This Rocks. And, i hadn’t seen May in months. That is all.
by krisis
Archives for March 2002
Um, guys? I implicitly trust your opinion when it comes to links of the day, and this seems really fascinating, … … but i can’t figure out quite what the fuck it’s about.
Any ideas? And, while i’m in a link frenzy…) I can’t decide if milk came out of my nose after reading this excursion in creative parenting because it a) Reminds me of the sortof wacky reasoning my mother might have employed b) Seems like something Melly would say four years from now c) Sounds like it could be the cousin of something found on Henry’s Diary d) Makes me miss the wonder of being four, and look forward to seeing it through a different set of eyes eventually.
Actually, all four. Although, i definitely imagined the phrase “Millennium Falcon” spoken by my mother at some point in the middle of the entry, which was definitely creepy. Link stolen from the newly over-the-hill JillMatrix, who’s hotter at 40 than Sheryl Crow is. And, she easily rocks just as much.
Oh, and, hey, i know why he has his windows open! Right now he has a ton of friends over and they’re all smoking dope and re-graffiti-ing his room. So, i suppose that mystery has been solved… excuse me while i rock on with my bad self for spying them in the act!
I have been shocked as of late when it comes to the quality of relatively new blogs that have been linking me; case and point: the brand new and witty Still Life With Woodpecker and the DIY retro-spacecrafty Secret Rocket 13. A coincidence that both blogs linked to Rabi and various members of the GangBang family, plus the as-of-late awe-inspiring BlueLikeThat? Sure… and maybe it’s a coincidence that one of them links to my girlfriend too :p
Meanwhile, a cruise through GangBang reveals discussion of respected blogger Heather losing her job (via an always-crushed-on Shaun). Shaun speculates that that Heather’s kvetching about in-house incompetence in this post is involved in her termination, which her above post seems to corroborate.
The crossover from blog to real life has been brought into sharp focus lately through a boggling round of events that do not begin or end with my girlfriend-related link, or even the fact that my girlfriend has her own blog (which, if you were wondering, makes her exponentially sexier than your average girl, as she also plays a bit of guitar). It’s more that both her roommate and her boyfriend also have blogs (which i’ve recently linked), and that one of the boyfriend’s hallmates figured out that he was the boy behind the blog after he found the link on my page, of which he’s apparently a semi-regular reader. It’s about how the shower-guy messaged me to ask if he was the shower-guy who i was talking about. It’s about my page being on the history of half a dozen computers in the Admissions Office. It’s about Sara, Laurel, Lauren, Elise, and god knows who else spending couples of hours each catching up on my archives. This has become the virtual 500-pound-gorilla of my hobbies and interests, and try as i might i can’t seem to keep it separated from my real life at this point for longer than a month or two after i meet someone new. And, honestly, i’ve always wanted it to be exactly that … something you have to take notice of … but, i suppose i never really thought it through until now.
The GangBang post combined with these recent events hits especially close to home today, as earlier i interviewed for a very tech-savvy co-op internship with a Fortune500 company based out of Philadelphia and was quizzed at length about my level of internet know-how. While my interviewer whole-heartedly agreed that my personal site talking about brushing my teeth and other such navel-gazing nonsense wasn’t something he wanted to use for or against his decision to hire me, he did perk up at my descriptions of Blogger and Little Yellow Different and furiously wrote both addresses down on his legal pad (presumably to surf to later). While i’m not exactly the featured link on either the big B or LYD, i do figure rather heavily into PuppetMaster and SurvivorBlog2 on the latter … blathering endlessly about purity points and my opinion on drugs on one & being a whore and hitting on Ashley and James on the other (not to mention that i’m relatively easy to find via Google, which he was definitely familiar with). I could tell that i definitely garnered points with him by talking about learning HTML on my own and coding the basics of my site in PHP, but i’ve definitely got to stop mentioning Ernie at job interviews.
Quite a conundrum to find myself talking about the page with Lauren in Admissions today and be told that all of my recent philosophical wanderings on the subjects of Cold and Real-Audio pale in comparison to the expression of emotion. A bloody heart is the reddest kind after all… i’m just afraid that at this rate that even my oft-spied-on neighbor might wind up reading about what i think of him.
I have always liked cold, because it can be defended against, dodged, and forgotten. My fingers are swollen and red as my blood burns through icy arteries, slowly restoring feeling into skin rendered numb and useless by winter wind.
There has always been something about winter that i can withstand; my mother in multiple layers, my grandmother complaining about the cold, my roommates turning up the heat … and i am due to walk back to the laundromat in ten minutes wearing only a pair of corduroys and a flannel shirt. Yes, there is a chill in the air, but is it so different from spring? I am enamored with the next season precisely because of that chill in the air — the way it cuts past your sleeves to press close against your skin despite the warmth of the day. Winter is just like that, really, except for there is nothing but chill … chill to walk through to get to more chill, and chill at your back the entire time.
I am hiding from the cold here in my room, and i think it may have forgotten all about me.
So, i try not to be too judgmental in my voyeuristic exploits; after all, it isn’t really my place to have an opinion about what my neighbor does in his own bedroom — seeing as it’s not my place to be staring at him to begin with. Honestly, i feel a little lax in my creepy-neighbor duties, since he’s taken to leaving his blinds open for me to easily stare into lately. Who knows; maybe he finally started being interested in what was happening in my room?
Anyhow, never was there a better reason to listen to obscure cds and stare out of my back window than procrastinating on doing my Public Relations final project, and so here i am wide-eyed and dumbfounded, blasting Save Ferris and wondering why my neighbor decided to open all of his windows and put fans in them on one of the coldest nights so far this year. I mean, if it smells in there or something, he could leave the room while he aerated it.
But, anyway, no judgments … god knows i don’t want to know what he thinks about what goes on in here.