tavie.com

I finally watched my Muppet Show DVD yesterday, and it was so very good. So very good. I can't get this song out of my head now.

Way down south way down in Borneo
there's a wild man called the Borneo
way down in Borneo Bay.

I see that everyone has had a marvelous weekend without me. But I'm not bitter. No, Buckley's Cough Mixture is bitter, but not me.

When you see them dance the borneo
you'll put all your jewels in pawneo
way down in Borneo Bay.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:41 PM | shower me with attention

Ha. I just saw myself on Comedy Central. Sitting in the front row of Scott Thompson's Pulp Comics special. I haven't seen this in years.

I just noticed that Scott looked directly at me when he said, "The ugly best friend of the pretty girl". (I was sitting next to Erica and erin at the time.)

Hmm. Was he insulting me?

Ah, but he also looked at me when he talked about his boyfriend growing out his hair: "One day it'll look really, really good". I remember that because he looked into my eyes when he said that and I felt a glow.

And there's erin laughing at the Cher jokes.

We used to be in a lot of audiences...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:25 AM | shower me with attention

The shelf spit the Mentor Anthology of American Poetry
back at me
like a tooth from a broken
mouth.
Ouch.

God what a wasted weekend. Cough cough. TV. Cough cough. Write incoherent paper. Cough cough. Knit knit. Cough cough.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:31 AM | shower me with attention

Saturday, February 28, 2004

I've got two tickets to see A Wrinkle in Time at the International Children's Film Festival. It appears to be the same version that I saw a preview for when I was in Disney World-- appalling commercial, Alfre Woodard spouting New-Age-y poop that seemed to have nothing to do with the book. That could just be the marketing people's fault. Anyway, it's a Canadian production, so that's something.

My mom wanted to go with me but she's gonna be in South Carolina with my aunt. So someone's gonna have to go with me. Step forward, sinners.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:23 AM | shower me with attention

Goddammit.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:10 AM | shower me with attention

Four hours. That's what I'm entitled to now. Four hours.

At least I'm up in time for Roseanne.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:17 AM | shower me with attention

Friday, February 27, 2004

I've been awake almost all day. Too miserable to sleep.

Why is the number one ingredient in Nyquil high-fructose corn syrup? I'm dyin', here.

The Bakhtin article is even worse than the Derrida article. At least it's shorter. This guy just needs everyone in the class to hate him, doesn't he. It's really unreasonably complicated, especially without any background or context. Are we supposed to automatically know what heteroglossia means? Critical theory was not a prerequisite for this course. Neither was semiolinguistics. This is just bogus. And I speak as one of the few who don't have to rewrite the first response paper.

High-fructose corn syrup, give me a break. Someone come over here and put me out of my misery already.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:19 PM | shower me with attention

My nose runs and my throat hurts. I can't concentrate on schoolwork anymore, nor can I sleep. I cleaned out some of the kitchen cabinets. I wonder if anyone will notice the ancient cans of snapper turtle soup (boo!), chanterelles, stuffed grape leaves or refried beans are gone. I only threw out the really dusty ones, for pete's sake. Five bucks says that tomorrow someone-- someone of the male persuasion-- will dig old cans of crap out of the garbage to hoard for another 14 years.

I also took every single teabag that can be identified without the box and put them all in one big bin. It was like a teabag museum in there. Now it's all neat.

Tell me I lead a frivolous life.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:47 AM | shower me with attention

In the continuing saga of "Roseanne" Reruns at 2 am: The Blog:

Boy howdy, I love it when Roseanne does her White Trash Dance. It's usually accompanied by harmonica music.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:38 AM | shower me with attention

Thursday, February 26, 2004

Oh, yeah: I just saw a South Park bit that totally ripped off an old Rowan Atkinson routine.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:56 PM | shower me with attention

Much to do. Two papers and a quiz next week, readings and translations and memorizations. Finish up baby sweater already. Just finish it. For god's sake. And Andrew's girlfriend, sweet Kate, has dislocated her knee in an extremely hair-curdlingly painful-sounding way. To cheer her up, he has suggested an impromptu movie fest at her house tomorrow night. So no Mint Manor until Saturday. Which means that I have to do at least one reading, all the Latin written work, and one paper tonight before I go to sleep. (That's easy. I don't go to sleep until dawn.)

Think I'm getting a cold.

Excellent Sex & Gender prof returned my first response paper with much excellent praise. Boy, he talks so fast, he seems so jumpy, he's so damn slender-- he must have the highest metabolism in the universe. This is what I thought of today as he discussed the intersection of sexism and racism in welfare reform policies: "I wish you could just suck the metabolism out of a person and transfer it to yourself."

I had some points that would have fit in well with the discussion (I know because he raised them himself a few minutes after I thought of them), but was still too shy to offer them to the class. It's just too big a class. Don't have the problem in Satire or Latin, but I just can't bring myself to speak in S&G. I feel bad, too, because he really wants us to.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:46 PM | shower me with attention

We almost finished watching The Rock yesterday (about 15 minutes to go... the green glass ball was rolling off the lighthouse when he stopped it mid-frame...) and still no clue as to why we're watching it.

He said if we choose to write about this as our "movie" paper (as opposed to Wag the Dog or Man on the Moon), we can write a paper about how it's not a satire-- but, he stressed, we really have to convince him that it's not. So I guess the thesis is EVERYTHING is satire until proven innocent? (Actually, yes, that was the whole point of the Derrida paper. I should've seen it coming.)

I don't buy it. Weak. He'd better come up with something more convincing next class.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:13 AM | shower me with attention

Oh, creepy. Do you know what? The actress on Roseanne who played Charlotte Tilden, the shy, chubby sister of the next-door-neighbour airhead who bothers Darlene and flirts with David? That's the same girl who played the young Christina Crawford in Mommy Dearest.

I can't believe I'm disturbed by this, but I am.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:18 AM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, February 25, 2004

I really did want to go out tonight. This sucks. This sucks. Now I don't get to see Kitana until next week, don't get to see people making fools out of themselves at Movieoke, and don't have any excuse to put off my homework.

I really want to graduate so I can get some money. That's my only goal in life anymore. Graduate so I can get a crappy job so I can go out without my friends having to pay for me.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:21 PM | shower me with attention

~~More Dave stuff:~~

WHEN am I gonna start paying attention to which blog I'm posting in?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:53 PM | shower me with attention

Inca, Inca
Lord of Stinka
likes to drinka
water,
likes to lap
straight from the tap
and I don't think he oughter.

At very worst
he'll quench his thirst
by drinking from my cuppy.
That little finka,
what a Stinka.
Shoulda got a puppy.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:54 AM | shower me with attention

No! Stupid! No! Stupid! I had stopped taking melatonin because I realized that it had made me absolutely dead the next day. Drugged. Stupid. Unable to wake up no matter how much I try. Not worth it, eh?

Except ten minutes ago I saw a bottle on the counter and took one without thinking. On a whim. What the fuck is that?

So, okay, class in 12 hours, let's see what happens. It's Satire, it's the second half of The Rock, so at the very worst, I sleep through it and watch my tape of The Rock at home. But I won't do that. (Besides, what if he explains why in hell we're watching The Rock in the first place? I can't miss that.)

All I talk about is my sleeping habits. I bet you're missing that knitting talk right about now, aren'tcha?

Addendum: False alarm.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:50 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, February 24, 2004

The SWEDES are coming! The SWEDES are coming!

It's snowing out. I'm going to class now. I have deliberately skipped part of my Latin homework. He gave us a practice copy of the National Latin Exam and it was too damn hard and I refused to do it. I can't remember the last time I deliberately skipped homework.

Neca me. (Necate me?)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:44 PM | shower me with attention

Packrats and collectors take note: starting March 1, the last place in New York City that accepts subway tokens will switch to Metrocard.

Must remember to go buy a souvenier token before then.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:56 PM | shower me with attention

WHY CAN'T I SLEEP AT NIGHT???:???

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:10 AM | shower me with attention

Monday, February 23, 2004

Frodo of the nine fingers
and the ring of doooooom
Why does he have nine fingers?
And why is it a ring of doooooom?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:47 PM | shower me with attention

All weekend, my sleeping was marvelously fucked up. I'd fall asleep around 8 am, and be awakened between 12 and 1. Then I'd fall asleep around 3 pm, and wake up at 5 or 6 pm. Three days in a row this went on.

Yesterday, I made myself get up before 5, and did the Exercise thing even though I was sleepy. (Yes, walking at a sustained pace, and uphill, is definitely Exercise for me.) Very lovely, that was. And last night I went to bed before 12 am, and was asleep by 2 am. VERY exciting.

Except that my body, as usual, decided to get all the make-up sleep that I'd missed over the weekend, and now I've gotten up groggy at 2:30 pm. Which is better than it could be, but not, as they say, good.

They say people with messed-up sleeping patterns should keep a sleep journal. I'm afraid that this is it.

Now, today I'm going to go to Satire class and we're going to watch, I swear to god, The Rock. Starring Nicholas Cage and Sean Connery, yes, that Rock. In Satire class. I'm not sure where he's going with this. Possibilities:
1. He's trying to show us what satire isn't.
2. He just really likes The Rock. (It is one of the few action movies I genuinely enjoy. We have it on tape.)
3. He doesn't understand what satire is.
4. It really is a satire, and I don't understand what satire is.
5. The whole class is itslef a satire of a Satire Class. (This last suggestion is Stephanie's. It's my favourite.)

So, time will tell. After that, I'm off to carve more of Stinka's likeness into a piece of wood. Good times.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:14 PM | shower me with attention

Sunday, February 22, 2004

Did you know that there's no love for Laurie Metcalf on the web? Not a single fan page. Unbelievable.

I think she's one of the most talented people in television history.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:00 AM | shower me with attention

Saturday, February 21, 2004

I must stop finding things like this funny.

Die, hipsters, die. (Not you guys.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:39 AM | shower me with attention

Oh, you don't expect an update from me every day, do you? Because there really is nothing going on with me. Except healthy eating and unhealthy sleeping.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:35 AM | shower me with attention

Friday, February 20, 2004

I'm copying this game from Beth because it looks fun:

The Rules are:
Step 1: Open your Winamp or other MP3 player.
Step 2: Put all of your music on random.
Step 3: Write down the first ten songs it plays, no matter how embarrassing.

This is what I got from my iTunes library:

1. This Will Be Our Year- Zombies
2. Hallelujah (clip from "Dress to Kill") - Eddie Izzard
3. Theme from Space Mountain - WDW Resort
4. Making Plans for Nigel (Demo) - XTC
5. From a Whisper to a Scream - Elvis Costello & Glenn Tilbrook
6. Monster Mash - Bobby Boris Pickett
7. Down to Goblin Town - The Hobbit
8. Mad Tea Party - WDW Resort
9. Run Run Rudolph - Chuck Berry
10. Norwegian Wood - Beatles

I forgot I had all that holiday music on there. But the funniest thing is, I have, by far, more showtunes than anything else in my library, but not one of them was randomly selected. (I guess runner-up is soundtracks from Disney theme park rides. Ulp.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:09 AM | shower me with attention

Thursday, February 19, 2004

I've been walking around with toothpaste on my face all the livelong day.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:10 PM | shower me with attention

Hooway!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:19 PM | shower me with attention

I like to think that ABC is the number four network because they report stuff like this as news.

Not only (should/does) no one care about Ashton Kutcher's age, but citing The National Enquirer as a source is just sloppy. And trashy.

Speaking of the news, last night I saw one of my favourite childhood books, The Devil's Storybook was one of the books "concerned parents" were trying to ban . Didn't we go through all this in the '80s? There was a special Family Ties episode, we all read The Cat Ate My Gymshorts. Enough. That's one of the best books ever. It's sitting next to me right now. (In a pentagram I drew on the floor with goat's blood, like it taught me.)

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

I love this article about a grandma who refuses to let go of her long hair.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:31 AM | shower me with attention

Since today was a Monday schedule, I had woodprint workshop today. I sat in a nice little corner for two hours and tried to figure out how to use carving tools with a block of wood. I'm carving a likeness of the Inca Stinka to make a print of. With rollers and ink and things.

It was pretty nifty. I only nicked myself once, at the very beginning when I uncapped the first tool and discovered that it was sharp. After that it was gravy.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:22 AM | shower me with attention

Oh thank god, they're BOTH on.

What a strange sentiment.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:37 AM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, February 18, 2004

I was told Dave would be on Jimmy Kimmel Live tonight, but all listings say it's Rob Schneider. Time will tell!

Someone keeps confusing Dave Foley with Rob Schneider.

What kind of universe is THAT?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:21 PM | shower me with attention

Create your own comic? Addictive. Really, really addictive.

(Thanks a lot, sarah c.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:30 AM | shower me with attention

Wacka-wacka-wacka.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:49 AM | shower me with attention

Preface#1: Forgive me for the following, but there's no one around/awake/online to discuss this with except you, dear blog.

Preface#2: I'm not one of those Queer Eye fanatics-- I've gone on record as "not getting" the show. Recently that has changed, and I have discovered that I quite like it. I don't go out of my way to watch new episodes, but if I see it on I watch it.

Okay. The five Queer Eye guys are on Conan, and, are they arranged on the couch in order of "importance"? As in, "popularity"? Or "most famous"? I've noticed this with KITH too. It's usually, in order of closest-to-Conan to furthest-from-Conan:

Dave, Scott, Kevin/Mark/Bruce (the last three interchangeable.)

Now the Queer Eye guys are arranged:

Kyan, Carson, Jai, Thom, Ted.

This seems to support my theory. As I understand it, that it roughly the order of their popularity, from most to least.

Which is bogus, because Ted is totally my favourite. And Carson annoys me.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:08 AM | shower me with attention

My new coat is made out of polyester, acrylic, and MAGIC. I wore it to school and a boy talked to me after Latin class. Boys NEVER talk to me! (Except to ask the time, or if they're already my friends.)

Ah, I'm immature, I'll always be immature.

I'm pretty bored in my Sex & Gender class. It's not that the topics don't interest me, it's just that I've tread this ground so many times in so many different classes. We read a good article by Gayle S. Rubin last night, something about Notes for a Radical Theory of Sexuality, and it was really well-written, but it didn't seem to cover anything particularly new for me. In fact, I think I may have read it before.

So, anyway. And that's the direct opposite of My Life According to Ovid. Floundering. Drowning. Have I done anything about it yet? No. I never study outside of class, except to do written homework. That is a big, big mistake.

Beeble-eeble-deeble-eeble-eeble. (In my mind, that's the phonetic spelling of the sound you make when you expel air through your lips as you apply pressure to them with your forefinger in an up and down motion.)

Meg Ryan is on Conan and her face looks like something out of Madame Tussaud. Ha ha. And now Conan is singing the Charles in Charge theme song. Conan can make anything funny.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:53 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

I got a new coat! No more bag lady! It makes me look like a Go Back! ("What's a Go-Back?" "Never mind.")

Actually, Gina bought the new coat and I will pay her Friday. But it was very cheap-- apparently there IS such a thing as a President's Day Sale! Who knew?-- and my mother has decided to reimburse me for it since she was sad seeing her grown daughter walking around in hand-me-downs all the time. Thanks, Mom.

Now, let's see, what else: Oh, I have to leave here in half an hour, so I really should get out of bed.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:13 PM | shower me with attention

Monday, February 16, 2004

My poor sweet darling. She went to a club with my sister last night, and lost her cell phone, and worst of all, had to spend the night in my apartment. In my bed. While I was here at Mint Manor.

She doesn't seem to think it was a bad thing, but I know she had to spend the night in my weird bed, and then wake up and listen to my weird Dad talk about his days as an office mascot/hanger-on at Mad Magazine in the '50s.

She seems to like weird things, which makes me love her so.

I hope those silly club-kids return her phone.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:24 PM | shower me with attention

Hush little Tavie don't say a word mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird

Rockabye Tavie in the treetop when the wind blows the cradle will rock

Hushabye and goodnight go to sleep little Tavie.

Whine.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:42 AM | shower me with attention

Sunday, February 15, 2004

Sis came over to Mint Manor last night to bring me some more Gleemonex, and spend the night. She left this morning with my friends, who are also her friends now I guess, to go shopping in the Village or something.

Which brings me to my deficiencies as a Young Person.

I don't like to go shopping. I don't like to go shopping because I never have any money lately, but even when I am in a financially happy state, I don't like to shop for clothes. Clothes don't tend to look good on me, so I don't tend to like to seek them out. (I do like to shop for yarn and books.)

I hate dancing. I don't do it. Not in public, and only to one song in private. Therefore, I hate clubs, and clubbing, and all manner of things having to do with clubbing. I can't wear the skimpy clothes, I look stupid in makeup, boys don't talk to me, I don't dance, and I can't even enjoy my favourite drinks anymore. (I can have hard liquor, but what's the point of going out to sit alone drunk at a bar while everyone dances?)

Related to this hatred of clubs, I also hate parties. I hate being in a place full of people I don't know, or barely know. I hate loud music that I can't sing along to, which is most music. I hate my social awkwardness with strangers, and I hate, above all things, small talk. (Nobody read anything personal into this, because I love going to parties of people I love if it makes them happy, especially if they have nice friends, which they do.)

I don't mind bars, but again, the fun-drinks thing is a problem, as is the money thing. There's only so far sitting with a drink can take me in terms of fun.

And this seems to exhaust the whole "going out" thing, which is supposed to be a big part of being a Young Person. Unless you want to go neon bowling, which I love, but Young People tend to sneer at.

I also hate conventions, which excludes me from Doing Things with even Young Nerds, who, theoretically, are my people.

What else do Young People like to do? I wouldn't know. I like museums and bookstores, and yarn shops and libraries, and button stores and craft stores. I like looking at puppies in pet-shop windows and watching people walk their dogs in the park. I like musical theatre. I like well-done improv and other forms of comedy, and gay piano bars. But most of all, I like sitting at home watching tv and knitting, or reading, or doing my crossword, or surfing the internet. This is a problem. This makes me both an Old Person at 24, and a shut-in. I understand and I also understand and appreciate my friends' efforts to get me to go out. But there is so little I want to do out there.

Part of this, you understand, comes from my history of depression and agoraphobia, residues of which make it difficult to leave the home base when I get comfy in it, even if I want to go out. But I fight it daily, I make the effort, I conquer it more frequently than I don't.

But aside from that, what I'm thinking is that what I really am is old. And yesterday I discovered a new patch of grey hairs-- near the front of my head-- to prove it. There's like five or six of those bastards in there.

Anyway, I feel guilty that I don't like to go out and do things, so if anyone can think of things in this great city that I would enjoy doing, maybe my friends can make me do those things.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:59 PM | shower me with attention

I'm definitely getting healthier. I just made it up the hill without stopping once and without getting to the gasping-for-breath stage. By the time I crested it my legs didn't hurt at all and I didn't want to stop. I think I reached that mythical exercise Zone they talk about.

Of course Mint Manor is at the top of the hill, and my limbs were frozen despite the exercise, so there was no reason to continue. But, still. That's a teeny little milestone.

Oh Donna oh oh Donna oh oh oh lookin for my Donna

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:36 PM | shower me with attention

Stephanie loves comeeeeeedians.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:14 AM | shower me with attention

Saturday, February 14, 2004

By the way, the lesson that should be taken away from the silliness below is: I will never cut my hair. I will never cut my hair. I will never cut my hair. It will always be this long.

Thank you and Happy HappyPeopleEatingChocolateWithTheirLovers Day.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:04 PM | shower me with attention

I'm trying to decide on how to wear my hair next when it grows back.

erin is helping me decide. What do you think of these?

I've always had a Julie Andrews thing, you know.

I'm always on top of the trends.

"I'll SPIN yew out of here!"

I'd have to learn how to play the KEYTAR.

I wonder if I could be patient enough to grow back enough hair for the rattail. We call this one the Til Tavie.

Nice, huh?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:21 AM | shower me with attention

Look what I found!

Ewwwww!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:28 AM | shower me with attention

Friday, February 13, 2004

Happy Friday the 13th!

I've never seen a Friday the 13th movie, except Jason Goes to Hell, which was really, really bad-- even in the context of these slasher films it was bad-- but last week I did see Freddy Vs. Jason, which was a pretty good parody of all of those films. The best scene in it involved a clueless, puffed-up, bureaucratic nincompoop of a police officer, delivering his stupid rant with a perfectly-framed picture of George Dubya Bush in the background of the shot. Hee heeeeeeee!

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, or as us normal* people like to call it, Saturday.

*bitter/lonely/jaded/busy

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:11 PM | shower me with attention

Thursday, February 12, 2004

I almost forgot that I'm going to see Soundtracks Live: Pretty in Pink tonight. How silly would that have been if I had just fallen asleep instead?

Luckily, my knight in shining armour, the beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Paul Rudd appeared on tv in a commercial, and it reminded me of how I heard about the time Paul Rudd and a puppy were in a Soundtracks Live, and it made me remember. Thank you, my splendid saviour.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:41 PM | shower me with attention

I made such an excellent low-carb cole slaw today, I should get a prize. I choose as my prize... cole slaw with my lunch!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:30 PM | shower me with attention

Well, I finally did it! My hair is all on its way to Guatemala as we speak. Are ya happy now??

...I can't sleep.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:37 AM | shower me with attention

Thanks to holidays and weekends, I don't have school for another six days. That's pretty great. I should be managing my time better. I did some stuff, but there's lots more to do. I want to say right now that I don't like Derrida. He's hell to read. Hell, hell, hell. And Professor Satire deconstructed The Secret Agent today to the point where we were all rolling our eyes at him. But I'll read the Derrida. I always do the readings. I always do the response papers. Look at me jinxing myself. I'll stop talking about it now.

I don't have any more to say. I have to take my dad to a doctor's appointment tomorrow. I don't think he's too doddering to get there by himself, but my mom wants me to take him. I'm not very good at waking up in time for appointments just lately but I said I'd do it.

This whole thing with my dad being an old person, I'm not into it. I wish it would please not be so. Although it's not too very much different from how he's ever been. No one's ever been able to take care of themselves except Mom. Bunch of doddering fools, the rest of us, really.

Now Kirsten is telling me yet again that I'm a terrible sister. If I don't get to sleep soon I can also shoot for terrible daughter when I sleep through my dad's appointment tomorrow. Anyone wanna go for terrible friend? Hey, I just remembered, I never called my aunt back about her shopping for a laptop. Terrible niece-- she shoots-- she scores--

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:10 AM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

Oh, people rob liquor stores all the time! I SLEPT WITH ARNIE!!!

We all have our nightly rituals. Mine, lately, has been: do my homework, take a bath (possibly at the same time); do more homework and/or surf the internet until 2 a.m. Then, as a treat for having done my homework, I watch the two episodes of Roseanne on Nick@Nite.

In a perfect world, this would be followed by my immediately falling asleep and waking up before the afternoon. In reality, it's often followed by my surfing the internet all night and forcing myself to try to sleep around dawn. Kee-rap.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:56 AM | shower me with attention

My battery has been dead for about a month. (Not my personal battery. I don't run on battery, but rather on a complex interaction of biochemical systems, fueled by a delicate balance between fat, protein, and carbohydrates.)

Luckily the power cord, Power Cord #4, still works. So I've been using that, but it is annoying. A new battery for a 14" dual-USB Snow White 2002 ibook costs about $139 anywhere you look. (If I had a 12" dual-USB Snow White 2002 ibook, it would be $99. Or less. Isn't that unfair?)

If anyone knows where I can find one cheaper than $139, by all means enlighten me!

By the way, wasn't Dave cute on Will and Grace last night? He plays gay so... much like he plays straight. Which is very nice indeed. And he plays crazy even better than that.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:50 AM | shower me with attention

I think my greatest talent is my ability to dawdle.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:06 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, February 10, 2004

I think sometimes people can be psychic.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:46 AM | shower me with attention

In lieu of studying, I had an Animated Conversation with my mother about how Third Conjugation Latin Verbs are completely insane. Together with their similarly fucked-up friends, Fourth Conjugation Latin Verbs, they are a bunch of rowdy rakehells out to make life miserable. If I lived in ancient Rome, I said, I would boycott all such verbs-- I would not make, not say, not write, not live.

But my mother characterized them as free spirits, individuals, outsiders, rebels. The lovers, the dreamers, the music-makers. (I don't know where she gets that; those look like First Conjugation activities to me. Amare, somnare, cantare.) They're the Jim Hensons of verbs.

Hrmphh.

Roman women had no identities of their own. They were named after their fathers. Furthermore, they were given their fathers' family names; that would be the equivalent of my parents naming me Phillippa. Imagine if it worked like that today. Kirsten would be Phillippa Minor, I would be Phillippa Major. I would have friends like Franca, Croulia Minor, Jungia Major, Hulihana, Ananda, Tossata Minor, Apella. Man, that'd be stupid.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:20 AM | shower me with attention

Monday, February 09, 2004

So, I tried to plug in my (old, obsolete) Superdisk drive last night for the first time in months, to see if I could find some old scanned drawings to inspire me for my homework.

What I found was that the USB interface cable had been ripped out of the drive, the USB end plugged, for some reason, into my Airport Base Station (which is disconnected, since I use a neighbour's network at all times), the broken end left dangling. Apparently they didn't notice that the other end of the cable had snapped completely in two, leaving part of it stuck in the drive, with pins falling out all around it.

So I can't access any of my old Superdisks because some asshole decided to touch something they didn't understand. Thanks, asshole. (Only one of two people could have done this, by the way.)

People need to stop touching my shit. Who's gonna buy me a new cable?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:09 PM | shower me with attention

So, as usual my anxiety was the product of needless overimagining. I only managed to come up with two drawings, try though I might, and they were both along the lines of the type of thing I usually doodle in the margins anyway-- a drawing of Inca Stinka, simplified to his essences of black-and-whiteness, and a self-portrait in left-facing profile that emphasizes the largeness of my double chins. He gave both a cursory glance, a perfunctory, "Perfect, perfect" and moved on. (As to my anxiety about the level of drawing ability that I would display in comparison to the rest of the class, again, needless worrying as I surveyed a majority of pleasantly childish flowers in vases and graffiti-style cartoon figures. My sisters and brothers in Lack of Imagination.)

So that's good. The hard part will be cutting Inca's and my likenesses into the wood with a minimum of gore and self-mutilation.

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

Sunday, February 08, 2004

Aw fudge. I thought it was tomorrow, even though the records indicate that I used to know what day it was.

So I almost missed MATT DAY.

I ought to be locked up in a smelly toilet for a very long time.

But all is not lost! Like Scrooge on Christmas morn, I've been given a reprieve. I still have time to celebrate, by doing my Latin homework and my Satire homework. As a tribute to my little love, who also is taking Latin and Satire. (Who is pullus and who is ova? Gender would indicate that I am cracked. Count the entendres!)

Happy Matt Day, citizens! Go forth and be brilliant without trying! Make people loathe and adore you! Drink and be merry, but take only cheese fries for nourishment! (I would try to abstain from meat in tribute, but Dr Atkins would have a cow. Or, rather, he would have me have a cow.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:14 PM | shower me with attention

1. Welcome, Kristen!

2. Just sign it and shut up already. I don't wanna hear any lip.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:10 PM | shower me with attention

Saturday, February 07, 2004

This is the last thing I'm doing before I make myself go read that boring Joseph Conrad book:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ERIN!!!!

I think we've been friends for eight years now. That's my lucky number! Maybe this is the year we'll win the lottery! We should buy some tickets.

Thank you for Rent (sorry), Divine Comedy, Buffy, Degrassi, Kochalka, Tenacious D, the UCB theatre, and my renewed interest in TMBG, Nickelodeon and overt Cuteness. And for the websites. And the hot love-'em-ups at lunch.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:00 AM | shower me with attention

Let's not talk about my deeply shameful preoccupation with my Limewire-cobbled soundtrack of Wicked: The Musical. I've even begun to stop skipping over the super-cheesy, Jekyll-and-Hyde-esque Generic-Love-Song/Power-Ballad-Number-Five-Hundred-and-Seventy-Three. (They're all power ballads, every single one of them. Cheesy, cheesy power ballads. Not even gorgonzola-cheesy. They're Kraft-singles-cheesy. How I love them.)
I blame Gregory Maguire for writing a brilliant book that was turned into an addictive-in-its-blatant-mediocrity musical. It's so damned Everything-That's-Wrong-With-Broadway. But I'm so damned into it.

Dammit, Stephen Schwartz.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:51 AM | shower me with attention

Friday, February 06, 2004

I lied when I said there'd be no homework for that woodcut relief class. There's one homework assignment, due Monday: bring in three drawings, not figure drawings from previous classes, done in bold stroke (light on detail), in pen-and-ink. We can use or redraw drawings we've done in the past if we want, but he'll get mad and yell if they're figure drawings and if they're not in black ink. Abstract, realistic, whatever we want, he says he doesn't care about the content.

So, yeah, I don't really draw. I draw for classes and I doodle in my notebooks, but I haven't actually spent any time drawing since my last drawing class. Except for my Obese Disney Princesses Collection. I don't think I want to bring 'Sno Lightweight, Chinderella and the gang in and make woodcut stamps out of them.

I found a bottle of ink and some brushes and calligraphy pens (thanks, Dad) and some paper but I'm at a loss at where to go from here. I'm not big when it comes to inspiration and imagination and all that, at least not when it comes to drawing things.

Ideas welcome.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:02 PM | shower me with attention

Thursday, February 05, 2004

I had to wait for an hour and a half to see the doctor today and spent the whole time worrying I was going to be late for my Sex and Gender class. (The "if you miss three you're out of the class, and if you're a minute late you're marked absent" class.) First, every little old lady in the world needed to go before me. Then he decided on a whim that he wanted to draw blood, even though I was just there for a new scrip. We started talking about crossword puzzles and I think I was there ten minutes longer than was strictly necessary just telling him the answers to last Sunday's Times puzzle. ("The Purrfect Storm, you see, Doc, it's a pun....")

I got to school three minutes after the class had ended, so, there's one absence. Someone keep track for me, I can't miss any more unless someone dies or Dave Foley himself needs me for very important making-out-with-him business during class hours, end even then I'd need him to come along and make out with me while my professor lectured.

Crap.

Latin remains exhausting and perplexing. If I didn't like the teacher so damn much I think I'd be having a real nervous breakdown, dropping classes, slicing up body parts, et cetera ad infinitum.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:43 PM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

Did you know you have to pay taxes on unemployment compensation? Huh? Even if it's just $77 a week? Can that possibly be true?

I'm fixing to start reassigning people's birthdays so I'll have the slightest chance of getting people presents once in awhile.

Although, to be fair to me, I am widely known to be a lousy present giver. Really, really lousy. I don't think my mother has ever used a single thing I've ever given her (except maybe that scarf I made), even the expensive video camera back when I had a job. There could be a book about the bad presents I've given. I once gave someone-who-shall-remain-nameless a Dawson's Creek teeshirt as a gag gift. (I made up for it nicely, VERY nicely with a very sentimental and cool and irreplaceable gift, but still.) And my sister actually got mad at me one year at Christmas because I gave her a stuffed Blue from Blue's Clues because she had a crush on Steve, the host. And let's not even begin to talk about the automatic kitty-litter box that Gina's cat refused to go near.

Of course, now with the magic of knitting, there's a whole new world of ill-fitting, clashing, clumsily-assembled delights for me to inflict upon my loved ones.

I think the best gift from me is no gift at all, personally. Which isn't to mean I don't intend to ever try, when I can.

Now if you'll all excuse me, I'm gonna go read me some Marcel Mauss.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:27 PM | shower me with attention

Today the Satire professor made us do that tiresome thing wherein you introduce yourself to the class. Gosh, I hate those. He had us break into groups of three, tell each other "something interesting" about ourselves (I'm getting sleepy just remembering it), and then elect someone to introduce the group to the class.

I again did something childish (second day in a row!), wherein I sweetly refused to be the one elected, although the other two members of my group were very nice girls for whom English was their second language. (One from Greece and one from DR.) The girl from Greece volunteered to go.

When it was our group's turn, she got up and did a fine job introducing us, except that when she got to the part where she told them my name, she explained (as I had explained to her when she asked me) the reason my name is Octavia is that my mother is a fan of Shakespeare. Except that she pronounced it "Shex-sper", saying the last syllable inaudibly.

So what everyone, including the professor, heard was, "Her name is Octavia because her mother liked sex."

So I had to end up explaining that one, and talking to the class after all. Serves me right!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:47 PM | shower me with attention

Let's see. What's new.

Nuthin'.

Oh, it's a bit warmer. Got up to the 40's today.

I miss knitting. No time. Homework, sleeping. Bit o' tv. The Secret Agent is pretty boring. I shouldn't say that, I'm jinxing it for myself and I have to read the whole thing. Okay, it's wonderful, a delightful romp through the world of turn-of-the-century espionage. May I add that the copy that I finally picked up at the library today is rotting apart in my hands because this particular edition was published in 1919, making it almost 20 years older than my old da'. (The 1921 edition was in worse shape, though. Please god someone find some money for the public education. We deserve good books, too, we poor public-y types.)

I slept through my doc's appointment today, making my mom reschedule it for me. A very high school thing to do. I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep last night and I had to be in school until 9 pm, so a morning appointment wasn't going to be good.

It's an important appointment to get more Gleemonex. I only go to the doctor to get prescriptions for Gleemonex. There should be some sort of system, involving some exciting new technology such as the telephone, so I don't have to schlep down to Brooklyn every time I run out of pills. Oh, well. So I'll go Thursday.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:24 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, February 03, 2004

I have a new love, and jicama is its name.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:39 PM | shower me with attention

Monday, February 02, 2004

Oh. Ha ha. I just found The Secret Agent on Limewire. It took three seconds to find and download it.

Ha ha.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:33 PM | shower me with attention

Do you know how much I hate bureaucratic bullshit?

I usually have some amount of sympathy for bureaucrats, who are usually just imagination-free simpletons who are afraid of not doing their jobs right. I'm sure I'll be in that position one day, and I understand that if you bend the rules for one person then you have to bend them for everyone.

But goddammit, some rules don't make any motherfucking sense.

So, I went to my 20th Century Satire class today, which seems like it will be fine. No presentation after all, just a few papers and a couple of exams. That's fine. And it said on the syllabus, we have to have read the first 3 chapters of Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent by the day after tomorrow. No sweat, I'll just pop down to the library and check it out, and buy cheap copies of the rest of the books on the syllabus when I have some time to breathe.

So I went to the library, found the book, and remembered that last semester when I had tried to check something out without my semester ("Spring '04", etc) sticker on my I.D. card, I had been lectured by the librarian (oh fuck that, they're not librarians, they're work-study kids) and warned that although they were giving everyone a little leeway because it was the first week of classes, we couldn't check out any books in the future without our stickers.

So, thinking I would save myself a lecture, I handed the guy the book and the card and said, "I know I need a new sticker."

And he said, "Oh, I didn't even notice."

We laughed.

Then he said, "I can't let you check this out without a sticker or a receipt from the bursar."

"Are you serious? Last semester they gave us leeway because it was the first week of school."

"I can't let you check this out. I can hold it for you until you get the sticker."

"But Oasis is closed."

"They might be open since it's the first week of school."

So I went to Oasis, which is all the way in another building, and of course they were closed. Now I was exhausted, and hungry after not having eaten for 6 hours, but I ran up to the computer lab and tried printing out an unofficial copy of my bursar's receipt, that clearly states that I have paid all my tuition for this semester.

Then I went back to the library, and the guy sees me standing there with the printout. It couldn't be anything else but the printout, because my cheap-ass school replaced all of the laser printers with dot matrix a few semester ago. And unless he is a raving moron, he couldn't think it would be anything BUT my unofficial bursar's receipt printout.

But still he lets me stand there as the woman in front of me, a professor, starts reading from a long list of books that she would like placed on reserve. And he says to her that although they could do it faster at the reserve desk, he'd be glad to help her out. All while I'm standing right there.

So I stand there for fifteen minutes while he does this and finally he turns to me and says, "May I help you?"

And so I show him the receipt and of course he won't accept it.

Fucking asshole saw me standing there, and knows that I don't have access to anyone else's receipt other than my own, and that obviously I have paid my bill and if the fucking Oasis would stay open past 7 I could have gotten him proof of that.

He asked me if I would like to speak to his supervisor. I stormed out and did my frustration cry on the sidewalk. Dimwitted moron.

So I'm over it, I'll just have to get my sticker and read the 70 pages tomorrow. Fine.

Oh, also had my first Graphics Art Workshop class, which turned out to be-- he informed us ten minutes into the class-- Woodcut Relief. Half the people left because there was no course description in the catalogue and they all assumed it would be either silkscreening or lithograph. As for me, I had no idea WHAT it would be, and I admit that I'm nervous at the prospect of having to work with sharp tools-- I am not good with sharp tools-- but, hell, whatever. I'll do woodcut printing. Why not. I like the prof. He's gruff and hard-of-hearing and very New Yorky and told us he yells a lot and we're welcome to yell back. And he's worked with all these famous artists, which is cool. We have to call him Bruce; if we call him Mr or Professor Anything he'll yell at us. Also, there won't be any homework for this class, and the materials are relatively cheap, so why not.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:08 PM | shower me with attention

Ha ha ha! It was an accident? Right.

I still think it was planned, but, ha ha ha!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:20 AM | shower me with attention

Sunday, February 01, 2004

Did anyone else just see Justin Timberlake rip off whatever it is that was holding Janet Jackson's right breast in? It went bouncy-bouncy.

That has to have been the "surprise guest".

I was upstairs watching the making of the Original Cast Recording of "The Producers", or something equally gay, but Gina and Steph made me come down and watch it. Several times.

It was pretty awesome.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:39 PM | shower me with attention

This Latin thing is driving me nuts. Even if I can get into Columbia's intensive intermediate program, I doubt I'll be able to keep up. I thought a better idea would be to check out CUNY's Intensive Latin thing, which starts from the beginning but is the equivalent of four semesters' worth of credits. But the head of the program said that they don't allow students who have already learned the grammar to enroll. What about students who really, really wouldn't mind the chance to review the grammar from the beginning?

This, this is going to be the reason I can't get my BA. Straight A's don't mean squat if you have a foreign-language phobia. It's not fair.

And please don't tell me it's because I chose Latin, because believe me, my anxiety would be a hundred times worse if part of the requirement was to stand up and speak this stuff in front of strangers and try to engage in conversations with accents and crap.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:02 PM | shower me with attention

Toisty.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:15 AM | shower me with attention