Will is here!! We watched the original Wicker Man and I have to say that it was “the shit.”
Unfortunately as a follow-up to Wicker Man we watched a documentary about drug-use in Utah (at least that’s what it’s supposed to be about) called, Happy Valley. It sucked so many balls that I think I may need a ballectomy to remove all the balls it shoved down my windpipe.
I’m too tired to go into it, but trust me – I will.
[wpvideo RtLSPUMt]
So, my office is all packed up and ready to move back to the library.
After three years of working “off site” during the library’s insanely huge renovation project, I have to say I’m a little more than ready to be back on campus again.
Though, there are things I’ll miss about my office.
1. Having an office. Yes, it’s back to cubicle-town for yours truly. It’s really been nice being able to shut my door and yank off my bra for a quick repair or shut my eyes for a tiny nap. Shh – don’t tell.
2. Parking. We can park so easily and so close to the door and also for free. Univeristy parking is balls and costs like 200 bucks a year.
3. The view from my window. Sigh. I have a clear view of Red Butte from here and there’s nothing like watching the sun set on the foothills. I’ll really miss that.
4. The view from the street where I park. Here – see for yourself
Who wouldn’t want to see that at the end of every day?
In spite of not actually like that song, Lars sings it at me at least a few times per day. Lately it’s gone even beyond that, he’s turned it into a little call and response game where he sings, “I don’ wanna go to rehab” and I am to pipe in with, “no…noooo…no.”
So now whenever I think of something I don’t want to do, say… work or go to bed at a responsible hour, I think-sing to myself, “I don’ wann go to work now… no…no…no…”
It’s mercilessly stuck in my head and I’ve honestly, in reality only heard the actual song once.
Damn you Amy Winehouse and your drunk ass. Damn you to a dry county and a comb.
My list of things “to do” grew from 4 to 5 million today and I’m avoiding every, single one of them. I was even avoiding writing this blog until JUST NOW.
Dudes, I’m just not feeling the proverbial “it.” I don’t mind rapping with you – but, the list of work shit I have to do is just not interesting me whatsoever. This – even after receiving a few cranktacular, “Why haven’t you done blah blah blah yet?” emails.
I’m not motivated to do “blah blah blah,” but I am motivated to kick their balls. I guess that’s something.
My eyes feel dry and crusty and I can’t stop squinting and blinking at my monitor. It’s so bright. Boo.
My parents tried desperately to indoctrinate me with their hippie music and as much as I hate to admit it, some of it stuck.
I can’t hear the Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young song, “Southern Cross” without thinking of my dad.
But, none of their hippie-shit music stuck as richly or as deeply as Cat Stevens.
I played my parents vinyl Tea for the Tillerman at least 10 million times on their giant silver high-fi.
I’m not saying he’s perfect – the songs, “Peace Train” and “Moonshaddow” make me want to wear my vagina as a raincoat in an acid storm. Basically, when he’s good – he’s good, but when he’s bad, he’s very, VERY bad.
The same can be said of covers of his songs. Eddie Vedder doing “Trouble,” for instance. Blargh! Sheryl Crow singing, “The First Cut is the Deepest.” Kill me.
But, they’re also often transplendant. Kristin Hersh’s “Trouble,” P.P. Arnold’s, “First Cut is the Deepest,” Yo La Tengo’s “Here Comes my Baby.”
Lovely.
Trouble – Cat Stevens
First Cut is the Deepest – Rod Stewart
The most important thing in my life right now is trying to decide what I’m going to do with my life career-wise.
Could be the whole college graduation that’s happening later today. Hm. I wonder.
A typical day for me as of last week:
9am – wake up, take a shower, put on make-up, put in contacts, get dressed
10am – catch the bus
10:30am – Attend Studies in Drama
11:30am – Intellectual Traditions of the West
12:30pm – Come home, eat lunch, practice guitar, watch Columbo
3pm – Go back to school for Creative Non-fiction with Terry Tempest Williams.
5pm – Come back home, hang out, play guitar, love to hate Mtv
****************AFTER GRADUATION***********************
Ugh. Mitt Romney talks A LOT!!!!!!!!!!!
I’ve been stressing and working on my resume and having fun with mom and grandma.
If I could change anything I would be skinnier, have unlimited money and clear skin.
The most important people in my life are my mom, brother & sister, my grandma & grandpa, Tawnya and Angie. They are the people that I trust and can be myself with.
I could not go a day without playing guitar, bitching about politics and complaining about my fat ass.
I just finished rearranging my closet and I don’t know if I unleashed some kind of poisonous dust-disease or what, but I feel totally insane and a little like I’m gonna barf.
Seriously, I’ve gone blotto. But, the good news is that I’ve packed two giganimous hefty bags full of clothes I haven’t worn in 5 years and blankets, that okay, had some sentimental value, but, ew.
The sad part is that I’m only half-way through the madness that is the one and only closet in the Medley home.
I’ve got that happy conflicted feeling that always comes after organizing stuff. It starts with smug self-satisfaction before moving onto a strange, caffeine like jittery feeling as your mind begins to catalog all the other places in your life that are also in need of attention and overhaul.
The past few days I keep entertaining this fantasy that we’ve somehow come into a ton of money – like, the proverbial shitload of cash. Anyway and the first thing we do is pack up all our necessary shit and animals and move straight to Jamaica. We’re sitting in our backyard that is of course, the beach, glistening with the pleasant sweat of laziness, sipping fruity drinks while the dogs play in the sand.
Here -here will help you live it too. (a little Orchestra Boabab for your butts)
Behold:
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