Moving

After lots of trouble with logging into blogger and other setbacks, i've moved on to another site: http://foma.wordpress.com/

I know that my blog is a source of happiness to you all, so i just thought i'd let you know. :)

...all the way into the year 2000

you see, i don't know if you've realized this, but i'm going to graduate. i am going to accomplish something that was always the future goal, the objective that i could never really look past because, well, it just seemed to far in the future.

so now what? am i going to follow what my degree dictates and get a job in media, or am i going to be like oh so many wacky graduates that go into something completely unrelated to their field of study? my brother (rtf)- grass roots campaigning, my aunt (business)- photography, tim (aerospace engineering)- video games...i suppose that's the interesting thing about life- you never know what you're going to fall into. i was reading an acquaintance's facebook profile and saw that her goal was to work with "music and/or photography and/or dogs" and thought that was one of the cooler life plans i've heard. i think i'm going to start researching kickass digital SLRs and get one in some way or another.

my lofty goals: be affluent enough to travel and eat out at snooty restaurants if i so choose, own audio editing software, pick up where i left off and take guitar lessons, take extended learning classes pertaining to photoshop and other fun software packages, and own a dog and have a large enough backyard for it to frolic in. i think that about covers it for the most part. ah yes, get a job that i love, or at least with people i love. i think all of the above is doable over time. but who knows? i might change my mind and find myself in a situation i never envisioned, such as residing in south america- at the mansion of my brother and the rich, rich girl that he somehow tricked into marrying him. i like that scenario. even better is a get rich quick scheme that i have yet to hatch. but i know it's in there, lurking in the recesses of my mind.

Peanuts

Whenever Christmas rolls around, I inevitably have the Charlie Brown song “Christmastime” stuck in my head in a never ending loop. The song depresses me beyond belief for several reasons (children are singing mournfully about a supposedly happy holiday, a slow, jazzy piano accompanies them, and it seems ironic that such lyrics as “happiness and cheer” are being sung by childrens’ voices that sound as if they’re on the brink of tears), and it does nothing to aid my usual mood about the holiday. Ever since I reached that peak year where you know santa’s not coming and you’re never going to get that hamster that you’ve always dreamed of in your stocking, it just never seemed the same. On top of that, it’s the time when family suffocates you and prods you with such questions as “so have you found someone who can tolerate you?” and “does this look like a pimple or a mole?” the very real possibility of guilt trips hang over your head as you agonize over what to say about that hideous pink sweater…should you just keep your mouth shut and shove it in the dark recesses of your closet? Or should you risk it all and ask for the receipt?

It’s not all doom and gloom of course, but with my brother abroad this year and my mother mourning his absence, I was bracing myself for the worst yet. But with some pluck and a little help from my friend arbor mist, I stayed positive. Also, selective hearing was a great asset. Sometimes, as we all find as we get older, dealing with your parents is a lot like dealing with children. I never thought I would be thankful for a childcare and guidance management class that I attended along with some of the dimmest girls i've ever met, but i actually picked up a few things there....mainly things i've implemented with my dear parents.

One of the first things I found myself doing was ignoring my mother's negative behavior and rewarding the positive. When she did such things as look forlornly at the ornament box and state, “I guess there’s no point in hanging up the ornaments this year, since kenny’s not here,” I'd pretend to be fascinated by my shoelace and would refuse to dignify her bah-humbugery with a comment. Later, when I prompted her to help me hang the ornaments and she complied, I smiled and said, “Great! You really earned that Arbor Mist. Mmm! Carbonated wine.”

Then there was the obvious need to phrase my words to their fullest potential so that my parents would truly grasp their wisdom- i.e. “when you do ___, I feel____.” “Dad, when you threaten to throw the cat out the window, I feel upset.” “Mom, when you polish off the arbor mist without me, I feel sober.”

Of course, when a calm and collected approach to things still doesn’t seem to help, I resort to another method, one usually reserved for animals. On the way to Grandma’s on Christmas eve, I slipped in my recently acquired Guster CD- music to tame the beast(s). I think it helped- or at least it helped me. Instead of hearing about how best to unload the car or how if the kids touched my dad with their cookie hands he was going to flip out, I listened to the harmony of the songs and went to my happy place. It’s the little things that make Christmas memorable, and beyond that, tolerable.

Pennies for Sale

Standing in line at mozart's and dreading the upcoming work i was determined to put into my research paper, i observed a couple, obviously in the first couple of dates stage, make horrific small talk. all first date small talk is painful to watch and overhear, but this was especially bad as it was not only awkward, but spoken by two of the most vacuous people i've had the joy to come across. looking into the bakery case, the fratty boy touted the merits of mozart's cheesecake in such a cocky voice that my as always out of control eyebrows (which insinuate things of their own free will) furrowed involuntarily and my face took on a look of pure horror.

on the way home and still addled from caffeine and multiple sugar packets, i pondered what i usually tend to ponder when i come upon such a scene: what do two rather blank, empty-headed people talk about when they're in a relationship? it reminded me of that scene in annie hall.

[Alvy addresses a pair of strangers on the street]
Alvy Singer: Here, you look like a very happy couple, um, are you?
Female street stranger: Yeah.
Alvy Singer: Yeah? So, so, how do you account for it?
Female street stranger: Uh, I'm very shallow and empty and I have no ideas and nothing interesting to say.
Male street stranger: And I'm exactly the same way.
Alvy Singer: I see. Wow. That's very interesting. So you've managed to work out something?

so i suppose in the end, people end up with a person who's on their level, and they manage to work out something, however hard that is to comprehend for me. and in the end, i always come to the same conclusion of honestly, who am i to judge what anyone does in any relationship? we all do what we have to do to get by, and we all find some solution to keep us temporarily, or who knows, permanently, happy. we get hurt, we make mistakes, but at least we tried and did it how we thought we should've.

in his last lines from the film, woody allen/alvy singer sums it up pretty well.

Alvy Singer: [narrating] After that it got pretty late, and we both had to go, but it was great seeing Annie again. I... I realized what a terrific person she was, and... and how much fun it was just knowing her; and I... I, I thought of that old joke, y'know, the, this... this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, "Doc, uh, my brother's crazy; he thinks he's a chicken." And, uh, the doctor says, "Well, why don't you turn him in?" The guy says, "I would, but I need the eggs." Well, I guess that's pretty much now how I feel about relationships; y'know, they're totally irrational, and crazy, and absurd, and... but, uh, I guess we keep goin' through it because, uh, most of us... need the eggs.

it's a complex thing, but everyone, including the vacuous, needs a little dairy in their life.

Moviescript Ending

Instead of revising my research paper, writing one of two papers, working on my american food portfolio, or making up citations for a bibliography, i decided to sign up for netflix. i've been putting it off forever, though i knew it would eventually win me over. and oh, i've never been more happy to use some of my christmas money to be welcomed into its warm embrace. so far my queue includes three amigos, clerks 2, and sunset boulevard. not only does this put me well on my way towards my goal of watching more films (after all, i am a rtf major and should be well-versed in all things film so that i can pass judgment on you) but also allows me to rent those crappy/sappy movies that i'm too embarassed to get at the store (i.e. when harry met sally, nacho libre).

now to get a mail key from the front office...i think the angry squirrel in the wall stole mine.

and just to toss this in:



...and is judging you accordingly.

Gimme Fiction

I’ve been rather indecisive of late…well, more so than usual lately. This especially applies to my future. When I'm not making the world a better place by exhibiting smarmy/snarky qualities, I find my mind wondering to the issue of what to do with my post-graduate life. There's the first tantalizing option that I discussed with steph- getting stoned out of my mind and living in my parents screen porch/backyard in a hammock, only moving every now and then to watch another movie or to call one of my hardworking friends with one of my stoner-tastic ideas. I think I also threw in the possibility of blaring Bob Marley out of a stereo while “paddling” my canoe in the front yard, much to the delight of the neighbors.

The next option is the safe one. Get a job. But oh, that’s kind of hard, so let’s move on to the next.

There’s the amazing internship in Chicago where I would work for This American Life and receive a rather comfy stipend of money each month. That one is more exciting than the above, but again, effort.

The other option that I've come up with is to become an au pair down in South America. Ken met a family with two children in Peru that are looking for an au pair that only speaks English. A six month commitment and all the children- er, beans and rice, I can eat! Perfect chance to study Spanish as the family expects the au pair to be studying simultaneously anyhow. So…I would be expertly handling chilun’s that don’t speak a word of my language and, while passing on my charming texas accent, learn to speak Spanish myself. Oooh. Sounds good to me.

Who knows. most likely I'll end up a bag lady on the drag, doing irish jigs for a nickel- or, doing kickin' rad flows in clubs under the name lethal lizzy d. wherever i end up, come and see me. otherwise i'll come mooch off of you. ;]

Glad that I'm not soluble

For the longest time, i've been checking up on my interactive degree audit to see if my credit for second year czech and my time in Brno had been processed. each time i saw the bright red 'no' on the foreign language requirement, i was disheartened, because it just added to the feeling that it was all a fraud and that any moment, dozens of czech pirates would crash through my windows. before pillaging my room, they would point, laugh, and scream in czech that i hadn't escaped their grasp yet.

but miracle of miracles, i looked today and the red no had been changed to a happy black yes, and i'm free from the reign of grammatical tyranny that is the czech language. jsem svobodna!

after i had checked my IDA, i pulled up my registration page and continually refreshed until it would allow me to start plugging in unique numbers. i absolutely hate registration day, and it's a blessing that this was my last one. every single time, i make frantic prayers to the gods of registration as bullets of sweat form on my face. then i begin a running monologue in my head that go something like this: "oh no, that session is full...what about this session? curses! the course is closed. is there hope of a waitlist? oh, wonderful, i can be number 45. well, maybe i'll just try this class...closed too. hm. i suppose i could just get on the waitlist and start knocking off the people in front of me...but that would be about 59 people. could my conscience deal with that?.....maybe." and then i start to question where my life is going- after all, here i am sitting hunched over in my office chair, wearing what is quickly becoming sweat-soaked pajamas all for the oppurtunity to get into a couse entitled, "extreme free style hacking" or "paris hilton, pogs, and p. diddy: present-day pop culture." surely something's wrong with my degree plan...

but i came out relatively unscathed with minimal cursing this time around. mainly because i'm taking the attitude of "who cares? this is my last semester" and i'm supposed to have gotten some pretty good professors, including a repeat of my czech modern literature professor for the class Plastic People, Velvet President: Czechoslovakian Underground culture after 1948. should be interesting because as the title alludes to, Czechs were obsessed with the Velvet Underground, Lou Reed, and Frank Zappa. Beyond that, if it's anything like my czech modern literature class now, it should be rather amusing. In one of his recent powerpoints, he said simply "and here's Paral playing the guitar..." and of course this followed. maybe he'll continue with his running theme of kittens singing in the next class.

oh yes, by the time i finish at UT, i'll have a BS in something.