tavie.com

Much of today was spent watching VH1's 100 Greatest Videos countdown with my mother. This was how I made a most shocking discovery. I am still not over it. It came when that "California Girls" video was being shown. This is when I discovered:

My mom loves David Lee Roth.

Not only does she know who David Lee Roth IS, and not only does she LIKE him ("He's fun, he's a silly, quirky guy!"), she has seen him in concert.

I was shaken to the very core of my being by this mind-boggling news. My mother is a completely different person than I thought she was. Everything I know about myself and the world has been thrown into question.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:22 PM | shower me with attention

Can you really taste the difference between caffeine free and regular Diet Coke? I cannot. I almost started tasting the difference between Diet Coke and Diet Pepsi the other day, but I decided I was crazy.

Speaking of Pepsi, I went to the Pepsi corporate headquarters with my aunt and my mom today to walk around the manicured, modern-sculpture-rich garden/park there. It was nice. I transferred two tadpoles from a pond into my empty Diet Pepsi bottle, then felt guilty and soon deposited them in another pond, probably ruining the ecosystem beyond repair. Then we went back to Tante Joan's house and had barbecue and watched The Producers.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:15 PM | shower me with attention

I am such a fan of sarah's artistic sensibilities.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:08 AM | shower me with attention

So, that drinking only Diet Coke thing worked until I started getting what I think were aspartame headaches. The only thing left now is to take me back behind the barn and shoot me.
Finding a barn on Roosevelt Island should be a challenge.

Tomorrow, barbecue and Tante Joan's house to celebrate Mother's Day. I didn't get mom a card, flowers, anything. I have no money. I have a little money in the bank. That she gave me. Must buy her something with her own money tomorrow.

I still have a gift certificate to Henri Bendel's (which I went to for the first time the other day to replace the MAC foundation that Kirsten broke) but my mom doesn't really go in for that beauty stuff. Still, gotta use up that gift certificate.

Was supposed to go to Andrew's school today to see him dance, but aspartame headache kept me in and asleep. Been feeling down lately. Food issues still. Really have to get back on this. Need to go to Ade's house again.

I'm all thrown off from not being at Mint Manor this weekend.

Kitana's birthday Monday.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:01 AM | shower me with attention

This thing working yet?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:57 AM | shower me with attention

Thursday, May 10, 2001

I got back the paper on Rhodesia. It was a 95. 90 for the paper plus 5 for doing the oral presentation.
Over half the class didn't show up to do their oral presentations.
I sweated and fretted about having to present that paper in front of the class, and all for five lousy points.
Bloody 'ell.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:09 AM | shower me with attention

toomuchdietcoketoomuchdietcoketoomuchdietcoketoomuchdietcoketoomuchdietcoke
too MUCH diet COKE too MUCH diet COKE too MUCH diet COKE too MUCH diet COKE
TOO MUCH DIET COKE TOO MUCH DIET COKE TOO MUCH DIET COKE TOO MUCH DIET COKE
TOOMUCHDIETCOKETOOMUCHDIETCOKETOOMUCHDIETCOKETOOMUCHDIETCOKETOOMUCHDIETCOKETOOMUCHDIETCOKE--

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:45 AM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, May 09, 2001

Dear Tavie's Unrealistic and Pathetic Hopes and Expectations:

Fuck you.

Sincerely,
Tavie

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:28 PM | shower me with attention

I came to several profound realizations today but lost them all somewhere between school and the subway.
I must do that art homework.
I must learn to enjoy my youth while I still have it.
I I I must must must I I I I I I must must must must must must.
This is the current default thought in my head during the down-time:
Where be the love?

What's that supposed to mean? The love be all around me. Best not to question the default questions too carefully.

I stopped making things rhyme on the down-time. I find that sad. (Must disregard the fact that that first statement did, in fact, rhyme, for it is completely irrelevant.)

Need more Diet Coke.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:26 PM | shower me with attention

I am embarking upon an experiment to see how long a person can last subsisting only on Diet Coke and their own bodyfat.

Start your watches. Let's see how long this experiment lasts.

(My prediction: five "long" minutes.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:13 PM | shower me with attention

I feel I should get reacquainted with Asti.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:12 PM | shower me with attention

Someone fall in love with me. Now.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:11 PM | shower me with attention

Was listening to 'Til Tuesday today, specifically, "On Sunday". Came up this line:

So your pain becomes another souvenir
and your souvenirs become your world

Almost cried.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:57 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, May 08, 2001

My Erica, best friend since Kindygarten and senior at Pace, wrote me a long, rambly, encouraging, tear-inspiring and beautiful email after my latest whiny blog entry. I will indulge myself a bit and quote a piece:

As you continue in your studies you'll find what's out there that's been discussed to death already, and it'll make you consider what haven't been paid attention to yet...

...But now I'm realizing that I don't want to squander any of my talents (whatever the heck they may be) anymore. And I'm thinking about how unnecessary and wasteful it would be for you to squander any of your talents too. But it's not too late for us, is it? :)

When did she get so wise?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:29 AM | shower me with attention

Monday, May 07, 2001

Oh, I got Goose a present at MoMA yesterday. When and where shall she collect it?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:30 PM | shower me with attention

I haven't been very talk-y this semester. Particularly not in English class, which is historically a talk-y subject for me.
We've gotten two written assignments so far, one paper and one midterm, both months ago, and he only returned them to us this week. I got A- and A+, with comments about needing to flesh out paragraphs more, and a question at the end of one appraisal: "Since your viewpoints are so fresh, why not speak up more in class?"

It's like he suddenly realised I exist, because he called on me about a million times today. Usually he calls on the same few people (disproportionately gay boys, since the class is made up of mostly gay boys) to read or blither on about some fine point in some text. Today, I had to explain plot points, describe characters, and read a very wordy part aloud in a Joe Orton play. I did so in a bored, emotionless tone, as I am not accustomed to reading lines in front of people. I suppose I'll have to catch up on my English reading if this pattern is to continue. I did get a laugh; during one stage direction when the character I was reading is supposed to laugh, I paused, shrugged, and said dryly, "Ha ha ha." I think I have a career as an actress ahead of me.

Yesterday my mom and I were talking about Life, Careers and Wasted Potential and I asked her if I could get the job my dad has now. (I've taken the Civil Service exam and get sent offers for clerical positions, usually in Brooklyn mental facilities, for some reason, from time to time.) She looked surprised and said, "Of course."

This was a bit depressing. I know very well that my father has a very low-level, monotonous clerical position at the New York State department of labour, and that, unlike my mother, he never moved up in the ranks because he never felt the need to. (My mother is by far the breadwinner in the family.) But the idea that at this point in my life I could very well just take over for him, start now as a clerk and eventually work my way up to middle management-- fair pay, dull days, hoarding hours and money for vacations like my mother does... and this is how I see my life turning out. I'll fall back on civil service, waste a lot of potential. Anthropology will never take; I'll be frustrated by my lack of ability to make any sort of substantial contribution to the field, and the fact that teaching doesn't interest me (and, in fact, terrifies me).

Wasted Potential is a theme in my family. Who cares that my father taught himself to play the piano almost brilliantly by ear despite not reading a note of music, can draw and illustrate beautifully with no instruction, has calligraphed at a professional level for so long that he's forgotten how to write normally, can mimic accents and pick up bits of languages like some sort of pro? He's a low-level civil
servant at 63, and will retire as such.

I see a pattern, I really do. I'll be a civil servant, and I'll draw the signs for birthday and retirement parties in my office. "Oh, Octavia" (I'll have given up trying to make people know me as 'Tavie' for convenience's sake), they'll say, "I didn't know you could draw." Or sing or write or play several musical instruments terribly. "Oh, you know," I'll say, "it amuses from time to time."

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:18 PM | shower me with attention