20. 2004

Tonight's journal entry is brought to you by Modern Woman Satirical Angst (a term invented by the lovely author of this journal).

Modern women with satirical angst tend to be women who, when drop-kicked by the nuances of reality and trod on by the bastards of society, adopt a witty and piercing world-view as a method coping. They usually record their keen observations with humor in journals, or profess them voraciously over a latte or glass of wine amongst friends. Modern women with satirical angst tend to be culturally proficient, but this quality is not mandatory. Actually, failed attempts at being cultured are often quite handy in the furthering of said angst. Furthermore, most women of this nature were fixing their panty-hose in the bathroom when the "Gorgeous, Succesful, Intelligent, Overall-Perfect-Men" were passed out to the remaining women in the room, a.k.a. the "Overly Successful, Pretentious, That-Kind-Of-Beauty-Is-Unfair-And-Obviously-Fake" women that modern women with satirical angst like to despise. Quite often, due to the sadistic humor of circumstance, modern women with satirical angst end up making idiots of themselves in front of said pretentious and man-stealing women. But all is fodder for previously mentioned journals and diatribes.

~From a current Modern Woman With Satirical Angst in Training,

Kelly

lorelai = me

2006-05-18T11:29:00.000-04:00

[Luke’s Diner. Luke is taking chairs off the tables when he sees Lorelai sitting outside the diner waiting for him to open.]
LUKE: What are you doing?
LORELAI: I need coffee.
LUKE: It's 5:00 in the morning. Make coffee at your own house.
LORELAI: I did. I drank it all.
LUKE: You drank all the coffee in your house before five in the morning?
LORELAI: Big gulps, lots of sugar.
LUKE: Alright, get up. [Pulls her up and takes her inside.]
LORELAI: And just a little bit of cream 'cause it makes it cold.
LUKE: Keep moving.
LORELAI: [ Sighs ] I can't sleep. I can't turn my mind off. It keeps running and thinking and making lists.
LUKE: Maybe if you drank a little less coffee, you'd make a little less lists.
LORELAI: Oh, I can't stop drinking the coffee. If I stop drinking coffee, I stop doing the standing and the walking and the words putting-into-sentence doing.
LUKE: I'll make you some coffee.

well hello wall, fancy meeting you here

2006-05-18T08:41:00.000-04:00

So, I fell into a wall this morning. No, I wasn't pushed, I wasn't intoxicated, I didn't trip . . . I just fell into a wall. It was 4:30 in the morning and I had to use the bathroom. As I was leaving, I fell into the wall. I don't really know what happened, maybe since I was still half asleep I might have fallen asleep for a split second and lost my balance, thereby collapsing into said wall. All I remember is suddenly realizing that "Oh there is a wall here" and thinking "Gee Kelly, you're a winner" and then laughing at myself as I crawled back into bed and proceeded to take forever to fall back asleep.

a dream is a wish your heart makes? hmmmm, how about not.

2006-05-11T09:02:00.000-04:00

Honestly, matrimony has not been on my mind lately. The entire world knows that I don't plan on getting engaged before the age of 24 (barring the appearance of Josh Groban at my side, on his knees, proposing . . . ).

Well, last night I had a very real dream where I was marrying The Cyclist. Sorry buddy, I have to share this one. Anyway, so this dream felt so real that I actually remembering feeling like I was going to throw up from nerves. The interesting thing about this wedding was that in my dream, I knew nothing about what it was going to be like until the actual day of the wedding. Yes folks, the wedding was entirely planned by my parents and let me tell you, the invitation colors were horrific . . . blue, red and orange on beige paper . . . *cringe* . . . but anyway, here are other highlights of my wedding dream (not dream wedding):

- The wedding gown chosen by my mother for me was a pinkish/gray/pearl color, strapless . . . ugly.
- The ceremony was to take place in the church that I grew up in (ok, I can live with that) but the reception was to take place at the amphitheater with music by a Celtic band and Celine Dion. (<--- what????) - My parents had decided to invite all of their friends, but none of mine. - I had no bridesmaids (because my mother neglected to organize THAT part of my wedding, so I was frantically trying to call my three best girlfriends to be bridesmaids at the last minute). - I was too nervous to eat, but people kept on telling me to eat or I'd faint at the altar. - I had a massive diamond engagement ring on my ring finger. Kudos to The Cyclist!! ;) - The Cyclist's brothers and parents were there. - At one point I was playing the drums. Yeah . . . I don't know why, either. Hmm, I think that's it besides the constant "Oh **** I'm getting married!" feeling that permeated the entire experience.

In real life, though, here are my current wedding demands:

For a husband: Josh Groban
For flowers: blue & purple lilies
For a dress: white and not a strapless, preferably with an empire waistline, simple and elegant
For bridesmaids dresses: anything sans taffeta and poofy sleeves and rainbow sherbert hues
For a location: Reveille United Methodist Church (for now)
For a honeymoon: Italy or Ireland.

Alrighty, Josh . . . get to it! *waits patiently*

cathedral of the sacred heart

2006-05-05T08:44:00.000-04:00

There is something about a beautiful space that makes beautiful music pierce the soul with more passion and more grace. Last night I went to the Cathedral Of The Sacred Heart to hear my uncle perform with the Cathedral Choir and the Richmond Symphony. On the program: Bruckner's Requiem and Mahler's "Resurrection." Honestly, I closed my eyes during much of the performance and thought that I was in heaven. It made me think, if God gave Man the ability to sound like this and to write music like this, how incomprehensible and magnificent must be a choir of angels? And what a perfect venue for such pieces - a cathedral that is almost a hundred years old and that is so breathtaking. The strings just soared and they inspired me to get my grandmother's violin fixed as soon as I can so that I can learn how to play the violin. I know my description of the experience is a bit syrupy, but honestly, my extensive adjective list is failing me. :)

Gustav Mahler's "Resurrection" (Symphony No.2 in C Minor):

Rise again, yes you shall rise again, my dust, after brief rest! Immortal life will be given by Him who called you! You are sown to bloom again. The Lord of the harvest goes and gathers sheaves of us, who have died. O believe, my heart, believe: Nothing is lost to you! All you have desired is yours, yes, yours! Yours, what you have loved and fought for! O believe, you were not born in vain! All that is created must perish. All that has perished rises again. Cease trembling! Prepare to live! O Pain, all-pervading, I have escaped from you! O Death, all-conquering, now you are conquered! With wings which I have won in love's ardent striving, I shall soar upwards to the light which no eye has penetrated! I shall die in order to live! Rise again, yes, you shall rise again, my heart, in an instant! Your beating shall lead you to God!

awwww . . . yay!!!

2006-05-03T15:27:00.000-04:00

a series of unfortunate events . . . involving a wet bed

2006-05-03T09:37:00.000-04:00

At some point over the weekend, my bed apparently changed it's name . . . and it's entire identity. Much to my surprise, ( & chagrin, anger, annoyance, etc ) *ahem* the ruler of the apartment, we shall call her Queen Rue, decided that my bed was no longer "Comfy Place To Cuddle Up With My Mom And A Great Stepping Stone Onto The Windowsill" but "Litter Box Number 2."

Now, as much as I love and spoil Her Highness, she does NOT need two litter boxes. And one of them does NOT need to be my bed and the amazing concotion of sheets and blankets that lie therein. My washing and dryer machines are tired, poor things. They have had to wash my sheets three times within the span of two days. I'm tired. I've had to put my sheets in said washer and dryer machines three times within the span of two days. Rue . . . WHY???? I've given you only the best in life . . . I've given you food, water, medicine, a box full of toys, a cat bed, the leftover milk from my cereal, Love and Attention . . . *throws hand dramatically across forehead, cues orchestra, squirts eyedrops into eyes for similarily dramatic tears of anguish*

Through consultation with my friends and my friends with cats, we have determined a list of possible reasons that Rue McRuester (aka "Cat" when I'm angry at her) has decided to paw my sheets like they are litter:

1. My attempt to get her to use a covered litter box on Sunday totally screwed with her mind, as it was like in form to that of a cat carrying case (which she loathes). But, I removed the top to the box and although this new bottom half is deeper, she does use it.
2. She only pees on my bed when I'm in the room because she is mad at me.
3. She only pees on my bed when I'm in the room because she loves being around me so much that she can't bear to be out of my presence for the two minutes it would take to walk down the hallway and use the REAL litter box.

I could put major cat deterrent stuff on my bed . . . but I enjoy cuddling with her on the bed and don't want to scare her away from it completely . . . but I also can't live with constantly changing my sheets.

cathedrals

2006-04-29T12:05:00.000-04:00

I love this song. So does The Shamana. It's "Cathedrals" by Jump Little Children.

In the shadows of tall buildings
Of fallen angels on the ceilings
Oily feathers in bronze and concrete
Faded colors, pieces left incomplete
The line moves slowly past the electric fence
Across the borders between continents
In the cathedrals of New York and Rome
There is a feeling that you should just go home
And spend a lifetime finding out just where that is
In the shadows of tall buildings
The architecture is slowly peeling
Marble statues and glass dividers
Someone is watching all of the outsiders
The line moves slowly through the numbered gate
Past the mosaic of the head of state

(chorus)In the shadows of tall buildings
Of open arches endlessly kneeling
Sonic landscapes echoing vistas
Someone is listening from a safe distance
The line moves slowly into a fading light
A final moment in the dead of night

the hanging of artwork

2006-04-29T11:38:00.000-04:00

I spent most of last night hanging artwork at Plant Zero, where tonight The Richmond Show (the biggest advertising awards show in the region) will take place. It was a long night . . . didn't get out until around 10:45, but it was a lot of fun.

Against all odds, I did not get lost finding the place from work. This was the Achievement of All Achievements. Now, finding the art space where they were hanging work WITHIN Plant Zero was a different story. You see, there are a ton of galleries and art studios at this place and when I walked in, there was an art show going on in one of the front galleries and I was like "Hmmm . . . I have no idea where I'm going." I tried to walk around and look like I knew where I was going (admiring the art work, etc.) but I really had no clue. I think the people at the art show knew, too. They were giving me interesting looks. I tried to call my friend, the VP of the Ad Club, who was running this whole thing, but he didn't answer his phone. Eventually, though, I decided to explore the building and found the art space that I was looking for.

So here was the setup team: 3 Ad Club Board members (including me) and five or six VCU advertising students. And we had massive amounts of work to hang. The space had a pipe & black/white panel decor and we were supposed to hang the work by fish line and binder clips from the top of the pipes. This task required a ladder as tall as the Empire State Building and some very delicate hanging and clipping sensibilities. I met two very cool VCU boys and we became a team. One of them I shall call Green Eyes.

Green Eyes and I became fast friends and he decided, after knowing me for about 3 hours, that he had license to mess with me. For example, when we were cutting fishing line, he would pull on the line so hard that I lost grip on the spindle and it would go flying 10 feet away - something which he found really funny. Of course, I did not feel bad laughing at him when a woman walked in on him in the unisex bathroom.

When we were leaving, we noticed two cats in the building and a litter box. Apparently, the owners of Plant Zero own two cats and allow them to stay in the building. How cool is that?

I'm excited about tonight. Green Eyes and I are working the front door. We get to check people off the list with an air of importance. I'm a little sad that we don't get headsets so that I can talk into mine and say things like "Um, VP, we have a situation out here" and "Code Blue! I repeat Code Blue!" (I don't know what Code Blue would mean, but it sounds cool).

I am determined to be lazy all day so that I can be not so lazy tonight. This evening is going to be an important one for networking and looking good. Heh.

vampire hunting & vegetarian hypocrisy

2006-04-24T13:20:00.000-04:00

If there is one thing that I learned about vampire hunting this weekend, it is that vampires are tricky little creatures that won't die unless you employ three weapons in succession: garlic, a wooden stake and a sword. How do I know this, you ask? Did I spend the weekend staring glazedly at episodes of "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" ? Did I find the need to go to the library and max out my library card on vampire literature? Do I harbor an as-yet-unpublicized obsession with the novels of Ann Rice? No, no . . . and no. And, in case you were thinking it, I most definitely did NOT watch "Interview With A Vampire."

I did, however, battle zombies, werewolves and vampires with J.HumHum this weekend. He came to visit and brought the board game "Vampire Hunter." You have to play the game with the lights out and there is a tower in the center of the board that glows red and blue and lights up various parts of the game board. We each got a little plastic vampire hunter figure in order to Battle Evil and I have to say that my vampire hunter was definitely the more capable hunter. True, techinically I didn't win the game, but my hunter fought her way through with more finesse and I'll just say it . . . good, plain old sanity, than J.HumHum's vampire hunter - who had a tendency to hang by his head from the tower, cry with fear when approaching monsters . . . etc.

It was fun. :)

Before we fought the Powers of Darkness, we had to satisfy our appetites, so I introduced J.HumHum to the Richmond restaurant scene by taking him to Iponema, a vegetarian restaurant down in the VCU area. Neither of us are vegetarians, but I enjoy hummus (as everyone knows) and they have a really good hummus sandwich and the bartender has a really cool beard AND there is a wooden mermaid on the wall. We discussed whether or not they would be able to tell that we weren't "real" vegetarians. Luckily, we made it through dinner without blowing our cover. On Sunday we further buried ourselves in vegetarian hypocrisy by eating at Double T's, a barbeque place in Carytown. But I had the situation all under control, as I kept my eyes peeled for Iponema spies. True, one might argue that neither one of those places really cared about whether we were true vegetarians because heck, we paid them for their food . . . but you never know.

It was a good weekend. A Frisbee was tossed, a lake was admired, a shirt was purchased that says "Don't play leap frog with unicorns" and a metal robot found a new home. Good times.

2006-04-19T12:26:00.000-04:00

2006-04-19T12:25:00.000-04:00

2006-04-19T12:24:00.000-04:00

2006-04-19T12:23:00.000-04:00

smile pretty rue, come on now . . .

2006-04-18T19:50:00.000-04:00

First of all, I've eaten an ungodly amount of hummus today. Just so you know.

So, today was Rue's big Photo Shoot. I "hired" as in "kindly asked/begged" my new friend The Photographer Extraordinaire to take some glamour shots of Her Highness as I did not have a digital camera and the film that is currently in my camera is black and white . . . which doesn't do much to highlight her beautiful orange color.

Rue wasn't very cooperative to begin with. Probably because I got her high on catnip and although that occupied her for eh . . . 5 solid minutes . . . it left her a little spastic for a while. I kept trying to distract her with toys, snap my fingers to get her to turn her head in a particular direction. It was like I had a child and was busy making goofy faces behind the camera in order to catch that "moment." But 4-year-old cats are smarter than human babies, I think, and Rue soon picked up on what was going on.

She picked up so much on what was going on that she finally realized that this photo shoot was all about her and began to perform brilliantly. Once The Photographer Extraordinaire and I got her on my bed, she was striking poses like a seasoned veteran. Some really cute pictures were taken of Rue and me.

Here is a list of various expressions Rue decided to portray in her first photo shoot, this day, the 18th of April:
- Annoyed
- I'm Cleaning In Between My Legs Why The Hell Are You Trying To Take My Picture
- *Blink*
- Catnip-Induced Blank Stare
- Catnip-Induced Psychotic Stare
- Butt-Wiggle In Combination With The I'm About To Pounce At That Motionless Bit Of Feather NOW Stare
- I'm Pretty.
- I'm Really Pretty.
- I'm Prettier Than My Owner.
- Seriously, I Am.

The Photographer Extraordinaire is working on loading the pictures onto his computer and once I get them I will probably post a few. :) How exciting!

By the way, I'd like to give a shout out to the most dastardly pirate out there: J.HumHum. Avast! Walk the plank! Aargh! Treasure! Woooooooot!

Ok, now I must go and work off the ungodly amount of hummus that I ate.

automated paper towel dispenser therapy

2006-04-17T20:49:00.000-04:00

Today I discovered some really good therapy for those days when you are pissed off at the world and those days that just completely and utterly suck (both of those types of days = today). If you are fortunate enough in your place of work or wherever you happen to be to have one of those motion sensor paper towel dispensers, then make one of the paper towels come out and then RIP IT OFF AS FAST AND AS FURIOUSLY AS YOU CAN, like you are ripping someone's head off their neck and you don't care in the slightest that this means that they will die. Honestly, it feels great. Just channel all of your rage into a comparable level of aggression towards the paper towel and just RIP. If it wasn't for the automated paper towel dispenser in the ladies restroom today, the stapler might have been in trouble.

a pool shark who hates her car

2006-04-14T18:52:00.000-04:00

If a "pool shark" is defined as someone who, on occasion, gets the intended ball into a pocket (by accident) and humbly provides amusement for the rest of the people playing pool by completely missing all the balls on the table . . . then I am a bona fide pool shark of the highest order.

We got off of work early today and a bunch of the Creatives invited me to come with them down the street to play pool, drink beer and overall to just be cool for about two hours. I sauntered on into the place and found a great place on the wall from which to observe the hard core pool players but someone (me) managed to get wrangled into joining one of the teams. Ok, it wasn't really "wrangled" so much as " jumped at the chance." There I was, playing pool with three guys. My partner and I talked trash while we continued to lose (although, I have to say that at one point I got two balls in the pocket in a row and we did win one game . . . out of three) and I did my best to get three beers into my partner because apparently, that's how many he says he needs in order play pool well. Yeah. I told him maybe he should try three at once next time. :)

It was a lot of fun. Actually, a whole lot of FUNNY because when one of the guys was bending over to shoot pool some of the other ones would yell, "I wish I could QUIT you!" a la Brokeback Mountain <---- so began a multitude of Brokeback Mountain jokes. And my personal favorite, from The I'm Always Fabulous One : "So . . . my first . . . kiss . . . was on top of a pool table" - from which followed the successive whiplash of all of the men near us towards our direction and inquiries along the lines of what exactly happened on the pool table again??

Now on to the part about how I hate my car. I hate it. I have evidence now about my Murphy's Law of Shopping. I go and buy a bunch of stuff from Target and then the @#(*(@#* plastic thing that shifts the gears in my car decides to break! GAH!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank goodness I plan on winning the $220 million dollar lottery tonight, even though I didn't buy a ticket. If that somehow falls through, then I'm going to trade my car in for tricycle. I'm serious. A blue one. With silver metallic tassles.

i present to you a dandelion

2006-04-13T13:17:00.000-04:00

So, I was just sitting at my desk this morning. Mind you - just sitting there - when a boy comes in with his mother who happens to work at the company here on the first floor. I'd say he was somewhere in the age range of 10-13, black, on the chubby side and was wearing a gold turtleneck. I shall dub him The Golden One.

The Golden One says hello to me when he comes in and I say hello, thinking nothing of it. Then he comes and sits on the chair right in front of my desk . . . and he just sits there . . . and stares at me . . . for 15 minutes. Me, being rather disconcerted by this attention, decide that it is in my best interest to avoid eye contact. So, The Golden One gets up and leaves. He then walks back in and hands me a dandelion. I was rather startled but managed to get out a "Thank you" followed by "What's your name?" And sorry - I can't remember it now. I think that I said "thank you" at least 3 more times after that because I really didn't know what to say.

Ok, so then his mother is finally ready to leave and they walk out. I get back to work and then happen to look up at the door to find The Golden One there. I let him in and he hands me a McDonald's happy meal toy (a plastic hand-held sega genisis) and tells me how to turn it on. Then he precedes to continue to stare at me as he walks out of the door.

???? I'd like to know exactly what it is that I'm doing. For some reason, every male in the world who is either collecting Social Security, is a baby, is a Chester with a molesterstache, or an unnattainable man, is attracted to me. Not that I'm complaining, attention is nice every once and a while . . . but I'm starting to notice a pattern here that I'm not too fond of.

Maybe the supposed "clump of eyeliner or mascara" located on my lower right eyelid (a fact pointed out to me by The Zim) is to blame for this whole thing.

of trees and valleys

2006-04-10T20:16:00.000-04:00

The following is a true account of the events that conspired during the weekend of April 7th through April 9th, in the year 2006:

So, last weekend, The Shamana and I went to Massanutten to escape from the craziness that has been our lives since the beginning of the year. Right after work, I bolted home, hoping to see The Shamana waiting in the parking lot outside of my apartment. Alas, her SUV was no where to be found. So, I putzed around the apartment, kindofsortof finishing packing, but in reality, just tossing a few things into my suitcase every five minutes in between playing with Rue, begging her forgiveness for leaving (which she seemed to know I was about to do) and watching the news. I also tried calling The Shamana, but she wasn't answering her phone. From the news I learned that there were an abnormal amount of accidents on 64W, which of course caused a delay because all you need on 64W anyway is for someone to look at a tree as they are driving by and then there is a 6 mile back up. Anyway, The Shamana finally arrived and I finished packing and we set sail . . . minus the sail part. And the water.

Gas was needed for "Becky" (The Shamana's name for her SUV) so we went to a gas station down the road. While The Shamana got gas for Becky, I recounted to her my amazingly fun anecdotes about how this gas station was normally inhabited by sketchy Mexican men with a penchant for blantant staring at anything female that is mildly attractive. Well, I guess just anything female. But of course, no sketchy Mexican men appeared when we got gas this time so my stories were unsubstantiated. After getting gas, we needed to get ice for our cooler - and friends, events occured with the getting of ice that I have never seen before. Mum's the word on that story, however.

As we were leaving the gas station this occured:
*SUV drives over large metal object, creating unnaturally loud noise*
*Kelly jumps ten feet in the air and by reflex utters a string of profanities that would make a veteran sailor drop his jaw in shock*
*The Shamana stares at Kelly and starts laughing. Continues laughing and reliving said experience for rest of trip. Even goes so far as to make an acronym of said bad words for easy use*

Anyway, so we're driving to the mountains and it's dark because we were late leaving. Then, of course, we drive right into a torrential downpour. Great lightening show, but we weren't too fond of the driving on mountain roads in the dark, in a near rain out with trucks in front of us splashing water onto the windshield. The Harry Potter audio book that we were listening to offered relative comfort, but as mentioned in the previous post, thoughts of imminent death were not far from our minds. At one point where visibility was in the lower 10 percentile, we were screaming things like "AAAAHHHHH" "Dear God!" and "If you survive, you can have my stereo."

We finally make it to Massanutten and head into the check in area, which surprisingly was full of extremely attractive male workers our age, minus one female who looked like a man. As is our life, we get the gender-ambiguous check-in lady and therefore can not put our powers of flirtation to good use in order to obtain free perks. After obtaining our keys, we get in the car and wander aimlessly up and down summits until we find our condo, which we initially miss, causing The Shamana to have to do a K-turn on a tiny mountain road with a plummeting cliff on one side. Up until that point I had been singing "Climb Every Mountain" (something that I had been waiting to do all evening) but my serenade was then interrupted by me praying that we didn't fall off the cliff.

We eventually find our condo at the top of the summit and it was amazing. Nicer than any hotel that I've stayed in. It was absolutely huge - had a master bedroom with it's own bathroom and tv, another bedroom with two twin beds, a massive bathroom with a huge jacuzzi (seriously you could fit 6 people in there, and the walls around it were covered in mirros . . um . . yeah . . .), a kitchen, dining room and living room with a gas fireplace and big screen tv. We also had a screened-in balcony with a gorgeous view of the mountains and the valley. The rest of the night we just chilled out. Watched tv, relaxed . . . made smores.

Saturday it rained all day, so we stayed in for most of the morning and afternoon. It was sooo relaxing. We watched movies and each did a painting. That afternoon we went to The Shamana's sister's house to visit her brother-in-law and nephew because they live close by. They took us to a local book fair, which was my heaven on earth. It was a warehouse full of new books that ranged in price from $1-$4. !!!! I bought two books for $6 - one containing Oscar Wilde plays and Vanity Fair. Yeah, I stuck with the literature genre. Then we went back to the house and ordered Chinese, played with their kitty Ezzy and with The Shamana's little nephew (who by the way is adorable). On the way back to our condo, we checked out a movie at Blockbuster, where I decided to make friends with/scare shamelessly the cute checkout guy:

Blond check out guy: Ok, let me get this over with. *ahem* Would you like to buy a tub of our popcorn to enjoy with your movie? . . . Sorry, I have to ask.
Me: We just ate, but thank you.
Blond check out guy: Sometimes it's a good snack . . .
Me: We just had Chinese.
Blond check out guy: Oh. Maybe it's not such a good idea then.
Me: Probably not. Chinese and popcorn . . .mmm . . .
Blond check out guy: This is due back next week.
Me: Well, we're only here for the weekend. *WINK*
Blond check out guy: Um . . . ok . . . uh . . . have a good night . . .

After we watched the movie, I took a nice, long bath in the jacuzzi. Oh, it was soooo nice. Sunday morning we decided that we wanted to go for a hike. So we pack up my bookbag with water bottles and granola bars, a camera, a map . . . and we can't find the dagon trail for the life of us. Here we were, all prepared to scale mountains and brave the wild and we couldn't even find the trail. So, we decided on the next best thing . . . putt putt. In order to pretend like we are hiking and getting at least a little bit of exercise, we decide to walk to the putt putt course from where we parked our car looking for the trail.

We get to the putt putt course and get our clubs, balls, etc. The man at the front desk was a little unclear as to how we were supposed to get to the "lower course" so we end up walking around the outside of the fence that surrounds the entire course, having to scale rocks and traverse over grassy knolls, all the while looking like idiots to the cars passing by and the putt putt players on the other side of the fence. Eventually, us two college graduates figure out how to get to the first hole (which really just involved walking into the actual entrance to the course). We pretended like we were on a vigorous hike during the course of the game, stopping for water and granola bar breaks inbetween holes, garnering the raised eyebrows of numerous people around us. I got two hole in ones (very unusual for me) but only won the game by one stroke.

After putt putt, we get back to the condo, clean and pack up, then hit the road. We decide to take the back country way (as it was sunny and nice outside) and stop by a pottery store/studio that was off the road in the mountains. It has gorgeous pottery, and I wanted the entire collection, but decided that I should hold off on such a big purchase. We managed to head the wrong direction on the road that we were traveling but eventually figured it out . . . the rest of the drive was uneventful. Although, I have to admit, that after a few hours of beautiful countryside and back country roads, we were more than ready to hop on an interstate. We managed to find 64E and got back to Richmond in one piece.

Ah . . . but we didn't want to return.

indiana jones & co. in the mountains

2006-04-07T09:50:00.000-04:00

So, The Shamana and I are about to embark on a journey of epic proportions a la Indiana Jones - fighting evil, raiding arks that are lost, locating temples of doom, Winning The Good Fight, looking dusty, rugged (and muddy) from struggles through vast wastelands in search of legendary treasure (yet still looking incredibly hot) . . . all in the course of one weekend. Except we will be in the mountains, far from deserts and temples of doom and lost arks. And we'll be staying in luxurious accomodations on the summit. We won't even have to cook over an open campfire, because we have a full kitchen. But the spirit of adventure is still with us. And count on it - if we come across Evil & Doom, we will kick its butt. And take names. Although, I guess their names would be "Evil" and "Doom." Eh. Whatever, I'm beginning to digress.

My only area of concern is the drive up the mountainside. Brave and heroic that we are, full of all that is courageous and Good, one of us (me) has a penchant towards motion sickness and hilly, twisting roads do not get along with my tummy. The Shamana sometimes thinks that massive hills and mountains have a death wish against her car/jeep/vehicle. I can see it now:

*mountain looms*

The Shamana: Oh Dear God.
Me: I think we are going to die.
The Shamana: I think so.
Me: So this is what it feels like to be practically vertical in a moving vehicle.
The Shamana: Do you feel like we're about to plummet backwards onto the cars behind us and explode into a ball of fire?
Me: I was just thinking that.
The Shamana: Huh. That would suck.
Me: Yeah. But at least we'll die in the mountains . . . which are pretty? Right?
The Shamana: I guess it's the whole "the more beautiful a thing is, the more deadly it is" concept.
Me: Hence why we're so deadly.
The Shamana: . . .
Me: Cause . . . you know . . .
The Shamana: . . .
Me: Ok. I was just trying to make us feel better about ourselves before we die.
The Shamana: Oh. Yeah. Um. I feel better.

richmond, i duel thee

2006-04-06T15:40:00.000-04:00

The only thing that I have ever known that I am allergic to is penicillin/amoxicillin - you know, life-saving drugs. And I can deal with that fact. One thing I cannot deal with, or I guess, would really like to not have to deal with is the fact that I may be allergic to Richmond in the springtime. Here I present my evidence: I constantly have a stuffy nose and my head feels like it is not attached to my head for a good portion of the day. My head has been tight and headache-y since the trees began to bud. Furthermore, I have never lived in Richmond in the springtime and there could be flora and fauna here that don't reside in Virginia Beach where I grew up, so my body is like "Whoa. New tree. I think I'll have a headache now," and (to my nose) "GAH! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!! IT'S RICHMOND POLLEN!"

Now, I know some of you out there are like, "Well . . . you know . . . there is such a thing as allergy medication . . ." Believe me, I know. I suffer through the commercials with the rest of America. But, I'd prefer not to take allergy medication for various and assorted reasons. I know - then I am willingly letting myself suffer and I shouldn't complain about it. To that I retort, "Well, there are other ways to fight allergies!" *slaps Richmond with a glove.*

In other news: My cat Rue decided last night that the best place in my apartment to sit was on top of my bills - while I was working on them. I informed her that I, too, did not like bills - looking at them, or paying them - but if she didn't get off of the bills and I didn't pay them, then she'd be out of a home, and food . . . and toys . . .

the universal laws of shopping

2006-03-30T08:46:00.000-05:00

I swear, there has to be some Murphy's Law-type Universal Code that states that when you purchase an expensive item that you don't really need but just want, then something pivotal that you already own will break or die as punishment for your unnecessary purchase.

Case in point: When shopping with The Cyclist last night I gave in to the demands of a very sexy pair of brown heels that insisted that I buy them, take them home, and use them to conquer the world and the hearts of men. Naturally, I could not just leave them on the shelf to waste their potential, so I bought them. Yes, they were a bit expensive. In fact, they were on the extreme edge of prices that I would pay for a pair of shoes. I was rather empowered by the purchase and proud of myself for resisting the pair of shoes with titanium heels that could pierce any surface other than steel and that intimidate the majority of men. Those shoes were the perfect "Don't mess with me, I am single and I don't need a man" shoes. I almost tried them on, because I think every woman should own a pair of shoes like that, but I was good.

Anyway, so I go to sleep overall content with my purchase and quite able to tuck any guilt at spending that kind of money way into the back of my mind. Then I woke up this morning and discovered that my cell phone had died. And I mean DIED. Not as in "ooooo I'm going to fake dying because I just need to be recharged" but "oooo I'm going to punish Kelly for buying expensive shoes by dying in such a way that I cannot be revived no matter how much pleading, cursing and threats to throw me across the room are yelled in my general direction." Bastard cell phone. I thought we were friends! We have a long history, you and I. And you chose to freeze yourself on the screen that says that I have 3 messages and now I can't even listen to them. That's just cruel. Also, now there is no way for me to retrieve the phone numbers from my contact list.

*Simmer*

So, alas, I am being punished by the universe for my shoe purchase - as it looks like I'm going to have to buy a new cell phone. Grrrrrr.

soccer boys and their legs

2006-03-29T14:51:00.000-05:00

Male readers of this blog, you may want to stop reading here. I am going to discuss (philosophically of course) the amazing tendency for 99.9% of soccer boys to be attractive and have the best-looking pair of legs on men, out of all the men hitherto viewed by women.

Via email today, The Shamana and I had a very important discussion about our careers, love, the theraphy in throwing rocks at men, which, invariably, led to the observation that Holy Smokes Don't All Soccer Boys Have The Hottest Legs. As The Shamana said, normally, it is the woman who is held accountable for the condition of her legs (as well as *ahem* other physical features) but we felt no shame commenting on these guys. Honestly, women, have you seen a male soccer player who doesn't have amazing legs? It just baffles the brain. Sure, there is an exception to every rule and I'm sure that I'll get testimonials from people recounting the one moment in their life where they happened to notice that a male soccer player did not have attractive legs, but really, come on . . . it's highly unlikely.

Furthermore, all of the male soccer players that I have met/seen in the 22 years of my life have been very attractive. Ugly male soccer players? I have met none. Yes, yes, I know that there are probably a handful that exist . . . But I'll sit on the sidelines of a college/professional men's soccer game any day.

Speaking of college male soccer teams, one of the fondest days of my existence took place at lunchtime, when I was eating lunch with my mother at a deli in Virginia Beach (one of my favorite places) called Schlotsky's. I think I was either in my late high school years or early college . . . can't remember. Anyway, there I was, eating a roast beef & cheese on sourdough, minus the pickles (because pickles are gross) when Lo and Behold the entire men's soccer team from Wake Forest walked in to get lunch. I tell you ladies, it was like an entire bevy of male models decided they wanted a sandwich. I think my mom notified me that my jaw had indeed hit the table. I asked her how many of them I could bring home.

Now we get to the philosophical part of this entry: What makes male soccer players so hot?

the store of no clothes

2006-03-28T19:09:00.000-05:00

I'd like to know how, out of an entire cart full of clothes, none looked halfway decent on me.

Target, I was willing to spend money on you that I didn't have today and you let me down. Actually, you let YOURSELF down.

Hope you like the feeling of missing out on my money.

You could solve this problem, by just designing clothes for me and me alone. No more of this pleasing the masses thing.

Think on it.

I'll be here.

eternity and counting

2006-03-28T12:07:00.000-05:00

*grabs mail opener, carves a line into wall for each minute that feels like eternity* I I I I I I I I

I have decided to run away with my friend APea to the Land Of The Magical Healing Leprechauns. This is the 50th time that I have reached this conclusion within the last month.

Must make a pro & con list about today, I MUST!!

Pros:

- Have discovered that my friend The Cyclist has a bevy of women throwing themselves at him. I can make fun of him. And ask him if every single one of these women are blond. And ask him which day of the week he has assigned to each one. And when the world can expect a wedding and little cyclists running around.
- Coffee. It exists. This pleases me.
- Coffee. It makes my apartment smell good. And it has caffeine in it.
- Campbell Brown hosted the Today Show this morning instead of Katie Couric. Campbell has been hosting for the past 4 or 5 days straight. I hope that this is evidence of a takeover.
- I talked to The Shamana and she created a blog. She lives in a cupboard.
- The Shamana is sending me Real Mail.
- The Zim visited me in my dungeon today. Human contact is a wonderful thing.
- I turned up the radio in my car this morning so that I could pretend that I couldn't hear the funny noise that my car sometimes makes. Sometimes it's nice to live in ignorance.
- I like my hair cut.

Cons:

- I am writing this during my lunch break. Minus the "break" part.
- Rue woke me up this morning. Which means I forgot to lock my door last night. Oh well.
- Ankle chain is chaffing.
- This dungeon smells and my candle is almost gone.
- My teeth will most certainly rot by the end of the day, as I keep on eating the gumballs, or as I like to think of them, "Sugar Bombs" that are under my desk in a box.
- With rotten teeth, I will most certainly be single forever. Unless I never talk. Or smile. Or eat. Or move to Britain. <---- ooo that was mean. I'm sorry if you are British and are angry that I went with a stereotype there. I'm sure your teeth are beautiful and that your voice sounds pretty.

roadtrip correspondence

2006-03-26T16:10:00.000-05:00

I just got back from Virginia Beach and there are a few letters I'd like to send out in reference to my time on the road:

Dear Car Going 20 Miles Below The Speed Limit,

I admire the fact that you want to be different from everybody else. Individuality is important. But perhaps you don't realize that your quest to stand out from the crowd is preventing me from getting to my destination before I turn 40. Some suggestions: Perhaps you should stop completeley turning your body to talk to the person next to you. Perhaps you should get your vision checked so that you can read the speed limit (or in your case, "speed goal") signs on the side of the road. Also, buy a bike. You'd save gas and be able to reach the same speed.

Sincerely,

I Know Where You Can Find A Bike

Dear Radio Announcement For Botox,

I find it interesting that you advertise botox as "therapy" and that you suggest sticking needles with poison in them into people's arm pits. What ever happened to lying down on a couch? Oh and by the way, you know that you're advocating people injecting poison into themselves, right? Ok . . . just wanted to make sure.

Sincerely,

Needles Were Meant For Vaccinations. And Sewing.

Dear Mr. Blunt,

Apparently, I'm "beautiful." Thanks. Can't hear that enough. Oh, well unless I hear it 10 million times from you, within one day. It begins to lose its meaning after a while. You know, the whole "you can't know hot without cold," "you can't know good without bad" thing. Oh and hey - are you the lovechild of Macy Gray and Rod Stewart? This has been a topic of much debate.

Sincerely,

You Haven't Seen Me When I Wake Up In The Morning

Dear Traffic Jam on 64W,

I know that I've been complaining about money recently and that rent does take a big chunk out of my paycheck . . . but I'd prefer not to live in my car. Forever. Thanks.

Sincerely,

What The Hell Would My Address Be?

Dear Veggie Veggie Wrap From Tropical Smoothie,

If I can talk on the cell phone and drive, then I can eat you and drive as well. I'd appreciate your full cooperation in this matter. Should you decide to miss my mouth, please take care that you fall on the wrapper in my lap.

Sincerely,

Finally, Lunch.

Dear Right Lane,

Why the heck are you moving and I'm not? Who are you paying? *searches through purse for money*

Sincerely,

I Always Get Stuck On The Losing Team - Aka, The Lane That Doesn't Move

Dear Red Explorer In Front Of Me,

I don't get your license plate. "CIATYRA" ? Are you called Ciaty and you happen to be an RA? Do you work for the CIA and your codename is "Tyra"? If so, I don't think it's wise to advertise.
By the way, it is possible to drive while talking on the cell phone. I think you and the 20 Below Car should take lessons together. But not in my city, please.

Sincerely,

At Lease Your License Plate Doesn't Say "SUGRPIE"

in memory of T

2006-03-25T21:50:00.000-05:00

I had hoped to post an entry of relative cheerfulness, but I find it necessary to pay tribute to a friend of mine from Mary Wash who got to a point where she had no hope and took her life. I went to her memorial service this afternoon and dear God is was so heartbreaking. I held myself together pretty well until I saw her family. We took communion and on the way back, the immediate family stood in their pew and we gave them hugs. Her father and mother were sobbing and that was the worst part. I think I cried more after seeing her family so broken. Her poor father just looked lost. I pray that her family and friends find peace. I just can't even imagine the pain.

T, if you're reading this, I truly enjoyed our time together and I apologize if I didn't tell you enough. You were loved by so many people and I know that you are not suffering anymore. Life wasn't meant to be so lonely . . . you deserved to know that.

Here are the wonderful things that I remember about our time together:

- Halloween parties in my room, glowing pumpkins on the walls, scary movie marathons with Johnny Depp, and well, just admiration ofJohnny Depp in general.
- Supporting my roomie as she gave her ghostwalk tour and picking out where the people were going to jump out of the bushes
- Regular dinners at Seaco, overall scoffing of the food selection, the bistro? pizza? "Wha, they moved the booths again??"
- Legolas. Posters.
- Looking at all of the amazing photographs that you took on your travels.

There are more.

You will be missed.

Rest in peace, my dear.

i made it!

2006-01-09T20:03:00.000-05:00

Ok, I need to change the font to normal size instead of small because it's bothering me. But that out of the way . . .

I made it through a day of work!! Sure I felt like crap most of the day! Sure I didn't know if I would make it and if my stomach would ever stop doing flip-flops, but I made it. That's all that matters. If I can make it through a day of work today, I can make it through tomorrow and the day after that. I probably won't have most of my energy back for another week or so, but I have what I need to work for now. That's about it. Well, and to go for a walk around my apartment. But beyond that, I'm not good for much! Just call me Little Miss Early Bedtime for like the next two weeks.

My parents came up on Saturday to take care of me and it was exactly what I needed. I felt stronger with them there and they helped me get all of the food and extra things that I needed. We went out to lunch and my mom and I went for a walk and had a wonderful time. Of course, after that, I was beat, but it was just so wonderful. I was really depressed after they left because I was so lonely, but my friends and family have kept calling and giving me support. It's been great.

Sunday was particularily hard for me. I started having anxiety attacks about driving and leaving the apartment because the last few times I had tried, I had been too sick to finish. So, my mom told me to go for a walk around the apartment and then to practice driving while she stayed with me on the phone. I had a mini-anxiety attack when I first started driving, but I eventually was able to calm myself down.

And today I made it through work. Yay!

Time to try and watch House.

sigh

2006-01-06T12:59:00.000-05:00

Still sick. Still home. I'm tired of being sick.

she's a good "sticker"

2006-01-05T18:48:00.000-05:00

I have decided that I am going to throw a big dinner party for all of the friends who have taken care of me the last five days picking me up and/or taking me home when I've felt horribly ill, taken me to Ukrop's or gone by themselves to get me ginger ale, chicken noodle soup, saltines, and the like . . . who've been calling to check up on me . . . I am very blessed and yes, I am still struggling to get over the virus the struck me down on Sunday. I have been bed ridden for most of the week. I managed to make it through a whole day of work on Tuesday (completely miserable) only to come in to work on Wednesday and have to be driven home by a colleague because I had nausea and chills and could barely move without feeling like I was on a tiny boat caught floating up and down on massive swells in the middle of the arctic.

My uncle took me to see the doctor yesterday afternoon. Apparently a massive viral cloud has settled over the city of Richmond and I am one of many to have acquired the virus. But, being already unhealthy, as my doctor told me, my body is having a lot harder time getting well. So, all I can do right now to fight the virus is eat a lot, sleep a lot, and cut out any extra activity besides work. Which sadly, I've already had to do - I've had to drop out of all of the rehearsals and the concert this week for the symphony. Once I get past this virus I have to work on getting myself healthy again.

They took blood from me at the doctor's office yesterday. In my shaky and sick state, I still managed to inform the nurse who was about to stick me with a needle that she had a challenging task ahead of her, as my veins are very hard to find and the last nurse to get blood from me two months ago had to stick me 3 times (and almost call for back-up). The nurse laughed and said that she'd do her best not to stick me more than once. I looked away (because as long as I don't look when I'm being stuck with a needle, I'm fine) and then I hear the nurse say "Hmmm . . . hey _____ (insert name of random nurse walking by)" to which I think to myself ("oh great, she can't find a vein") but then the nurse is like "Oh nevermind, I got it." My automatic reflex was to loudly proclaim "Thank God!" The nurse who had been walking by looked perplexed and less she think that my declaration was because the nurse taking my blood was inept, I hastily explained my background of nurses having trouble finding my veins and how this nurse found it on the first try. The walking by nurse said "Oh, well, she's good" and I told my nurse "Good job" and that indeed, she was good. And - had I felt better, I would have continued with how she was a credit to the nursing profession, but they ushered me to the check-out counter. As a friend of mine later told me, I got a good "sticker."

Tomorrow I am attemping a full day of work. Pray for me - I think I can make it through.

the great pit-stop of 2006

2006-01-03T14:29:00.000-05:00

I never really considered myself one of those people who, despite being academically gifted, lacked a certain amount of common sense. However, I can't really stand up for myself when I take a look back at a certain decision I made on New Year's Day. It really was a stroke of brilliance, in the not-so-much-brilliant-as-brilliantly-stupid sort of manner. I had had a nice New Year's - quiet, with friends and not a whole lot of partying, as I was paranoid that I'd get stopped by a police checkpoint at some point on my route back home. I woke up New Year's Day feeling tired, but not more tired than usual.

Throughout the day I started to feel progressively more sick but was trying to will myself better because the GID was fixing a special New Year's Day dinner and I didn't want to disappoint by not being able to attend. (The "GID" stands for Guy I'm Dating. Until I get his permission to use his real name online, I have made up this acronym so that I can talk freely). About an hour before I was to depart, the common sense part of my mind was saying things like "Kelly, you know you feel absolutely horrible and barely able to move about your apartment - how do you think you are going to drive?" to which the stupid part of me replied, "Whatever, I can do it. Shut up. Maybe if you stop harrassing me I'll feel better." So, I get into my car and start to drive. No sooner do I pull out of my apartment complex do I realize that maybe I shouldn't be driving. My common sense says, "Yes, Kelly, I told you this earlier - you are the finest shade of green, your head feels like it's embraced the Iron Mask, you feel like you are going to puke, and the world around you looks unfamiliar. You should turn right back around. Forget the dinner."

My stupid side acknowledged the truth of this feelings, but decided that I could still make the 20 min. drive, if only barely. Although, if I had stopped to think, I would have realized that even if I had barely made it to the GID's apart., I would have left him with a barely comprehensible and sick Kelly - which is not a very nice thing to do. Anyway, so I keep driving and keep praying to God that I will 1. Get over this bridge alive 2. Get to this stoplight alive 3. Get to the next stoplight alive. Then my body couldn't take it anymore. I pulled off into a parking lot, noticed the golden lights of a Hardee's through my panicked haze of illness, and mad-dashed through it's doors, barely making it there in the neck of time.

Hardee's. I think we all know the delights of a Hardee's bathroom. I don't think that I need to describe it. Suffice it to say I was sick, marooned in a Hardee's bathroom, and God employed some angels to keep anybody else from entering. I managed to call a good friend, who came to pick me up and take me home. She and the GID then devised a masterful tag-team venture to get my car back to his place so it wouldn't get towed. Man, am I lucky in my friends.

I've spent the last two days alternating between the couch in my living room and my bed - between realizing that day-time television should be stricken from the records of humanity and sleeping 12 hours at a time (only to wake up feeling un-refreshed). I drank flat soda and ate dry cereal and crackers. The GID was a good GID and brought me medicine and food, and took me to get my car at his place. Driving it home I still didn't feel very good, so I kept someone on the phone with me the whole time.

Now, I've managed to crawl into work. I feel better in some respects, but overall still feel pretty gross. Have a headache the size of . . . well, the size of something big and scary and painful. Tonight I have the first symphony rehearsal of 3 + a concert this week and there is a pool being taken between the various facets of my brain as to whether I will almost pass out in rehearsal again. Maybe I will just sit there and listen. Haven't decided.

Hardee's I thank you for being in the right place at the right time, although when I feel better, perhaps we could talk about your menu choices.

me. on a dark country road.

2005-11-19T13:15:00.000-05:00

Those who know me know that I am navigationally challenged. It is of course, no fault of my own. I am the helpless victim of poor navigational genetics. Anyway, I had a babysitting job last night that ended up being in The Middle Of Nowhere. I mean, back country road USA. I have nothing against the country. I love it, actually. But take away my street signs, stop lights and neon navigational-direction-pointers and I get a bit anxious. I guess if I ever want to realize my dream of living in the mountains yet within 10 miles of a thriving city, I'll have to get over that.

So, I'm driving on ye old dirt road and notice that 1. Most of these houses are over 300 feet back from the road, behind lots of trees. 2. The only way you can see an address number is by having miraculous superspeed night vision that enables you to glimpse miniscule address numbers on the side of black mailboxes in the pitch black at 45 miles per hour. Of course, for the first part of this driving adventure, I have a pickup truck tailing me and forcing me to go 45 mph, therefore preventing me from seeing what addresses I am passing because I lack previously mentioned superspeed night vision. Then the truck turns off the road and I can slow down. But I realize as I travel for a much longer time expected down the road and reach an "intersection" that I've missed the house. With a cool head, I turn around and drive back at 25 mph, stopping at every mailbox to read the number. Note: With a cool head. (No panic!) And then I find the house. Finally. Aren't you proud of me?

Salmon Soda

2005-11-16T22:05:00.000-05:00

I know that Americans are oftly fond of the unique. Especially when it's one-of-a-kind . . . and we own it. We have learned quite well how to make sure it gets noticed, either by a flashing hand or a subtle/not-so-subtle hint within conversation. I know this. But I really wonder why in the heck someone on this planet has enough time, enough inclination, and enough money to concept and actually create salmon-flavored soda. Can one even claim its appeal lies in novelty? Is it even possible?! I think not. Such a declaration would imply that any appeal, of any sort whatsoever, lay within it.

Really, I like fish. I do. In fact, salmon is my favorite fish Of All Time. I'm a little unhappy though, about the fact that at least for the next week I associate it with a completely unpleasant and vile drink. It's orange-pink. It tastes like salmon (really, that's all I need to say), and it slides down your throat in liquid form. Gah . . . gross eew eew eew *twitching and all sorts of uncomfortable motions.* Is it too much to ask that we keep fish in it's natural form and not apply its flavor to soda?

And thus, as I ponder the ever-horrifying concept of salmon-flavored soda, I find the urge to pen this:

REAL MEN OF GENIUS *Real Men of Genius!*

We salute you Mr. Salmon-Flavored-Soda-Creator-Man. *Mr. Salmon-Flavored-Soda-Creator-Man!* You took a step out of the box - waaay out side of the box, when you combined our favorite pink fish with a carbonated beverage. *TRUE harmony of nature and taste!* Regular, Diet, . . . who cares? As long it's in a cool bottle, that's all that really matters *SO pretty and pink!* We take comfort in the fact that somewhere, somehow, there is a way to eat salmon without using a fork or a knife .*CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!* As we throw up in the nearest trash can, we salute you Mr. Salmon-Flavored-Soda-Creator-Man . . . because nothing says "satisfying" like a fishy aftertaste. *Mr. Salmon-Flavored-Soda-Creator-Man!"

the wounded bookshop

2005-04-15T22:59:00.000-04:00

So tonight I made my first venture into the world of open mic poetry. After much persuasion from my fellow writer and poet friend Chelsea, I agreed to attend the open mike poetry night at The Wounded Bookshop downtown and read some of my poetry. I LOVE The Wounded Bookshop - the atmosphere, the building - it's a used bookshop in an old, old building that used to be a machine shop - now it's filled with mismatched sofas, artwork, dones of aged wooden bookshelves with old books, coffee, tea, wine, creaking staircases, fabulous rugs . . .

I loved listening to other people's works and meeting so many interesting characters: the elderly woman who published a book of poetry years ago, who still writes . . . the young man who's traveled the United States and just recently arrived in Fredericksburg to start a non-profit environmentalist action group - he also used to teach to gang members , one of his favorite students was shot in the forehead . . . the 15-year-old girl with long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, black-rimmed glasses who declared that she normally writes fiction but what the heck, she gave poetry a try (incidentally she is an extremely talented writer across the board) . . . Chelsea my comrade English major and writer (with all of the OCD characteristics that I posses) - she's a great writer as well . . . the middle-aged man with curly blond-gray hair and glasses, who wrote a poem about Isaac Newtown (and said that if anybody wanted to know why he wrote about Isaac Newton, he would tell him "offline") . . . the young man with a pale yellow buttoned up shirt and black-rimmed glasses, who disliked the government and organized religion, who hestitated reading a poem he had written about sex . . .

I read three of my poems - first time ever reading them in public. It was amazing. I think I'm hooked.

hi & and my car

2005-04-10T23:04:00.000-04:00

Hey everyone. I'm slammed with massive amounts of stuff, but I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm alive. Oh and my car is in the shop. Needs a new compressor. I wonder if all of these auto mechanics live in mansions. They can probably afford it if they get to see any of the money they charge us. But anyway, the auto place that my car is at - the guys there are really nice, I went to them on recommendation of a dear friend of mine. When I drove my car up the first thing the guy said was "That doesn't sound good." Very hopeful start, no? But would have to agree - my poor car sounded like it had a 50-year smoking habit. Emphezyma for cars. Hopefully I'll get to pick it up tomorrow. I miss my "land yacht." (Thank you Bryan for that lovely moniker - it has become near and dear to my heart).

oh boy

2005-04-03T13:45:00.000-04:00

So last night I almost got broad-sided on the driver's side of my car by a van. Seriously, by God's grace and a few feet, as well as good brakes, I missed being in a serious accident. It was night time, I was driving in unfamiliar Springfield, frustrated because I couldn't find the church where my brother was singing, and I was lost. I decided to turn back around and head the other way down the the road, so I pulled off into a neighborhood to turn around. In order to get back on the road I had to turn left and cross 4 lanes of traffic, two going either direction. I inched out and misjudged the speed of the car heading towards me. About half-way across the first two lanes I realized "Oh shit I do NOT have enough time to get across the road." I had a brief second of mind-blowing panic but managed to slam on the brakes just in time for the car to swerve around me. I don't think I breathed for at least 10 seconds and then I started crying, I guess because I was scared - I realized what could have happened to me. Man. It was really frightening. I thanked God and my guardian angels profusely on my way home. And I will now be an old lady driver forever.

career and self-esteem update

2005-03-31T18:43:00.000-05:00

I have recently had some career boosts that have served to raise my self-esteem, however temporary it may be. :)

First of all, I came into work today (the advertising company I write for - just in case you infrequent readers have forgotten) to find out from my boss that the concept and tagline that I had come up with to pitch to The Virginian-Pilot (out of all the concepts the free-lancers they brought in came up with for the project) is going to be one of the two concepts presented to the Pilot executives! Mine!! The company is actually going to present MY idea to a big-league newspaper for their new advertising campaign. Potentially, if the Pilot executives decide to go with my idea, all of you people in the Hampton Roads area could be witness to a new advertising campaign from the brain of your friend Kelly. I'm grinning from ear to ear here. The CEO of my company came up to me and told me what a great job I had done on the work for this pitch. Now talk about a self-esteem boost. I spent most of this afternoon fleshing out the concept and there is a chance that I might be able to go down with the company to help pitch, or observe the pitch of the two ideas. The other concept they are presenting is a strong one as well, but if my concept doesn't make it past the presentation, I'm still going to be extremely happy with how far it got. :) (Yay!!) (!!!) I'd love to stay and work for this company after graduation - we'll see what happens.

Yesterday, I also got a call from The Motley Fool, an organization that writes about finances and informs the common citizen about how to manage their finances in a humorous way. They have a popular radio show with NPR and an in-depth website and book series. I applied for an editor position with them (mostly copyediting) on Tuesday and the next day they called me back. While the lady I talked to thinks that I'm a little light on experience (although, in my opinion, most college students are) they are interested enough in me to have me take an editing test on Monday, which they are going to fax over here to good old career services. I have to take the test in a certain period of time and then fax it back. Who knows what will happen with this, but it was encouraging to finally hear back from someone even if I don't do well enough for them on the test.

Yay happiness. :)

a new friend Bradley

2005-03-27T22:08:00.000-05:00

I made a new friend at church on Saturday, his name is Bradley and I'd say he's about 8 years old, maybe 9. He's the cutest little boy, with dark hair and big brown eyes. I got to the service early to help set up and Bradley came up to me and Pattie, my church sponsor, eager to help do anything. We took to each other really quickly. Now each Saturday church service has a metaphor, and this past Saturday's was supposed to be the "brick wall tumbling down" because Jesus was resurrected. They had had a brick wall made of tissue boxes set up during the Lenten season. None of us could find the bricks and since no service would be complete without a metaphor, Bradley asked me to go on an adventure with him around the church to find them.

As we walked out the sanctuary he confided in me that he was happy I was coming with him because he was scared of the dark. He told me quite matter of factly that although he hadn't seen a lot of scary movies he'd heard about them and they were scary, especially Freddie and Chuckie. I told thim that normally when people stick together in those movies they are fine so we'd be fine - you know, we were comrades, nothing would happen. So we explored all over the church, in the dark places . . . opened scary doors, climbed over things (well he did) and we still could not find our metaphor.

We got back to the sanctuary right as the service started and we got separated. He went to sit with his dad and I sat with Pattie. We both passed out crosses during Communion - Pattie helped him and I helped his older brother. Anyway, the service was great and right when it was over I bent over to grab something and he was there in front of me and he gave me this huge hug and was all mournful and said "are you going to be here next Saturday because I'm going to be here next Saturday" and I was so sad because I wasn't going to be there this upcoming Saturday - friends are coming down and I am going to my brother's concert in Springfield that night - but for a few moments there I wanted to say "screw it" to all of that (no offense to said friends and brother) just so that I wouldn't have to disappoint this little guy. I told him that I'd definitely be back the Saturday after this one and he was like "well I don't know if I'll be here because I might be with my mommy that weekend" and I promised him profusely that he would see me soon, as I would be coming for the next month. Although when I thought that ,I felt a pang because I'm graduating soon. Man - I'd stay in Fredericksburg just for FUMC and the people there. I'm going to miss it so much.

Anyway, he wanted me to stay after the service later so I did, and we did a little bit more exploring but finally I gave him a hug and he was like "You know did you come here before?" and I was like "Yep, I've been coming to this service all year, I've seen you but we've never gotten a chance to talk" and he was like "wow yeah and we talked to today and now we are friends." And I said, "Yes, we are."

the motorcycle diaries

2005-03-26T09:49:00.000-05:00

I just thought I'd recommend a FABULOUS movie. A friend bought it for me and I highly, highly, recommend you watch it - "The Motorcycle Diaries." The version I saw was in Spanish with English subtitles, I don't know if you can hear it in English - perhaps I didn't explore the menu well enough. But even if you can, I think I'd still choose to watch it in Spanish, since it takes place in South America, you gain a little bit of authenticity. Anyway, check out the the movie's website : http://www.motorcyclediariesmovie.com/ if you want to see what it's about. You have to watch it. End of story.

Good Friday

2005-03-25T20:58:00.000-05:00

I don't know if any of you have ever been to a Good Friday Tenebrae service, but I went to one tonight at Fredericksburg United Methodist church. I've been to plenty of them before, but I just wanted to write for a second about how powerful they can be, especially tonight's. I think Tenebrae is solely a Protestant thing, but I could be wrong (so correct me if I am!). Anyway, FUMC did a Tenebrae service tonight, and for those of you who don't know Good Friday, for Christians, it marks and remembers the day that Jesus died on the cross. The service started out with all of the lights on in the sanctuary, numerous candles lit, and the traditional lenten purple garments draped over the lecturns and altars. Scripture about Jesus' final hours, alternating between hymns about his death constituted most of the service. But each time a scripture was finished being read, a few candles were taken out of the sanctuary, and the purple garments were removed. A black cloth was draped over the cross and by the time we got to Jesus' death in the Scripture, the lights had progressively been dimmed to black and the candles were all taken out. When the final Scripture had been read, we were sitting in pitch black, prayerful and silent. All of a the sudden the organ crashed out a very loud, dischordant, and mournful chord, reminiscent of the moment Jesus' soul left his body and an earthquake and thunder rocked the Mount of Olives. Then the church bell rang 33 times, one ring for each year Jesus lived. I could hear other churches ringing their bells as well. The whole time the lights stayed off, and after the bells finished ringing, we left the sanctuary in silence. The service was powerful, but the act of Jesus dying for me, for us all, is the most powerful of them all.

woo hoo

2005-03-23T19:25:00.000-05:00

I now have a date to grad ball - my way cool brother :) Yay! We are going to have so much fun, I can't wait!

Also along the procuring of myself a date for grad ball line - I had some colleagues down in the Richmond area set me up with a 25 year old architect as a potential "date" for this dance. Well he called me Monday night and I was very, very unimpressed. All he could talk about the whole time was alcohol. Did not get a good vibe. Needless to say, nothing is going to come of it. Ugh. Even though I only talked to this guy on the phone I am traumatized. I will never let myself be set up again. I will set myself up from now on. Blech.

scalding water = fun

2005-03-20T11:19:00.000-05:00

I have a love/hate relationship with the showers here at Marshall. One thing I love is the water pressure - it's like a freakin turbo jet stream. I'm one of those people who prefers showers like waterfalls and not showers where the total water pressure is that of someone sprinkling water on you from a watering can. Those types of showers drive me to distraction. However, there is one little eccentricity of ye old Marshall Hall showers that I definitely do not enjoy - the intermittent SCALDING HOT water that comes through the faucet. It appears to be that any time someone flushes a toilet in the entire building, that one measly little toilet determines the temperature of water that comes out of the shower - and it's extremely hot water. The shower stall is very small so you don't have really anywhere to move in order to escape it, if you even get a warning. Sometimes the water will pause for a millisecond and you just know you're about to get burned so you can try and move at least some of your body out of the jet stream, but recently it hasn't even been doing that. And generally, I get my shower right after I wake up so my lightening-quick reflexes are not so lightening quick. Ooo but the most fun is when your face is under the water when the hot water comes. It's great.

Can you tell I had an encounter with multiple moments of scalding hot water this morning?

This afternoon should be fun. One of my favorite people from the Signature (the restaurant I usually hostess at when I'm home from school), Jim, is going to be up in Fredericksburg today and tomorrow so tonight we're going out to dinner and possibly catching a movie. It's become a tradition whenever he's in the area. Such a great guy that Jim. Very sweet and a great friend. If we go see a movie I have no idea what to see - nothing really good is out. I heard The Ring 2 got a horrible review. I'd be interested in seeing Robots, although I don't know if that is something Jim would be interested in. Oh well. :) We shall see. Despite my socializing adventure this evening, I still have to be productive. Lots of writing of the creative type to do.

Ooo guess what - "Finding Neverland" comes out on dvd this Tuesday. Man that was quick. Once I get some money I am so buying that. It was soooooooo good and got overlooked at the Oscars. I think it only won best score.

Oh and shout out to Manley. Was glad to see he posted a comment. :) What's up Manley?

flower pen and moral ambiguity

2005-03-16T18:11:00.000-05:00

So I may be a horrible person, just so you know. I was walking back on campus walk from art class today when I saw in the distant future, one of the blind students on campus drop something. She was walking in the opposite direction of me and by the time I got to the spot where she had dropped whatever she had dropped (which turned out to be one of those pens with a flower attached to the end) she had already disappeared into Trinkle. Now, for a few seconds I contemplated not picking the pen up and keeping on walking, but then I was like "Kelly, that's horrible. She's blind, or practically blind, what will she do without her pen?" So, I pick it up and run back into Trinkle. I check the study rooms, the first floor classrooms, and the basement. I didn't check the second floor. Which I probably should have done. But, I couldn't find her, so I didn't know what else to do but to leave. But now I have her really nice flower pen and I'd feel bad using it, even though I didn't steal it or anything - I tried to find her (albeit I neglected the second floor). Hmmm. What should I do? Ignore the pen? Give it to someone else? Use it in conscious-less bliss? Realize that I'm being really stupid and silly over nothing? Yes, it's probably the latter, I know, but I'm a strange creature.

Die Zauberflote

2005-03-14T20:21:00.000-05:00

So today, I allowed myself to rationalize the purchase of "Die Zauberflote" or "The Magic Flute" (for all you non-German speakers). It's an opera by Mozart. I have long coveted the music from this opera, as I particularily associate it with fond childhood memories and amazing musical genius. You should read the synopsis of it online, it's a crazy spectacle fairy-type tale that ends happily ever after. I have to admit, the Queen of the Night is my favorite character and her insanely intense solo I have memorized in the English form, since the copy I listened to over and over again as a child was in English and not the original German. I have the solo on my computer and it's really weird because when I listen to it, I hear it in the English even though I'm listening in the German. Anyway, the point of this story my fellow readers is that although I really don't have money to throw away left and right, I have once again succumbed. But it's an investment, no?

I'd also like to take this time to share with you all that my art professor is the newest member of the "wow kelly thomson is a detailed perfectionist" club - a club which boasts the membership of numerous professors, family, and friends of mine. Right now we are working on creating a 9 foot by 13 foot mural re-creation of a famous painting. He's gridded off the painting into numerous squares and then assigned each of us certain squares to re-create. Of course, when I'm drawing my squares I spend forever drawing every minute detail even though most likely a lot of the detail will be lost once I start to paint it. My professor just laughs when he walks by me hunched over my artwork, pencil in hand and makes offhanded comments about how I sure really like to draw detailed. He then smiles as I say "yeah yeah, I know . . ." and willfully acknowledge my anal-retentive qualities. It helps of course, that the other three people in my row are as perfectionist as I am- a fact that my art professor has also graciously acknowledged. Well, I suppose we all belong together :)

2005-03-13T11:13:00.000-05:00

me and my dance class from last semester, about to shake our booties toxic style. i miss dance!

random insomnia

2005-03-12T07:25:00.000-05:00

So, I woke up this morning around 3:30/4 am by the sound of my suitemate coughing her head off in the bathroom. So I get up, realize that I have to use the restroom anyway, and go and check on her. By the time I get back I am wide awake. Really wide awake. And starving. Which is not good because I have to get up at 7 to get ready to help with registration for Showcase. I lie in bed for like 30 min. Can't sleep. So, I do something that I haven't done in years. I turn on the light next to my bed, grab an apple to eat, and read Kitchen Confidential for about an hour. By that time, I'm just tired enough to phase back into a little bit of sleep for about an hour/hour and half. "So what?" you ask. Well, I just found it weird because I normally sleep very well through the night. Even on the rare occurences when I have to get up in the middle of the night. Now I'm tired. I hope traffickers for Showcase don't have to be friendly. The rest of my day involves brunch, schoolwork/painting/cleaning/etc., hair cut, church, then back to work. Come on Kel you can do it. Oh, I need to return some library books, too.

Ruth Ozeki

2005-03-08T21:02:00.000-05:00

Ruth Ozeki, author of "My Year of Meats" and "All Over Creation" talked at Mary Washington. I looove "My Year of Meats," it's one of my favorite books ever and Ruth Ozeki was fabulous, friendly, and personable. She signed my book (yay!) and when I told her that I was an aspiring writer, she said to me with a smile "call me when you get published" and she gave me some advice on writing. *sigh* such an inspiration.

Woody, Sky, Greta, and goats

2005-03-06T18:23:00.000-05:00

Hello hello. I'm back from Richmond and immediately overwhelmed with piles of work as usual. I'd give you the whole extensive account from my Richmond trip but for the sake of time and not writing a ten million paragraph entry, I'm just going to tell you about my favorite day of spring break, which coincidentally occured in Richmond and just happened to be yesterday.

Yesterday I went to the Horse & Kitty Plantation (my friend Angie's farm) for a dinner party with a bunch of very cool adults with witty monikers and some mutual friends (my uncle and grandmother included). The decided theme of our meal was "pot roast" and we each had to bring a particular dish. My grandmother and I were in charge of the salad (which we whipped up with our magical culinary skills the night before). Anyway, there were various amazing and asundry things that were supposed to go down at this party - 1. Socializing (of course) 2. Wine drinking 3. Meeting about progress of novel Angie and I are writing, 4. For me to ride some of her horses. Well, the first three came true. The weather was absolutely horrible- snowing and wet and muddy. My grandmother and I followed my uncle out to the farm (it is way on the back roads of Powhatan) and brought my grandmother's dog Little Bit with us, who is quite a handful.

Once we got there, Angie let us go into the gated horse yard to meet her Arabian stallion Woody and her other horse, whose name I can't remember. I got to pet horses (fun) but because of the horrible weather I didn't get to ride any of them, which I was looking forward to because I have never ridden a horse before. After that we walked down the dirt road to her neighbor's house and got to see her two horses Greta and Sky as well as her two goats and numerous chickens. I had to hold Little Bit on the walk because she was shivering and acting very pathetic in the cold. But hey, I was frozen solid so I empathized. I had never been in such close proximity with goats before, and I got to feed them some peppermint goat treats while I got my shoes all nice and muddy. I learned to keep a very careful eye out for barnyard poo as well. Although it was so muddy I probably wouldn't have known if I had stepped in anything. All I needed though was a nice Stetson hat like Angie had to be a true rough and tough horsewoman.

The horses were a bit skiddish, well Sky was at least and poor Little Bit was scared of getting trampled by hooves. After trekking back from that farm we went into Angie's main farmhouse (which belongs to her sister and brother-in-law) and they built a really nice hot fire and I had a glass of wine. Then all the other dinner party guests started to show up. I only stuck to one glass of wine although most everyone else definitely had more than one. I'm not a huge fan of wine in general, although I do really like California Bogle white wine and some Spamante (sp?) that Kevin bought once. Anyway, we all made intellectual and entertaining conversation while sipping our wine before the fireplace in the beautifully decorated farm house. Then we ate dinner, which was really good. My uncle was in charge of dessert and brought this absolutely amazing Boston creme pie and french apple pie. I decided to op for the Boston creme pie, which was to die for.

After dinner we talked, drank ,and retired to Angie's apartment over the garage where the socializing continued. Keep in mind I am the youngest of all of these fabulous people by pretty much 20 years, but oddly enough, there wasn't any awkwardness at all. After talking a bit more, Angie, my uncle, and I got to business on the novel writing project. Around 11 my uncle and I left. It was so much fun. I made some new friends and contacts and actually got to go to the countryside and be with the horses, ten million cats, and see the stars at night - I miss being able to see the stars in the city!

Well, that was my farm/dinner party extravaganza - my absolute favorite day over spring break. I can't wait to get back there. I pray desperately that I find a job in the Richmond area so I can go over there more frequently! Sorry this entry is so poorly written. I'm in a hurry. :)

luke & lorelai

2005-03-01T21:11:00.000-05:00

I thought you might like to start off this evening with a little good news. A little fabulous news that is - on tonight's episode of Gilmore Girls, finally . . . after much twists of fate and obstacles upon a beaten path, Luke and Lorelai are back together again. I know, I know, I was a bit antsy for a while there, too. I mean, they had just finally gotten together after years and years of being in love with each other and some sort of conflict was bound to come up . . . but still, if the writers don't marry those two together I will have a fit of the royal kind. And believe me, THEY (being the writers/producers of Gilmore Girls) will take notice, my friends. I want to be just like the character of Lorelai when I'm her age - witty, quirky, eccentric, fast-talking, attractive, in shape, loved by all - with a Luke.

Well, today's outlook on life has been a bit brighter than it has been in the past. I'm really trying to adopt a "really Kelly, you are so incredibly blessed and have it so incredibly well off compared to millions of people in the word" type of an attitude. I went to the optomotrist today and good news - my vision is stable. Hasn't gotten any worse, which is very good. I also got new glasses today. Valentino frames and the thinnest type of lense they can make with my monsterously bad prescription - so - about as sexy as I will ever get my glasses to be. Am considering laser surgery in the future - but that is way in the future when I have a job and money. I've told my uncle that if I don't have a job when I graduate that I'd tatoo the name of the new design company he's starting on my forehead for a good price.

Hmmm. I could ramble on but methinks I should stop here. Hah. Yes, I just typed "methinks." Still want to be my friend?

A few prayers requests for those so inclined: 1. Please pray that CRT calls me for an interview. 2. Please pray for my brother's monsterous Roman Civilization exam this Thursday. He's worried about it but has been studying like a fiend!

Oh and one more thing - I will try to post tomorrow, but I can't promise. Then after tomorrow I'm going to be in Richmond for the rest of the week and devoid of the ability to post since my grandmother doesn't own a computer and I can only check my e-mail while I'm at the internship. So try to survive until then. Or e-mail me. Ciao. :)

"chronic" is never a good word

2005-02-28T13:25:00.000-05:00

Ok. I give up. This entry has been erased twice by this stupid home computer of my parents. I can't write it again or I will go insane. Suffice it to say that I went to an opthamologist at home this morning and found out that my eye problems are due to a combination of roseacea (in/around the eyes) and blepharitis. The roseacea is treatable, the blepharitis I will have for the rest of my life. Three cheers for life-long eye diseases. I can wear my contacts but no eye make-up for at least a month, longer if I have problems. I am on new eye medication number 10 million for an indefinite period of time, amongst various other treatments. I like this new opthamologist, despite his not-so-good news. He was friendly, as was his medical aide who told me all about how she was pregnant and how she had once had cat stratch disease. Tomorow I go to the optometrist to have my vision checked (pray that it's not any worse) and hopefully get new, thinner, sexier glasses. I hear technology has improved since the last time I got glasses, many years ago. But anyway, help me to keep things in prospective. I am really quite lucky if all I have to worry about health-wise is eye problems.

Beltway

2005-02-24T09:51:00.000-05:00

I'd like to make a list about yesterday and today.
1. I hate driving in the DC metro area. I hate the Beltway. I hate I-95 N. I hate rush hour. But on the good side, if it is one, I am learning to become a more aggressive driver.
2. I drove 2 hours yesterday to a job interview where in fact, he had already decided that I wasn't being considered for the position (which he didn't bother to tell me) but for an unpaid internship. And I drove all the way there for that. Was extremely mad.
3. Eyes still rockin the swollenness, even on meds. Am going to get a second opinion on Monday from a doctor down in Va.Beach. Have high hopes for him.
4. Jay won Project Runway (on tv) last night. Yay! That makes me incredibly happy. I love Jay. I want to be his best friend. He's so funny and you all know I like guys who can make me laugh. :)
5. Today it's snowing and school is closed. Not that I had any classes today, but I'm not going to my internship (yet again, last Thursday it was swollen eyelids that kept me away). However, today I have to be productive like whoa. I must be an e-mail writer, room-cleaner, psych test studier, poet, paper cutter outer, earring maker, and packer.

@#$% #@$%!!!!!!

2005-02-22T21:17:00.000-05:00

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOULD YOU PLEASE TELL ME WHY THE HELL MY RIGHT EYE IS SWELLING (HOWEVER MINUTELY) WHEN I AM ON 3 MASSIVELY POWERED MEDICATIONS???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM GOING TO BREAK DOWN. I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANY MORE!!!!!

and so i jumped

2005-02-20T18:30:00.000-05:00

So, today I jumped off of a second-story balcony. Would you like to know why? Well, I was on my way to Seaco for brunch and I had just walked out the front door of Marshall when low and behold this Asian high-school aged guy comes up to me and asks me if the campus is open today. I was like "Do you mean the academic buildings?" and he was like, "Yeah, I'm supposed to have an audition today in Pollard I think, but all the doors are locked." He wasn't sure because his mom had answered the phone when the school had called and she barely speaks English so she didn't know whether they said Sunday or Monday. Anyway, I initially advised him to go to the campus police station and ask if he could get into the building and then I thought, no . . . I can probably get him in through the front of Dupont. It's not like the fine arts building is really easy to get around anyway, he probably just missed a door or something.

So being the nice person that I am, I told him that I'd walk with him over to Pollard and see if I could get him in (although I think we both began to have the sneaking suspicion that his audition was really for tomorrow). Well, the front of Dupont was unlocked so I was like score, I can get him in through the second-floor balcony door that is connect to Dupont, into Pollard. (Keep in mind that back in the times when I had known Pollard, as in last year, they never kept these doors locked). So we went onto the balcony and tried the door into Pollard. Locked. I was like crap, oh well. We walk back to the door leading into Dupont. It had locked behind us. We were trapped on the second floor balcony with no way to get off.

I wasn't about to be stuck up there all day/night, so I suggested that we jump off the balcony. The kid agreed. We decided not to jump off of the side with the white railing but the side inbetween the two buildings, facing the inner courtyard because there was a little ledge mid-way down that we could put our feet. Not a big ledge mind you, but a ledge nonetheless. So the Asian guy jumps off the balcony, lands on his feet but almost runs into an adjoining wall from the momentum. So I throw my coat off the side of the building so it won't hinder me and begin to place my feet on what little space I can find on the ledge. I am, of course, scared as hell because the jump is still pretty high and I just knew that I was going to break some bones (aaand I have a huge fear of falling). The Asian guy tries to give me encouragement interrupted with statements like "yeah it is scary" and finally I jumped. I pseudo-landed on my feet. My feet and my butt. But I didn't break anything. AND I JUMPED OFF A SECOND-STORY BALCONY. What the heck? Never saw that coming when I woke up this morning.

2005-02-20T18:29:00.000-05:00

It's my brother! Isn't he a hottie ladies? *wink*

ah, yes

2005-02-19T22:17:00.000-05:00

There is a danger in this world for me. A danger that I constantly realize invades my life, yet I allow it to take control when I most need support. It's the danger of letting myself get caught up in the world, in the stress, in the excuses that can come so easily. I finally managed to get back to church today after a month of weekends when I was unable to attend. Man, I was starving. Soul-starving. And I felt it as soon as I entered the church and opened my mouth to sing to the Lord who had helped me get through that very same month. True, there were some very good reasons why I had been unable to come to worship, but I know just as well that there were many times when I didn' t try hard enough. I just can't explain what it's like to feel that void in your life filled with a love that is unconditional and eternal. Just to know that it's there no matter how much you screw up and no matter how much you fall, it's just incredible. In the last month I didn't forget it was there, and I read the Bible every night, but being able to walk into church again and be surrounded by such a strong support group of people was great. I'm going to have to miss church up here for the next two weekends because of spring break, but hopefully I'll be able to catch a service at home. I pray when I do have to miss that I can keep my relationship with the Lord going strong - it's so easy to get distracted.

Anyway, now that I've said that, today was a pretty decent day. Gave a tour (eh), had lunch with Bryan (nice), went to church (this you already know) and spent the in-between time working on my short story (interesting). I have also drunk a lot of hot russian spice tea. I also plan to do 300 crunches at some point tonight. Really. I used to do that many on a regular basis and I have strayed from the ab-hardening routine. Must return to it.

wish list

2005-02-17T23:02:00.000-05:00

I've made a list of things that I want and even though I can't afford them right now, I will record them in this journal so when I do have the money, I will remember:

1. the movie Jesus (2000 ed.) on dvd
2. cd - Lucia Micarelli "Music from a Farther Room"
3. cd set (i think) "The Magic Flute" by Mozart

an $80 day

2005-02-17T22:41:00.000-05:00

Today was 2 doctor's appointments, 3 new medications, and 1 new job interview. We'll see how this goes.

bah.

2005-02-16T19:25:00.000-05:00

I 've gone through this whole day in a foul, anti-social, depressed mood. Not that anything has gone monsterously wrong in my life, but when I woke up things sucked and that colored my outlook on life for the whole rest of the day. I woke up this morning with a very sore throat, stuffy nose, and swollen eyelids . . . AGAIN. I thought I had cured my eyes and had been ecstatically happy about it for the past week but this morning I was thrown straight into depression again at the sight of my eyelids. I'm praying this is just a one night thing . . . I don't want to have to go back to the doctor. Again. So anyway, that put me in a thoroughly pissy, depressed, and self-sensitive mood. Went to classes. I couldn't stand to be in them. Went to lunch. Once again people made comments on what I chose to eat for lunch. I'm so freakin sick of people commenting on what I choose to eat. Leave me alone about it. For the love of God. Please. So those comments made me feel even more anti-social and I didn't particularily feel like talking to anyone for the rest of lunch. Went to art, even more pissed off and sat there painting 4 -inch squares for two hours. Went to short story conference with professor. Did a Mortar Board interview. Enjoyed dinner all by myself. Now I have to revise writing assignments and be creative, which I could feel less like doing. My eyelids are starting to feel weird again. If I wake up tomorrow morning and they are swollen I think I will cry. But then I can't, because crying makes them swell even more. Bah. Perhaps I'm being overly dramatic. I probably am. But today has just sucked.

2005-02-15T22:09:00.000-05:00

Lucia Micarelli

incredible performer

2005-02-15T21:57:00.000-05:00

Second post tonight I know, but I just wanted to share how much I love Lucia Micarelli and how much I want her cd. She's the solo violinist and concert master for Josh Groban's tour. She's 20 and I saw her live when I saw Josh and she plays with such passion. Absolutely phenomenal. I've always been in love with the violin but I've never experienced such performing and talent on the violin before. Check out her website.
http://www.luciamicarelli.com/

wow . . .

2005-02-15T21:16:00.000-05:00

GRAND NEWS for today! I got selected for Phi Beta Kappa! Woooo!
*Does dance of all dances*

I'm all eternal sunshine. I'm also all external procrastination. I don't feel like doing any work. Not that I don't have a million things to do - revise work for creative writing and write an intro about my "writing process" for my fiction portfolio, concept for my ghostwriting project, brainstorm new names for a deodorant powder for men (for internship) and read a book. Maybe I'll just end up reading my book, because it isn't something that I need to do for any class. I did however, balance my checkbook tonight. It had been a while, which wasn't smart because it's even more traumatic when I see all of that money gone at once. I used to be so good about it (balancing checkbook in increments) but now I'm not. I'm disappointed in myself. Oh well, I'll get over it. When I graduate though, I'm going to be very good with my finances - not that I'm ignorant about finances, I consider myself an informed citizen - but my dad is going to buy me one of those computer finance program things. Anyway, this is a boring topic. Let's move on.

I am so scheduled. I feel like I need a secretary. Right now, my secretary is my little black book (ooo all professional and leather-bound). It's my life. I used to be so anti-planner but now I'm not. It's just more of the organizational disease passed down to me by my mother, one step-behind my sticky note obsession. (There are probably 10 floating around my desk space as I write).

Not that you care, but tonight's Gilmore Girls was fabulous. I've had to miss the last few (I KNOW, a travesty unknown to mankind) but I finally got to watch it tonight. Very sad point: Lorelai and Luke, who had finally got together have broken up. As a writer and native watcher of this show, I can 99% gaurantee myself that this break-up won't last . . . but that extra 1% better not prove me wrong. It had better not. I will have vengeance because they are supposed to get married. Very happy point: A new romantic relationship is starting between Rory and Hot Blond Fellow Yale Classmate And Mysterious Secret Society Member Logan. This makes me happy, because I like him. Thank you writers of Gilmore Girls. Thank you. You will probably wreck their relationship soon - because we all need conflict - but for now, I am happy with what you are producing. :)

mark darcy

2005-02-13T21:38:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day and I am completely and utterly without a Mark Darcy. Forget the fact that I am single, career-oriented woman with no time to commit to a Mary Darcy, but I lack a Mark Darcy nonetheless. And that is a tragic, tragic, event. Forget also your opinions about the commercialism/lack of commercialism elements of Valentine's Day . . . or whether it should always be celebrated with roses and a box of chocolates. While I acknowledge the remarkable marketing and money-making capabilities of Valentine's Day for companies like Hallmark and Hershey's, I will always wish to spend it with someone that I care for and I will always wish for some token of appreciation from someone . . . I'm just a romantic and that will never change. Although tomorrow I know that although 1. Neither Josh Groban nor Mark Darcy will propose to me and 2. I will not run into a dark, mysterious, handsome Italian man with a love of books and art and a burning desire to be with me forever and build me a home in Italy, it would be very nice to receive a single rose from somebody . . . and they can be anonymous - that's mysterious and romantic. But alas, I most likely won't, which is probably best because career-driven women who aspire to one day have published a book and have a fabulously decorated apartment probably don't have time for such things. (my mailbox number is UMW #1799, 1701 College Ave, Fredericksburg, VA 22401).

Anyway, I had a bloody fabulous time with Kevin and Lauren this weekend up in Fairfax. Who needs a gorgeous Italian man with I have such wonderful friends who care about me? Well, ok . . . who needs a man when I have such wonderful friends who care about me? Friday night was nice and relaxing - lemon chicken (made by Kevin), movies (The Notebook and Napolean Dynomite) and wine. Saturday day was Crispix cereal, shopping with Lauren (and me fully embodying the internal struggle of willpower vs. impulse buying - I desperately wanted to buy art and fake flowers for the apartment that I do not yet possess), chinese food lunch, King Arthur movie - and Saturday night Dave and Buster's, with lots of fun people. I won an orange gorilla. Or orangotaung. I can't spell that. And this morning Kevin made us pancakes and some type of turkey sausage. Brilliant chef of the highest category of brilliance that Kevin is.

Good night all.

the glory and the triumph

2005-02-10T18:16:00.000-05:00

I'd like to announce that today I parallel parked for the first time. And I was successful.

I know. Take a second to just think about that. Blows your mind, huh?

a gray scale kate winslet

2005-02-09T22:57:00.000-05:00

As I write this I am listening to Josh Groban do a cover of "America" by Paul Simon. It's my new favorite song and a departure from some of his classical stuff. I love love love the classical stuff, but he could sing anything - and he does such a powerful rendition of "America." I'm repeating myself . . . you all know how I feel about this man. Expect a wedding announcement at some point - once I get him to realize that I'm amazing . . . and that I exist. :)

Man, I'm definitely working the multiple nights of sleep deprivation angle once again. And without my diet pepsi to get me through (Kevin is going well as my mentor . . . although I find it a hard habit to drop) it's been interesting. Also, my lack of sleep is making me not particularily want to expound on any aspect of my life at this moment - sorry, it's not because I don't love you. Suffice it to say, I spent a very wonderful evening in Richmond last night concepting for a ghost novel that I'm going to be writing with a few amazing people and today I finally finished my art painting - AND - get this - my art professor said that he thought it was really good. I know. Stop and take a second to make sure the earth is still turning on it's axis. I know I did. :) It's a pixeled, enlarged painting of a black & white portrait of kate winslet - all in gray scale. Oooo. I like it a lot and I think I will get it framed when I graduate and put it up wherever I end up living.

I am starting a book called Crum, about a small town named Crum in West Virginia. It looks to be very promising.

yes, tomorrow morning i will need tea

2005-02-08T01:23:00.000-05:00

I'm stupid because I'm still up at 12:30 when I know that I'm going to have trouble getting up tomorrow morning. I have to be down at the internship 30 min. earlier than normal - and that 30 min. is just earlier enough to suck. I think I will definitely need to hit up the potent "lipton brisk." whoa there.

What I did Today (selected shorts):

1) I got to laugh at Jon while some guys squirted air into his eyeballs during psych class.
2) I forgot my art stuff at the perfect moment - right at the top of the hill - and had to run all the way down and back (awkward because there was a witness) in order to meet Jon for breakfast on time.
3) Did respectably on psych test, but must do better next time.
4) Entered a t-shirt design into the Marshall Hall t-shirt design contest. Competition is stiff - so far there is one other entry . . .
5) Confessed my conversion to apple computers and my desire to own and apple i-book to Bryan. Shout out to him btw - I didn't watch the Superbowl, either.
6) Ate a caesar salad upon which I put probably one too many croutons.
7) Sat around for hours while MB members read through applications. Horrendously misprounced someone's last name - to the humor of those around.
8) Decided that I need to go to sleep. Now.

Good night all. Tomorrow is jam-packed with internship and ghostwriting fun. Egads.

2005-02-07T00:01:00.000-05:00

Josh Groban

heaven.

2005-02-06T23:55:00.000-05:00

The Josh Groban concert was pure. unadulterated. bliss.

I literally almost cried when he first appeared on stage. My eyes watered.
I did cry when he sang.

He. Is. Amazing.
Words can not describe the experience.

Sarrina can attest to that. (she went as well).

Wasabi peas and red sofas

2005-02-04T21:43:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I actually got to sit in on a casting session for a Super 8 Motels commercial (Super 8 is a client for Watson, where I am an intern). I went with some people from work to a very posh downtown Richmond studio, complete with red sofas, modern art, some of those older people who dress artsy and young, high tech computers and screens, and a fun asian director with long hair. It wasn't a live casting session, we were looking at video tapes that acting agencies had sent in of people reading the script - and they had been looking at tapes all day. When I got there, around 3:30, they were still going strong. If you ever have overly-judgemental urgings I suggest watching casting tapes. You satisfy your craving real quickly. We watched a gazillion tapes and got to laugh at a lot of the people, there were comments such as "whoa . . . ok next, hurry, fastforward," "look at his forehead," "her hair . . . i mean, look at it . . ." A very few head shots were pulled and there was a general be-moaning of the lack of talent (and to that I will attest - from the ones that I got to see, there was definitely a lack of talent).

They had all of these finger foods on the table and one of them were these things called wasabi peas. Incredibly addicting. They are what there name says they are - wasabi, in the form of peas - except hard and a bit salty. But boy, if you eat more than a few at a time you definitely get those sinuses nice and cleared. Whew. But man, I felt so chic and sophisticated for a few hours in my life - eating my uber-posh snack food and watching casting tapes. All I have to say is, I will never want to be on those casting tapes and hear what people say about me because the world is brutal.

Today was crazy. 4 hours of sleep. Psych test. A painfully blatant and discussed early exit from my creative writing class, so that I could get to my job interview on time (with extra time allowed for me in case I got lost). Didn't get lost (oh glorious glorious achievement). Learned that apparantely it is the thing now -a -days in office buildings to keep all of the bathrooms locked. Learned that the job I was interviewing for really wasn't a job that I wanted. Realized that experience in interviewing is good nonetheless. Realized that job hunting sucks and that everyone should come to me. Cursed Beltway/D.C. drivers. Witnessed 20 near accidents and crawled at 10 mph on 95. Cancelled another job interview set up for next week, realizing that it was more of the same type of thing I interviewed for today. Ate a lot of food at dinner (and pumped 4-hours- of- sleep- self with extremely potent caffeinated tea. Went to the student film festival, which was fabulous and hosted by an equally fabulous Jon, one of my dearest friends. Packed. Watched Gilmore Girls.

Tomorrow morning I'm going home because tomorrow night is the Josh Groban concert in Norfolk. Must see my future husband. I have been challenged to obtain a piece of his underwear. More to come on that front. Stay tuned.

P.S. I am allergic to something in my eye makeup and it's making my eyelids swell. Pretty, huh?