les rêveries merveilleuses de la pomme

college life.

The second semester is upon me. I have one more day to sleep my brains out before I'm subjected to three weeks of supreme torture, living off of Ramen and Nyquil and giving up sleep to write three thousand term papers due the next day. Yeah, college is kind of intense at times. And when I say "at times" I mean all hours of the day. It's hard when you have to work two jobs on top of all of it.

And, that concludes my rant on the semester beginning. Here's to sleepless nights:

I submit a philosophy of life which has served me well for the past couple of years. I call it Metabolic Fascism.

There are several basic tenets to this philosophy, but one provides the foundation for the rest: You Are At War With Your Body.

Picture a table. A lobbyist for your brain sits on one side, a lobbyist for your body on the other. They are pushing their respective interests as you go through your life. In a democratic regime, one might overhear something like this during a normal day:

BODY: Nothing like a good, hearty breakfast to kick-start the day.
BRAIN: Yeah...I feel some serious creativity coming on. It's gonna be a banner day for original thought. Can we arrange a little rush
from a relevant gland to start things off?
BODY: Why, sure. (Drains a mug of java...) There we go.
BRAIN: Thanks.

(Some eight hours later.)

BODY: Okay, it's about time to wind things down.
BRAIN: But...
BODY: C'mon, it'll be better in the morning if we quit now.
BRAIN: Aw, okay.

(After some interval, sleep, then repeat cycle.)

Now, this has its obvious advantages. Brain and body maintain a working camaraderie, the cycle of ups and downs is never too extreme or debilitating, and the productivity of the two working in tandem is fairly consistent and predictable.

On the other hand, come the day when classes start again and your professor is breathing down your neck you might HAVE to trash that comfy little system for something a little more, well, authoritarian. My solution is simple:metabolic fascism. Not when you have to crank it out, but ALL the time.
To wit:

BODY: Not coffee AGAIN.
BRAIN: You don't want it, throw it up. But don't bother me. Have somedessert.
BODY: Marlboro Lights a la carte. Delectable. My lungs look like Fire-stones.
BRAIN: Listen. I'm on the verge of a universe-tilting breakthrough. I don't need your sniveling.
BODY: Are we gonna get some sleep this week?
BRAIN: Yeah, yeah.

(Some 14 hours later.)

BODY: Look, man, I'm gonna die here. I wanna go to bed.
BRAIN: SILENCE!

(Rains vicious blows upon the Body Lobbyist until he sinks beneath the table, a simpering lump of protoplasm.)

(Some 10 hours later, the Body Lobbyist has risen from beneath thetable, wearing full body armor and a catcher's mask.)

BODY: Sleep. Now.

(The Brain lobbyist produces a dreadnought Louisville Slugger, festooned with nails, and clubs the Body Lobbyist senseless.)

BRAIN: Where was I?

(Some eight hours later, the Body Lobbyist rises and leaves the room. The Brain Lobbyist, deep in some amphetamine-induced trance, fails to notice. Several minutes later the Body Lobbyist re-enters, carrying a bazooka. He liberally distributes the Brain Lobbyist about the room.)

BODY: Sleep. Now.

(Perhaps 20 hours later, another Brain Lobbyist enters the room. Repeat cycle.)

There are tradeoffs to this methodology, sure. But theadvantages are overwhelming.

First, it's more honest. After all, the first time a deadline or a good
idea rolls around, you're gonna shaft your body anyway, right? Why not accustom yourself to those inevitable caffeine fests BEFORE they descend on your unsuspecting, pampered physiognomy?

Second, there is no better way to accumulate a comprehensive, detailed knowledge of one's body than by abusing it regularly. Whereas most humans can only recognize vague, ambiguous bodily states and applyalmost meaningless words like "good," "bad," "tired" and "rested" to the way they feel, a metabolic fascist becomes sensitive to the most subtle
changes in his system. He learns to check his pulse by noting the frequency of the shaking in his hands. He learns to check his blood pressure by gauging the accuracy with which he hits the reboot switch.

That conclude's Sunday's post...

social punching bag.

Cold weather turns attitudes nasty.

Working with the public does not help me in any case. Especially a very frostbitten public. Today, in the market while I was checking, a vast amount of people must have had a virus attacking their central manners system. A lady screamed, and I mean scream in the literal nasty vicious term of screaming, when i went to put her groceries in a bag so that she wouldn't be juggling items in the frozen tundra on the way to her car. "DID I ASK YOU TO BAG THOSE???!!! GIVE THEM TO ME NOW, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???!!!!!!!" I meekly shoved her purchases in her outstretched arms in a dazed state. Why are people so aggravated all the time?

Its not that hard to be courteous for at least two minutes while some poor menial minimum wage slave makes your day flow a little smoothly. We have to be nice to the customers, its our job, so I can't exactly say what I normally would in any situation. Why can't they at least try? People can really be irritating sometimes. When I'm working, it really makes my day when a customer is GENUINELY nice to me and tries to make me feel a little better after a serious "bitch-session". They smile, thank me, joke around a bit, and you know what, I appreciate it. Seriously, the nice people won't have any Karma debt on their hands.

So remember, the menial working class is NOT YOUR PUNCHING BAG SOCIETY!!!

Remember that we are people too. We clean up after your table after you carelessly dump sweet and sour pork everywhere and leave a bible verse as a tip. Jesus is not going to pay my way through college people!

Be kind, rewind.

the lonesome foodie.

I feel like one of those bride-to-be's that orders all kinds of pretty dinnerware on her wedding registry so that one day, she can have all of her friend's over for a lovely dinner party but ends up having to put the dinnerware in boxes eventually because she realizes that people don't appreciate dinner parties in this century anymore and that she forgot to mention that she hasn't made any friends in her new neighborhood yet...

I just made a cake. A really good one. But I don't have anyone to eat it. So, out of guilt for myself I tried eating some of it, but then I feel guilty eating it because I realize that I just ate cake and then start wondering how many calories are in this cake and wow, I really wish I had friends to eat my goddam cake. I go on cooking/baking binges where I will bake wonderful full course meal only to realize that, while cooking it was very enjoyable, I'm missing out on the people to eat it. I used to have little dinner parties with my friends on the weekends. It was wonderful because I could get all my cooking angst over with and my friends could eat and we could talk in the candle light on fancy dishes and have a swell old time.

Now I've become the unsocial moth that lurks in dark corners with a skillet. The wallflower at the Foodie prom. If I got all the people I consider "close" to me or friends...or even my boyfriend together, it probably wouldn't work out because secretly...they all hate each other. Augh, fuck peace. Is there anyone out in rural Montana that enjoys formal dinner parties, seriously? Or is it all about the buckwild drinking fests that only serves stale pretzels and sluts?

Am I going to have to retire my oven mitts? Is the china pattern going extinct? I may need to sit down...oh wait...blast it...I AM sitting down. Seriously, the invite is open, and I have lots of tea cake left...which I will RESIST eating even though its quite delightful...

hello, holga.

Holga came in the mail today. No, not a Russian mail order bride, a Lomography camera. I know it sounds creepy, but my camera, is totally my friend. This is where the term 'nerd' comes in. Yeah, I'm practically friendless and have to turn to technology for companionship. Nonetheless, I love Holga. Lomography, in any other words, is God in indie-DIY culture. I'm almost dirt-poor seeing as I have to pay my way through college, and digital cameras are so unethical and non-artsy, therefore, getting a cheap manual camera is equivilant to Buddha's 1/8 of a second enlightenment.

I'm very glad I took that 18 day photography course seeing as I'm quite the little amateur photographer. I can disassemble and reassemble the little manual cameras (120's and 35mm). Although, my composition almost failed in the classroom. I LOVE obscurity. I love portraits. I love obscure portraits of people. So, for my class projects, that's what I did. Everyone in the class took (and I swear) pictures of the same things. You couldn't tell their work apart. For example: everyone took a picture of a dog, a tree, and a fence. Same angles, same views, same boring blah blah blah. Yet, you could always tell which one's were mine, the pictures of girls laying in the grass with the sun illuminating their hair, or people shopping for bread in the supermarket, all quite the same, yet actually not. My pictures, of course got the worse reviews from my classmates...but why? Because they weren't like everyone elses. They couldn't grasp the overall significant concept I was portraying with my photos. No, it wasn't just a fence that I happened to take a snapshot of to get an assignment over. No. I did it for a meaning. Feng shui of photography. That girl's arm was in that particular spot because it meant something. Augh. People are losing the poetry in their minds.

That's why I bought Holga. The original camera I had been using, I loaned from someone, so, I had to buy my own. I own a digital camera, but there is something digital cameras lack. Mystery. Imperfection. I want that in a camera. So, once I can locate 120 size film...which I may have to buy online, I am going to mark the obscurity that roams the world. I am going to put it on film. Maybe, if I'm proud enough, I'll make an inquiry about getting it displayed. I want to tell the world something without using words. I want them to figure it out. Bring thinking back to humanity. That is what I want to achieve with my friend Holga.

the new year

I've been neglecting my blogging duties since before Christmakkuh. So, to recap the the very last moments of the year... all I can say for the moment is: Saddam Husseing is dead. My menorah caught on fire. Gerald Ford is dead. Last night I met the prettiest boy on the Eastern Seaboard. James Brown is dead. We rang in the New Year by watching the ball drop on television in New York City...which was followed by footage of Saddam Hussein wearing a noose...and the world's fattest man. I truly know...that I live in America.

Goodbye 2006. Goodbye popular culture. Goodbye...America?

I decided that this year I will not mope about so much and whine. And hate-blog about it. It's such a damper on my Karma to be so whiny and misunderstood all the time. The brooding isn't getting me anywhere...I realized this on New Year's Eve. At the "party" I ended up sitting in the corner with cookies while everyone was chatting it up. Everytime I had input on the conversation...it went unnoticed. So, I have a stomachache from all the blasted cookies and I was very pissed and my mood was misinterpreted as being very tired. I spent three hours contemplating blog topics I was so tragically unamused. But this I can say: "I went to a New Year's Eve Party." Not quite the elaborate schindigs I'm so very much used to with fountains of alcohol, DJ's, shiny party hats and French people. After you go to a party like that, everything else is one damned dissapointment.

I'm also going to try not to be so bloody homesick all the time. I think its my number one cause of moping. There we go again with the moping. No wonder people never call me back.

In 2007 I want to take pictures. Lots and lots of wonderful pictures. This morning I ordered myself a Lomography German Holga camera with optical lenses. Its an experimental piece and I'm dying to play with it. I've come to the conclusion that I want to major in photography. Screw writing for some paper. I realized that I'm happier when I can express myself through an image. If only amazon.com could ship my camera faster.

In 2007 I'm going to wear cute shoes. Or no shoes. Yay for shoes.

In 2007 I am going to take a mind blowing roadtrip.

In 2007 I am going to campaign for something.

In 2007 I will take more time to read MORE MORE MORE books.

In 2007 I want to learn a new language and perfect my French.

In 2007 I want to make an independently produced film.

In 2007 I am going to further my Greenpeace activism.

...and in 2007...I will make my blog better.

HAPPY NEW YEAR. *cue party blowers and confetti*

even though it sucked meeting you at first 2007, i'm sure we will get along quite well in the end.

This concludes the first post of 2007.

Hare Krishna Hare Krishna/Krishna Krishna Hare Hare/Hare Rama Hare Rama/Rama Rama Hare Hare

A side note...Times Square, please never book Panic at the Disco as your entertainment AGAIN.

fortune cookie lessons

And so begins a new chapter of what is my life. Chinese.

I know that its basically expected of me to know this sort of thing, I know. Hey, besides, I'm part Asian or something anyway...or was it Portugese...I don't know.

So, my employer speaks very little English. And by very little I mean we have to use sign language as a means of communication. And he speaks the most English out of all the employees. This can be quite daunting. So, little by little I'm learning Chinese. I would love to speak it fluently. It sounds amazing when I hear them speaking it. I love to listen in on the kitchen when they're all cooking and chattering. Brilliant.

I think it would be funny if I just randomly joined in saying... 你好， 你好吗? Or it would just be very ackward.

So far in chinese I can say 'check/bill'  票据 (zhan-dhang?)

and 'telephone' 电话  (dian-qiaun-something?)

and 'grape' 葡萄 (pu-tao)

and 'hello' 你好 (hao)

Chinese is hard. And for some reason, I have to overwhelming urge to speak French instead.

为什么汉语必须是那么非常坚硬的？    parce que j'aime parler français tellement !!!

Maybe I will stick to sign language.

this is the end.

Well, this is the last morning University post I will have until next year. Today is the last day of the semester, can you believe it? I managed to screw over four classes. I'm sure my grades are quite terrible. But then again, I've got next semester right? Anyway, I'm going to miss my early morning rants in this place. I'll have to find somewhere better to do t hem.

I just noticed something. In the library, the computers have those large, flat screens, so you basically can see what everyone else is doing from whatever angle you sit at. I see that everyone, and I mean everyone is on Myspace. That is about fifteen people...all on Myspace. Nobody is doing homework, or anything creative mind you. Their all commenting on pictures of very drunk looking people. I have no comment for any of this. I think they spend hours doing this. Now, granted, I myself am a bit of a Myspace whore...there is one lurking inside all of us. But I don't spend up to three hours commenting on pictures. Thats just insanity. Although, maybe I'm the insane one seeing as how I'm blogging about everyone's Myspace addiction. I have a blogging addiction. Yep. Have we all diagnosed ourselves now?

I just had a surge of overwhelming exhaustion. Wow. I might have to make a blogging pit stop and grab some coffee! It wouldn't suprise me if I fell asleep on the keyboard. So, checked my schedules yesterday. I believe, for a fact that I will be working fourteen days straight, well, unless we count getting Christmas off. Did I get Hannakuh off, no sir. I guess they just suspect that everyone celebrates the exact same holidays here or something. Do they not know that I'm not a Christian? I am not a celebrator of Christmas.

I'm highly amused by the flirting mannerisms of the chavs. Its laugh worthy. Those girls can really put out pre-orgasmic pouts. They laugh and slap each other like seals. Its grotesque...and somehow I can't stop watching, like an infomercial. Okay, I have to pull myself away.

I'm considering taking full liberty of the sofas in here. I'm definitely ready to go to sleep.

I got two letters in the mail yesterday. You know what, I love the postal service. But its hard to find anyone who writes letters anymore, with Myspace taking over the world...people arent that excited about taking the time to put a stamp on an envelope. Anyway, I recieved a letter from Hadley, MA and one from Kirohvohrad, Ukraine. Caitlin, a person I used to know, who's been quite busy at Holyoke College, wrote me a really short note, but it was really nice to hear from someone that I used to talk to. And finally I got word back from Tanya! I'm so happy for her, she made it into the University of Kirovohrad. Although, I'm not so sure about how she's living or really anything of that matter, I think she has to live in some kind of hostel. I am already working on sending her my annual American care package. She sent me a gorgeous Ukranian Christmas card, and an exceedingly long letter about her adventures in the cosmopolitan Ukraine. Lucky girl.

So, I was reading an msn.com headline. Almost better than tabloids. It states that 9 out of 10 Americans will have premarital sex. Duh. Didn't we know that already. Its a new age. Get used to it. Not all of us are devoutly religious.

And now, I bring closure to the last post of the semester. Happy holidays everyone.

10:37 AM coffee addiction

This morning, while it was still quite dark outside, my boss calls me. Seven in the morning. I had spent the entire night up doing finals and was supposed to get up around 8:30 to go to class so that I would get at least a couple hours of much needed REM cycles. No. The whore calls me at seven in the morning, waking me up to tell me to get to work in an hour because someone decided that they didn't want to come in today. Um, I have classes and another job. I'm not scheduled to work until 1pm today. When I don't get enough sleep, I get into a state much like a hangover, and its the most dreadful thing.  Waking me up like that is a death sentence for me. I'm so dreadfully sick right now. Not to mention tired. I was grumbling on the phone, "I've got bloody classes in and hour and a half and I have another job, don't you people have better things to do than to wake me up?" And then, I hung up the phone. I'm royally pissed off. Mostly because I've been awake since seven...on an hour of sleep.

Seriously. I need to give up the hate blogging.

So, still no word from ANYONE. I know people have things to do in their life...but you can't promise to get in contact with me, and then drop it altogther. I don't see anyone anymore except for le David (not that seeing him is a bad thing ; ) but, honestly, I'd like to have some sort of social life. I took up another job just because I have nothing to do in my free time...I need friends. Seriously. I do. Because honestly...I really don't have ANY.

I'll say it again. I'm one sad person.

I'm at the uni again. Some girl brought in her baby with her. It keeps staring at me, and she's the most gorgeous little thing I've ever seen. Anyway...

Today I had to wear my silk Burberry scarf. Count Dracula is at it again.  : 0 People keep looking at me funny for wearing this scarf. Its the one Tanya sent me from Ukraine. Son muy guapo. Some people just don't appreciate European fashion...or bite marks.

my take on the sexiest men since ever.

d...in no particular order.

1) David Gahan

2) Jim Morrison

3) Joe Strummer

3) Lou Pucci

4) Bud Cort

5) Gary Numan

6) Jack Kerouac

7) Morrissey

8) Adam Ant

9) Marilyn Manson

10) Che Guevara

11) Jarvis Cocker

12) Topper Headon

13) Paul McCartney

15) Sufjan Stevens

16) Zach Braff

17) Jon Heder

18) Crispin Glover

19) Marc Almond

20) Nick Drake

21) Cilian Murphy. (he really deserves to be number one)

22) Mathieu Kassovitz

le vegemite?

Why oh why must you be so hard to find in Montana???

On a lighter note. I have the day off tommorow. Le David and I are going to watch the delightful French film, Amelie.

Which brings me to my next topic. I watched those DVD's I rented, (at two in the morning mind you.)

I was suprised that I liked either of them, seeing as I rarely watch popular culture films. But, the Devil Wears Prada, despite the wishy washy cliche plot, had some artistic filmography. I liked. I'm tempted to watch again.

Also, I watched Scoop, with Woody Allen and Scarlett Johansen. What a twisted weird movie. I really really loved it though. Scarlett Johansen makes me laugh. But, I almost wanted to strangle the television after two hours of Woody Allen stuttering. I'm patient. But not that patient. Spit it out damnit!!!!!!! Still a very hilarious movie...might watch that one again as well. I'm going to add a few lines from the movie.

Joe Strombel: This'll be the biggest story to hit London since Jack the Ripper.
Sondra Pransky: Jack the Ripper. Is that capitalized?

Sondra Pransky: Oh, you always see the glass half empty.
Sid Waterman: No, I always see the glass half full. Of poison!

Sid Waterman: I was born of the Hebrew persuasion, but I converted to narcissism.

Sondra Pransky: I'm a would-be investigative reporter who has fallen in love with the object of her investigation.

Yeah, I'm done blogging for the night. Going to talk to Jeffrey. Bonne nuit.