one bright sun +

one bright sun + one cool breeze + one sandy beach + one fabulous swimsuit + one basket of strawberries + one bottle of strawberry lemonade + one captivating book + one free afternoon = one beautiful day + one happy girl.

i don't have a digital

i don't have a digital camera. or a camera that's well suited for close-ups. but i do have a scanner, and i really want to scan myself right now so you can see what an hour on the beach can do.

there are times i love san diego.

my week in bathrooms: public

my week in bathrooms:

• public restroom, downtown disney.
• blue bayou (the restaurant overlooking the pirates of the caribbean).
• pasadena villa.
• j. lo's place.
• starbucks, rodeo drive.

my week in meals:

• enchiladas suizas, cafe coyote, old town, san diego.
• gumbo, blue bayou, disneyland.
• creole linguini, house of blues, anaheim.
• pechuga a la plancha or something, madre's, pasadena.
• cheese enchilada and regular quesadilla, el cotixan (retchmex), san diego.
• chicken marsala, spaghetti factory, downtown sd.
• and some crackers.

my week in forgotten obligations:

• phone bill.
• cell phone bill.
• traffic school.
• loan appointment.
• paying a ton of money.

my week in phony personas:

• tourist.
• tourist.
• tourist.
• rich.
• celebrity seeker.
• TOURIST.

my week in juvenile activity:

• sneaking a boy into the house.

my apologies:

• for being absent.
• for uncreative, list-based material.
• for lack of wit. it stems from exhaustion, i promise. the bit yesterday about the baghdad blog was funny. right? right?

shouting out into the world:

shouting out into the world:

does the fact that they cost me over $100 make me look hotter in them?

i need to know. i need the answer to be yes.

damn my friends for making me take them to beverly hills and for being far too lovable for me to turn them down.

here, i have something to

here, i have something to share with all of you. it's really enlightening in a way that most of us have probably never appreciated before, it will totally make you think twice about the war, and it is probably right about everything so you'd better read and remember. it's a blog written by someone IN BAGHDAD. it's -- what? it's a blog of note, meaning every single fucking person who uses blogger has seen it? and about a million people have linked to it and talked about it as though it were the personal discovery of each and every one of them? shit, i totally thought i beat y'all to it.

OKAY. IT'S COOL. WE KNOW.

busy... sigh. i miss this.

busy...

sigh. i miss this.

thirty pages of type exist

thirty pages of type exist today that did not at this time yesterday, and i am accordingly sleeping in a cubicle at the expense of my esteemed employer.

thirty pages. fifteen hours. zero rest.

beat.

okay, here's a challenge for

okay, here's a challenge for you.

which one is james cromwell?

mad.

i'd rather be doing just about anything than writing twenty pages tonight on a subject i don't even care about. anyone care about building national identities among the soviet successor states? no? really? how surprising! i'd rather read one of the dozen books on my shelf i've been ignoring since i bought or received them in december. i'd rather listen to my new cat power album, which has been sitting, neglected, on my desk for days. i'd rather scream and yell at the person who invited me to study at the library and wasn't there when i arrived. or at the kids who don't care that despite whether the war across the world is justified, there are people dying over there. i'd rather send fan mail to people who want it. i'd rather ignore my roommates, who are playing music and sorting through the clothes they just bought in preparation for the trip to spain they're departing for tomorrow. i'd rather find out that the war was over.

mad.

making light of a truly,

making light of a truly, truly horrifying and saddening time:

(09:23:53 PM) staaaaaaan: when all this is said and done, if rummy doesn't have his own late night talk show
(09:23:57 PM) staaaaaaan: i don't know if any of this was worth it

studying, writing, reading, writing, reading,

studying, writing, reading, writing, reading, studying, and it all blurs together

sometimes this library feels like a prison...

a couple things:

• only last night i had a conversation about how terribly lame no fear is, and here i am, innocently using a computer in an internet lounge, just minding my own business, and the girl next to me is drinking a no fear beverage. what in the world is going on? do i deserve this somehow?
• i just finished an entire frosty for the first time in my life. a small one, at that. how is it that i can swallow a burrito that weighs about three pounds, seemingly in a single gulp, and yet it has taken me this many years to work up the endurance necessary to make it through one little cup of chocolate dairy dessert?
• i got some good comments (not website comments, but real, actual comments. you know, like in a real conversation? that takes place not on the web? oh wait, it was on the web) last night from a cool and funny guy, but they were in reaction to some truly offensive humor on my part. i'm a little ashamed, but i'll try to look at it less like i'm a crass, coldhearted dolt and more like i've just found my little niche in the ways of wooing (not-easily-offended) men.
• still on the ticket hunt. it's looking like i may drive to long beach and fly to oakland from there (jet blue = $49-90 each way, depending on time of flight). unless someone's got a cheaper suggestion.

and finally:

• "soldiers lined up at phone booths to make their last calls home." i'm counting down.

for me, turning in a

for me, turning in a paper that i wrote in the very final hours before it was due is like going to meet some hot stuff someone i'm trying hard to convince of my overwhelming coolness. there's a tremendous amount of brain actitvity near the end, right before i leave. as i rush out the door i quickly pull on a cute ensemble and sweep back my hair, messy because in my hurriedness i haven't had time to fix it. i race to my destination, windows down, stereo up. i do a fast and fantastic parallel parking job, exit the car and slam the door, and stroll casually up the stairs and across the courtyard, looking amusedly at the stressed-out, scurrying people around me and acting like i'd been meaning to do this forever but i only just now finished having the greatest sex of my life.

beware the leader who bangs

beware the leader who bangs the drums of war in order to whip the citizenry into a patriotic fervor, for patriotism is indeed a double-edged sword. it both emboldens the blood, just as it narrows the mind ... and when the drums of war have reached a fever pitch and the blood boils with hate and the mind has closed, the leader will have no need in seizing the rights of the citizenry. rather, the citizenry, infused with fear and blinded with patriotism, will offer up all of their rights unto the leader, and gladly so. how do I know? for this is what i have done. and i am caesar.

considering that one gallon of

considering that one gallon of gas costs me $2.33, i think it would be cheaper to fly to the bay area (from san diego) than to drive there.

anyone know where i can find a swell deal on plane tickets?

so we're eating ice cream

so we're eating ice cream and talking about the seminars we've taken, and suddenly kara says,

"if you ever want ultra-lean ground beef for twenty-nine cents a pound, go to albertson's at 8:30 and talk to caesar. seriously. he will give it to you."

on another note, does tina fey have a web log, and if so, where can i find it? if not, why not? actually, forget i asked that last bit. no satisfactory answer exists.

while i could make many

while i could make many many remarks on u.s. foreign policy, i will restrict myself to one which i think should be understood not only by constituents of a particular ideological following, political party, economic class, or ethnic group but by anyone with a basic understanding of two basic concepts: the makeup of the american military (people), and the nature of war (kills people).

the remark is this. clearly, to support american troops -- at least, to support the lives, as opposed to the deaths, of american troops -- is NOT, by its nature, to propone war and, by extension, the bringing of american troops onto the battlefield. let's keep this one straight, people. if the war-choice were made absolutely and solely with respect to american soldiers, you can be sure as fuck we'd keep them home.

now, if you support the use of the american troops to achieve a specific military and foreign policy goal, that's another story. obviously. but let's not pollute that pristine warmongering rhetoric with outright contradictions, okay kids?

content

i thought, "this is perfect," and slid further underneath the comforter. my toe touched another, and a warm hand automatically felt for mine in response. i leaned over and kissed a smooth forehead, a soft cheek, breathed in the scent that was comfortingly, yet still tantalizingly, familiar.

he slept. i turned back to the hardcover capote i held in my other hand and two-thirds read, one-third listened to the rain emptying out on the roof and gently slapping against the window. i fumbled with a page as i neared its end, and mused about what could possibly make me feel more content.

he awoke and turned the page.

why kate could never fit the right images as an adolescent:

• stoner, age 13: didn't smoke weed.
• preppy, age 14: didn't have money.
• girly girl, age 14: girls were too high-maintenance and dramatic.
• guy's girl, age 15: guys were too bone-headed and thoughtless.
• bible thumper, age 15: couldn't convert the unsaved.
• heartbreaker, age 16: couldn't break hearts.
• loner, age 17: liked people.
• socialite, age 18: not that much.
• total nerd, age 13-18: not into constructing rockets.
• too cool for anything, age 13-18: not cool.

scenario: stan is in town

scenario: stan is in town and seeks lodging at kate's house. in the morning, we have breakfast.

stan: how 'bout some toast? i could go for toast.
kate: okay. i've got wheat bread, butter, some jams...
stan: hold it right there. what kind of jam is that right there?
kate: there's strawberry, blackberry, marionberry...
stan: marionberry. marionberry?
kate: yeah...?
stan: is there crack in it?
kate: oh. i get it.

this is not the place

this is not the place to do so, but just briefly -

it's times like this i question the capacity of the human heart. not what it is, but why it should be.

will you people like me

will you people like me more if i tell you that my birthday coincides with national outdoor sex day? well, it does. also, it's the anniversary of the allied wwii victory in europe, but that is way less fun to celebrate.

last post of the day,

last post of the day, and a thought i'll leave you to mull over for the weekend:

have you ever thought, enviously, "that person is better looking than me," and then immediately after, smugly, "but i'm smarter"? i just did.

i think i really need a makeover and a hard slap in the face.

i love my little sister

i love my little sister julian for many reasons, but most importantly because this is her homecoming picture from her senior year of high school (she's on the left):

*note, too, that she turned down three offers from non-cardboard suitors in order to pull this stunt, and after picture-taking left the dance immediately to see a horror movie, which i don't think the gentlemen attended.

there's a band outside this

there's a band outside this lounge playing shitty reggae, and it sounds exactly like good reggae. this serves merely to solidify my belief that reggae music is shit.

the new york times reports:

the new york times reports:

"We will fight its forces like we fought them in 1991, whether they come alone or under an international cover," Mr. Hussein said.

In 1991, most Iraqi troops surrendered or ran as coalition forces advanced into Iraq.

yeah, exactly.

people came out of the

people came out of the woodwork to post their pictures for jr. i wonder if that means that we all secretly think we're beautiful.

as long as we're talking

as long as we're talking about plans...

here are some things i have to look forward to over the next several months, along with some corresponding drawbacks.

1. spring break
a. spring break is in just over two weeks. classes will cease. friends are coming to visit. hurrah.
b. must think of things to do during spring break so that friends do not think me and my lifestyle utterly empty, boring and worthless. there is not much to do in san diego, and the good weather will not pick up consistently until june. far too late. boo.

2. shows
a. soon i will be seeing several good acts, including bright eyes and arab strap, a combination the mere thought of which nearly gives me a mental orgasm. hurrah.
b. going to shows means paying out the nose for tickets, and yes, $18 is a lot, you rich fucks. boo.

3. writing classes
a. i'm just about finished with my major. that means taking classes in the subject i've grown to really love. hurrah.
b. have been informed by fellow writing student: given the classes i am enrolled in, will not be seen by general friend population for several months. and just when the sun comes out. boo.

4. london
a. in july, i'm gallavanting off to europe for a brief overseas stay. one week in ireland followed by six in london (broken up by trips elsewhere on the continent). awesome experience to be had; looking forward to showing off tourist credentials (i do a really good "lost"). hurrah.
b. you thought concerts were expensive? try european adventures! a program i'm doing in london is costing me (well, my loan-friendly bank, technically) upwards of two thousand pounds. that's a ton of money. boo. (come on, you knew that was coming.)

did i just go into

did i just go into the department meeting, take breakfast, and leave? sure did.

currently listening to: - Rilo

currently listening to:
- Rilo Kiley, The Execution of All Things
- falling rain
- chirping birds

so, iTunes alphabetizes my library

so, iTunes alphabetizes my library of music, and new edition directly follows neutral milk hotel, and let me tell you, it's a kick in the pants to be wafting along to the gentle fade-out of on avery island's last track and then assaulted with the opening hand claps of "cool it now."