"this is what a feminist looks like"
... read the shirt of the hippie chick. Now, I've got nothing against the neo-hippies. I love them because they make this town unique and create a wonderfully radical character foil with the uber-conservative southeastern Oregonians. But here she was, walking down the sidewalk with two nose piercings, three lip rings, stretched earlobes, ratty dreds and tattered jeans, her clothing proclaiming to the world, "this is what a feminist looks like."

I don't know how to feel about this sentiment. I'm glad she's proud to be a feminist, but I'm not sure she realizes that her image is contributing to a rather damaging stereotype. I'd like to see MORE people wearing those t-shirts; people of many demographics. I don't mean to sound like I might have a problem with that one woman, personally, but the message that she was sending was a bit... ironic.

And less than a minute later I biked by another girl dressed, straight-up, like an 80s hooker. I kid you not. She was wearing spike heels, fishnet stockings with pink ankle warmers, stretch capris, a mini-skirt and a leather jacket. I wouldn't have been surprised if her hair had been crimped. What would have happened had she and the self-proclaimed feminist passed on the same stretch of sidewalk? Would they even have glanced each other's direction? Would they have torn each other to pieces? I sure do live in a unique city... and sometimes I shudder at that thought.

who i am
who am i when i'm up this late because i couldn't ask for what i need or finish what should be done?
why do i let you let me hurt my feelings?
there's nothing to apologize for anymore, there's nothing to pretend wasn't broken
this is the hour of canceled dreams and seedling empires
now to slit my wrists and off to bed;
i am the depths of rutting spring and i'll be wildfree in the woods.

lackluster and shine
The more I think about it, the more I realize that I'm really not comfortable writing what I really feel in this blog anymore now that the readership has grown so large and "active." This may mean I take a break for some quiet contemplation for a while, it may mean that I'll end up going somewhere else, but most likely it means that I'll whine about it for a few weeks and get over myself. I usually do. And the truth is, it's not going to stop me from talking now.

I've been feeling awfully lackluster for the last... while. You may have noticed that my "sense of humor" is m.i.a. Yes, and I'm feeling tired, mediocre and uninspired. So what? So's ninety-percent of the rest of the world. The ten-percent that actually ARE on cloud-nine I usually worship with a slight grain of resentment. I thought to myself, after dinner, as I was sitting with a full-belly and dull eyes in some horribly digestion-inhibiting posture, that I am indeed in a bit of a slouch. I'm all bleary-eyed and boring. Blah. This must change.

Why must it change? Because I am going to be going on an adventure very shortly and I need my mind to be sharp for the transition to be smooth.

It must change because I deserve better than to be bored and boring. I deserve to get up in the morning with a smile on my face and look forward to my day rather than dread the monotony of my routine and the ineptitude of others.

It must change because I had a moment this weekend where I saw myself as an old woman and realized with some chagrin that these are the days I will pine for when I'm old and crusty. I will pine for them regardless of whether or not they are fan-fucking-tabulous or mediocre. But I'd rather give myself a serious case of a nostalgia-inducing orgasmically good time than pine for the half-assedness of my routine-laced, self-sacrificial, boring-as-fuck, self-conscious days. I'm pining for an endless summer. I'm wanting to make that every day. I want some dreams to believe in that get me through more than just a day or a week but that carry me though months, the way my feelings used to.

I had a dream this weekend that reminded me how precious idealism and faith can be. In the dream, there was a building. At the top of the building, accessible only by elevator, was a floor that led special people into a magical dimension. Only those who had permission to enter the magic domain would be able to see it; anyone who entered the top floor who wasn't "blessed" would only see an empty attic. Another girl (whom I didn't recognize) and I were attempting to explain to two non-"blessed" individuals what it was like to be able to enter this domain. Because they were with us, they could sort of half-see the world around them but only in a ghostly overlay. We told them that they had permission to enter the domain but only if they could pass the test of entry required of everyone to come in. To enter, one had to stand before the doorway of the portal and simply believe with all of their heart, that the space beyond was real. With any shadow of a doubt, they would be barred from entry.

I remember the difficulty that these two initiates had in understanding how they could believe in something that was only a shadow to them. I also remember the conviction in my own heart that I knew I was part of something special, unique and real. In that moment only, I knew that I was dreaming, because the warm feeling in my heart was like nothing I have for anything in my life. It was pure faith, full and free from doubt.

The retelling of this dream was a bit odd, because I had the disctint feeling that I'd ripped off the "believe and thou shall enter" from some book or movie. Justin says it's "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," but I'm not so sure. Now that I think about it, it smacks eerily of Christian idealism. Fuck, that's creepy. But... I want that feeling. I want to "find religion" even if it isn't "God." I'm just too much of a Doubting Thomas any more.

And that's why I'm going to Japan. Because I want to do something different; something inspiring; something that scares me and is so out of the realm of the ordinary that it will force me to put my petty concerns into perspective. My worry, of course, is that the shock caused by the transition will, rather than dissipate these ailments, amplify them. I know how I get when I'm lonely, isolated, or frustrated. I just have to be able to change those behaviors from paralyzing into self-actualizing.

I've also reoccurantly wondered if I may be co-dependant. After six-some years of long-term serial monogamy, I haven't spent a lot of time alone. When the threat of female soliture looms on the horizon I glom onto another male, surrogate boyfriend or not. I love male company (not in a sexual sense, mind you, though probably vaguely) and the sort of yin-yang completion it gives me to be close with a guy. I suppose I worry that this is somehow wrong. I don't really think it is: some day I hope to have that sort of mutual companionship give me satisfation through a lasting marriage. The problem is that I'm haunted by the sort of incompletion I feel when I'm alone. It scares me to get so restless and feel that I have to salve that restlessness the way I do.

I want to start to feel REALLY good about something in a WHOLE sort of way. The way that comes from killing all those nagging doubts that destroy the precious commodities of friendship, love and faith in my life. I'm going to start quantifying the goodness in my life, just to help me start seeing it. As much as I hate quantifying anything (read: math, grades, statistics), it does help make sense of the hidden details. Don't get the impression I'm depressed tonight because I'm not. I'm just... blah. I'm happy but not happy enough for it to matter.

$bling$
I got a Freeman scholarship! And not even the University version... this was a nomination directly from the Freeman foundation themselves! I'll still wait to see if I get a nomination from the UofO anyway, because there's less incidental paperwork if I get that one. Too bad I can't have both. But one grant of $7,000 is pretty freaking sweet!!

And today was "free ice cream cone day" at Ben and Jerry's. Damn, they weren't skimping on the size of those scoops either. With a ten-minute line it's a wonder I didn't go back for celebratory seconds!

Seattle
This post plays catch-up for the weekend, Monday and Tuesday. It's basically a grocery-list with some funny little anecdotes but none of the real "deep" stuff. If you wanna know about my Seattle, the Knights, or my miderm, it's in here:

I went up to Seattle this weekend for a little work and a little play. Justin and I spent Friday night at his mom's place in Portland but since neither his mom nor stepdad were home we just ate the food they left for us and watched Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil on TNT. I'd always wondered what the book was about but I'd never bothered to read it. In any case, the movie was incredible and had SUCH a cast of characters. It gave me hope for modern cinema as few films do. And I think I'm beginning to fall in love with Kevin Spacey. God, what a talented man.

Saturday morning we drove up to SeaTac and spent the afternoon kicking around Molly and Pete's house while I studied. Our primary goal on Saturday was to go to sushi, which we accomplished with fervor later in the evening. I love going to Toyoda's... we always get about double the sushi we pay for. This time our bill (sans dessert) was $21 when we ate over $40 in sushi. =D I decided we should detour and stop by my family's place unannounced, so we did, but we arrived just as my parents were leaving for dinner. They're both leaving the state on work or family related errands soon. I socialized the family a bit and dropped off financial aid information, which needs to be turned in shortly. Of course, the University decided to give me $2,500 in work study for NEXT YEAR when I can't use it. Bleh.

Anyhoo, when we got back, despite being stupidly tired, I talked with Molly about the logistics of designing a dress for my acting role this summer. She's a night-owl so she was all gung-ho about working on my outfit but I was so tired and uninspired that I didn't really give her any input. I'm not sure I like the outcome, or the role, but we'll see.

Sunday morning Molly took my measurements and we all went off to the Seattle Knights practice where Damien pulled me aside to talk to me about my part this summer. He says to me "I just wanted to talk to you out here because, well, you're working for me this summer and a lot of them aren't." Well, ok, cool. I hadn't realized that I was "working" per se... or that I was going to be so plot-crucial. But I guess this means I'm probably getting paid for my weekends at the faires-- and that I'll have something to do besides wandering around boredly staring at the same vendors or running water to the soldiers on the field. But the role is decidedly less "warrior" and decidedly more "princess" than I originally anticipated. However, in the Knights' world, there really aren't froufy domain princesses so I don't have to worry TOO much about being a priss. I'm still supposed to be a cock-tease. Apparently the deal is this: I'm the daughter of some domain lord or son who is recently deceased (boo-hoo) and hence the heiress to a large plot of land. Damien (Ironwolfe) is the sort of "magistrate" of the domain and in charge of placing it in proper (read: male) hands and so is having a tourney to "auction" off the land (and ME) to the winner and their respective faction. However-- here's the twist-- Justin and I already have a secret thing going on and he's pissed off (or so I understand). So he sets up with the bad-uns (black faction and/or tainted) to kidnap me away. Of course, I have to pretend I know nothing about this... and all hell breaks loose. I can't wait to see how it ends.

Cliche, yes. But fun. I'm still worked up about it in both good and bad ways. I dunno about the whole impromptu acting thing, or about the "pretty princess" bit. I suppose it's like anything else, though. I'll be nervous about it until I do it and then I'll figure out that I can pretty much do whatever I set my mind to.

I took photos the rest of practice for my photo-J "events" project. In my opinion, they sucked balls. I'm still using them over my street faire pics, if just for their originality. They're probably not as bad as I recon and I'm probably just a neurotic. I was upset today when I got an 89 out of 100 on my conch shell photo assignment. I could see that the original score had been 94 but was written over. That stung a bit. I guess the prof and the GTF collaborated on the grading and hence there were some discrepancies. I don't blame the prof for being a stickler about details at all. And I know my fotos suck. I just want so badly to be good and I can't seem to find the energy to be fucking inspired. Meh. But I took an ASSLOAD of photos and a few were decent.

After practice Justin and I devoured a Pagliacci's pizza and drove alllll the way home where I downed a hefty dose of NyQuil to combat the stupid night cough that my otherwise now-healthy body has developed. [It's always finding new ways to keep me from sleeping, damnit!] Needless to say, I slept like a BRICK but had a hefty "hangover" Monday morning-- and just in time for my Japanese midterm!!! =D =D x-p ((Did you know that I've had trouble writing "just" and "just in" since I started dating a "Justin"? I always capitalize the damn J)) I think I did alright anyway, though I was a trifle irritated with myself afterward and more than a little worked up about my shitty language skills by the time I got to my Freeman Scholarship Interview.

The Interview was basically what I anticipated; some stupid questions about what I want to do with myself in Japan and afterwards. I made up some bullshit like everyone else because, of course, I DON'T KNOW and neither does anyone else unless they're seriously lying to themselves. I'm pretty sure it went well and I impressed the "committee" (hardly a committee when it's 2 people, don't you think?). The only think I'm disappointed that I didn't tell them was that I'm really hinging whether or not I go to Japan on whether or not I get this grant. I should find out in a few days if I get the dough.

So that's the obnoxious grocery list of my weekend. Nothing else is really remotely new except that Justin's grandad sent us $150 to take his second-cousin and her hubby out to dinner when they'd already volunteered to do the same for us.

I'm in need of some serious inspirational fucking. Or maybe some serious fucking inspiration. But you already knew that.

Now back to your regularly scheduled programme.

Only in Dreams
I had some INTENSELY VIVID lucid dreams last night. I spent nearly the whole dream trying to convince Justin that we were dreaming but he wouldn't listen to me. Why would he, being just a character in my dream? Aside from some graphic details that I won't share, some really cool things happened. I made the sun rise in the middle of the night with my bare hands. I made objects appear out of nowhere just by thinking of them. I was in control almost the whole time until I became too exhausted to pay attention and had to go to sleep (yes, in my dream). Wow.

I'd like to return the favor of the love-in, Murray and Erica, and I'm running out the door. So I just want to say THANKS for being out there to all the people who read here and who write on their own. It's good to know there are other voices in the darkness. Peace out.

Swimming in it
I was showering at the rec today when I heard the strains of classical music over the water on the tiles. For once, whoever was running the lap swim hour was playing something other than Beck or Dave Matthews Band. I'm not sure who the composer was but the piece that was playing was lovely and etherial. I couldn't lift weights or do cardio to classical music but I thought that playing it for the swimmers was a marvelous idea. I can imagine swimming to classical might be a surreal experience, like drifting back into the womb.

Today I'm taking the last series of photographs of the street faire, in case my camera can't handle shooting the Seattle Knights' practice on Sunday. The weather has been pretty much crap and I'm not entirely pleased with my photos. But what do I know; I'm an amateur. Anyhow, yes, this means I'm up in Seattle for the weekend. Leaving tonight to spend the night at Justin's mom's place in Portland. I've mostly recouped from this stupid virus but it still makes me feel pretty dead in the morning and the evening. I hope a weekend out of my normal, oppresive routine will give me back a little of the clarity I've been lacking lately. That also means that Justin and I will get to eat at Toyoda's on Saturday! Oh, yum... it's been too long.

Monday morning I have both my Japanese midterm and OIP interview for the Freeman scholarship. That $7,000 will be mine! Nyahahaha!

Rocky Mountain Mama
Justin and I have been talking a lot about going to Glacier this past week. Rachel brought up the trip after she remembered that we'd invited her and Micah last year but they couldn't make it. I'm not sure when we're gonna be able to do it or if we'll actually pull it off, but a four-person trip with those guys would be incredibly rad. And I love that place so much.

I want to write more but I'm really too tired and too sick to think with any clarity. And in a way, I sort of just wanted to bump down the last post a bit because today I gave my page address to a guy from Boots n' All, one of the companies I'd like to solicit about advertising sendmeabroad.com when I finish it. If he actually comes here, I didn't want him to get the impression that every post is flame-bait. I suppse every post isn't... it only seems to be on the most inane, unrelated posts that I get flamed. Chyeh. Whatever that means.

Maybe more later. I need to lie down and let my lungs decompress. So... tired...

umbrellas
The good news is, I don't think I'm going to die from whatever bug I have. It may be insistent but I think that hot-tubbing last night and sleeping in this morning will defeat it. The bad news is that we're experiencing a bout of shitty, shitty weather during the semi-annual ASUO street faire. And dammit, I wanted to photograph the faire for my next assignment in case my camera can't handle the light at the Seattle Knight's practice. I can't believe I'm stressing out so much about this class. I just feel like I have no talent and no skill. I dream about taking pictures and developing them (yes, even though I have a digital camera). I'm still not sleeping well.

However, life, for once, is quiet. No drama. None. It's gone. And I think, finally, I'm ready to move on now. I'm not sure what this means except to equate it to spending some time by myself.

But I can't really talk about any of that here because I'm still to riddled by guilt to mention my "single time" ambitions without feeling like it'll initiate the catastrophic end of my relationship. And I can't say much about my feelings because I've been being patronized of late for not knowing enough and being inexperienced. I'd like to think I can explore my own mind here without someone telling me that I don't know what I'm talking about. Of course I don't and I never will. Admitting that is part of being a seeker.

Meh. I don't feel like writing right now. Just don't. Brain's all cottony and I can't remember what I was doing.

in consideration
Tonite I added another 5 or so blogs to my "Online Friends" links section. Why, because I have too much time on my hands? No, dear friends, because I'm desperate to read someone who says something with any regularity because not only do a very small percentage of my pre-established readable blogs do so but because I failt to do so myself. Well, let's see who survives the week.

reheated death
mmmm.... I'm a microwave taco.

Been feeling fairly crap-o-licious today and I just found out that one of my office-mates in the Math Dept is out with strep throat. Grrrrreat. If this crappyness gets worse I'll have to go in for tests. I think I'm fighting off whatever it is but I may be losing.

And I'm so friggin tired. I'm so tired, in fact, that I opened the dishwasher last night and wondered why the light didn't come on.

nocturnal emissions
My brain has selective insomnia. That is, it only chooses to render me unable to sleep well when I'm ACTUALLY tired. Last night I tossed and turned and thougt for almost the whole night. I was asleep in some way, but not deeply. My mind was contemplating photography. Apparently I had some pretty good ideas and I woke up more than once thinking about them. Though I'm sure if I'd written any of them down I'd be shocked by my own stupidity.

It's the damn bed, it's too small. The stupid cat takes up a quarter of my space (where my leg is supposed to go) and if I give Justin and inch, he takes a friggin mile. And I'm either too hot or too cold. Now I'm sick and I'm just a whiny little tart. Grumble.

I also dreamt last night that my father was separated from my mother and working (of all places) in the hardware department of a Wal-Mart between Portland and Seattle. We stopped to see him on our way up north and he told me (last of all because my sisters already knew) that he was dating another woman. And for some reason the thought of this just made me sick. My parents have never had the best marriage and I've wished a million times that they'd just find someone else who made them happy... but the dream was upsetting if just for the weird, twisted atmosphere of it. A Wal-Mart? Eh?

And until Sunday night I hadn't had any more Dreams. Sunday there was a minor, unsettling reoccurance but it was only unsettling, nothing more. I think, for the most part, I'm finally free.

m e o w
I'm still feeling slightly ill and may be getting sick. Today was average, just that "blah" nothingness of routine frustration and boredom that I get into by the middle of the term. Christ, is it week four already? Ain't it about time for the sun to start coming out?

I've been thinking a bit these last few days, since the scholarships started pouring in, about what it means for me to actually go to Japan. The problem with all this ponderance is that I really have no idea what it means. Not an inkling. My life could go in any one direction from this point. And that both frightens and excites me. I've already been more than a little suprised by turnings of events in what little of 2003 has passed. I guess I can still be surprised. I'm ahead of schedule in some places even. Damn, I just don't know what to do with myself.

As you may have gathered, I'm feeling horribly unmotivated; partially from illness, partially from fatigue. I don't have much to say and I'd really rather get to bed than sit here and wistfully dredge my mind for worthwhile material. But I'm not ready to deem my "experiment" a failure yet. Here's a little tidbit from today to keep you entertained while I get my mind in order:

I was sitting in the study with my cat and my boyfriend. Rupert, as usuall, is being a spaz. In a flurry of activity he spooks at nothing and runs halfway across the room before he sits down, embarrassed, and begins to lick his butt. Justin laughs.

He says, "You know, it occurred to me that on catfood commercials they always have cats lick their lips after they eat something really good. Rupert just licked his lips several times after washing his butt. I'm not sure what that tells us about catfood... quite possibly that it doesn't mean the same thing at all when humans lick their lips. Otherwise we've got one messed up cat."

Well, we know Rupert's messed up. (and yes, I also know cats don't have lips per se) The gross part is that I've been trying for weeks now to get Rupert to stop drinking out of the glass of water I keep on the sill by the bedside. So far my scolding and whapping him has been to no avail. Tonight, I break out the spray bottle. No more cat ass flavoring my tapwater, thank you.

an exercise
here it is, the sum total of my being: i'm trite. but i'm happy in my own little way. sometimes it's nice when all the little things that cause you pain all just go away for a while. for me, it took a smashing hangover and a bit of sunshine, but i've really enjoyed this weekend. i get to sleep in tomorrow, being that my japanese oral performance isn't until tuesday and there's considerably less homework this week than last. but i think i may be getting sick; whether this is a product of my od-ing myself on liquor or something else entirely... i dunno, maybe I "injured" myself at the party when we got into another of our usual "contests." erm. pfeh, i probably just have a slight headcold. or allergies. god, i LOVE allergies.

anyway, the fact is that, as usual when i'm content, i simply cannot make use of myself here. there's no dwelling on the past and no sentimental reflection of things that i don't have. because i have it all, really. friends, lovers, confidantes. good times, bad times, comfort, food, excitement... there's a lot more i could do with experiencing but for now i have no complaints. i've been feeling pretty ill the last few days (hung over yesterday and feverish today) but it's forced me to take a load off because i really can only focus on one thing at once. when i'm well, my mind is usually a million directions to everywhere thinking about everything i need to have done. right now i just want to focus on going to bed. but i felt the need to write here, if anything just because i should still do it in practice even when i have nothing to say or am simply too tired to say it.

i wish i had the courage and the time to make this diary the mode of communication i want it to be. i'm no longer writing it for one person to read. i'm no longer venting my blind frustration to unlistening ears. i'm just here, a little daily me. things are changing, and i want to remember that. but moreover, i want to write the things that come to my mind during the day; the little philosophical ramblings and passionate insights that turn into 5-page rants about tangents i can't even phathom. and i am by no means passionless because i don't write those things here, it's that i find i have other outlets that i previously took for granted, or maybe that i'm just too tired to spend an hour drooling my brain all over the keyboard.

i wish i could SAY something that would tell the world who i am instead of sitting her pecking out nonsense words intrepidly. no, i don't want to up my hits to obscene measures or even to become an so obnoxiously opinionated that i'm more preachy than reflective. i just want to feel like i'm putting real words to "paper" so to speak. so here's the exercise i propose. it may make all the difference, or it may make none: i propose that i sit down and write for 20 minutes, no more or less, each night and say something that has an emotional connection to me. something other than the events of my day or past-tense reflections. i'll try to write something that i felt today, even if it's something (gasp) happy. something NOW. because, when i look back, i'll want to remember NOW when everything has changed. and it will change because it is changing; the wheel is spinning the thread tighter and tighter to its apex and when the time comes (soon) it will unravel into an unseen pattern and leave us all scattered across the stars.

ready? go.

ded
Oog. I died. God, my f*cking head....... .....

and eat it too
Oh goddddd.... if I ever see another stick of butter, I think I might puke. I just made cake and frosting for Justin's birthday bash tonight and I'm looking at it now that I've made it (and consequently eaten about a half cup sum total batter and frosting) and feeling totally ill. I'm a terrible baker because I'm an "eater." It's not that I have no willpower, it's just that... well... um... I have no willpower. That doesn't bother me because I feel obliged to eat what I'm making to be sure it's seasoned right and tastes good. And I can't bear to see anything go to waste by being left on bowls and beaters. It's a wonder I don't weigh a kiloton. Yeesh.

So I got another university letter today. Looks like I'm one of the quilifiers for at least one of the two $7,000 Freeman scholarships for which I applied. YAY ME!!! Unfortunately, it still means more waiting as there's some interview process to go through and mine is scheduled for April 28th. I'm not worried about the interview per se; in fact, it pretty much guarantees me the money since I interview so well. I just don't like the waiting.

Now away to rest before a night of muy drinking and debauchery!

$$$
Funny how I can so quickly go from feeling really good about my photographic process to feeling stupidly inadequate for not upping the contrast on my prints. Huh, oh well. I'm exhausted from this week beyond belief and next week promises only slight relief. Right now I'm prepping for Justin's party tomorrow, cleaning the house and getting together snacks. I still can't believe that I haven't finished my sendmeabroad website. I intended it to be done a month ago but it really is last on my list of priorities.

But hey, I'm beginning to think that I finally MUST have accomplished something with my academic career because the school now seems more than willing to throw money at me. I got an unexpected $1,800 scholarship today (General University) without any idea that I'd even applied for it. And I'll find out in the next week whether I'll walk away with a $7,000 Freeman scholarship for study abroad. I'm still waiting on the Joy Poust scholarship ($3,400), another $500 mini scholarship, the AIEJ scholarship (airfare, $250 allowance and $800 monthly stipend), the Bridging Scholarship ($4,000) and whatever mysterious award the Honors College nominated me for. Most any of those plus my $4,000 Dean's, $900 journalism, $500 Opportunites Abroad and $1,800 general-u scholarships should suit me quite nicely. Am I finally worth something?

Haha. I was just looking through my odd uniques for today on sitemeter and I realized what a stalker I must look like on other people's sitemeters. Cos, really, I spend 9 hours a day in front of my computer and the best thing I can usually think to do is to troll the links on my sidebar to see if anyone's updated. Which, usually, they haven't because I'm one of the maybe three people I know who doesn't say something purely on a weekly bases. So anyway, yeah. I'm not a stalker... it's just a habit for me to do this, oh, three times a day. So I'm bored and probably a LOSER. So what? Be flattered or something. Or maybe be scared. It might be me standing outside your window at 3AM making googly faces.

conch
Second Photojournalism assignment, the Object. Subject: Conch shell.

What I learned: I sure as hell love messing with lighting and taking macros. MMMM.. detail.
And I think I did DAMN good for not having any previous photo experience. This was also the first time I ever used this new camera.

Here are sixteen interesting shots of the 180 odd pictures I took. I made prints of image one, two and sixteen. Those are probably my absolute favorites.

Images open in their own windows:
image one
image two
image three
image four
image five
image six
image seven
image eight
image nine
image ten
image eleven
image twelve
image thirteen
image fourteen
image fifteen
image sixteen

P.S. All this shit is copyright me. Don't even fucking try it.

strange occurences
I just spent the last three hours in the photo lab being abused by computers in various ways. I think my Canon software broke the G4 I was previously using. It took me an hour of beating at it with Ryan to determine that it was f*cked in more than one way (and that I was probably not responsible) before I gave up and got my images through other means. It took me the next two hours to make my contact sheets and get my prints to the level I wanted them at. All told, they look friggin awesome. But I STILL have to mount them and finish my History paper before class at 4. And I haven't evne gotten to work out or shower today, god damnit. I hope to get in a short run and at least rinse before class. Fleh.

Frustrated though I was after coming out of the photo lab, I was promptly greeted by scenes involving two of the most vapid and vain appearing individuals I've ever been "blessed" to see on campus. "Like, did you get your hair lightened?" "YEAH. I was TOTALLY going for blonde, but LOOK what happened." I feel considerably more secure with my own intelligence now.

This morning in Japanese, some girl complemented me on my language skills. She said "oh, but you don't need to worry about the oral performance. You're so good." And I just thought ummmmm, what? I know I score A's in that class but I always feel like I never learn anything and I'm always struggling. I guess it really is a difficult language after all. But I never expected to actually be told I was good at Japanese. It seems to me like I'm just squeaking by. I'm constantly terrified that someone will find out I've been faking it all along. We've got a "practical proficiency" test at the end of the year that scares the beejezus out of me. What if I don't really know anything? Even though I spend most of my time doubting my abilities, there are still moments where I'm amazed that I look at kanji, hirigana and katakana and see sounds/ words/ pictures at all. A year and a half ago, that was more gibberish than alphabet. I guess that definintely says something about learning... it sneaks up on you.

In closing, I'd just like to share a frightening and amusing image. An acquaintance by proxy was driving down the freeway when a deer, startled by an oncoming semi truck, leapt off the overpass it was walking across and fell through the roof of his car. I'm so amazed no one was killed. This has been your daily doseage of surreality. Carry on.

lessons learned
I was flipping through Amazon.com's sample of Fire in the Belly, a book on "spiritual manhood" today, after being unexpectedly reminded of Tim's enthusiasm about it last year. I came across one passage that struck me particularly deeply, almost shockingly so. It read:

The last thing he said before Ieft was probably the single most important bit of advice I ever got about being a man. "Sam," he said, "there are two questions a man must ask himself: The first is 'Where am I going?' and the second is 'Who will go with me?' If you ever get these questions in the wrong order you are in trouble."

I know I'm not a guy and most of this book doesn't apply to me except through some weird sort of outsider's introspection. But that sounds like some pretty universal advice to me and I'd just like to say A-men. Over the years, I keep forgetting to look where I'm going before dragging unsuspecting victims along my bumpy road. It damages me (and them) every time when I have to stop and say "wait a minute, what are you still doing here?" because I wasn't paying attention. *shakes head*

I'm gonna write that one down and post it on my wall where I can see it every day.

sky
There's so much under this one sky. And I want to say that if we can survive this, we can survive anything. But I learned another lesson, which is not to give up, on myself or on other people, ever. So when I'm in the middle of it all, and pulled forward and outside by one force, my heart still stays in the middle, trying to hold it all together. I want to save everyone and love everyone and be everything.

There are two scopes in which I can look at my life, both of which show me incredible detail on different planes.The first is the microscopic, the lens which reflects the actual things I say and do and the little habits of my daily life. Like, yesterday I returned a pair of jeans at the Gap and bought Justin's birthday present. I burnt some popcorn and made milkshakes. At 3:58 in the morning I turned off my light and listened for the little noise my cat makes when he jumps up on the bed.

Then, I sit and think on a grand scale about my emotions: love/fear/sadness, and fantasize about my mortal destiny. I think about the implications of the little things and the meaning of the big things. I plot and I plan and I dream and I feel.

Which is more real, the micro or the macroscopic, the daily or the destiny? Does either really matter?

I guess that when it comes down to it I'm just a coward who's afriad to face reality when it doesn't conform to the grandeur of fantasy. Does it cost too much to be a dreamer any more?

The cat's away...
Well, I dunno about that, or about any mice playing, but Justin's up in Seattle till late tomorrow night and that means....

SECRET SINGLE TIME!!! Woohoo WOOHOO WOO-- hu...hmm

God damn spring hormones. Grmblrmmgl...

ENERGY
"Calories Schmalories," says Murray in response to Emily eating a pint of ice cream. Yeah. Just what the hell is the deal with calories anyway? How have we managed to develop such a fixation on a scientific measure that we don't even understand? I really think that America's obsession with food would calm down a bit if they it said "energy" instead of "calories" on food labels, as it does in Canada, Europe, and most of the rest of the free world (I don't think the "not free" world cares so much about that sort of thing).

Not that I want Americans to get any fatter per se, but I think that our attitude about food as a whole would improve if we thought of it more positive terms. Ironically, the scientific unit "calorie," about which the average layman knows very little, has come to symbolize the negative connotation of weight gain and indulgence. It's a lot harder to look at food as "harmful" or "guilty" when it's measured in energy. After all, that's what it IS. And, of course, calories are just another measure of energy but because the unit of measurement itself is so vastly uncomprehended, the only real meaning it has is the one read about in diet and exercize magazines.

Now, imagine, for instance if food packages read "Energy" instead of "calories" and were measured in jules. I mean, not only would that solve the problem of calorie negativity, but it'd be hella amusing to talk about in casual conversation.

"Ohh, man, I can believe I ate so much. God, I don't want to think about all the energy that's in my stomach right now..."

"Boy, after that cake, I'll have enough energy to last me a week!"

"Hon, don't eat that, you've already had too many jules today, you don't want to make yourself sick."

"I have so much energy, I'll have to run around for an hour just to burn it all off!"

It still has a more positive spin than all the whining the calorie-conscious do about their food intake. And now that I think about it, it really doesn't sound half as ridiculous.

the internet, the image, the rhizome
I got a hit today from this site. It's a collage of web-images that acts on a random search and link principle, probably by some weird bot the guy designed. Basically it gathers and layers images, linking each image to the site from which it originated. I don't know if that means a graphic from my site simply showed up in the collage or if someone clicked on the picture and came here. It'd be more interesting if something from my site caught the eye of someone who happened to be looking at the collage the moment it randomly, coincidentally loaded. Now THAT would be synchronicity.

Funny enough, I was doing some spring cleaning today and I came across a photo envelope that I didn't recognize. I took out the pictures and thumbed through them. My first thought was that they might be Justin's, since I certainly didn't know anyone in them, but they were developed here in Eugene at Dot Dotsons and that would, well, require a 35mm camera and the effort of going over to Dot Dotson's to shell out extra cash for their pricey prints. That's NOT Justin. And upon perusing the photos together we determined that we don't know ANYONE in them and that they were most definitely taken at a graduation ceremony of some sort. Probably UO because one of the pictures has a bit "O" sticky on the window and looks like a campus building. Still, questions remain. Like, whose photos are these? How long have I had them? And where on earth did they come from?

peace pretzels
Last night was such a "college" night.

After a free dinner and drinks at Ring of Fire (not to mention inheriting a full sized entertainment center from Justin's mom), I managed to space my homework completely for the lure of the internet and forget that South Park's 100th episode was showing. I gave my homework the finger and we went over to Sara and Brads anyway where 20 people were all smooshed into their living room (and somehow managed to, for ONCE, abstain from ranting lividly about something during the show). I planned to go home right afterwards and start my work but actually overcame my dehabilitating "goody-two-shoes-ness" and went with about 15 other people to the campus Prince Pucklers for ice cream. When all of us arrived within two minutes of each other and about 20 minutes before they closed and proceeded to yell "rabble! rabble rabble rabble!!" the ice cream guy just shook his head and muttered under his breath, "What the hell? I don't fucking believe this..." Needless to say, I think they did good business that night. We pwned that place. After ice cream we loitered on the street until Sara, Rachel and I, lured by the large lights on in the bakery nextdoor, went to investigate the "peace pretzels" (large loaves of bread fashioned into peace signs) in the window and discovered that the baker was still working. After dive bombing the glass with our boobies and failing to get his attention by hollering and leaping about, Rachel had to resort to knocking on the glass for his attention. Like the giddy schoolgirls we are, we ran away gleeful and giggling into the night.

So I didn't get to bed until way too damn late and have started to get a little behind on my work. Fudge it. It's worth if if I can still manage to enjoy my classes and have fun with friends anyway. I'm too much a friggin perfectionist. That, and I needed to celebrate my $500 scholarship award somehow!

This morning I turned in my three "photogram" prints in my PhotoJ class. As I mentioned, I uploaded them and you can view the linked images below. I'm off to Tai chi!

The third and final mounted print in small and large.

The first print, a two-sided scan of flowers.

The second print, tissue and ribbon.

A print I made with sea glass but didn't turn in. Didn't particularly like the way it came out.

As you can see, I'm lacking talent (though I do like the final mounted print) but full of ambition!

Just because...
I'm 20,000 hits old
Oh, Jeebus. Somehow I got up to 91 unique hits a day without even having said anything over the past week. I crossed the line of 20,000. Now we're at 20,005... no... 20,009... Granted, most of those hits are still from google searches for "Kitana Baker's nipples" or "Schoolgirls f**cking (insert prop or relative here)." At least I have SOMETHING to be proud of. I hope some of the poor people lookingg for porn at least stay for a few minutes. I did get two new linkups (I check for those every now and then) and I added them to my "Online Friends" link bar. But I know that entire toolbar is really just there to save my lazy ass from having to type in any addresses. ; )

In the News
So tired and busy and yet so bent on getting to bed at a decent time. All these things do not, as I'm learning, equate to good blogging.

I think I bombed my Japanese quiz today. Ironic because I'm certainly more alert in class this term than I was last term even though it's a hour earlier. I'm actually absorbing what's being said, probably because I don't have that AWFUL HC fiction writing class before it to melt my brain. Erkh. And I'm still on schedule but getting slightly behind what with having an article to write for the magazine and still finishing my sendmeabroad site so I can promote it.

That brings me to the good news. I got a letter today offering me the $500 Opportunities Abroad Scholarship! Not much, but every bit helps! And I'll find out soon about the two $7,000 Freeman scholarships for which I applied. SWEET! I can add THAT to my grand total.

Aside from that I'm still feeling stupidly in debt. I've put about $800 into this camera on top of $250 in books/supplies and $100 in clothing over the last month. Bleh. And then there's taxes. I think I talked my mom into sending me a check for the $450 I farking OWE because they're illegally claiming me a as dependent to save their OWN asses.Thank GOD they're giving me money because that's about ALL I have in my account right now and it NEEDS to go towards starting to pay off the credit card bill I've accrued from all this shit.

What irks me is how it all piles up at once. This summer I'll be rolling in dough and perfectly qualified to purchase a laptop and pay off a camera. But all the things I need to get (new tennis shoes, class supplies, etc) are on sale now. I'm beginning to see how one racks up credit card debt. I guess I just have to make it through another two months of mediocre income before I'll have the bill on this camera paid off. That's really not too bad for the money I'm saving. But I still have to buy TONER for the photo lab printer ($20), get Justin his b-day present ($xxx), and ... I.... WANT to go to the TMBG concert.... but.... that's... another $20. Grar. They should let me in for free since I paid to go to the damn Celebration two years ago just to see them before the farking terrorists ruined it all and TMBG couldn't get here in time to play because there weren't any planes in the sky *pant pant pant*.... well... whatever....

I made my first prints for photojournalism today. If I remember, I'll link up the JPEGs here when I upload them. They aren't photo prints, they're "photograms" done with a flatbed scanner-- transmissive (read: two-sided) scans of objects that I rendered in B&W and inverted to look like the traditional photograms. A photogram is traditionally done by exposing objects arranged on photo paper to light. The light hits the paper and turns it black wherever it isn't blocked, thus causing a variable bleached imprint of the object according to how much light is absorbed. Most people's scans look nothing LIKE photograms. Most people probably didn't understand the assigment and failed to even create aesthetically pleasing images... but that remains to be seen. Despite the ability of the class to fake tech savviness for the first lecture, it's now becoming (and not surprisingly) apparent that most of them still view computers as VERY scary machines. Argh. But I have to say, I'm pleased with my prints and it was fun to mount the one I chose as the final. Reminded me of my days at U-Frame-It when I did mounting, matting and framing all the damn day. And most of the time it was great fun just chilling with the guys, listening to Pink Floyd and talking about their acid trips. Oh, and petting the big, black shop cat. Yeah, that rocked.

Anyway, I still can't express fully how glad I am to have a class that allows for creative expression. And I don't mean lame, forced expression like a mag writing or "short story" class but real visual and mental expression. Should I have gone into multimedia instead? It's infinitely more satisfying.... then again, most of the time I'm anything but inspired.

However, in a remarkable moment of insight today, I figured out what this war in Iraq is really about: KILLING JOURNALISTS!! Not just of the American Media but journalists of every nationality! These so-called "accidents" are becoming highly convenient. One falls off his hotel roof, another has an embolism, one is crushed when his Humvee runs into the back of a tank in a sand storm. We bomb three or more. Oh, and those that we really want to suffer we save from death but ruin their careers beyond recognition. See Peter Arnett. Ha! We sure got him! The US always wins! HOO-AH!

Oh, wow. And I totally just hit 20,000 and didn't even notice it. Man, have I been around here doing this for way too long. >.<

Rubber Fish
I have to say that this camera was an excellent investment. Not only is it fun and RAD but it has endless capabilities that no camera I've owned before has had. Yahoo!

Oh, and I forgot to mention that the other night I had a dream that I went to see a live Monty Python show and afterwards my dad, sister, and I threw rubber fish ff a parking garage at the pedestrians below. Some british bloke had barrels of the fish that he was just tossing. It was a jolly good time.

Free for a song and a dance
In my mind, the ritual of Spring Cleaning is one of the most physically and mentally cleansing experiences ever. By Spring Cleaning, I don't just mean the chore of scouring the house with dustcloths and brillo pads-- though I do mean that too-- I also mean clearing away emotional cobwebs, scaring away ghosts, and rearranging life so that chi flows more freely throughout the internal 'house' as well as the external. Spring Cleaning is a ritual about facing all the scary things that have been shoved away in closets, taking them out into the light and realizing that they aren't so scary after all. Sometimes it's about removing the dust from old thing and polishing them up like they're new again even if it makes them sting a bit. Most of all, it taking baggage off the shelf, sorting through it, checking to see if anything can be thrown out or taken out of storage and then rearranging it all much better than it used to be.

It's hard to get started with Spring Cleaning when the weather insists on remaining so shitty. I'm beginning, slowly, to enter the process of change again. I'm gonna run around the house with a broom and sweep away all the little heebie-jeebies that scare me. I'm gonna scrub the apartment from top to bottom. I'm gonna set up my altar, light some incense and open all the windows to let the air flow around the house. I'm gonna take down the winter walls and push myself into accepting where I am as a blessing, even if it's not the place I ultimately want to be. I think for me Spring Cleaning is initiated by the equinox, set in motion by Daylight Savings and really begins on Easter, the one Christian holiday I actually enjoy. Spring is a restorative time and Cleaning is a difficult process, but one I enjoy immensely.

And when the hell did I become so new-agey? I know I've always had "tendencies" toward the fanciful, the spiritual, the abstract and the "alternative" but it's really been within the last two years that I've actually affirmed my off-kilter paradigm. Sometimes it makes me feel a little silly and childish but overall it feels a lot more "real" than the socially affirmed, banal rationality of the world.

***

The first weekend of the term is always so much less busy than the rest. In some ways, I almost feel guilty for not completely filling my time with homework. But I didn't really HAVE any... and what little I had to do I finished fairly quickly. I did run a lot of errands this weekend, driving all over the planet to pick up groceries, accessories for my camera and other things. I'm rather embarrassed (and ticked-off) to say that I was in such a state of enthusiasm to pick up a 256 MB memory card for my camera that I purchased an overpriced card from Shutterbug before checking how cheap (and how soon) I could get one online. And I could have seriously saved $50. Fleh. But there's not much I can do about it, being that I've used the card and I lost the reciept (of all the 1,000s of reciepts I've SAVED over the last year, I had to lose THIS ONE a DAY after I got it....). Eh. Whaddayagonnado.

Saturday Justin mauled his finger on a Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup can and we had to drive to the store for band-aids and Neosporin since we didn't have either in the house. And, funny enough, we've never needed band-aids until this accident. With all the sharp things we have in the house, someone got hurt on a soup can. Heh.

Saturday night I went to the ballet with our married friends, Cole and Andrea. Beforehand we went out to a very nice dinner at the Koho Bistro, a little restaurant over by Churchill. On the pricey side... but I wasn't buying. =D The ballet was Stravinsky's Firebird, preceeded by two other short pieces. The costume work on Firebird was amazing to say the least. Honestly, though, I'm not a HUGE fan of the ballet. I'm not even sure why. I feel like I should have some obligation to enjoy it to remain a 'cultured' individual but I sort of just feel neutral about it. I did enjoy the shirtless men in one of the shorts though. God DAMN did those guys have abs. And they had a lot more meat on them than the women did. All the ballerinas, while elegant, looked far too emaciated to be attractive.

Cole and Andrea's season tickets got them an invite to the post-ballet reception, a schmorgasboard and chance to mingle with the dancers. It was hard to refrain from making jibes about bulimia when in the middle of a flock of ballet dancers picking at fruit and cookies and probably wondering what they were going to be able to eat now and purge later. I felt evil for even thinking that but after having dealt with my own image esteem issues and having read so much in the past year about eating disorders (including the pro-ana/ pro-mia forums), it's hard for me not to look at any very skinny person and assume that they don't have some sort of problem with undereating or overexercise.

Anyway, I'm not sure where I'm going with this laundry list of my weekend, because there isn't much to say now about the rest of it. I hate daylight savings time but I seem to have adjusted already to the time delay. Saturday I ran another shitload of errands and talked to Alex for a while about some "Spring Cleaning" issues. For once, I didn't manage to talk myself into some bloody awful depression. It felt good to take a load off my mind.

Last night I *gasp* went to bed early and without staring at the computer or televisioo for hours. Justin and I just packed our asses out of the study and lounged in the living room under blankets before heading to bed around 11. I don't know what crack I was on last night, but I had some WEIRD dreams about going to battle with this weird tribe of peopel (with swords and maces and stuff) and this creepy guy who was trying to kill me. I kept trying to figure out how to knock him out or cripple him without having to kill him but the more I tried the harder he came on and the more I realized that I'd have to kill him, the harder it became for me to actually do it. Eventually, I ended up screaming for Justin to help me and we tried to subdue the creepy guy by bashing him in the head with a war hammer or a mallet or something but it just bounced off his skull like it was a wiffle bat. Stupid South Park-Seattle Knights crossovers.

So err, I guess I'm still a violent individual after all. At least the dream didn't have any creepy lingering effects. I feel good today and not terribly tired.

And today is our three year anniversary!

Driving Lessons
Sadly enough, the first American journalist has died in Iraq. Why do I say "died" instead of "was killed"? Because he died "in a Humvee accident." What? What's that now? CAN'T OUR MILITARY DRIVE, FLY OR SHOOT ANYMORE? Not to trivialize the death or stress of war but it seems like every damn soldier who dies dies in a helecopter crash, vehicle accident, or in friendly fire. Christ, we're even shooting anti-aircraft missiles at allied planes! Ugh. It's really, really, sad that journalists (even conservative ones) are being killed by this war. But a Humvee accident? What, driver's ed doesn't teach desert driving any more?

A Declaration of Self
Oh, lookit that. It was raining after I wrote that post. Now it's hailing. Ooop, wait, it's sunny!! What the hell!??!

I just want to respond further to a very good point Jake raised in last entry's comments about American self-centeredness. On one hand, I completely agree. There's nothing worse than the American mindset that everything revolves around the "self" and material goods rather than the family and service. Our philosophy of selfishness is ridiculous and shallow. But there's a difference between selfishness and self-love or introspection. It is completely possible to be utterly "selfish" and "self-absorbed" and know absolutely nothing about the SELF. There's a difference between taking time to nurture, converse with, and understand the self and indulging in vortex-like behaviors. It seems to me that most Americans are missing that critical link and spend their whole lives being selfish WITHOUT being introspective.

All things considered, I do believe that there is a lot of value in glorifying the self. We're very lucky that we have the resources and the amenities to even think about our spiritual selves and not limit our concerns to survival. But we are our selves... if not that, what are we? I'm a firm, firm believer that one has to have a certain level of self understanding, self love and inner peace to be able to truly connect with and love others. That sounds god-awful new-agey but from every experience I've ever had with anxiety, depression and alienation, self-hate, misinterpretation of emotions, or overinvolvement in external stimulation (too much complexity) were to blame. That's what "me" time is; it's taking time to be quiet and listen to the voice that is you: introspection. Introspection is not negative selfishness. Introspection and self-understanding are what the millions of self-involved and unhappy Americans are lacking.

One must give to (by that I mean nurture) the self in order to nurture others for the right reasons. Otherwise that giving to others and not to the self is martyrdom. And believe me, that's why I have "issues" with selfishness in the first place. I've always been a spiritual and introspective person. But I was raised in a household with a mother who was a martyr and was so bitter about losing herself and having to constantly GIVE everything she had to her children that she delighted in calling me selfish whenever I wanted to do anything remotely self-enriching.

My problem with being over-involved is that I try so hard to please my parents, my professors and my peers that I forget why I got involved in all the things I'm doing in the first place: to be enriched. I try to give too much when I should be taking in that enrichment. It is selfish giving, yes, because I'm looking for approval... and that's what makes me so frustrated when things don't go how I'd like. I really want to feel like the things I'm doing have some value to me as a person and will craft me into a more knowledgeable, more successfull, happier, freely giving (as opposed to giving through obligation or duty), more loving person. But the things I'm doing won't do that... I have to do that. And that's what I mean by "I'm not really thinking of me." I'm being too involved in external, selfish giving that I'm martyring myself for things like grades, approval, and "improvement." Yes, that is selfish. I wouldn't neccesarily say it was WRONG unless it were fucking... which it is. So when I say I'm giving too little regard to myself, I mean introspectively. And when I'm like this, it's impossible for me to be a loving, giving person until I give a little patience back to myself.

I've been called selfish since I was an early-adolescent, been demeaned as a person for taking interest in who I am. The things I involve myself in are my way of finding that self and sometimes I let them get to me. Maybe I'm not out to save the world but I certainly don't have material aspirations either. I just want to be and to be happy with and love who I am. Yes, that is a luxury I'm lucky to have. Yes, I am selfish. And I am proud of my SELF.

You know what else r0xx0rs my b0xx0rs? A bag of M&Ms for 4 cents.... MMMMMM.....

SQUEE!!!
Well... Friday... uh...

Is it just me or has the weather here been a bit more spastic than usual this spring? RAIN. SUN. HAIL. CLOUDS. SUN. DOWNPOUR. SUN. SEVENTY DEGREES. FIFTY DEGREES. THIRTY DEGREES. Augh! It's more than a little schizophrenic and it's matching my current mood!

But it's sunny now. And I just came into the math office to check my messages and now my adrenaline's pumping. Why? Because in five minutes I'm going over to Microservices to pick up my camera that arrived around noon today... and I just recieved a $25.00 donation via Paypal from one Ms. Mauter, who I assume is either a reader of this blog or a fated wanderer across sendmeabroad.com. HUTTAH!! My paypal works! And that just made my day. Or possibly my week. =D I'll have to hurry up and finish my truly informative sections so I can give myself a little publicity. Thank you so much!!!! WAU!!

I think I will get everything I need done today. I went to the counseling center at 10AM and made myself a drop-in appointment. I talked to Dr. Joy about my anxiety and insifficiency problems and my romantic complications. I felt a bit stupid talking about it all, because I'm "mostly fine" right now but I know that it's all still there, lurking beneath the surface. And unless I sort myself out a bit, I could end up with a lifetime of stress related problems. The counselor indicated that she thought my problem was with frustration, and feeling like nothing was ever quite enough and thus overburdening myself. She seemed to agree that it's linked to my fear of being insufficient and ending up locked in an unhappy lifestyle like my parents. But I've got myself in a catch-22. By trying so hard to find what it is I WANT, I'm forcing myself to be martyred for everyone else's approval and not really thinking of me. I'm doing too much with too little regard for myself.

She recommended that I might benefit from therapy, so as stupid as I felt saying that I was messed up (I always tell myself to get over it), at least she agrees that there is something wrong. That and I do still get upset when I talk about my frustrations. Sigh.

I didn't particularly like the counselor that much. She was very sensitive, as they're supposed to be. She did a lot of nodding and was pretty soft spoken. This sort of annoyed me. I want and assertive counselor, someone who's willing to guide me in attacking the problem. I'd ask for a male counselor and maybe benefit from it if I didn't feel like I wanted to talk about sexual issues in the future. I'd feel weird discussing orgasms with a man. Not bashful, mind you, just not like I could take advice about what I should do. On the other hand, it might be a great way to learn to be more open.

I guess we'll see. The waiting list is huge at this point and they don't even know if they can get me in until the end of the term. I'll probably be in much greater need by that point. I don't really qualify for a local referral because there's no provider for my insurance in Eugene. The nearest Kaiser firm is in Salem. No WAY am I driving up there. Looks like there might be a depressiong/anxiety clinic in the Psych building that may have spots open, so I'll call over there to check on that too. At least it's a proactive start.

I made another health center FPEP appointment today to get some more Lo Ovral for this summer and study abroad. Don't ask me why I don't just go off the stuff... I'm certainly not expecting to be sexually active in Japan. But I'm almost afraid to change my hormone levels for what it might do to my body/ moods. I've been on BCPs for so long that I really don't know what it's like to let my hormones flow naturally any more. I do know firsthand what it's like to have a shitty experience with birth control. Read my entries last winter for a toned-down example of the depression I went through while on Depo-Provera. Not doing THAT again. Anyway, it's more a maintenance thing. I'm almost out and it wouldn't be good not to get a refill. No Babies. NOOOOOOO BABIES.

There was a sign on the door of the health center that read "ALERT!! IF YOU ARE EXPERIENCING A DRY FEVER AND COUGH, PLEASE ENTER THROUGH ANOTHER DOOR AS DIRECTED BY SIGNS" (or something similar). I can only imagine it applies in some way to SARS. It's creepy that they're taking that precaution even here and diverting people with such symptoms to a certain area of the health center. I don't like to think that we'll live in an era of epidemic and war. It sounds like armageddon to me. I'm a bit fearful that if they don't figure this thing out soon (or it mutates again or something like it would do in the movies) that I'll be in much greater danger of being exposed to it in Japan. Well... if anyone's healthy, it's me! I'll jinx myself by saying this, I'm sure, but I managed somehow to escape my first-week-of-term illness this Spring. Yay! Well, I have allergies to look forward to. That's what it's like to live in the god damn "Grass Seed Capital of the World" and have the highest pollen count IN THE NATION during grass season. Maybe I won't live in Eugene later in life after all. There really are only four months of the year that it's the greatest place ever. Maybe, just maybe, that's enough.

Just like Christmas!
Oh boy oh boy oh boy!!! I'm all excited!! I bought my camera today not expecting it to ship until tomorrow (and hence arrive on Monday) but it shipped today! That means... new toy for me tomorrow! And having the camera makes it so easy to justify spending on accessories. But it's an investment for this class and for my future use. It really is a good camera. Yeesh, though. You think I'd be working on being a miser for my study abroad. I am, in a way, but I do need a camera before I go. And the benefits far outweigh the costs on this one. Plus, I'm planning on making my ca$h this summer. And hopefully fundraising a bit through my fundraising site.

Take a look at that site, by the way. I put quite a bit more work into both the template and the content tonight. The only sections left to fill in are the "About Me" and "FAQ" sections. In a way, they're the most important selling point and the most work, but also the most fun. : ) If anyone wants to try and drop me a dollar to see if my paypal account is working, it would be much appreciated. I should have the site up and running by this weekend.

I'm really excited about my camera and I'm sure I'll blather on about it like an idiot for a good long while. It really will make taking this class worthwhile. But otherwise I'm feeling oddly emotionally ambivalent. I guess I do this sometimes when I'm content being involved with "activities" and not overly stressed by them. At least I think my classes this term will be enriching. I'll probably still be annoyed by my Tai Chi instructor, but that's just her personality. And I seem to feel more self-conscious than I expected taking the class with Alex... but that's something I'll get over after a few classes and is probably inspired by the fact that I'm feeling reticent and not particularly "deep" this week.

There was an anti-war walk-out, rally and march on campus today. Though I would have liked to have gone, I didn't, both for lack of time and emotional investment. I just don't know what I think about marches and protests at this point. I don't know what to think at all any more. No, I don't agree with the war. But I don't think we can stop it from happening either. I AM a little bit of a conspiracy theorist and I honestly think this government is more than a little FUCKED UP. I do not think that Bush is doing the best things possible for this country and for the world. But I do now know what the "best things possible" ARE. I don't know what difference I can make. I'm a frustrated, passive pacifist. It's hard to be purely against a war that's already in effect when Iraqi citizens are welcoming our troops and when pulling out would probably have dire consequences in and of itself. What the hell can we do RIGHT at this point? Ugh.

I really don't want to talk politics in this blog any more than I want to talk romance. Only when it's really important will I put it in. Otherwise it's unneccesary and inflamatory drama... and god knows I don't need any more of that.

But speaking of romance, Justin and I ARE doing much better. A part of us has resolved to separate when I go to Japan and a part of us doesn't want it to come to that. Regardless, the next six months should be lived in relative harmony. There's no reason for us not to be supportive of each other in our life paths, even if they take us separate directions. I'm trying to convince myself (yes, me of all people) that really, things just HAPPEN and that sometimes there is no RIGHT or WRONG decision. It's hard when I've already learned how much weight can be measured by the consequences of one small (or large) action. And it's hard in these times of stress, both internationally, academically and personally.

On another note, I don't think I'll be able to get in to the counseling center walk-in tomorrow. I know, bad me. Maybe I'll skip my workout. But I have an appointment to fix somebody's busted Eudora in the Comp Lit department and I have a feeling it'll talk longer than expected. That and (YAY) I'm getting my camera tomorrow so I'll want to play with it. Huttah. Erm, well. I suppose I should go anyway... but... meh. Gym... camera... Eudora. I know which one I'd throw out if I had the chance. Stupid Eudora. What an awful email program, and named after such an awful writer. Oh well, it's a job.

And now I'm going to cut it off since I should get to bed before it gets too late. Note to self: start reverting this diary to its old "self-reflective" format and it will become what you meant it to be.

A Running Start
And I'm off to a running start. Classes are good and interesting thus far. But then, they always are until I learn to hate them. At least I can forsee that I'll be stressed this term, even if I am getting in my workouts and such. I don't know if I'll be able to head over to the counseling center at all, though I probably should try during their open hours this Friday.

I'm enrolled in Japanese 203, Photojournalism, Modern Japanese History and Tai Chi. I'm also going to the gym two hours on MWF and working the rest of my campus hours at the Math Department. Actually, I'm supposed to spend two of those hours in the EMU for Oregon Voice office hours but I'm not sure which are best for me yet. So... I'm just as busy as I was last term but considerably less angsty. Why? Well, because things are just starting again and professors/ the publication aren't being extremely demanding of me... YET. Despite this, I find myself being stressed by the things taxing my pocketbook. Like... taxes.... books... the camera... fees for Waseda. UGH. I still can't believe that my parents are getting a $2000 tax break (not a refund) by claiming me as a dependent when they're not even supposed to any more. They're getting all the slack here and leaving ME to pay $450 in taxes when if I were claimed as an independent I'd get a $200 REFUND. Maybe I should just file as an independent anyway. Like they'd ever audit me. Urgh. It just pisses me off so much that they can hold out on covering my taxes by saying things like "well, we have all these loans out for you and yadda yadda." Yeah, excuse me? I'd LIKE them to be in my name so you could stop nagging me!! I suppose it makes sense... I mean, they ARE paying my insurance and so on. But seriously, $450 for me is proportional to $2000 for them. Yeesh.

OK, enough about taxes. Whatever. I'm still buying the camera. Looks like I'm getting the Canon PowerShot G3 from Best Price Audio Video. It's not the cheapest there is out there, but it's from a reputable source and not some Brooklyn bait-and-switch gig. Theirs is priced at $599 with overnigh shipping. I can get it for less with shittier shipping (2-3 day is still acceptable) but I'd prefer to have it in my hands ASAP lest something happen to it or lest I need it for class next week. If y'all web-savvy searchers can come up with another reputable source besides bestpriceaudiovideo.com, dbuys.com and buydig.com (the three I'm looking at in descending order of "savoriness"), be sure to let me know!

Other than the stress coming from being involved in so many new activities at once, I'm actually feeling pretty well right now. The weather of this weekend did wonders for my mind, though I'm sure the rain will wear me down eventually. Not surprisingly, even though I feel better, I still don't feel social. In fact, I feel remarkably withdrawn and quiet. I rather like it. I'm not looking forward to getting back into writing papers for History and articles for the Voice though; I really would LIKE to put a feature in this issue but I don't feel like writing much at all right now-- hence the lack of type in the blog. But that changes from week-to-week.

Anyway, I'm actually raring to go at my homework tonight while it's still interesting and so I can watch some new sacrelige (South Park) over at Sara and Brad's place. Yahoo!

Ka-CLICK!
Ok, all you camera people.... would I just be wasting my money if I got a Canon EOS D10? Will I be wishing I hadn't in three years? Or will a 6 megapix, 6X-zoom, Advanced-point-and-click, Interchangeable Lens camera keep me good company for a looooong time?
Yes, that's $1500 I might just be willing to spend.