More Zzzzzzzs Please

This morning I realized that I think I need to start getting more sleep. Why? Well, because yesterday morning, for a split second, I thought I had a dildo in my pocket. Turned out it was just a banana I'd put there earlier. But for a split-second, I seriously felt a moment of panic. And then this morning, I couldn't remember how many hours there were in a day. For about 30 seconds while brushing my teeth, I was seriously mulling over the fact that there might just be 12.

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*Insert a Really Bad Christopher Walken Imitation Here*

Apparently I have the most mundane psychic powers *EVER*. One of the items my cats like to play with a lot are hazelnuts (they glide along both carpeting and hardwood real smoothly). Anyways, Franny has managed to lose all of them over the past month or so--I've searched and searched but they've vanished into some mysterious vortex. The other night I dreamt that I found them all stashed away in some secret area where she had hid them. I told E about it the next day, citing it as one of the least interesting dreams I've ever had (*sidenote: this morning, on the other hand, I dreamt right before I woke up that a hot construction worker was trying to unhook part of a barbed-wire fence that had gotten caught on my skirt). And then lo and behold, over the next two days, I found every damn one of those hazelnuts--they came to me like little hazelnutty beacons in the night.

Just call me Christopher.

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I kind of like that people are scared of me.

Once in a while it can start to get you down, like when you realize that barely anyone at work, for example, talks to you because (as it's been for the past three decades of your life) they're not quite sure what to make of you--whether you'll bite their heads off in one solid snap or not--and thus find you intimidating. *couANNgh* That can kind of get to you once in a while (though it helps weed out the folks you want to have around anyways, I suppose).

But more often than not, I kinda dig it. Especially that moment when you realize someone's a bit afraid of you, that divine moment when you catch that deer-in-headlights sidelong glance thrown your way, when they stumble over their words nervously or start to act skittish, that moment where you suddenly know with absolute and undeniable certainty that if you were to lean over and whisper BOO, they'd shit their pants just a little. That's a powerful moment.

It kinda makes you tingle just a little... You know... Down *there*.

This is precisely why I think I need to make a career shift.

So if you see any job-listings on Craigslist for a "dominatrix," you best pass that shit along.

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How I Was a Child of Grunge

It's funny the things that come to form your sense of understanding and openness when you're little, and what informs your fuck-you sense of resistance to mainstream society's attitude towards things... And it's intriguing how so much of it is the music you connect to back then.

With regard to "alternative" sexual lifestyles:

• Some book I read when I was in middle school where a girl gets a crush on her female best friend and they makeout a little in a graveyard.



• Misunderstood Nirvana lyrics:
  
  The finest day that I've ever had
  Was when I learned to cry on a man
  (actual lyrics "Was when I learned to cry on demand")



• Kurt Cobain and seeing him wear dresses and lipstick.



• Misunderstanding the lyrics to Nirvana's "Lounge Act" (gimme a break--he's hard to understand most of the time... plus, he sings about shit like albinos, mosquitos, and mulattos all in the same song, so are my versions of his lyrics really that far-fetched?)--I thought for the longest time that the bolded lyrics were actually "Tell this fucking God," and I thought the song was a fuck you to religious beliefs about homosexuality (and that "this friend" that he refers to was a male he was attracted to--don't ask me why):
  
  Don't tell me what I want to hear
  Afraid of never knowing fear
  Experience anything you need
  I'll keep fighting jealousy
  Until it's fucking gone
  
  And I've got this friend, you see, who makes me feel
  And I wanted more than I could steal
  I'll arrest myself, I'll wear a shield
  I'll go out of my way to make you a deal
  We've made a pact to learn from who
  Ever we want without new rules
  We'll share what's lost and what we grew
  

With regard to feminism:

• Getting into a playground fight with a boy in primary school for calling me "String Bean" and tearing up my panty-hose in the process.



• The lyrics to Sonic Youth's "Swimsuit Issue".



• Kurt Cobain.



• Sinead O'Connor.



• Anything from Hole's Pretty on the Inside album.



• Anything from Hole's Live Through This album.



• My mom's refusal to buy me an Alice in Chains t-shirt because of the name of the band--she thought it was about degradation and abuse of women. I was mad at the time, but it's strange how that stands out now as informing my thoughts about feminism.

With regard to atheism:

• Receiving a copy of Sinead O'Connor's I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got for Easter (ironically) from my mom one year and spending all day listening to it while I typed on my typewriter.



• The same misheard lyrics to Nirvana's "Lounge Act" that I mentioned above--I was all like "Hell yeah, fuck God!"



• Praying to God that I'd get chicken pox so that I wouldn't have to work on a stupid PSR project with a boy I didn't like. Getting the chicken pox. And yet still not being convinced that He existed.



• The lyrics to Metallica's "The God That Failed".



• My friend Emily exposing me to Nine Inch Nail's Pretty Hate Machine and the fact that I found the lyrics shocking and disturbing.

With regard to body image:

• The lyrics to Hole's Pretty on the Inside.



• The same Sonic Youth song mentioned above.



• The lyrics to Nirvana's "Lithium":
  
  I'm so ugly, but that's okay, 'cause so are you ...
  We broke our mirrors

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Can You Feel My Love Buzz?

Lately I've been craving the music I used to listen to back in high school... It's weird, kinda like when you walk by a restaurant and smell the sweet sweet smell of, say, Italian food, and then your brain is all drooly and fixated on consuming something spaghetti-ish for the next day and a half. Except instead of spaghetti, it's early Nirvana. Or Sonic Youth.

I guess it could be worse and I could be craving, like, EMF or Enigma.

Not like I ever listened to either of those though.

*Clearing throat and loosening necktie*

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New addition to my harem list:

Patrick Wilson

Because I may be a feminist, but that doesn't mean I'm above objectifying a hottie.

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Fuck Your "Domestic Fiction"

So I was ordering a book through the library when I noticed that one of the subjects it was listed under is "domestic fiction." Which prompted in me a sudden appalling vision of me wobbling around the living room in my barefeet, my pregant belly getting in the way as I take a five minute break from all the sweeping and vacuuming to sit down and crack open a book about women wobbling around the living room in their barefeet, their pregnant bellies getting in the way as they take a five minute break from all the sweeping and vacuuming to swoon. Or perhaps woo a man. Or perhaps don a corset. Or perhaps flutter a fan around their faces.

And damned if that didn't make me wanna punch the genre-makers in the face for coming up with such a horrible and terrible title for a genre.

I'm not a big fan of genrification (how clever am I?) anyways, as it's always struck me as stifling. And I'm particularly torn about whether to grind my teeth about this one or not after actually googling the term and finding out more information about it. Yes, it's apparently a genre where female characters seek out autonomy and independence, but then again, it's been critiqued as using "the language of tears" (because all women like a good sob), the tales usually end up with the woman getting married, and it's called fricking "domestic fiction" for christ's sake.

(Read on, faithful readers.)

Either which way, I guess what irks me most about it is that, despite the fact that it's been associated with certain literature from the 1800s, the term is still being booted around to describe books that are being written *NOW*. (The book I ordered was written in 2002.) And that just seems fucked up to me.

Fuck genre. And fuck domestication.

That's what I have to say about that.

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The shuffle on my Ipod is obsessed with Tom Waits.

The shuffle on my WMP at work is obsessed with Richard Cheese, Wesley Willis, and William Shatner.

I'm not sure whether to be more horrified by WMP's obsessive and disturbing lineup or the fact that I *HAVE* William Shatner recordings *ON* my computer (and have been confused out of my mind the past couple days trying to figure out who the hell was reading and singing on 'em--I blame you for that one, my dorkley-porkley).

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Normally I'm not a big fan of these things, but this was WAY too fricking fun not to share. (Thanks, Peppermint.)

Meme time. Go to your music player of choice and put it on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question. NO CHEATING.

How does the world see you?
"11:11"--Andrew Bird
(Apparently the world sees me as an alcoholic hobo:
"Standing on the corner
Plastic cup in her hand
Standing on the corner
Saving for some gin
You don't need to ask where she's been or what's up
She'll gladly tell you all about the life she had
Before she had the cup")

Will I have a happy life?
"Sometimes"--James
(Better than never, I suppose.)

What do my friends really think of me?
"I Want to Hear What You Have Got to Say"--The Subways
(Particularly when I'm ranting about animal rights or veganism--uh, yeah.)

How can I make myself happy?
"Dance All Night"--Ryan Adams
(I heartily concur.)

What should I do with my life?
"Swedish Wedding Song"--Andrew Bird's Bowl of Fire

Will I ever have children?
"Waiting for the Bus"--The Violent Femmes
(I don't even know what to do with that one.)

What is some good advice for me?
Richard Cheese's version of RATM'S "Guerrilla Radio"
(I'm gonna go with a "don't take everything so seriously" moral here.)

How will I be remembered?
"Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Pt. 1"--The Flaming Lips
(I don't think I need even comment on this one, given its startling accuracy. And yet, I just did.)

What is my signature dancing song?
"First Day of My Life"--Bright Eyes
(Worst dancing song ever)

What do I think my current theme song is?
"Let It Ring"--The Indigo Girls

What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
"Lady"--Regina Spektor

What song will play at my funeral?
"So Alive"--Ryan Adams
(Ha ha ha ha.)

What is my day going to be like?
"Obstacle 1"--Interpol
(Great.)

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Hopelessly Addicted

I'm a chronic crusher, as in I pretty much stumble my way like some wobbly drunk from crush to crush, with brief breathers in between. The thing is, this happens even WHEN I'm in a satisfying relationship. For a while, I thought it was simply due to dissatisfaction with the individuals I was with. But clearly that's not so much the case. And yet, I plow my way through crushes like they were donuts. Vegan donuts of course, but big fatty unhealthy (but fucking great-tasting) donuts.

And for some reason it makes me feel shitty. Funny thing is, I think it bothers me more than it does the fella I'm dating, and yet it DOES bother me.

I speculate that the reason I am such a crush-whore is that I am one of those folks who is always thirsting for new things, fresh things, exciting things, inspiring things in order to keep my head above the waves of boredom and monotony. I think I'm a bit of an addict to those feelings of smittenness, and I KNOW I'm a whore to daydreaming. So I think crushes feed both these arenas. They give me somewhere for my mind to wander off. And they recharge me with those initial stupid heart-fluttery feelings that come when you've got a thing for someone.

But my question is this, fair readers, is it just me? Do I have some bizarre crush-addiction? Or are some of you on the same wave-length as me? What what? A little bit of intellectual crush-philosophizing would be much appreciated so.......

GO!

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Things I Forgot to Mention

• I had a dream a short while back that I was sleeping and my fella's cat was walking through the room dressed in one of my shirts which made me laugh in the dream which in turn resulted in me laughing out loud. Cats in shirts are funny.


• I officially have a sibling whose middle name is now "Danger."


• I got an IPod for X-mas and felt slightly guilty about it because I wasn't even quite sure what one was until I got it.


• I also got a cell-phone for X-mas from my delightful mum--lest you despair that this will instigate some sort of tear in the space-time continuum, I've yet to use it and plan to do so only in case of emergency (though I did input everyone's phone number into it since I never seem to have them handy when I need them).


• I played Cootie this weekend and was pleasantly nostalgicized by that little curly bug-part that used to take the place of the mouth.


• I am madly in love with you and wish I could figure out a way to tell you.

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I was trying to figure out the other day precisely what it is that creeps me out about myspace so badly, particularly because I feel like such a little snot when I tease people about being sucked into it and its lameness. And finally finally finally I figured out exactly what it is.

It's not myspace itself that I find to be so lame, it's the whole creepy friendslist thing. I mean, seriously--Dolly Parton's your "friend?" Just because she's on your list? Have you ever shared a cup of coffee with her? Have you ever had her call you up on your phone, hysterical about some big blow-out she just had with her mom/brother/significant other? Have you had to lend her a pair of your big wooly socks because hers got completely soaked when you were running around crazily in the knee-deep snow with nothing on but long-underwear and boots? Have you rubbed her head and felt your heart grow big and generous just from being in her company? Have you laid in bed talking to each other with morning breath and cockeyed hair? No no no. Not even anything as deep as that--let's try this one... Have you had even ONE conversation with her, other than to send her some lame format email asking her to be your myspace friend?

See what I'm saying?

Why would you even want to designate her your friend? And why would you want her to designate you hers? What is it, the coolness factor? 'Cuz--psst, come close, lemme tell you something--SHE'S NOT ACTUALLY YOUR FRIEND.

Perhaps I'm just a nerd about friendship, no doubt I am giving it more serious thought than it even deserves, but it somehow seems cheap. And dirty. And kinda like being back in high school.

The first two are qualities I sometimes enjoy. The last, not so much.

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