let the midnight special

blue nail polish

2010-02-27T17:00:00.000-08:00

I painted my nails blue and the thumbnails red. Feeling contrary, irrational... but supremely reasonable and languid. Ask me for anything.

Take me away, I'll go.

And I'll come get you if you thought to ask me.

Wouldn't it be nice if we were destined to be brother and sister?

If not for dreamish slander sweet that is mine

today and the other one

2009-08-10T15:28:00.000-07:00

One day, but not today, I woke up and it didn't hurt. For like fifteen minutes it didn't hurt at all. But today is one of the worst days.

I am wholistically ill, my cumulative convalescence is destroyed and my heart is still in pieces. Further chaotic shards, instead of arrangements of mosaics that were supposed to justify the shattering.

I just can't believe that my dream is dead in my arms, and how much it meant to me, and how little else there may be left with it gone. I look up when I can, but nothing in my sight motivates me to let go. I return to it, helplessly, and ask, 'what else is there?'

The whole world awaits.

And no one can take you alive if you're smart enough. Care enough.

Care is not happening. Today. And even the other one.

connected to dischord

2009-07-15T11:23:00.000-07:00

Here at the bottom of the pit, I can see romantic love from a completely objective perspective and I have this much to say for it: sugary.

Sugary and hilarious. The most sleep depriving thing in the whole world, but also the circumstance wherein lies the sweetest sleep you ever had. You'll ever have.

It's a feeling of being constantly pleasantly surprised.

If True Love is anything like it, we're all doomed to matrimony.

And then there's the kidney stone of disapproval, crystallized malcontent and distrust that tear at the delicate dream of love. (Because that's all it is, until a perfect union.)

What do I feel.

Malcontent. Dark and portentous waters at my neck. The candy lifesaver within my reach but so bad for the teeth! Ha.

The breakfast method / Me in Disgrace

2009-07-14T11:54:00.000-07:00

There are, I suppose, many ways to make reparation to your father for completely obliterating his trust and authority. I like the breakfast method.

He's up about 6:20, on average. He'd better leave around 6:35-ish, so there isn't much time for a healthy breakfast despite his reputation as the Fastest Showerer in the West.

I'm in disgrace forever.

And I can't make a poached egg to save my life (which is at an end).

But I make a nice over-easy and toast is easy. Choosing a beautiful glass for milk is my specialty! Anyway it's the thought that counts!

SIR: "Good breakfast this morning, Milena."

ME IN DISGRACE: "I know. Hecka good."

SIR: "There are sandwiches to be made for lunch."

ME IN DISGRACE: "Surely. And mom makes them."

SIR: "You're making them now."

ME IN DISGRACE: "What is your opinion of the weather?"

SIR: "Show up bright and early or you're dead."

Even if I ran away from home to raise bastard identical twins who look exactly like TallDarknFrizzy, there is no way in hell (nor on earth) that I'm getting up to make sandwiches. That's wife work. And I've never even had a boyfriend!! Hell no. I am still a female human being with rights.

My plan instead is to find a woman with five kids and an abusive husband. I will offer her shelter in our basement, and give up my bedroom if they can't all fit down there. In exchange for their room and board they shall take over the housework. Perhaps some of her children can find work, and pay our gas bills along with the cellphone charges.

Then Sir will have nothing to complain about, as multitudes of people will be up at 6AM, poaching eggs and constructing sandwiches, while I text and relax in Ungatribe's bed (which she'll be only too happy to share with me).

It's easy to solve even the worst problems, including world hunger.

But not likely.

Oh well.

In which I repent at leisure.

2009-05-11T11:01:00.001-07:00

DAD: Let's hang out. This is my fifth time saying it.

ME: Surely!

PHONE: *RRRRRIIINNNNGGG*

ME: Who could that be? Perhaps tis Wallace the Long Winded, in which case I should ignore.

Inwardly I know it could be JC, who got my number earlier that day, but it's like 10:30 at night. Why the hell would he call me at this hour to discuss his work schedule and set up a session?

Answer? He wouldn't. Isn't. OMG HE LOVES ME *hyperventilate*

I look at the caller ID and sure enough it reads yet another of my nicknames for him, names I've chosen in order to keep from having to say this guy's very boring real name to myself and others.

I pick up, with MAXIMUM phone voice. (People tell me my phone voice brings the dead to life and instantly soothes any crying infant within a mile radius. HELL yes.)

It works too... he seems into it.

"Just wanted to make sure you saved me in your phone. You know who this is?"

After I was just congratulating myself that we didn't have to use his dumb name.

He starts going into all this stuff that I can't even remember right now, because I have trouble believing a word he says. Everything that comes out of his mouth is either a line, or a suggestive pause. I hate him, if you really want to know the truth. But I am also attracted to him.

He said all the right things, things I wanted to hear. Unbelievable crap about wanting to hear my voice and how he's comfortable with me (but minutes later saying I've got him nervous! Retard.) and how about him as a boyfriend???

Throughout the phone call these two thoughts were a loop in my mind:

1) I'm so flattered a smooth-talking retard with muscles is trying to con me.
2) This is ridiculous.

I'm dying to be his friend.

I want him to like hanging out with me, as I thought he did, the few times we met at my work. I was myself, he was himself, and we had fun talk.

I like him a ton.

If he wants me as a girlfriend, I know our differences will be far, far too great. I could be a friend -- A HELLA FUN FRIEND... but maybe my attraction showed too much. And now we're destined to be akward after a few akward dates and phonecalls.

Anyway, I decided to be natural, and do what I want. Hope everything works out.

My plan is to be aggressive in my desire to hang out with him, and hope he's willing to let me do that at my own pace (aka stop trying to move us forward himself).

But most of all, I hate having to look good everyday. We're in different leagues, physically, and keeping up with him is tiring. To complement his "beautiful" I have to be "cute."

The thing is, he doesn't know me. If I no longer look good to him, we'll never have a chance to talk.

I hate him, you know. Did I already say that?

Radetzky Marching

2009-04-02T15:00:00.000-07:00

Well, well. This is the most reckless I've been with regards to my studies. I've attended every social function, every family dinner and done any little thing I felt like doing. Recklessly!

It's beautiful weather. The Radetzky march by Johannes Strauss plays over and over, just for me. I am a person in whom deception has driven so devastating a pike, I no longer fear the appropriate terrors. The truth about my character blurs to meaningless meshes in my mind.

A cheap price to pay to be happy... be unrealistically unphazed by your own lack of virtues?

I'm going to Michigan on the last day of school, to fight the next major battle for my soul.

in which I scan everything but the horizon

2009-03-26T15:51:00.000-07:00

Feeling a bit buzzed, since I met Juan aka "Unicorn Man" again, finally. I was beginning to think we weren't meant to be! I guess he forgives me!

Did you know he's like, three years older than me? His face has him held back in a perpetual 18. But that doesn't give him the right to cut his hair hella short. HE HAS RUINED HIS LOOKS! That braid was his best--- *remembers the muscles* --- second best feature! I didn't even recognize him.

Would it be internet gossiping to say that we had our first friendly touch today? We considered a math problem together (adding mixed numbers and improper fractions, how romantic!) and I turned my head to the side, you know... considering. And I feel him leaning his on mine.

"We can put our heads together," he suggests.

It was mucho tingly. I hope we can progress! I wasn't on duty at the time so I didn't feel I was discracing the sacred workplace or hallow footage of academia.

Anyway, the point is I'm tired of scanning things.

I scanned stuff to PhysicsDemon in the dead of night. Then scanned stuff to BioPrincess. Then to ChemDarling. And now I'm working furiously to get my stuff all finished up so I can go home and scan two (hopefully three) more assignments.

I don't have time for the unicorndude hereafter referred to as Dapper Buff Tan Man.

But I keep daydreaming. ~

super sweet yayness

2009-03-24T00:22:00.000-07:00

Life is sweet. I loves it! Even now, when I basically have to continue my week-long streak of semi all-nighters. I relish the pain. I feel superior for challenging myself, but seriously, where is the sense in that??

If someone challenges you, there is a chance of winning. If YOU challenge YOURSELF wha the hell are you doing accepting the challenge?! In essence you agree to attack yourself. Aren't you so SMART. Aahhhhh I hate my idiot tendencies....

But. Life is sublime. I don't want money. I spend it to get rid of it and sometimes I go two weeks before I remember to pick up my paycheck. I don't want to look like any of the cute girls I see on tv or magazines or at church. I like me simply tons!

And I want to treat everyone else well. I want to know everything and love everyone.

(its best to get these things in writing or you'll deny ever having felt this way)

in which I accuse my boss falsely by accident

2009-03-12T13:37:00.001-07:00

It's 12 noon.... HIGH noon... and 302 is finally open. I stomp in to work and see my boss busy jotting notes in his planner.

BOSS: Good afternoon, Milena. Boy, you're early today. Three hours early in fact.

ME: *breathes fire*

BOSS: Is something wrong?

ME: Did you, or did you NOT, tell Dino never to file anything!?

BOSS: *injured look of the righteous in adversity*

ME: SO ITS TRUE!

BOSS: No, I never said this.

ME: Just because you're the one that hired him you can never find fault with him! And Boxer! OMG they're both men! I clean up after them because they're men? This is because I'm a woman?! You shitty wolverine-looking, mysogynist---wait... what?

BOSS: *serene* I never said that.

ME: But he said that you said, "just put everything in the outbox."

BOSS: I said if he's overloaded to just put it all in the outbox to clear the table. For later. He must have misunderstood me.

ME: Uh...

BOSS: I will speak to him about it. But I also wanted to talk to you. Someone told me you wrote a nasty message to one of your coworkers.

ME: ...

-end-

In which I accuse my coworker falsely by accident

2009-03-12T12:09:00.000-07:00

Lately I have this problem where my coworker was not filing anything before I got there. I couldn't think of any explination except that he didn't have time to do it himself.

So I come into work a little early, and see two things:

1. the outbox is hella full. Stagnating furiously.

2. my coworker is reclining on the comfy blue chair, oblivious to my presence because of his ipod and the two black earbuds stuck in his head.

Of course I move to find out what's wrong, in a pacifist manner:

ME: The hell?! You're gonna die!

COWORKER: *takes out earbuds and smiles*

ME: I SAID YOU DIE!

COWORKER: You're early today.

ME: Why haven't you ... why isn't there... I can't believe you!

COWORKER: I gotta go buy a scantron. Can you work now? Byes!

[exit coworker]

As you can imagine, my body and soul overflows with extra bubbly, rabid bacterial froth from the depths of my outrage.

But I'm calm.

I take a sheet of scratch paper from the printer and a daisy-pen from the fake flower pot, and proceed to write my grievances:

To the uber-fabulous, loveable Dino, regarding our common work ethic:
1. Please don't forget to file the stuff in the outbox. It is that brown thing on the side of the desk. Thanks!
2. When you have time, make sure to file anything that might be in the outbox, too.
3. All other duties discharged, there may yet remain SHIT TO BE FILED, and you'd bring us that much closer to global harmony if you FILED IT.
4. Die, bitch! Die! May the fleas of a million hobos build space stations in your nosehair!

My tactful missive complete, I stick it in his box and mutter a prayer that he somehow accidentally chokes on it.

-One Day Passes-

It's 10 in the morning. I just got out of a biology exam, and I smell like last night's chlorine swim.

From afar I see my idiot coworker just ahead of me in the quad, and leap like a tiger, sting like a bee:

ME: You there!

COWORKER: Good morning, Milena! We usually don't see each other until later in the day.

ME: Did you get my note!

COWORKER: What note?

I realized at that moment that intra-office memorandums, no matter how violent the language, were not enough to deal with the gravity of his offenses. It would be much better to complain to our boss and get his hours reduced. Muahahaha!! I wouldn't tell him about the note --in fact, if I ran, I could retrieve it before anyone saw it.

ME: No, nothing. I forgot who I was talking to.

COWORKER: Have I done something wrong?

ME: You leaving me all filing!

COWORKER: What?? Filing??

ME: Oops.

COWORKER: But Logan told me never to file. "Just put it in the outbox," he said.

ME: *embarrasment and confusion*

COWORKER: You wrote me a note about this?

ME: *runs to get the note before its too late*

...the continuing story

lets give it a name

2009-03-10T17:15:00.000-07:00

PANIC IS ITS NAME, mkays?! Total, as in having mind-bending completeness... PANIC!!!

Yes all three homework assignments will probably be turned in late. Why? Because I've run out of juice. THE JUICE HAS LEFT ME! And by juice I mean super coolness powers of study bombs. I can no longer drop study bombs on my schoolish problems.

The weekend was a Fearsome 48-Hour Study-Battle. Armed with determination and academic-ness, I valiently declined a fabulous birthdayparty invite and hacked at the monstrous bitch-pile of homework.

I watched four or five movies, two of which were LIFETIME NETWORK shit-movies. Fearing lest I lose the battle, I quickly switched to something boring, like the Cleopatra documentary. But apparently Plutarch knew what he was talking about when he said that "her charm was irresistable."

Prof: So, did you learn all that stuff about planet orbitals of kepler?

Me: Cleopatra was rolled into Caesar's tent in a fancy rug. Her son may or may not have been his though--- Lifetime Network tells me so!

Prof: We're having an exam on centripetal forces. Should you bother attending?

Me: Caesar was hell of old by the time he met Cleopatra. You'll be hell of old by the time I'm ready for your damn exam. Go back to jury duty!!

Augugughhhhhh *panic* HELP!

Physically I'm sitting in an empty computer room, feeling endlessly panicked for skipping class and our important oxidation-reduction quiz. Somewhere in the mix, I realize skipping dinner in addition to stress will mean death for my annoying lab partners today. But mostly I'm thinking, would Ethnic Dude be down for a groping session this Thursday if I wore extra cute clothes and used my new lotion?

I need to feel pretty, if I can't feel smart.

those three little words

2009-03-09T23:23:00.000-07:00

Some utter stranger accidently told me he loves me.

I was leaving my work after locking up, going to go swimming, and beautiful sunshine was casting a blue-green glow to the building (insulation-tinted glass). Some students were coming down the staircase, and I was digging for my goggles.

This guy on the second flight points and suddenly says, "I love you."

I'm not wearing my glasses, so I can't tell if he's talking to me. But my heart flutters even though he's not the slightest bit familiar.

"I mean, uh, I like.. that jacket!" He stutters. "It's sexy."

I'm not wearing a jacket and to be honest, I'm slumming worse than I have in the entire semester. The clasp on my pants doesn't even work ---I've been hiding it with a garish red sweater.

I couldn't help but give him a smile and laugh. Maybe he was talking to a girl with a fabulous jacket walking behind me, but I sure had fun imagining for a moment that he was hitting on me.

That's really the first time any dashing stranger has ever thrown romance at me from two flights up. Super coolness! He wasn't quite my type (think bob marley but darker and more normally dressed) but damn! How cute.

a moderately good day

2009-03-09T15:39:00.000-07:00

So how's your physics professor?

Evil, thank you very much. I'm tempted to write a short story about him, and how he tragically died during a freak pencil sharpening accident while at jury duty. He made me redraw my diagram of the apparatus. Moron! HOWEVER...

My dainty little chemistry professor is unbearably quuuuute~~~<3. You wouldn't believe the indignity of my affection for this tiny russian. He doesn't think much of us, though. He told us about the emergency shower and warned us that it was only to be used in actual cases of actual emergency.

Who the hell is going to use it casually? There are no curtains around it. There is no drain for it. People will be conducting experiments all around your idiotic naked self. Yet he was going on and on, like, "SAFETY shower. Not for everything. Emergency 'forget to take a shower' ---no!"

Super Qute Professor: There are dangerous chemicals in the lab.
Students: Mkays.
Super Qute Professor: If you wear your nicest clothes to the lab, what's going to happen?
Students: *silent*
Super Qute Professor: ...well?
Students (to each other): Isn't he a darling?
Super Qute Professor: *offended by our stupidity* Well?! Everyone will like the way you look!
Students (in love):
Super Qute Professor: *resigned* But it's gonna be a big mess on your clothes with chemicals. So don't wear them.

Overall, a good day today.