When I snap my fingers, you will awake and remember none of this.

Sun, 12 Dec 2004 18:39:51 GMT

So apparently, I was a bit too ambiguous in my farewell post. redundantcliche is me, ya goofs. My old journal. I went back to it. Add me and start reading againh, doggonit!

Well, I think it's finally time.

Fri, 12 Nov 2004 08:09:34 GMT

So then. This redundantcliche character. Sure, she had her issues, but she also had some pretty good ideas. We've made our peace with each other and, perhaps more importantly, I miss her. A lot. So much that I'm going back to her.

Check your user info page, kids. I've added you. Let the good times resume.

Fri, 12 Nov 2004 02:28:06 GMT

I've recently caught myself resuming the role of the hurt, innocent child around certain people. I don't know whether it's because they honestly make me feel like a small child again or if it's because doing so is a useful defense mechanism. Either way, I'm frustrated with myself for not being able to shake it off and behave like an intelligent, articulate adult. It's an insult to myself and those around me for me to behave as anything else.

I went on a rant about poetry this afternoon. My love affair with words has grown to a nearly unbearable level lately and I fear that if I don't find somebody else who's willing to talk rhyme and meter with me, I just may burst. If I do, don't say it was unexpected.

Really, nothing I do is all that unexpected. I'm embarrasingly predictable. 19 years old, female, loves pretty literature and napping in the sunshine, terrified of corpses and failure. You can map out the rest from there.

Just for Eri!

Tue, 09 Nov 2004 04:28:49 GMT

Tue, 09 Nov 2004 04:11:24 GMT

How many muses does it take to make an epic? How many naiads and how many dryads and how many mornings spent moaning with bad hangovers? Dionysus danced on Homer's nightstand and, it seems to me, Bullfinch hasn't come anywhere near enough to truly understanding either of them.

I wrapped myself in vellum this morning and dumped a bottle of ink on my head before prancing out to join the sonnets and the chronicles in their unending hymns of praise to Calliope and Clio. I plan to weave a wreath of words so that I may crown my head with iambic hexameter and let its loose ends trail down my back in a cascade of poetry. A parchment gown would complement it nicely. Perhaps there's a possibility of a tryst with Keats after all, if I return tomorrow adorned with enough bright stars and carrying a Grecian urn.

Maybe one of these days I'll learn to stop murmuring platitudes through clenched teeth.

Rediscoveries: An old love, dormant passions, and a Language Lesson, 1976

Sun, 07 Nov 2004 08:26:59 GMT

The Dead Poets Society always leaves me feeling as if I'm going to burst - as if my heart, lungs, veins can't possibly contain everything I feel. I know of no more certain manner in which to regain my grasp upon my delicate humanity, to rejoin the world in all its violent passions and desperate struggles. It reminds me that I am in love with the beauty of life and that, no matter how angrily I sometimes rail against it, there is nothing more satisfying than the comfort I gain from knowing that I'm not alone on this journey.

My own raging emotions have, of late, taken over and created within me a distinct restlessness. I've been blinded by disappointment that knows no bounds, sorrow that slinks beneath my skin like a wary lioness, euphoria that causes my cheeks to burn bright and my toes to go numb. I can't remember the last time I've been so passionately absorbed in the daily details of life, but the fact remains that I've flung myself headlong into nearly every opportunity that presents itself. I don't know whether I'm being reckless or merely myself, after so long of suppressing that old instinct to shoulder the world. Do you understand what I'm saying?

...I'm saying doubletalk
with me. I'm saying go so far
the customs are untold,

make nothing without words
and let me be
the one you never hold.
-Heather McHugh

Sat, 06 Nov 2004 07:18:56 GMT

Today I had a cold and went to class and didn't finish my reading and took a 4 hour nap and skipped dinner and giggled with Chelsea and made Spanish flashcards and... and God, this doesn't feel nearly as good as I was hoping it would. How do people write stuff like that, day in and day out? Let's start over.

Today I lived. And it was good.

Also - SLOTHS! I'm so in love.

My Life of Late - A Pictorial History

Fri, 05 Nov 2004 08:11:22 GMT

Most of my time is spent being tormented by evil demons named Robert. Never admit to a demon that you're ticklish.

Oh no! The demon got me! I've been possessed! But don't worry, it only happens at night.

Demons don't get Chelsea, but mud masks do.

Whoa nelly, check out those bags under my eyes! Monday mornings with the laundry hamper are apparently not a good idea, folks.

This is my neighbor Jared. Isn't he lovely?

And indielemming is our third roommate. We never accomplish much when the three of us are together, but that doesn't really matter.

My neighbors decided to have fun with some highlighter and a blacklight. I was so impressed that I had to share.

And, lest it seem I accomplish nothing serious, note that I kind of scrubbed up for the Bruin Democrats' debate with the Bruin Republicans (picture stolen from atros1300, because Lord knows *I* never take any serious pictures).

Ten cents up, two bucks down...

Fri, 05 Nov 2004 05:25:15 GMT

I didn't have any paper to make notes to myself today, so I used my left arm instead. I find it odd that I scribble lines on my arm while time etches lines in my face, and I don't know whose notes are more important. Mine are certainly more legible, but I have a terrible feeling that time's memos are trying to tell me something I need to know and can't decipher. How horrible is it to have all the answers and be unable to read them?

I feel very lost and directionless right now. It has nothing to do with the election and everything to do with Ryan Adams and my own confused heart. I have to kick it into gear here but can't seem to figure out how.

This is disjointed and a little crazy. Deal.

Thu, 04 Nov 2004 04:39:08 GMT

I may be overdramatic, but at least I'm passionate about something. I'd rather be too passionate than apathetic.

I feel like the world chewed me up and spat me back out today. Not only that, but the world has a bad case of halitosis and three rows of teeth, just like a shark. The combination of headcold and heartache did little to help me concentrate in class.

Well then. Cheers, America. Pull up a lawn chair, sit back, bust out a six-pack and some peanuts, and watch the grand spectacle. I promise you, this is going to be better than fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Wed, 03 Nov 2004 16:19:40 GMT

I don't feel so good today but, for some reason, I'm still going to class. My emotionally masochistic streak is out of control today.

Also. I had a dream last night that I had a baby, and he was so beautiful and he never cried, but I kept forgetting to feed him. I'm a little worried as to what that might indicate.

I didn't set my alarm this morning. I had no intentions of going to class. For some reason though, at 7:45, I awoke right on time. Thought process went like this:

Dream--> Greg was eating an egg burrito in my dream that he stole from one of the guys in Pi Kapp --> Hey, Greg is in Bruin Democrats too --> Bruin Democrats! --> ELECTION! --> Oh fuck.

Wed, 03 Nov 2004 09:54:18 GMT

I don't know what to say. America, I believed in you. I believed.

It's November first and I feel like crying

Tue, 02 Nov 2004 01:26:08 GMT

When I was in kindergarten, my mother took me with her to vote. The kindly people working the polls showed me how people punch holes in the ballots with the machines and even let me punch my own ballot so I could pretend I was a grownup. I proudly took my ballot to school for show-and-tell the next day and, ever since, I've eagerly awaited the day when I could vote in a real election.

Well. Here I am - nineteen years old, my first presidential election. I don't count last year's recall or the primaries. This is it. This is the real thing.

As I sat on my bed and punched the little perforated circles out of my absentee ballot (Ventura County is old-fashioned like that), my mind wandered back to the little five-year-old who stood in front of the class and proudly announced that she had voted just like her mother. For once, I am certain that the little girl I once was would be proud of the big girl I've become. She would smile her little gap-toothed grin and beam gleefully if she could see herself, 14 years later, curled up on her big college bed and voting just like a grown-up.

That fact alone is enough to make me grin for her.

And it begins already! Yay school!

Mon, 01 Nov 2004 06:36:39 GMT

I am positively manic and I can't actually post this entry because I've intentionally disconnected my internet in an attempt at forcing myself to finish my second paper of the day. I am twitching and alternating between bouts of hysterical laughter and gritting my teeth. By the time this entry is posted, I'll have written 10 pages of carefully-constructed prose, detailing key points and outlining important ideas. By the time this entry is posted, I will be entirely sick of Procopius and Byzantine history and questions of historical accuracy and progressivism and the failures of idealism and the unbeatable influence of monopolies and corporations. By the time this entry is posted, I will be absolutely exhausted and in need of a good night's sleep.

By the time this entry is posted, I may very well be incoherent.

Mon, 01 Nov 2004 00:38:40 GMT

Not long ago, while shelving books down on level two, I found a man in scrubs watching cartoons on his laptop and giggling like a small child. He looked rather sheepish when he realized that he wasn't alone in the room anymore, and surreptitiously turned down the volume. I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind, but I think, somehow, that would have only added to his embarrassment.

It pleased me, however, to find this grown man clinging to one last piece of what made him happy as a child. It seems that we all too often abandon our youthful pleasures in an attempt to seem more mature and more serious, somehow more dedicated to our work. Here was a man, however, who had one of the most stressful careers around and yet, he found time to relax with a little piece of his childhood. That says something, at least to me.

I've given up on a lot of my childish tendencies lately, but one of the joys to which I stubbornly cling is my love of Disney music. I sing songs from Cinderella in the shower, stroll across campus humming the Sleeping Beauty waltz, and do homework to the fabulous "Les Poissons" of Little Mermaid. I refuse to believe that, in order to become the adult I must be, I must also give up all the things that once pleased me as a girl.

"Les poissons, les poissons, how I love les poissons!"

Ah, might as well.

Sun, 31 Oct 2004 20:10:32 GMT

Stolen from huck_uh_bee12:

Post a memory of me.
It can be anything you want, just so long as it happened.

Then post this to your journal.
See what people remember about you.

Sun, 31 Oct 2004 07:21:15 GMT

People often joke about going to the funeral of a nasty old cur for no other reason than to make sure he's really dead. Tomorrow, I'm going to a funeral of sorts, just to make sure that what I once felt is really and truly dead. I'll never know unless I look the corpse in the face, and I want the closure of dumping a shovelful of dirt onto the top of the casket. I'll wear my best black, slide the onyx back onto my left hand, curl my hair, and set out with a jaunty stride. I'm unstoppable these days.

On a separate note, applications are now being accepted for a new cuddle buddy. I'm cold. It's only October and I'm freezing my toes off. What happened to our fall heat wave this year?

Mamacita te invito a bailar

Fri, 29 Oct 2004 14:57:41 GMT

I awoke this morning to find an apple covered in staples sitting on my desk. I'm trying to assign it a name and some intense symbolism, but it's far too early for that.

In other news... there is no other news. Life is really busy. I'm happy. I'm behind on all my reading and I have two papers due on Monday and I'm okay with that. Really.

Sidenote: while writing "bailar," I accidentally wrote "vailar" and grinned from ear to ear when I realized what I'd done. Granted, I know my Spanish spelling, but it's a good sign when I start blurring the distinction between b and v.

A quick thank you on a morning washed clean by rain

Wed, 27 Oct 2004 15:48:06 GMT

-To the people who've opened my eyes in the last year, be it to beauty or to ugliness. Thank you for helping me see past my own perception of the world.
-To the people who called my bullshit. Thank you for knowing what I needed to hear, even if I didn't always want to hear it.
-To the people who've loved me. Thank you for your unwavering support and encouragement.
-To the people who've hurt me. Thank you for helping me grow.
-To the people. Thank you for teaching me what it means to be human.

I've been trapped in my own patterns again. It's time to break free and keep searching for untraveled roads. I'd ask if anybody wants to come along, but I have an inkling that this journey must be undertaken alone.

Wed, 27 Oct 2004 06:32:32 GMT

Aaaaaaaaaand, after an evening of intense apathy, I'm all riled up again. It's nice having a sense of indignation. Spurs me to do stuff. Yay for productivity!

Wed, 27 Oct 2004 03:41:22 GMT

I lack any sort of motivation whatsoever. I suck.

Also. I think I'm running out of love to give here. I'm too tired to love people. I don't even have enough energy to be selfish. I'm just... existing.

Back to the books. Books books books. Paper. More books. Oh wait, another paper. Vocabulary, grammar, let's try some new idioms for a change! Procopius and progressivism and por supuesto, indeed.

Tue, 26 Oct 2004 04:43:20 GMT

So I've branched out from Gregorian chant into the realm of Tibetan Buddhist monks and their prayers. Can I please, please become a Buddhist monk? Or at least live in one of their monasteries for a while. I would have goosebumps all day long. I'll even shave my head if you really want me to.

Failing admittance to a Tibetan monastery, I would like to spend a couple weeks in some sort of monastery, passing my days in peaceful meditation and study. haloofguilt and I wrote a fake entry about running away to a Tibetan monastery ages ago, but the idea still remains. I'd like to see what I can accomplish in an environment of complete serenity.

I like how you can hear the monks coughing and clearing their throats. I want to be the monk in charge of the huge drum.

Mon, 25 Oct 2004 15:57:36 GMT

Overwhelmed? Yessir.
Skipping class to catch up on stuff? Indeed.
Happy still, even with everything I have to do? Absolutely.

Edit (10:16 am): I can feel my body getting sick. Damn it, corpus, listen to me! I have shit to do. You can NOT fail me now. It's only fourth week and you've got an achy head and you're too warm and I refuse to let this go any further. I shall take too much Advil and go about my business, and you had better cooperate or we're going to have some serious issues in a few days. I'm warning you - don't mess with me. I always win.

Mon, 25 Oct 2004 06:39:15 GMT

Chelsea: Why do people have their own special smell?
Lauren: Um... I don't know.
Chelsea: And why do babies smell so good?
Lauren: Probably nature's way of making us want to take care of them.
Chelsea: Exactly! Cause if they smelled bad, we'd eat them! Or rub our butts on them. Or something.

An Ode To My Roommate

Mon, 25 Oct 2004 05:31:16 GMT

This is my roommate, seashell7. I love her a lot. She didn't want me to post this picture, but I had to share her with the whole entire world. She makes me giggle really hard, and we go pester Howard and Jared, and now she's practicing funny faces in the mirror. Quotes from this evening include:

"I have to pee, but I don't want to go!"
"Ewwww, not her! She wants to add me as a friend on MySpace, but she's my enemy!"
"The guy from The Postal Service kinda sounds like the guy from Death Cab."
"Ok, I really have to pee now."

We are now communicating with lynzieluck via flashlight and yelling across the turnaroud (she lives up on Rieber 7N). We rock. Time for loud music!

On a wholly unrelated note, I am marrying flop_pop_video this Saturday in Las Vegas. Sorry howiexu13, but I got tired of waiting for you.