it never ends

dear jonathan -
i would really like to stop thinking about you.

how the fuck? what? how? i don't understand. 'splainify.

HOW THE FUCK CAN YOU BE DEAD GODDAMNIT JONATHAN YOU HAD ONE MOTHERFUCKING JOB!!

one job, buddy. ALL YOU HAD TO DO was stay alive. why was that too hard? maybe it wasn't entirely your fault but i DON'T CARE. goddamnit. turn your back for two goddamn minutes on these kids.

yesterday, friday, was the 3 month anniversary. at 4:27 on february 27th, phillip christopher brooks delivered some of the worst news of my life and kicked off the worst week and two days ever. it started to snow. it had been clear out, and beautiful, i was in the library reading and looking out the window and letting the sun drive me to distraction. that night, the night after, i sat outside and let it snow on me, needing the cold, needing to feel less deadened, not eating or sleeping, searching out comfort in the words of friends and loved ones that didn't come. disbelief has surrounded your death in a way i hadn't imagined, but even now it grips me. i would have given anything not to write the two poems i wrote about you. given anything. the chill i felt at developing your pictures, the morbid joy handing out the last bits of you i'd salvaged. I AM SO ANGRY AT YOU FOR DYING AND SHATTERING THE TACIT PEACE WE ALL ENJOYED.

HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO EVERYONE? yes, it sucks for me that you are not here. i do not understand that you are not here. i'm like an alzheimer's patient. your name comes up in my brain everyday. but the PAIN this has caused SARITA AND MANA AND DON'T EVEN MENTION TIM BROWN? GODDAMNIT, JONATHAN, I COULD KILL YOU ALL OVER AGAIN, YOU BRAT. GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE AND LIVE LIKE THE REST OF US! AAAAAAHHH!!!

i am NOT writing the letter i wrote to david to you in two years. not going to happen. you know why? because i am DONE with this whole DYING SHIT. just STOP IT. everyone stay alive, motherfuckers! i DO NOT want to have to call my sister every five minutes just because i need reassurance she is still breathing. godfuckingdamnit.


dear universe -
you suck. you really suck. you suck so much. i hate you. i hate you lots and lots. if some of my very favorite people didn't live here, i'd be SO up on outta this bitch. fuck you, motherfucker. i'm not even going to list the people you've killed, except to say, jeanine and jessica? extra massive fucked up points for those two, motherfucker. godDAMN i hate you. eat shit and die. leave my friends alone.


and now the poem i haven't showed to anyone but my poetry teacher.


Task

The Toyota fish-tails a bit on snow-topped dirt,
around the U-shaped curve of the road.
He pulls in to the square patch
the family uses as a parking lot and sits.
As the engine cools, he studies the features
of the dash, the CDs, the seats,
the clumps of New Mexico mud on the floor mats.

He sits
observing the artifacts
of a life, unwilling:
to swing his feet to the crunchy snow
slam the door
and admit
the careless dead boy
will never drive this truck again.

oh yeah

i fly home tomorrow.


i'll be there about 7 pm new mexico time.

today:

my SKIRT arrived!!!

i dumped orange juice in my lap (not while wearing the skirt, thank goodness) - at work - and then got to sit there and debate whether i should walk home wet (a short, but very public thanks to the gorgeous weather, jaunt) or dry. i chose to dry before changing.

i managed to give myself horrendous, RAW blisters. today i wore about six (not kidding) different outfits. who IS this girl? and why is she wearing so many skirts? two different skirts in one day? oi!

i got FREE chinese food dinner, courtesy of sarah lawrence (it was a good-bye Right to Write thing . . . which i don't wanna post/think about cause i'll just cry. my, how felons can grow on you . . . ).

i gave a tour (wearing the hurty blister-causing shoes) to a transfer who seemed really cool and had his girlfriend along with him, which made it REALLY AWKWARD when i tried to explain the gender ratio, because he didn't come out and SAY she was his girlfriend, so i couldn't come out and SAY "the ratio won't affect you unless you're in an open relationship which is none of my business but just be prepared to FIGHT WOMEN OFF WITH STICKS because you are reasonably normal looking and you talk real good and don't seem like you consume copious amounts of beer/pot, even if you DO have these weird sideburn thingies that take up half your cheek." which is, honestly, what i WANTED to say to him, in keeping with my Tour Guide Pledge of Accuracy.

one week from tomorrow!

midnight breakfast. everyone you've never seen before comes out for this.

they gave us slap bracelets (mine is leopard-print), disposable cameras, and damp waffles. and this satisfied the masses.

somehow, this makes me feel better. like, if all these ridiculous kids, these freaks and these hipsters, the gamers and geeks, who will NEVER get laid except by their own kind, if they can manage it, i can too. my problem at slc has never been that i'm too strange, but that i'm not strange enough. i love it here in freakville. and they graduate and get jobs and study abroad and take out loans and fall in love and don't do their homework and slack as bad as me. and they're doing pretty well for themselves.

wally (whose full name is wallace good the third, i shit you not), threw a frisbee, tracy picked it up and promptly aimed it at a tree. wally pulled TWO replacements from his messenger bag and tossed those for cover while he went in after the original. how cool is that? who carries backup frisbees?

today i was described as having "sauciness." to be saucy is my goal in life. it really is.

also i got a picture of the girls i made out with, one of whom is now mad at me for not describing her as a great kisser.

Q: who's a little bit drunk?

A: me!!

tonight was the sleaze ball. here is the sum total of what i wore: heels, pink skirt, pink bra, ribbon. when carre saw me, he actually said, "where did you get that?" as though i'm not supposed to have such things in my wardrobe.

i looked hot and danced. i dance much better - or at least i think i do - when drunk.

i made out with two hott (two t's) females, leah and hilary. we were all drunk.

a gay man complimented me ("i think we have the same shoes!") AND my outfit. that's how i know i've truly arrived, my friends.

i drunk dialed sean, em, and mana, because i knew they would appreciate it.

EVERYONE told me i looked hot, including one gentleman whom i ordered to admire my rack.

it was a good night. i am impressed with my ability to type. i have to sleep now.

word of the day

2 entries found for syllogism.
syl·lo·gism n.
Logic. A form of deductive reasoning consisting of a major premise, a minor premise, and a conclusion; for example, All humans are mortal, the major premise, I am a human, the minor premise, therefore, I am mortal, the conclusion.

Reasoning from the general to the specific; deduction.

A subtle or specious piece of reasoning.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Middle English silogisme, from Old French, from Latin syllogismus, from Greek sullogismos, from sullogizesthai, to infer : sun-, syn- + logizesthai, to count, reckon (from logos, reason. See leg- in Indo-European Roots).]

Source: The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition
Copyright © 2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company.
Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.


syllogism

n : deductive reasoning in which a conclusion is derived from two premises

nothing new to report

you know you've been in college too long when pants are really a courtesy more than a necessity.

exactly two weeks from today, i fly home.

i am wearing a hot pink bra with rhinestones in the middle.

the SLC mailroom still owes me my wife's package (hee), and a jean skirt.

today i made the mistake of saying the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was self-explanatory (well, its involvement in this case. i mean, that's what the case was ABOUT.), to which my law teacher replied "i don't hear it explaining itself." i love that man. he also says, i could tell you where it is in the case but i'll let you discover it for yourselves. um, thanks, james. seriously though, should congress have the right to regulate inter- and intra- state commerce? why? where'd they get that right? these are the questions of our day. also, we're gonna have a draft:

traditional end-of-semester stress post

with a twist.

you see, SLC sucks. the school being so poor, and so many people going abroad, they decided it made financial sense to not have your gift aid travel with you when you go abroad.

the majority of my financial aid is gift.

ergo, studying abroad is actually more expensive for me than my time at ol Sadie Lou.

and the administrator in charge of helping me figure this out is useless to the point of being obstructive. i was nearly reduced to tears of frustration today.

i need scholarships. i need financial aid. i need to get out of america. i NEED to study abroad. i need to apply for other (cheaper[?]) programs.

and yes i have plenty of shit to do and no i don't want to do it; no one in their right mind wants to labor over a language they don't know very well, talking about a book they didn't really read - nor does anyone want to talk about a court case they fear they might not have comprehended in front of a lecture of 30 people. furthermore, i need more job-ness in my life.

i seriously want to bang my head and scream and cry in frustration. i like to think i'm not that easily frustrated, but this is the next year of my life we're talking about, and i *want* to be somewhere else for it. and everyone and their sister is asking me questions - well-meaning strangers, people on tours (i know, i should just keep my damn mouth shut), girls on my hall, relatives, coworkers, friends, and oh, yeah, two schools and my parents. like i know any more than they do. YOU tell me how to pay for it and i'll tell you if i can do it, okay?

gah. and prison today. it ends next week.

i'm just mentally drained right now, with not much end in sight. well, the end comes after *much* difficulty.

and shit!! i have to pack!