tavie.com

Tara, I would totally do that. The screaming-hugging-picking up thing. (I, too, am far from wee.) The only unrealistic part of your dream (we'll leave in the "rather smashing" as a maybe {g}) is the hair cut short in a bob, which will never, ever, ever, never, ever, never, never, ever happen.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:55 PM | shower me with attention

What does it say about me, Kitana, that I would have chosen the singing and dancing hippies?

Also, I've been to Hawaii and it's great. You just have to revel in the tourist-y-ness of it all. And go boogie-boarding. I loved boogie-boarding. And snorkeling. First time I snorkeled. I was 12. I was scared, so the cute guide held my hand and we swam out together. Good times. Good times.

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

Wednesday, March 28, 2001

People from Sweden speak Swedish because they think it's cool, eh.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:45 PM | shower me with attention

Anyone who does not think I would make an excellent Jesus in a production of Godspell please raise their hand.

...

I thought so.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:19 PM | shower me with attention

One word:

WHEW!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:11 PM | shower me with attention

No, of course erin is right, the OLP concert is NOT on April 25, that's the comedy thing. It's some other date in late April. I forget when. A Monday. Anyhow.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:23 PM | shower me with attention

We decided that Kitana is Srinadican. (Sri Lankan heritage + Canadian in all respects + parents now live in America, plus she formerly lived in America = Srinadican.)

I don't like labeling people, and I think it's all granfalloonery. Mainly I just love saying Sri. It rolls off the tongue so yummily. Sri. Sri. Sri. Sri. That one there? That's my favourite cricket. Sri. Sri. Sri. Sri.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:24 PM | shower me with attention

If anyone knows anything about Our Lady Peace, please do share all you know, for I told Tommy the Canadophile in my sociology class to go ahead and buy me a ticket to their concert at Irving Plaza on April 25th. I agreed to this because I regretted not going to the Matthew Good Band concert he invited me to. He's a nice dude so I figured why not go and enjoy some music? Problem is, I know nothing about Our Lady Peace except there's a poster for them in the background in that Bauer Pot Hair sketch. I hope they're good. I have the capacity to like just about any music, though, so that's lucky.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:20 PM | shower me with attention

Here's the thing:
I think if I could hang out with Goose a lot more in real life, I'd be a much better person. I'd be cooler and exposed to more interesting things and people (namely, Goose) and just generally be happier.

Here's the problem:
I think I make Goose nervous because she makes me nervous. Why, you ask? Because she is, namely, everything I wish I was. Not just everything I wish I was in high school, but everything I wish I was now. This is a lot of pressure to put on poor Goose. How can she be expected to cope with someone who not-so-secretly idolizes her? Hanging out with Goose is, to some degree, like hanging out with Dave would be (if I could hang out with him). We couldn't have fun because I'd be aware, the whole time, how much I was sitting there just adoring them. That's a conversation-stopper, all that adoring.

Of course, I see a solution to that problem: (both the problem of hanging out with Goose, which might actually happen, and hanging out with Dave, which will likely never happen): I just gots to practice doing it a lot until I'm really good at it.

Whaddya say, Goose? I'll bring snacks. What do you care to snack on? I'll bring it.

(Do I sound too eager?)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:12 PM | shower me with attention

Why study when I can laugh my ass off at upcoming Dr Laura shows?

Beth, I can't believe I forgot Lea Thompson was in Spacecamp. She was the best, always going head-to-head against the loathsome Kate Capshaw (yes, that's her full name in my book) because she wanted to be first female flight chief or whatever the hell it's called.

I was wearing my Apollo XII misspelled tie pin on my jacket yesterday. The one that says Gonrad�Gordon�Bean. You know they stopped making those. So mine is probably a collector's item. And it's misspelled. I could make a fortune. {g} Anyhow, I walked into art class and Professor Swain looked at it and said, "Oh, okay. You couldn't come to class last week because you had to go to the moon."
Hee hee.

Damn, but it DOES look like it says "Gonad". That still makes me giggle.

Okay. Okay. Oriental Muslim Culture vs. Western Christian Culture. I'm on it. Geezus.

I loves you, Laura.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:25 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, March 27, 2001

Today was a bad day.
I had a nervous breakdown in art class. We were trying to draw Lexington avenue from the seventh-floor overpass and I just couldn't do it. I don't get one-point perspective or two-point perspectives or vanishing points or horizon lines or anything and I was just staring at the paper. I was thinking about my midterm tomorrow and how I'm going to fail it. And then I had to get up real quick and leave so I could cry. Which is weird. I don't know why I had to cry but I did. So I went downstairs to cry. Then I waited until my face felt more normal and went back upstairs and just sat there. Professor Swain came over to me and we talked and he told me I'm a talented artist and then we just shot the breeze. He told me a story about when he was in
college studying for an anthro exam (even though I didn't tell him about the one I'm going to fail tomorrow) that invovled a phone call to Fidel Castro, a giant jar full of pennies, and a beery meal with his professor. Then he showed me how to do perspective again. But I still don't get it. It was pretty amazing that he told me I'm talented, though. I don't even think he knew I'd been crying because I did wait until my face was normal.

Every time I try to study I just can't. I try to write these essays and my brain can't do it. It goes away. There's too much information. I don't know what to do with it. If I can't even write the essays here at home with all the articles in front of me, how am I supposed to be able to write the essays tomorrow in school without the articles?

So what am I going to do, I ask you?
Fail the midterm. After that I'll fail the class, because even if I can do the rest of the work I'll be discouraged from having failed the midterm. Then my average will go way down and I'll be so depressed that I'll drop out of school like I did back in grade 10 and I'll have to be a civil servant working in a mailroom or behind a desk at some hospital for the criminally insane. (Seriously, ever since I took the civil service exam I've gotten position notices in the mail every few months, and most of them seem to be from some hospital for the criminally insane in Brooklyn or something.) The worst part will be having to give up everything I've accomplished up to now, all because I can't get my mind together to write and memorize the important facts of three essays about colonialism.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:04 PM | shower me with attention

I'm screwed, I'm gonna fail.
I know it's very un-Zen of me to say that, but I am. I sat down to write the essays today and wrote the first one and then got tired and went to bed.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

Serra, I have seen someone sit in Dave's lap, but it was Crissy so I don't think it'd count. Plus, she's very wee. I wouldn't sit in Dave's lap if he begged me too (ooh, there's an image), and break those pretty white gams of his, for the world.

I did have a dream once. A very sexy dream. I was at a party, and Dave was in my lap, and he was scooching around. I said, "You'd better stop doing that if you don't want something to happen that I don't think you want to happen." But he ignored me, the little devil, and kept scooching around ever-so-fetchingly, and, well, yeah. {g} Homina.

All this lap imagery seems so silly now that I know I'm going to fail anthropology. (Please ignore me, as you have seen I always get like this before a test, but I am going to fail this one.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:53 PM | shower me with attention

Monday, March 26, 2001

It just cracks me up that Joaquin Phoenix is the little kid from Spacecamp. This is a movie that, for some reason, I used to watch every time it was on tv in Brooklyn. It stars the loathsome Kate Capshaw as an astronaut who's teaching kids at space camp. The kids are your usual band of tokens and stereotypes. One day Kate and the kids go inside a real, live spaceship to see how it works and guess what happens? Guess. Guess. Go on, guess. That's right, the spaceship accidentally blasts off into space. Luckily, the kids have been trained to be different members of a flight crew and know exactly what to do. Joaquin (ne� Leaf) plays the younger kid who is a genius so they let him stay at space camp even though he's too young. His best friend is a robot. The robot is the one who accidentally blasts them off into space.

Damn, that movie rocks in such a sucky way. I think I'll go watch it. Guess what? I have it on tape. (My mom brought it home for me one day. I pretended to be embarrassed but gave up quickly so I could watch it. It cost her three dollars.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:45 PM | shower me with attention

We have no cable again. This happens every time the weather's bad. Time Warner City Cable fucking sucks so fucking badly. I had to have Gina tape the Oscars for my mom and since I was there anyway I decided to stay over Sunday night and come home on an early PATH train. Consequently, I've been very sleepy all day and wanted to go to bed when I got home. Instead of doing so, I did the laundry and started making iron-on tee shirts.

I've stopped because ironing tee shirts makes me sweaty. I still have a lot to go but I'll do them later, goddammit.

Speaking of things I have to do, I have to write four essays based on hundreds and hundreds of pages of mostly dense reading, and memorize them for my test on Wednesday. I really don't want to do this. But I will. I might do it tomorrow night (i.e. last minute), though. Which probably means missing the chat. But, oh well, I'll see most of those people this weekend anyway. {g}

I wish we had cable. I would call the cable company and bitch but I'm too tired.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:38 PM | shower me with attention

Kitana, seconded.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:10 PM | shower me with attention

The amount of studying I have to do for my anthro midterm on Wednesday is extremely painful.
The amount of laundry I have to do by Thursday is extremely painful.

Goose is having an identity crisis. Although I'm dearly devoted to her nickname, I will certainly call her Hannah if that is her wish. However, I will not call her Mae.
I, too, watched Steampipe Alley, by the by.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:07 PM | shower me with attention

Sunday, March 25, 2001

I'm pleased. Lots of updated blogs to read... and respond to when I get home. Must remember to tape the Oscars for Mom.
So, I'm at Mint Manor and I GOTS A ROOM, BABY! A ROOM OF ONE'S OWN! My very own room. And it's mine. Linn and I cleaned out the red room. Mostly it was Linn. She's more organized than I am. We moved all the boxes to one wall and then I moved the air mattress up to it and now it's MY ROOM, baby! Next week I shall bring my Michael Penn poster and my dream catcher and eventually my sheep, McFolson, will live there too. But not next week because that's TORONTO WEEK(end)!

So, Friday was gorgeous and sunny, but Saturday was not. Still, Gina's friend Sherri came over with her boys, Abe and Cody, and we all went to the Statue of Liberty. The best part was the ferry because it was just too damned cold. Linn and I tried to wait on the long line but we just couldn't. Anyhow, Abe got pinkeye so we just took the ferry back and came back to Mint Manor and Gina made fajitas and we played with the boys. I love playing with the boys. I love that they used to only know Linn's name but now they only remember my name. Linn said to Cody, "What's my name?" and Cody said "Tabie!"
HA HA HA HA!!!
We went up to my new room (this was pre-air mattress) and coloured with the old crayons. Linn and I wanted to use our new box of 120 Wizard-box Crayolas but we didn't want them to get all yucky and Cody was breaking crayons, so we just used the old ones. We were so engrossed, Linn and I, in colouring that the two of us were still colouring when the boys ran downstairs to get ready to leave.

Then even though I was REALLY SLEEPY, Linn forced me and Gina to go see "Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon". It was really pretty to look at but the writing, bleagh. Me no likey. I think I would have enjoyed it more had I not been struggling to stay awake the whole time, and if we hadn't been a part of the MOST ANNOYING MOVIE AUDIENCE IN HISTORY. There was everything-- people running up and down the aisles constantly, cell phones going off, obnoxious boys in the front making obnoxious sounds, loud rustling candy wrappers, loud stupid comments, inappropriate laughter, etc.
Of course we DID contribute to SOME of the inappropriate laughter, but what do you expect? The guy's nickname was "Dark Cloud", which just a few weeks ago we had dubbed Gina as her Superhero Identity. She IS Dark Cloud, and Linn her trusty sidekick, Silver Lining!

Also, did I mention, Linn made us turn off softcore porn to watch "Gone With the Wind". I find that unjust.

Another thing I find rude (but in a completely different way) is people emailing me things like "Your new web page sucks" and "How do you know who Dave's g-friend is?"
1. No one's forcing you to look at it.
2. It's none of your business how I know her.

Jesus Christ on a bike, if you don't like the web page, you are more than welcome to piss off. :)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:14 AM | shower me with attention