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(no subject) [Aug. 9th, 2012|11:29 pm]
this is the greatest summer ever, and august is just beginning. in the past several years, i always have very blah summers. the heat gets to my brain and i just feel like a slug. ok, i'm a total slug because i haven't been on my bike in weeks, buutttt.... it IS killer hot. brandon rides his bike every day! EVERY DAY and never complains, but i am just not into it. i told terry today "i'm not riding my bike until it cools off a bit. my skin will thank me for it." but not riding my bike is not why my summer has been the greatest summer ever. this whole school business is stellar. my first semester at usf and i have a 3.66 gpa! more importantly, i found myself in a class that i had no business taking (yet) and ended up getting an a+! how fantastic is that? i warned my professor "i haven't taken environmental ethics, nor have i taken any poli sci classes." etc, but i did the reading, and i wrote a lot, and comprehended a majority of what the class was about, so i did fairly well, and for that i am grateful. thanks brain for pulling through! man, i love writing. nothing formal in this contraption, but regular papers seem to do well. also, i have spent an absurd amount of time researching hair plans for the future aka growing it and letting the white come through... my head is swimming over hair, and that's never really been a thing, hair nails skincare etc, who cares? i do apparently. going to read now.
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different alley, same rats [Jul. 4th, 2012|09:22 pm]
Upon shaking down my dusty camera full of memories from the past year, I came upon a feeling that can only be surmised through the cure's "a letter to elise". Somehow I am OK.
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even netscape navigator could not foresee the term "bookmarklet" [Jul. 1st, 2012|10:57 pm]
[Tags|, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ]
[Current Mood |workingworking]
[Current Music |fireworks - let's burn money by watching 30 second sparkly things, idiots]

I am certain that I am having a fit of alanis morissette irony. That is a song I only appreciate hearing when Chris G gets on stage at karaoke night and spoken-words the lyrics. I miss those drunken bike rides and maniacal renditions of ELO's don't bring me down, but I digress, xyzed. I still don't know what a black fly in your chardonnay means, and this post certainly disproves all of the fucks I don't give, but more clearly it's this: meeting your perfect opposite, and knowing that they will move across the world in ### months. I guess it's just refreshing, really, to have someone around and understand that when you look into their eyes, their thoughts are much the same; their fundamental truths appear to be aligned with yours, and all you want to do is grab their hand and say let's just run across the world and pick apples and sail oceans... and never look back. Then reality sets in: Karen, go to sleep, impermanence, the ephemeral shifting of emotions back and forth, etc.

But, okay, going back a skip, what if I was abnormal and secretly loved the idea of watching someone leave. It's not so tragic, but it is quite beautiful ("Tell me about your travels!" "send postcards, I'll send you cookies, etc") and even more is knowing that journeys, distances, experiences are all quite grand, but we are all interconnected in many ways, is there not truth to this? Is physical distance such a hindrance? Are shared experiences, no matter how far apart, meant to be appreciated? I would say so.

I am both optimistic and realistic when applying this outlook. Upon careful observation, kissing, feelings of love, etc., I came to the idea that it's best to leave this one to the realm of serendipity (this is a word that used to make me wince upon verbalizing). Let's face a few hard truths: nothing is permanent, love is both overwhelming and fleeting, distance is both a physical and emotional concept, sometimes people just prefer waffles over pancakes, it's whatever. My point, buried among these scattered thoughts, is that this one has struck a chord, strong and full of consonance making my brain go to 11. I saw my life pass before my eyes ten-fold. He's even from the forest, how fantastic is that.

Something better, since it's all about the social: I have recently gotten in touch with Sarah again. Oh, Sarah! My brain-sister, I love her so. We mused about days of yore, kicking around livejournal, making up silly jargon and garden path sentences. She convinced me to get a twitter, and okay, so I did. It's silly, but I guess it provides a vehicle to catch up with justin beiber (unrelated: did you know the spice girls are putting out a musical? Well, now you know...that I would totally see it too). I found some old photos of her and am meaning to take a picture of a picture (...) and send them to her. I think she would find her past interpretation of a juggalette rather amusing. Easily one of my top 10 favorite humans.

I should probably sleep.
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(no subject) [Jun. 16th, 2012|01:58 pm]
Dear Angela,

I know in the past I've caused you pain, and I'm sorry. And I'll
always be sorry, 'til the day I die. And I hate this pen I'm holding,
because I should be holding you. I hate this paper under my hand, because
it isn't you. I even hate this letter, because it's not the whole truth.
Because the whole truth is...so much more than a letter can even say. If you
wanna hate me, go ahead. If you wanna burn this letter, do it. You could
burn the whole world down. You could tell me to go to hell -- I'd go, if you
wanted me to. And I'd send you a letter from there.

Jordan Catalano
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The truth about Tall Socks [May. 24th, 2012|10:13 pm]
I have noticed while on my bike that if my legs are revealed in any way, I am more likely to be hollered at. I also experienced that I am more likely to be treated like a woman who likely knows nothing; instantly devalued based on my tall socks. Cue yesterday morning. I rode my bike to school, as I have become accustomed to when it is not balmy-to-the-point-of-death, rainy, or my sustained injury is not acting up. Having run out of my usual bike attire (bike shorts with leggings either under or over, tank top, and hoodie), I decided to wear a pair of shorts and my tall socks. I was honked at on numerous occasions, yelled at; some goober with gold teeth even air kissed at me. It was one of those sleezy air kisses; the kinds that haunt a person's dreams. Even at school, the university, the central nervous system of equality, I had to experience the perils of being devalued based on my appearance and gender. Cue the skeezy groundskeeper named Ken whom I decided to ask directions to the campus bike shop. Assuming I'd "get lost" if he told me the directions (his words), he proceeded to take me on a "short cut" through the campus gym. It was embarrassing when the trolls at the counter greeted me with discontent stares because I had my bike with me. They immediately instructed me to take my bike outside. Ken assured them that I was only there because I was "lost and needed air in my tires". I should have just turned around. Instead, the trolls agreed to let me and my imposing bike through the gates of USF's smelly gym. Ken took me on a tour de confusion through the area where they rent balls (it does not take a genius to understand that a ball pump does not equal a tire pump, or maybe it does and they're all idiots?) He finally got back on track, as it were, and lead me to the campus bike shop. They were closed. I should have turned around, but alas! Ken had a key. We searched the shop looking for an air pump and found one dangling from the ceiling. Instead of telling me how to use the bike pump, he forceably grabbed my hand and demonstrated how the air pump works. I was so creeped out at that point that I had not even paid attention to what he was saying. I also knew how to use this kind of air pump, but again, creeped out beyond comprehension. He kept saying things like "make sure it's rock hard" and called me "babe", "baby", and "buba" the entire time.

This is why I just like to do things on my own. Just tell me the fucking directions, let me get lost, who cares; I'll find my way eventually. Maybe it's the Aries in me, maybe I am just too headstrong about this, but this really stuck in my craw. Between that incident and the hollers, it really got me to thinking. Is this what it is like to be a female bicycle commuter in my city? Sure, we can all scoff and say it's just Tampa, but really, that does not solve the issue at hand. Solace came while biking home and crossing the Nebraska Avenue bridge. There I ran into my old pal Katie, a local like-minded individual who values the female mind and form in ways that others may only dream of comprehending. I told her of my dilemmas and added that maybe it was the tall socks... We both agreed that wearing tall socks should not be an invite to the insult of my intelligence, nor should it be an invite to drive-by sexual harassment, but still, it got me to thinking more on the topic of my tall socks.

I wear them. I wear them often. Why? Well, sometimes I tell people it's because I don't like my legs, which isn't entirely true. I like the patterns and bold colors that tall socks have to offer; my legs are there for my enjoyment, but I find them more appealing when adorned with color and unique patterns. When riding a bike, it is common to graze the dirty/oily chain with the lower leg, and with tall socks, the dirty/oily chain goop only stains my socks. I also wear them to work, which has, in recent months, caused a slough of commentary from some of the men at my job. "Socks! Hey socks! HAHA, nice socks!" is what I hear from one man in particular. It has come to the point where he simply exclaims "Socks!" and either barks or doesn't bark. I have yet to understand the barking.

I spoke with my friend about this issue I was having at work. We share a friendship both inside and outside of work, and I value her opinion in one of the highest regards. What she had to say really shocked me, however. "Well," she explained, "you are the only person here who wears those tall socks." I don't see how that justifies anything, and when I pointed that out to her, she agreed and retracted her previous comment. It still makes me wonder, what inclines a person to even fathom making those kinds of comments? In a "professional" environment? I get it, guys are into the school-girl thing, which was pointed out to me by another male coworker. That hardly weighs any merit though. Who cares? The school-girl thing, how archaic. Sometimes I think "maybe I shouldn't wear the socks.." and then I say "fuck that" and put them on. They look nice, and whoever has something negative or debasing to say about them can go to hell.

Tangents aside, Katie and I discussed methods of influencing the female bicycling community in this city. I am speaking beyond the marathon-weekend-warriors who seclude themselves to Flatwoods and the lovely ladies who frequent the market with their basket-adorned beach cruisers; I am referring to those of us who choose to use a bicycle as a means to legitimate transportation. Commuting, if you will. Do we have to cover up, a westernized veiling, as it were, to avoid harassment and judgment? Tolerance seems to be the interim answer, but I feel that there is more to it, and that time (lots of time) will put an end to this.
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(no subject) [Apr. 20th, 2012|11:12 pm]
as i ask you to focus on
sailors fighting in the dancehall
oh man! look at those cavemen go. . .
it's the freakiest show
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entry # 719 / the lady in white [Mar. 26th, 2010|01:21 am]
[Current Mood |thoughtfulthoughtful]
[Current Music |south - same old story]

don't get me started on festa italiana. tonight's preview was fantastic and i cannot wait for sunday. so many accordions. craig bott and i rode our bikes through the downtown area. somehow ended up at the convention center when it started to drizzle. i hit a curb and flew forward breaking my fall from wrists-to-elbows but no real bodily harm-- lars venus took a slight blow. messed up my gear shift, so i have to take it to a shop to get it fixed, although i did fix the chain and made a valid attempt at fixing the gear shift! we waited out the worst of the storm in front of the convention center and headed north once it transitioned into a light-drizzle again.

it must have been 11:30, we were cruising through some sort of all-brick office complex (?) on franklin just south of kennedy, i believe.. a woman in all white, hat and scarf included, sat at a bench watching us. the moment we passed she stood up and glided in our direction and followed us to the end of the complex. she glowed. i can't get the image of her out of my head and i don't know why she was there, it was late at night and she was the only one there... and her clothing was so white it glowed. craig saw her too and said, "did you see the dove back there?" (readers, if you're still out there, have you any idea what that might be?) maybe i fell and hit my head hard..

last of exams today before spring break. hoping trips to the beach and/or any of the various rivers in the area are abundant.. i could use some quality time with ms. sunshine.

what's the haps in your world?
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(no subject) [Nov. 2nd, 2009|11:28 pm]
had to deactivate the brainrot that is facebook. i care about people; i don't care about them enough to know what they're up to every moment of the day.
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(no subject) [Jan. 8th, 2009|05:28 pm]
to the blue-eyed crab who slept beside me,

i heard what you did. i think you're out of your bleeding mind. do you have any idea what you're getting mixed up with? i'd like to be there for you, but it's lost. you're a lost cause. apologies all around.

hs34cxxxx [Jul. 5th, 2008|03:29 am]
[Tags|, , , , ]
[Current Mood |satisfiedsatisfied]
[Current Music |yodeling]

so hey guys! happy fourth! i totally just got drunk and told my ex boyf (you know him) of four years to go fuck himself in a big way! it's really sad when people change for the worse and you realize they are the entire opposite of who you fell in love with years ago. i'm really proud of myself, however, that i confronted this head on.

as sophia petrillo says, "anger is like a piece of shredded wheat that is stuck under your dentures: if you ignore it, you will get a blister and have to eat Jello for a week. if you address it, the sore goes away and you feel better."

who do you think obama will choose as his running mate? it obviously doesn't matter who mccain chooses, as long as they know how to dig a grave.

more recreational typing and freejagged thoughts to come! maybe some photogs, stay tuned!

p.s. it would behoove me to update my lj interests as i've lost most interest as a moth would to a burnt bulb.

p.p.s. arthur says hello!
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