Archive | July, 2007

If I were a rich man…

31 Jul

If I were rich, and I mean really, really rich, I’d like to think that I’d still be ethical. Not live the lavish lifestyle that uses as many resources as a small african village, not spend ungodly amounts of cash on ugly purses with little LV’s all over it, not get my dog ‘s hair cut in a designer salon, etc. However, there are a few things I wold splurge on.

Frequent professional massages would be a must. I’m thinkin’ about once a week. I almost don’t enjoy massages nowbecause I spend most of my energy trying to savor the moment knowing it’s going to inevitably end soon.

A real, platformed Dance, Dance Revolution setup. With disco lights in the room.

Someone to go to the mall for me once a year so I wouldn’t have to deal with the mall atmosphere. The over-colonged, music filled, brightly lit stores are too much.

In other news, in other less superficial news, here is the question of the day: why does starbucks charge so much for their coffee?

One more thing–if i were rich, i wouldn’t ask questions like that.

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(cont.) Notes from the child left behind

31 Jul

( this was originally written on my blog on clintons website, but i’m rre-posting it here)

Seeing as this is my first post, allow me to orient you, America, to how I got here:

My friends are exhausted of listening to me rant on about American politics. I admit, to their credit, Frat parties are an a-typical setting to get into fiery debates about foreign policy. Thus, I find myself taking contemplative refuge inside this little text box amoungst a cyber community of people who (presumably…) are interested in a different cast of characters than Mr. Jack Daniels and his accomplice, Mary Jane. These are the thoughts of a young woman’s outlook on the world who has come of age in an era low on moarls and high on fear.

Whose opinion are you reading? Do you not recognize me? I assume the bitter cynicism would be a great tip-off. Hello America, it’s me, the voice of the generation who has come of age in an era defined by fear. I am the middle class child who was paying tag in the living room when the cartoons on TV flipped to the Columbine massacre in slow motion and sat with my little head cocked sideways in disgust and fear with no parents to explain it to me because they were working late to achieve to same american suburbian dream which apperantly went wrong for wholesome ‘ol Littleton on TV. Who am I? I am your child america: the one who was in 4th grade discussing sadamm and nuclear weapons over microwave dinners ; the one whose hannukah was downsized and outsourced in suit with the big coorporations in the 90’s; whose 8th grade classroom on september 11th, 2001 was instructed “not to speak of it” and just watch Fox replay the towers crashing down; who was hospitalized for anorexia before puberty because health insurance wouldn’t pay for therapy;who was that child left behind when the clas size increased by 50% when the other schools filtered in; who, despite working to the ground to do well in school, is inevitably going to graduate college in major debt. That little sum, on top of the national debt, the aging baby boomer generation who is more cancer-prone, more fat, and more prone to heart disease and plastic surgery, which will also take it’s toll on my thin, thin wallet.

This story is not all sad. Now I finally can vote and actually have a say in the issues that affect me. Imagine that.The problem is, most people my age are so fed up with the politial/ big media/big coorporation conglormorates to vote. And vote for what, anyway? It’s bizarree that one’s personal belief in abortion now dictates if a person votes for one political ideaology ( democrat) or another ( republican). Don’t get me wrong, it’s an important issue, but what happened to voting for the party who you think would run the nation in accordance with ones own ideals and ethics?

I am blowing steam here, but since I have begun: I am disenchanted with the current political machine, and I want change. Now. Here are key issues I care about…tell me, America, if you think Hillary could get the job done on these issues moreso than the other candidates:
1) getting out of iraq and sending the soldiers home ( NOT to iran!)
2) becoming fiscally responsible and balancing the national budget;not giving tax breaks out and instead reallocating that money to…
3) a)universal health care b) social programs c) revamping education
4)retracting the global gag rule, bans on planned parenthood for illigal immigrants, and upholding roe v wade.
5) joining the “green” protocals and sticking to them and federally fund programs informing the public about green living
6) Make the FDA for the good of the people, not the industries
7) Let the american people, not the american currency, have the power in this democracy

Look America,I’m sorry to whine, I just wanted to give my apathetic generation a voice.

pps sorry for the typos–i am dyslexic and way too tired to spellcheck 🙂

(cont.) Notes from the child left behind

31 Jul

( this was originally written on my blog on clintons website, but i’m rre-posting it here)

Seeing as this is my first post, allow me to orient you, America, to how I got here:

My friends are exhausted of listening to me rant on about American politics. I admit, to their credit, Frat parties are an a-typical setting to get into fiery debates about foreign policy. Thus, I find myself taking contemplative refuge inside this little text box amoungst a cyber community of people who (presumably…) are interested in a different cast of characters than Mr. Jack Daniels and his accomplice, Mary Jane. These are the thoughts of a young woman’s outlook on the world who has come of age in an era low on moarls and high on fear.

Whose opinion are you reading? Do you not recognize me? I assume the bitter cynicism would be a great tip-off. Hello America, it’s me, the voice of the generation who has come of age in an era defined by fear. I am the middle class child who was paying tag in the living room when the cartoons on TV flipped to the Columbine massacre in slow motion and sat with my little head cocked sideways in disgust and fear with no parents to explain it to me because they were working late to achieve to same american suburbian dream which apperantly went wrong for wholesome ‘ol Littleton on TV. Who am I? I am your child america: the one who was in 4th grade discussing sadamm and nuclear weapons over microwave dinners ; the one whose hannukah was downsized and outsourced in suit with the big coorporations in the 90’s; whose 8th grade classroom on september 11th, 2001 was instructed “not to speak of it” and just watch Fox replay the towers crashing down; who was hospitalized for anorexia before puberty because health insurance wouldn’t pay for therapy;who was that child left behind when the clas size increased by 50% when the other schools filtered in; who, despite working to the ground to do well in school, is inevitably going to graduate college in major debt. That little sum, on top of the national debt, the aging baby boomer generation who is more cancer-prone, more fat, and more prone to heart disease and plastic surgery, which will also take it’s toll on my thin, thin wallet.

This story is not all sad. Now I finally can vote and actually have a say in the issues that affect me. Imagine that.The problem is, most people my age are so fed up with the politial/ big media/big coorporation conglormorates to vote. And vote for what, anyway? It’s bizarree that one’s personal belief in abortion now dictates if a person votes for one political ideaology ( democrat) or another ( republican). Don’t get me wrong, it’s an important issue, but what happened to voting for the party who you think would run the nation in accordance with ones own ideals and ethics?

I am blowing steam here, but since I have begun: I am disenchanted with the current political machine, and I want change. Now. Here are key issues I care about…tell me, America, if you think Hillary could get the job done on these issues moreso than the other candidates:
1) getting out of iraq and sending the soldiers home ( NOT to iran!)
2) becoming fiscally responsible and balancing the national budget;not giving tax breaks out and instead reallocating that money to…
3) a)universal health care b) social programs c) revamping education
4)retracting the global gag rule, bans on planned parenthood for illigal immigrants, and upholding roe v wade.
5) joining the “green” protocals and sticking to them and federally fund programs informing the public about green living
6) Make the FDA for the good of the people, not the industries
7) Let the american people, not the american currency, have the power in this democracy

Look America,I’m sorry to whine, I just wanted to give my apathetic generation a voice.

pps sorry for the typos–i am dyslexic and way too tired to spellcheck 🙂

New Leaves, wrapped in euphemisms

29 Jul

10 Things I do habbitually this summer that I didn’t last summer:

1)relax
2)smoke cigarettes
3) get along with my family
4) go…skiing
5) paint
6) not rely on the oregonian for insightful articles
7)sleep in past NOON
8)follow the sad life of lindsay lohan ( didn’t say i was proud)
9)travel further than seattle
10) win board/card games

In conclusion, I am on my way to cancer and inevitable brain damage I’m sure, but I am having a great time doing it and am stress-free as could be.

Other liberating events include telling my mom andbest friend im bisexual, reading lots of good memoirs and autobiographies, and going on weeks of abandonment from shaving,makeup, or haircare. And liking the way I look the best with minimal ornamentation. I think I’ve been reading too many feminist magazines…

Point being, I’m satisfied with life, which is great because unfortunatly I can name plenty of times when that wasn’t true. Actually, most of my life. You know that type of disenchantment with who your blood irriversably ties you to and instead of expressing that anger outward, it gnaws away at you inwardly? Yeah, that. That kept me bummed out for a long, long time.But alas, acts of vengence are overrated. It’s weird, I never fit in with my family, oreven extended family. Different way of seeing the world, hinking, interests, showing affection, etc. So, for companionship at home, I chose the more scilent/less argumentative route and just stayed inside my own heads toying with my own thoughts most of the time. My dad moved to Berkely, my brother moved out to, and I went to college right before my mother and I would have killed eachother. Now I am back ( for the summer), my brother is back, and my dad moved back. And we’re all in one house. And so far, we’re all alive and on alright terms and spending voluntary time in eahothers presence. It’s strange but … nice.

I don’t think anyone reads this. So I’ll just go on with my self absorbed blabbing…

I know that I should gain weight.And I’m trying. But I really have little to no appitite. AND the time when my appitite is the greatest is reall late at night , like midnight, which sucks becaue it never feels good to continually eat so late at night in the morning time. I need to figure out how to solve this.

New Leaves, wrapped in euphemisms

28 Jul

10 Things I do habbitually this summer that I didn’t last summer:

1)relax
2)smoke cigarettes
3) get along with my family
4) go…skiing
5) paint
6) not rely on the oregonian for insightful articles
7)sleep in past NOON
8)follow the sad life of lindsay lohan ( didn’t say i was proud)
9)travel further than seattle
10) win board/card games

In conclusion, I am on my way to cancer and inevitable brain damage I’m sure, but I am having a great time doing it and am stress-free as could be.

Other liberating events include telling my mom andbest friend im bisexual, reading lots of good memoirs and autobiographies, and going on weeks of abandonment from shaving,makeup, or haircare. And liking the way I look the best with minimal ornamentation. I think I’ve been reading too many feminist magazines…

Point being, I’m satisfied with life, which is great because unfortunatly I can name plenty of times when that wasn’t true. Actually, most of my life. You know that type of disenchantment with who your blood irriversably ties you to and instead of expressing that anger outward, it gnaws away at you inwardly? Yeah, that. That kept me bummed out for a long, long time.But alas, acts of vengence are overrated. It’s weird, I never fit in with my family, oreven extended family. Different way of seeing the world, hinking, interests, showing affection, etc. So, for companionship at home, I chose the more scilent/less argumentative route and just stayed inside my own heads toying with my own thoughts most of the time. My dad moved to Berkely, my brother moved out to, and I went to college right before my mother and I would have killed eachother. Now I am back ( for the summer), my brother is back, and my dad moved back. And we’re all in one house. And so far, we’re all alive and on alright terms and spending voluntary time in eahothers presence. It’s strange but … nice.

I don’t think anyone reads this. So I’ll just go on with my self absorbed blabbing…

I know that I should gain weight.And I’m trying. But I really have little to no appitite. AND the time when my appitite is the greatest is reall late at night , like midnight, which sucks becaue it never feels good to continually eat so late at night in the morning time. I need to figure out how to solve this.

Thing I wish

28 Jul

Dear santa, here is my wishlist. Here is a hint: I’m not on the nice list this year….

1) I wish my skin wouldn’t become slightly itchy in the sun
2) I wish I didn’t have an addictive personality
3) I wish smoking cigarettes wasn’t so nice
4) I wish I was in love. Er, maybe just love anything. A dog. A grandma. A record.
5) I wish the most basic human things came easily to me. Exhibit a. ( see #4), b. sexual preference c. appitite
6) I wish I wasn’t still growth horomone deficient because I still have 1/3rd the appitite of a normal girl and I’m getting sick of trying to put weight on becuase it physically is not enjoyable to eat when full, all the time.
7) I wish I didn’t feel guilty so easily.
8) I wish I could smoke inside right now….
9) I wish I could be a tudent forever and nothave to pay
10) I wish I supressed the embarrasing memory of myself listening to R.Kelly’s “i wish” over and over and over on my cd player in my middle school prime.

On a better note, I saw The Simpsons on the big screen tonight with michelle. It did not dissipoint.

Thing I wish

27 Jul

Dear santa, here is my wishlist. Here is a hint: I’m not on the nice list this year….

1) I wish my skin wouldn’t become slightly itchy in the sun
2) I wish I didn’t have an addictive personality
3) I wish smoking cigarettes wasn’t so nice
4) I wish I was in love. Er, maybe just love anything. A dog. A grandma. A record.
5) I wish the most basic human things came easily to me. Exhibit a. ( see #4), b. sexual preference c. appitite
6) I wish I wasn’t still growth horomone deficient because I still have 1/3rd the appitite of a normal girl and I’m getting sick of trying to put weight on becuase it physically is not enjoyable to eat when full, all the time.
7) I wish I didn’t feel guilty so easily.
8) I wish I could smoke inside right now….
9) I wish I could be a tudent forever and nothave to pay
10) I wish I supressed the embarrasing memory of myself listening to R.Kelly’s “i wish” over and over and over on my cd player in my middle school prime.

On a better note, I saw The Simpsons on the big screen tonight with michelle. It did not dissipoint.

Eye Doctors Can’t See Beyond The Surface

27 Jul

To all my girls– with snaggleteeth or frizzy hair, with ethic eyes or big boobs, who are too tall or too short, who have skin like cocoa or butter or cocoa-butter, who are curvy or boney, who like women or men or gardening and their cocker spaniel, who try and se themselves as more than the rest of the world sees them, who are tired of their power and status in everyday interactions like at the blockbuster counter have an obvious connection to their sexual allure;

To all my guys– who are labeled ‘delinquints’ because they ride skateboards by the same fatass CEO’s and officers who like to sit all day in their lazy-boy recliner in front of a PC or in their justice-mobiles, respectivly, noshing on steak or two maple bars, also respectivly , to all my guys who keep their ethnic heritage at home in the closet and are forced to act white in public to get respect, who are old enough to fight in iraq but too young to sip on on Bud, physically use walkers but are mentally up to speed, who are honest enough to wear their gayness on their sleeve;

To all the old, young, brown, black, yellow, green, poor, middle class, people- with or without breasts- this is for you;

I am tired of being treated like a fucking moron.

Here is a little ancedote I like to call My Optomitrsit is a Patronizing Asshole, based on a true story ,of course. Disclaimer: I didn’t wake up ( at 12:30, nonetheless) today sunny and cheery. I herebye apologize to the Martha Stuart Empire for my failure to be the perfect cheery female.Even after a roadtrip. And drugs.

Today I had an appointment with the optomitrist. Anyone who has glasses or contacts already knows the optomitrists are by far more creepy than any other doctor, including the gyno and the dentist. Mine is no exception. The dead giveaway is his profession, but the secondary clue to his douche-y-ness is his salt’n’pepper chef boyarde bushy mustache. I relectantly go to his office, with the extra push of a shotty right eye. He greets me with a nasaly, monotone “helloooo” and leads me into his office. I sit. He sits. He asks what’s wrong. I tell him my right eye is not sharp. He checks my eyes trough that annoying ‘which is better: 1 or 2?’ test. He tells me i have a mild stigmatism which is causing the blur. I say, oh, that makes sence.
“Can we correct it with contact lenses?”, I asked.
” No”, he replied.” your stigmatism is bad enough for you to notice but not worth the extra cost of special contacts.”

Now, the exchange should have ended their. Why I sat in that god-forsaken office for another 30 minutes is due to his patronizing ass. Maybe he treats all of his patients like he treats me, like we are mentally retarded repeating himself 15 times ‘what is not vewy goody in my peek-a-boo spot’, but I cannot honestly imagine him speaking to a male that way, especially a white one, and especially an adult. The dude rexplained himself, literally repeated himself, umpteen times, even after I specifically told him twice, ” Thank you. I completly understand the situation.”

I’m sick of being treated like an idiot who can’t understand jack shit.I’m also sick of my opinions being a novelty in a conversation, or the fact that i have many is eithr considered cute or masculine/bossy instead of legitimate.

I don’t think I’m the only one in the neighborhood who experiances this. But I’m sick of absorbing the punches instead of shouting when i get hit. So here is this blog, i shall absorb no more….yeah, that’ll stick it to the man. take that, man!

Eye Doctors Can’t See Beyond The Surface

26 Jul

To all my girls– with snaggleteeth or frizzy hair, with ethic eyes or big boobs, who are too tall or too short, who have skin like cocoa or butter or cocoa-butter, who are curvy or boney, who like women or men or gardening and their cocker spaniel, who try and se themselves as more than the rest of the world sees them, who are tired of their power and status in everyday interactions like at the blockbuster counter have an obvious connection to their sexual allure;

To all my guys– who are labeled ‘delinquints’ because they ride skateboards by the same fatass CEO’s and officers who like to sit all day in their lazy-boy recliner in front of a PC or in their justice-mobiles, respectivly, noshing on steak or two maple bars, also respectivly , to all my guys who keep their ethnic heritage at home in the closet and are forced to act white in public to get respect, who are old enough to fight in iraq but too young to sip on on Bud, physically use walkers but are mentally up to speed, who are honest enough to wear their gayness on their sleeve;

To all the old, young, brown, black, yellow, green, poor, middle class, people- with or without breasts- this is for you;

I am tired of being treated like a fucking moron.

Here is a little ancedote I like to call My Optomitrsit is a Patronizing Asshole, based on a true story ,of course. Disclaimer: I didn’t wake up ( at 12:30, nonetheless) today sunny and cheery. I herebye apologize to the Martha Stuart Empire for my failure to be the perfect cheery female.Even after a roadtrip. And drugs.

Today I had an appointment with the optomitrist. Anyone who has glasses or contacts already knows the optomitrists are by far more creepy than any other doctor, including the gyno and the dentist. Mine is no exception. The dead giveaway is his profession, but the secondary clue to his douche-y-ness is his salt’n’pepper chef boyarde bushy mustache. I relectantly go to his office, with the extra push of a shotty right eye. He greets me with a nasaly, monotone “helloooo” and leads me into his office. I sit. He sits. He asks what’s wrong. I tell him my right eye is not sharp. He checks my eyes trough that annoying ‘which is better: 1 or 2?’ test. He tells me i have a mild stigmatism which is causing the blur. I say, oh, that makes sence.
“Can we correct it with contact lenses?”, I asked.
” No”, he replied.” your stigmatism is bad enough for you to notice but not worth the extra cost of special contacts.”

Now, the exchange should have ended their. Why I sat in that god-forsaken office for another 30 minutes is due to his patronizing ass. Maybe he treats all of his patients like he treats me, like we are mentally retarded repeating himself 15 times ‘what is not vewy goody in my peek-a-boo spot’, but I cannot honestly imagine him speaking to a male that way, especially a white one, and especially an adult. The dude rexplained himself, literally repeated himself, umpteen times, even after I specifically told him twice, ” Thank you. I completly understand the situation.”

I’m sick of being treated like an idiot who can’t understand jack shit.I’m also sick of my opinions being a novelty in a conversation, or the fact that i have many is eithr considered cute or masculine/bossy instead of legitimate.

I don’t think I’m the only one in the neighborhood who experiances this. But I’m sick of absorbing the punches instead of shouting when i get hit. So here is this blog, i shall absorb no more….yeah, that’ll stick it to the man. take that, man!

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