vomit stains

So it's been a while since I've posted.

I feel I have nothing to write about. I've been sitting on a plateau in the middle of nowhere for the last four months, and I'm more than ready to leave.

The last four months have been dominated by my constant bitching. Favorite topic? A suitemate. A likable enough girl, but GAH do I hate her boyfriend. He's just insipid and annoying. Except I can never just tell her this because: a) she'd be sad and she's already depressed, b) I don't think she'd understand, and c) I have to study abroad with the both of them next semester.

Woe is I. Why does anyone wish to study abroad? To get away, simply. And the one thing I wish to get away from is going to be right there with me, right there while I cry with a warm jug full of cheap American vodka somewhere in Prenzlauer Berg (with Ugg boots on), wondering why I just can't ruin their lives/stop caring about their stupid and irrelevant feelings.

Sympathy is so demode.

It's really sad when someone else's depression turns into a vomit stain, something I really should do something about but would rather just not deal with it. I find it more annoying than anything and I figure if I ignore it enough, if I hold my breath, it really doesn't smell like last week's curdled milk.

I'm really glad to have a three month break in exactly ten days. I miss breathing. It'll be wonderful to be home and cuddle with weird-looking puppies and be around people who aren't exhausting to care about. I miss my neon coral room and I miss my tortoises. On the other hand, once I'm home, I'll miss the people here that make me happy. But I'll see them again next year.

Ten more days.

i'll get you, my pretties

I had to eat dinner with both (and just) my grandparents this evening for the first time in two years. Yes, I do live with them but for the longest time, I've avoided this particular fate. Until today.

My dad threw a fit because I wasn't keeping them company during dinner so I was basically guilt-tripped/conned. I had almost forgotten why I hated eating with my grandparents until we started chowing down. UGH. DENTURES. I wanted to vomit; there is nothing more assaulting and offensive to my peckish state than the sight of my grandfather's disgusting teeth, accented by the squicky sound of dentures... gross!

It seems like such a silly nuisance, but fer rills, lively dentures are right down there with leeches, harlequin babies, and peanut butter on moldy bread--things that are sure to send me spewing.

So I left the table, and when my mom asked why I wasn't eating with my grandparents, I felt too sheepish to not go back and finish dinner. Damn you, you spotted man-crone!

*sigh*
Mein kleiner, runder Kuchen is going to Germany tomorrow. This week is going to pretty much suck, until Sundaaaaaaay!

under pressure

So I passed out (I think?) yesterday morning.

At six-ish in the morning, my aunt came over to drop off her kids (so they can take the bus to school) and asked me to help her translate some things. As I was standing there explaining stuff, my ears got really hot (or maybe cold?) and my head was totally numb... the next thing I knew, my dad--I assumed my grandma had just woken him up--standing in front of me, looking frazzled and my grandma's screaming, "She's blue in the face! Blue!" My aunt was gripping my arm pretty tightly. I tried to shake her off so I could go wash my face in the bathroom. A quick glance in the mirror showed me looking rather corpse-like.

After exiting the bathroom, and having a case of really bad vertigo, I was assaulted by the swirling vision of my two cousins, my aunt, my grandma, and my parents all standing outside the door. Of course, no one would stop bothering me, but I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep 'til the afternoon. My grandma kept making it worse by telling my mom she thought I had died standing (I clearly didn't) but finally, everyone left me alone to sleep.

Weird how that happens!

When I finally woke up, I felt a) extremely mortified and b) completely embarrassed. Everyone and their mothers called me, but I felt okay. I hate it when people treat me like Tiny Tim. Dad told me to eat steak, as if that'll fix things.

Anyway, we've deduced I've got really low blood pressure, since I've got orthostatic hypotension anyway.

has our kindness gone?

"One day, I'm gonna die from brain cancer and YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT." -my brother

Nothing makes a picture like having sub sandwiches with the local SWAT team at Quizno's... wonder if they always ate on break.

I've been on a Christian Bale craze lately--I even watched the terrible "Little Women" (I hated that book as a kid)--and I've decided "The Prestige" is definitely my favorite Christian Bale movie. However, I haven't seen "American Psycho" so we'll see. (The only thing deterring me is that I remember someone telling me that in the book, there was a scene where the main character traps a rat in some girl's cheese-filled vagina. Eeek!)

Life has been more or less confined to my neon coral asylum, but today, I heard "The World I Know" by Collective Soul... for some weird reason, it reminds me of the first time I heard "End Of The World As We Know It" and fell in love in REM. Of course, these days, I prefer "Drive" and "Nightswimming." But "The World I Know" is still so good, in the way that "Runaway Train" by Soul Asylum is so good.... They're reminiscent of lying in the back of a truck, watching out for the first stars as the sun sets in Oklahoma. Of course, the melodies rocked me asleep before I got to point out my favorite star.

I miss those days, days filled with eight-year old dreams and eating ice cream and riding bikes in the countryside.

Suburban life is tiring & I'm tired.
Liz

resurrection

The nerdiest nerd in me can't help but think...

It must be some cross-universe reassurance to Harry Potter fans when Gary Oldman didn't really die after all in "The Dark Knight."

midsummer night's dream

"Do... crawfish grow up to be lobsters?" -my brother

Just got back from LA and Las Vegas. Was pretty uneventful... it consisted of the usual shopping (mother woke us up at 7 so we could start shopping at 9 until closing hours--"we only have seven days!" she cried) and the usual overeating (we had kangaroo, lobster, rabbit, mangosteen, longans, the most amazing scallop ceviche, et al) and overheating. The weather in Cali was divine, but I've never felt more like a human roast than I did in the middle of the Las Vegas strip. Didn't get the chance to see many people, but I did visit the Getty on the most perfect of days. All-in-all, it was a lovely vacation, mildly-paced and simple.

I'm at a standstill--and I know I'm at a standstill because all my clothes are looking the same. My summer shoes have fallen into the rut of "singular category"--gladiator sandals (god forbid I wear regular flip flops) and all my shirts are crisp and buttoned. I wish it was autumn already; I was never creative/inspired in this humidity. Why care about style when the idea of going outside sounds about as delicious as dill-flavored blood pudding covered in peanuts?

Also, on the note of summer, I've always hated tans, the skin color of choice for plebes. I wonder where the obsession comes from. Most people who tan don't look like they've come back from the Mediterranean; most people who tan look like they've come back from combing over rice paddies. If you wanna go for the total pedestrian look, why not go for calloused hands? So much more character, and less assaulting to the eyes. Not that I'm saying whiter is better, but most people should just stick to their natural coloring.

I really need to update more. All the interesting things never get blogged. In fact, I never blog until I'm dead bored.

Also, I got a haircut!

Love,
Liz

i see you wave your hand and disappear

"I hate that... I hate bespoke because I hate to be touched by strangers. It bores me to death." -Karl Lagerfeld

Three weeks into summer, and I've achieved nothing and have noticed nothing. I've been suspended before a vacuum--and that's how it has always been when I'm in Florida. It's strange how I can never wait to get back... I guess it's an inherent part of my personality to be sadistic, to always want what I can't have, to always be where I hate to be, to always subject my presence to those I despise.

I need to set some goals for myself. At this very moment, I'm completely useless. Maybe I'll put myself to good use. Start a club for atheists or something (note: when I came home, which happened to be at night, I was horrified to find that they have placed a GIANT white glowing cross outside my neighborhood--it's the only thing you can see for miles in this pseudo-countryside). Maybe get fit or learn a new language.

Maybe I'll go to work, even though I hate the idea. I've held ONE real job in my lifetime, and it lasted all of maybe 50 hours.

So, basically this is an update on how boring my life is.

Love,
Liz

"The Seal" - Fool's Garden