I used to hate my dad because about once every two months, he'd go ballistic and clean the entire house, including our bedrooms. Dad cleaning your bedroom is not a good thing because it means you're stuck with him in your room for 45 minutes while he's vacuuming and you're dusting and he's usually mad about some stupid shit, but won't speak to you, or anyone for that matter, and then when he leaves, the room smells like windex and you can finally breathe again.

But now that I have my own place, I find myself doing the EXACT SAME THING!!!

I've been meaning to clean the apartment for a week now, but didn't get around to it until today. It pretty much looks immaculate around here...except for my bedroom. For some reason, cleaning up my 11 x 10 room is like pulling teeth. And all I really have to do is put my clothes away or in the laundry basket. Yet, I still wait for the very last minute to do anything about it. I have to make sure I have a movie to watch (tonight it will actually be the Sopranos 5th season, disc 3 and 4). Really, it should only take me 3o minutes tops to put everything away and straighten it up, but because I have to watch a movie while doing this, it will probably take me 2 hours.

Yeah. I know I'm weird.

And I still have no voice. I'm getting a little nervous.



You know what the worst feeling in the world is for a singer? Losing her VOICE!

I get this about twice a year. First it starts in the nose and throat. Gotta love that post-nasal drip. Then it settles in the throat for a few days (which is its current state), after that, it turns into a lovely chest cough. At least then I can talk and sing. It's really funny to hear me squeak like a 6th grade clarinet player.

This...thing has its perks. I get the right to just chill out and watch the 5th season of the Sopranos.

It doesn't help that I have to sing everyday this week. But I'm raking in the dough!!! Yesterday I had to sing at 2 masses ($195 total), a rehearsal this evening ($30), practice with a church in the burbs (gratis) tomorrow, Wednesday another church rehearsal ($30), Thursday is a performance in the burbs, Friday and Saturday I have off, but Sunday is marathon singing day because it's Christmas Eve. Not sure how much I'll make off of that puppy, but it will at least be $140.

Everything I once said about Catholics I take back. They pay me well, and for that, I thank God.



I'm not sober right now. It feels nice. Break has been nice. Very few responsibilities, lots of sitting around with Dan, Alex, or Jessa, eating whenever and whatever I want, catching up on a lot of Maury episodes.

And that's all I really wanted to say...


Underachievers please try harder

The 2006 Weblog Awards
Vote for Raymi. Wooo!

Raymi doesn't really know who I am. I'm very ok with that. She's a very busy lady, and doesn't need to be bothered by pathetic adoring fans like me. I think she's seen this site once because I stole her Scissor Sisters music video idea and she caught me.

But since she wants her readers to publicize her like no other, I thought I would step up and show my support which has been silent until now.

This is why I think Raymi is too cool for school and why you should vote for her for best diarist.
  1. She shows her boobs, and I think that's really cool in a very non-lesbian way. If I had the balls to show off my tits on the internet, I totally would. And I don't think she shows them off to get more hits. She has it, so she shows it. It's fun for everyone.
  2. Raymi posts several times a day. When I'm bored, I know that Raymi will be there for me with an update. And it will be funny. Even if there's not an update, her side bar has so much shit to click on, it will easily distract you for the hour that it will take for her to write another post.
  3. I think she's way cooler than Bunny
  4. She's Canadian.
  5. I live vicariously through her. She's the bad ass that I'll never be, but oh so wish that I could.
So just click on the link and vote for her. It will make us all happy.

In closing, I would like to dedicate the first verse lyrics to a Camera Obscura song, "Suspended from Class."
You’re such a beautiful writer
that’s not all you are
I’m sorry about making a pass
It was subtle but I think that you grasped
The meaning intended
I can be a friend to you
I won’t pretend
I’m not interested in breaking a heart
It’s not love no it’s nothing like that
I’ll leave that to lookers like him
Oh he’s such a delicate thing
Now it’s such a fragile thing that we have


And the mealy worms in the pyre will burn

I've been burning things lately. Not food. Objects. Nothing living. It's not like I throw Vish in there. (He's the turtle we're babysitting and will probably never return.) I watch these things go up in flames. Some things I that incinerated I thought would make me feel sad. But it didn't. I felt so detached from them. But now that I've started, I can't stop the burning. There are a few things left, but if I did burn, I'd probably burn in hell or some shit like that.

Went to Arizona last weekend with my sister. That was fun, but Sister Golden Hair missed the first snow day in five years. We were both a little sad. Weather in AZ is always nice, though. My cousin bought a Nintendo Wii system that he let us play for five minutes. Fortunately, neither of us threw the controller at the TV set. Saw all the relatives that I've managed to avoid for the past two years plus. But all of this was ok, because it was just me and my sister. We didn't have to share a bed or spend countless hours with relatives we don't particularly care for. It's all about moderation.

I'm on break now. YAY! But I have all these singing jobs here in Chicago. Woe is me! Actually, it's very nice to have these little jobs, not only for the holiday cash, but it's an awesome excuse not to go home to the suburbs, which my parents still expect me to do. I know Christmas isn't very far away, and I'll spend lots of time with them then, but it's the second week of December. I want to have a little fun. And it has been fun...For me and Dan...Haven't seen too much of my roommates though. That's my fault. The other night, I missed probably one of the funniest moments of this apartment. I wasn't there, so I really shouldn't tell the story, but I suggest you ask Alex about this guy named Dominic and his sleeping habits.

I kept telling myself I was going to go Christmas shopping today. That didn't work out so well. Maybe I'll join the shopping online phenomenon. It's just too cold to go outside today, and I was out and about all day yesterday buying shit for Dan. He is now the proud owner of a $100 pair of shoes. In our defense, they look bad-ass, or at least I think so. I told him that he has to wear the shoes every time he's around me, like the nasty sweater your grandma knits for you for Christmas and you have to wear at least once around her and probably immortalize the ugliness in some embarrassing family photo too.

I think that's all for now. It's dark in my apartment, and I'm all alone. Dan's at work and my roommates are MIA. I should take a shower and do something with my wasted day.



These are the words that I woke up to this morning. And I gotta tell you, it is a good day. I haven't been excited about politics in a long time. Nanci Pelosi is everywhere, and I cannot tell you who excited I am to have her as the new Speaker of the House. As my mom said this afternoon: From a selfish point of view, with Denny out of the job, we won't see the money to my home town like we used to. But with Nanci in the house, God, I hope she kicks some serious ass. Doesn't it look like she could beat you up with just the touch of her wagging finger.
Oh yeah, and it's just really cool to have a women third in line. Eat THAT Condi!!!
PLUS!!! Say goodbye to Rummy Rumsfeld. THANK GOD! Who knows if the next guy will be any better, but the times are finally changing. No more stagnant waters.
And I'm not just excited about the Dems taking the House. This is about the people making a change. We will not take this radical, partisan bullshit. We will not let old men who make laws for their own benefit and steal money that's not theirs, and keep creepy pedophiles around.
PS. Tammy Duckworth should have won.

In other news...

Get your act together, CTA. It's pathetic. You're worthless than the dirt on a drunk bum on a red line heading south at one in the morning.


Last Week

It's a little late to be talking about Halloween, I know, but it's worth writing about, I guess.
Dan and I decided the night before that we were going to go as Geishas. The original plan was to dress in each other's clothing, but Dan didn't fit into any of my dresses. Fatty...
So we actually bought kimonos, the belts, plus geisha wigs at a thrift store called Ragstock (it's a pretty bitchin place, I must say). I bought the makeup at Wags, and we were in business.

If the party we went to had a best costume award, we would have won.
We brought our own G&G's and had a good time listening to the host's outdated, gay music. The highlight of the night was definitely dancing to the Bee Gee's "Stayin' Alive."

This is what we looked like after the party at Taco Burrito Palace. I was a little burned out... Thanks for the picture, Alex.

This is another favorite photo of mine. They dubbed themselves "The Tan Clan." The Reno 911 cops are Chelsea and Jeremy, an awesome couple who helped host the party. The guy in the middle is Joey. Joey is Hitler, if you can't tell.

It was a great night. The party was a floor below us, so we didn't have to travel in the cold with our costumes on. YAY! And apparently it's tradition for that specific unit to have a party on Halloween. If they move out next year, I suppose Alex and I will have to host it.

I went to another party this weekend as well. It was Nathalie's Bon Anniversaire Party. There were pastries all over her apartment, because that's how Nathalie wanted it, just like in Marie Antoinette. "All they did was drink champaign and eat pastries. I love it!"
PS. Nathalie is from Paris.

I haven't posted pictures from that event, but I will soon. The champaign fountain was quite impressive.

Hopefully posting will be a little more frequent. The student production is over with, and I just have a small A Cappella concert on Wednesday. But finals are just around the corner. Ugh!


Stole it!

I stole this one from Raymi, but I kinda think all good things are stolen from her.

Watch Alex and me dance like fools!


Mamma's got a brand-new job

I heart my new job. Tonight was my first night. What I do is call perspective voice students that are considering DePaul. I have a little script (one for each possible scenario ex: answering machine) that gets me started. It wears my voice out a little and I have a TON of singers to call, but I know that I'll never get tired of the job.

Already, I had two interesting phone calls. The first was a mom with a British accent, and when I asked for her daughter, she proclaims loudly, "She's already in college! We keep getting calls and letters from schools. She's 17 but she goes to blah blah blah college. See, she went to school in England and then when we got here, we bumped her up some grades..."
Even when I was 17, I don't think I was prepared to study voice at the college level...
Well, good for her, I guess.

The most bizarre call of the night goes to some girl in New Jersey. Her father answered answered the phone with the TV blaring in the background. It takes him at least a minute to get his daughter to pick up the phone, long enough for me to hear what was on the television.
"Get on the Ground....Cuff yourself....Get the DRUGS!!!....You killed my brother!"
Man, what ever he was watching sounded intense...No wonder why his daughter sounded clueless. She was the only one less than enthused to talk to me. I hope she goes to community college.


Psst...Listen! The Heavens are telling!

They sure don't write 'em like they used to...


Although, this comes close...


Click on "A Boy and a Girl," on the left-hand-side marquee and turn off that STUPID rain effect underneath it. It doesn't play the song in its entirity, but check out his MySpace (I CANNOT believe Eric Whitacre has a MySpace!!!) page and you can. Eric Whitacre...
Both sites are pretty cool. And may I add that the gentleman is quite a handsome fellow...


Weekend Update

Holy CRAP!!!
Senator Obama said he MAY run for el presidente!!! in 2008!!! That makes my day! I would much rather have him in office than Hillary or Kerry.

Quick Weekend Update:

Friday- Went back to the suburbs for a total of 2 hours because SOMEONE just had to get yet another bladder infection and go to the doctor to get an antibiotic perscription. I hadn't had one in a couple months, and I got excited thinking that they would be a thing of the past. But I was very wrong. Boo!

Saturday- Latino Concert at St. James Cathedral. Got there at two, waited around till three to do a quick acoustic check, waited around another two hours, sang our set, then premiered "Cantico" by Gustavo Leone from Columbia college.
After the concert, our choir director treated us to Emilio's Tapas to continue the Hispanic theme of the evening. I probably ate the equivalent of a small child and racked up a tab well into the smaller 100's. Granted, there were about 14 of us.

Sunday- Went to Chinese church with Dan to make sure his Nai Nai and Yei yei (grandma and grandpa) were ok. He had two disturbing dreams about their well-being the previous night, and I agreed to come with him to the suburbs to go to church and check up on them. They made me sing (fortunately NOT in Cantonese) a hymn, which was fine. In return, I scored major points with the relatives AND Nai Nai made us a boat-load of pork and leek dumplings. HEAVEN....

Upcoming Events:

I have a choir concert this week. It's Thursday evening. If you're interested let me know and I'll tell you when and where. No worries, it's free. They're always free. And no, I do not have a solo. Good music though.

And for something completely different:

Dan's band, The FIBS, has a Myspace website. If you're into that kind of thing (MySpace, I mean), then check them out at www.myspace.com/fibsmusic. I know I'm the girlfriend and shouldn't be saying things like this, but don't listen to "Sid."


I know that some of my readers have some pretty shitty home-lives right now, and I want you to know that if you ever want to talk or need a place to go to, I'm sincerely here for you. I can't give much advice, but I'll listen. And in extreme circumstances, I'll loan out my couch.


Something to write about

Finally, I have something to write about.

But before I write anything, I will not tolerate any comments that try to boost my self esteem. Such as: Oh, but Di, don't get down on yourself. You're the greatest singer in the world.

The past two weeks...well, really this entire summer, I've been disappointed in my singing performances. My technique was sloppy, I knew I was doing something wrong because it hurt, and singing at the catholic church (which was only temporary btw. Once the girl came back, I got the boot, which was kinda contrary to what the music director was saying...) only hurt my ego more. My sight reading is OK despite what everyone thinks, and my first voice lesson back at school was more like a kick in the stomach than a new start to the school year.

Midterms have passed and I'm feeling better about things. My lessons are going more smoothly, and I'm singing literature I actually like (no more of this Renaissance, early Baroque crap!), but none of that got me a role in the Winter production of the Merry Widow. I will never get used to rejection, don't let people tell you otherwise. It hurts every time. The worst part is that the two other girls my age who study with the same teacher as I do got parts. One even got a major role and she's not even a performance major!

Yeah, I'm jealous of them, but they're my best girlfriends at DePaul, so I hold no silly grudges against them. They're going to be great.

But where does that leave me?

Stuck. Stuck singing my precious Bach and Handel arias with some smatterings of cutesy Schubert and Wolf lieder. And this is my voice. My voice can sing those arias with ease. But the great dramatic coloratura literature which I'm convinced that I can sing and impress people with and have done many times before, is apparently beyond my grasp. And because of this, I feel betrayed.

I cannot change my voice. It's a part of me. It's my personality and my body. My brain thinks/wants to do all the famous arias that people like, but my voice isn't ready for that. Maybe someday, I can. But someday is too far away, especially when I want to be on stage now. Waiting sucks, especially when your peers fly past you. It really hurts the ego.


Someone once said...

Someone once said that this blog was good-and-all, but it lacked commentary on my real life. That is very true. This blog was created during an interesting point in my life; I was in my first year of college, busy with school, and severely struggling with my wits after a "fall-out"/disaster with a close friend.

I didn't really have any blogging material. My mind was on school, this "disastrous" relationship, and my new relationship, none of which I could deem as appropriate or entertaining blogging material.

But I would have to say that right now I'm comfortable with my position in life. My first year at school went well, and I'm looking forward to next year. I have a new apartment, and despite a recent spat with my roommate, things are well there. My boyfriend is getting an apartment in the city soon, as well as going to a real college, so he won't have to take METRA all the time.

I do not feel as though I have shed my old life only to find a brighter, shiner, new one. My past will always be with me, for good or for bad. My hometown will always be home, and I always look forward to seeing old friends.


Pedestrian Rage?

It is a well known fact that I do not own a vehicle because of a car accident I had almost a year ago. Yeah, the family got a new Saturn, but I hardly drive it. Besides, it doesn't have a name. My car did have a name. Jonsi. I miss you buddy.

Anyway, since that time, I went to school. Blah blah blah. Even now that it's summer, I still don't drive much because I live in the city. But my point is, that certain antsy-ness and swearing and hexing when I'm driving when a car is going too slow or doing something stupid didn't go away. The same anger is now focused on pedestrians (usually suburbanites or tourists, but not always) doing stupid things.

Por ejemplo: A few days ago, I was walking home and heading towards one of those plywood walls/scaffolding that the city of Chicago likes to put EVERYWHERE!!! when building something new. Well, it's very hard to pass people when walking underneath such a thing, especially when a particular person with a particularly annoying child, big stroller, and wide ass stop in the middle of it to do God knows what.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Not only is your child being a douche, but your wide truck load of a body is in my way. Whatever you are doing at this moment cannot be more important than me getting home to my apartment. Thank-you."

Of course, only when I patted the child on the head to move it out of my way did I think of what to say to the woman. In other words, I didn't say anything at all.


Here's an update for you biznatches!

As most of my readers (who are mostly my friends) know, I moved into my new, city apartment, and that has kept me very busy ever since I got out of school. It's a nice place. You should definitely check Alex's photos and check the place out. Or, better yet, you can always stop by. I can't guarantee that one of us will be there, since we continually find ourselves going back to the suburbs, but it's always worth a try, right? We definitely don't have internet set up yet, it's on my list of things to do. So...If you want to reach me, call me.

Other than that, I've been watching the Limelight productions this year. Kudos to all involved. You did a great job! And I've also been singing quite a bit for the Catholic parish who pays me. YAY!!! The regular pay blows, especially when they take $20 bucks out for taxes, but the weddings and funerals are grand. $100 a pop. Can't go wrong, but I need more of those easy gigs.

I just want you guys to know that if I ever start updating regularly again, be prepared for something big. I want to be as cool and as popular as Raymi, but in my own way.

Hope everyone has a great summer. I love you all!


Mission Accomplished

I completed my first year of college.

I can't decide if the year went by quickly, or dreadfully slow.

No. I know what it was. The year went by in an instant, but once people started coming home from their first year of college, I wanted to see them, but couldn't because I was busy or didn't have time to come home and see friends. No one came to visit me either...

But now...Now that it's all said and done with for good until September and all my stuff is out of my dorm and in my family's mini-van, I still can't come home because I was foolish and decided to do a singing gig tomorrow and Sunday. Actually, the Sunday gig is my job now. I sing at St. Josaphat's parish in Lincoln Park. It's kinda weird because it's Catholic and I clearly am NOT, and I just read the Da Vinci code and all I can think when the padre talks is LIAR LIAR Robes on fire!

My room reminds me of a padded cell, it's so empty.

All my college friends are gone. Husband is working. Computer gone (I'm typing this at the Student Center), music gone, books gone, dvds gone, camera gone. I had to pack light because they're kicking everyone out of the dorms tomorrow at noon, and I'll be stuck living on the streets with only a duffel bag...Ok, clearly you all know I do have a place to stay, but I definitely feel like a vagrant, especially with only a squish pillow and bedsheet to sleep with tonight.

And yet, though everything and everyone are gone, I would rather be by myself. My roommate is still around and I know she probably wants me to hang out with her tonight because it's our last night living together...but...well, tonight just seems like a solemn, windy night. A perfect night for flying.



I had a less than pleasant dream the other night. I don't ever want to walk home by myself again.

It was dark outside, and I was walking through the quad by myself. There's a particular corner that I have to round in order to get to my dorm. This corner scares the living daylights out of me because there are big trees and bushes that someone could easily hide in, and you wouldn't know they were there until they pounce on you. Well, no one was in the bushes, but there was some shady looking guy on a bike around that same corner. He startled me, but what scared me more were his words.

"Victim. You're gonna be a victim."

Then he pulled out his gun.

At this point, I was on my knees. I knew that if I didn't do as he said, I would be killed. He told me to stand up. But I didn't stand because he was going to do something terrible to me if I did. I chose my dignity over my life.

"Have it your way."

He pointed the gun at my head and everything went white.


Hindi grlz dig Hip-Hop PLUS Grandparents do the Darndest things!

For the past three weekends, I have found myself going home, but not because I'm homesick. 2 weeks ago, there was a family crisis and I wanted to be there. Last week was Mother's Day, and this weekend was my best Indian friend's belated birthday party.

I am no stranger to being the only white girl at a party because of my dearest friend, but I enjoy it immensely despite extreme awkwardness. Usually, I say the words for them. "Silly white girl don't know nothin." Which is 100% true, and that's why at Indian social events, I take a step back, watch my friend do her chit-chatting, and observe everyone else. Occasionally, I'll pique someone's interest and they'll ask me a few questions. If I'm with my friend's family, they always ask about my singing or dancing. The things that stick in peoples' heads...

But this desi party was different. None of my friend's family was present. All the attendees (most of which arrived 2 1/2 hours late) were newly made college friends. So all the girls were young and spoke English to each other and not just out of politeness for me. These girls loved to put their hair down, and quite literally. Most of them wore hijabs (the scarf that Muslim women wear to cover their hair and neck) and for many of the girls, it was their first time seeing each other's hair.

What I found most interesting, though, was their music selection. I have come to realize that my friend's love of Bollywood music is not shared with the rest of her demograph. Everyone wanted to listen to hip-hop. I kid you not! Sean Paul seemed to be the favorite with his hit single "Temperature." Not only did they love listening to this music, but in true desi fashion, they loved dancing to it too. By far, the most impressive dancer was an eighth grader from Lombard who could do everything from the worm to sultry hip checks straight from a Shakira music video. I probably got along with her best out of all the girls. Unfortunately, I can't remember her name. But that's not surprising considering I can't remember anyone's name at Indian gatherings.

When my parents found out that I was going to this party, they told me I couldn't take the train back to Chi-town, which I didn't fuss about too much because Adams and Jackson street get uber-creepy and quiet after dark and they are the only streets to get to the nearest El station.
So last night I slept in my own bed. Yay! And this morning, I went to church with Xingmao and his family, followed by a delicious Cantonese feast. Things would have been perfect if Grandpa Wat hadn't thrown up at the table several times and insisted that he was fine. He's ninety, maybe older, and his swallowing mechanism wasn't working properly (or so the family told me).
Oh man did that freak me out.

Because Xingmao subjected me to his family, I decided I wanted to visit my grandparents who were not too far away. Again, the experience would have been really nice if grandpa hadn't hit Xingmao's car! Fortunately, my grandpa hits cars all the time and is well accustomed to shelling out the dough to fix the damage.

It's been an interesting weekend.


Screw TGIF!

I hate Fridays, especially this Friday and the Fridays to come.

Fridays are now my busiest day of the week. From 8:30 am-5:30 pm I am at school with less than half an hour to eat lunch.

Do I want sympathy? Hell Yes! No one else has this schedule but me, and I don't think it's fair.

Actually, I've gotten used to it, except for one thing: I spend all my time and energy at school on Friday, and then Friday night I have nothing to do because I am too tired to answer the phone when a friend.

I don't want to be the grumpy old lady on a Friday night, yet I choose to be. Where's the sense in that? I don't know.

All of these emotions are actually brought on by the fact that according to Stanislavski, I am not an artist and never will be even if I can sing pretty and try really hard. Thus, I am depressed and grumpy and have a hatred for Jason Mraz, Twista, and Kill Hannah whose music is blaring on the quad right now thanks to the DePaul Activity board and something they like to call Fest.

I need to get out of here.


big breath

Well...I'm a big girl now. I just signed my first lease for an apartment.
I move in July 1. So it's a little later than I had originally planned. But that's ok. Things are going to be awesome. Basically, we're living in a complex filled musicians, namely singers. Haha. It's going to be an interesting year. But I'm soooo excited. Everything is finally happening and falling into place. Just so you know, Alex and (hopefully) Paulina and I will have the best apartment in the world. During breaks, we're going to have you all over. Sweet...

Compliments to hubby Alex
Oh yeah, forgot to mention this. Paulina is my sweet mate suite mate in my current dorm. She's pretty much one of the coolest people I've met since I've been here. Not a music kid, but still really cool because she's undeclared and pretty much likes all the bands I like. Actually, she went with Alex and I to the Sigur Ros concert last night, which was pretty amazing. I'll have to write about that tomorrow because there's a lot to write on that subject as well.


Pretty Girls Make Metro Bouncer Mad

Sad story.

On Friday, the boy and I went to the Metro to see Pretty Girls Make Graves. He really likes them, and I think they're decent, although I don't know their music all too well.

Long story short: We got kicked out before the show even started because a bitchy, pretty boy bouncer saw me take a few sips from Dan's beer with no pretty green wristband on. No different from any other time I've been to a concert. We weren't making a scene or being out of control. Honest to God I only had a few sips. But, the bouncer wasn't budging or making any deals. I offered to leave and go home so Dan could stay and enjoy the show (mostly because it didn't mean that much to me anyway), but he refused, and we walked home in silence.

What happened to the good old days of the Metro? When people could drink and smoke and have a good time listening to good music? Sigh...

To make myself feel better for getting us kicked out, I decided that whoever this pathetic, must-stick-to-all-the-rules bouncer was just dumped by his girlfriend and in order to make himself feel important again, he picked on a cute girl who looked similar to his ex.

Well bouncer, I hope you do feel better for picking on a little girl like me who would never do anyone harm unlike a big black man on crack who would no doubt kick the bejesus out of you if you ever tried to kick him out. Way to go, man!


you know my pick-pocket days are over

The days when I took whatever flyer or pamphlet came my way have now ended.

Last night, I was on the L with my husband Alex and my friend Matt. We were talking about typical gay things when a black man sitting behind us stood up and offered us his card. Of course, I can't say no to any free thing. It was for a church and the black man started to testify. We were silent and non-responsive.

"The Lord showed me the way on November 23 when I tried to kill myself. My wife had left me and took my son. I started drinking and doing the drugs and the lord showed me how I was doing the devils work. He also showed me how the devil killed the people that I loved. Especially my mother. Whew. You know he loves you and you and you."

"So...anyway...who was this guy that you had oral sex with for four hours Matt?"


One week

Tomorrow will mark one week since my roommate's boyfriend has NOT stepped foot in our room.


Let's just say when I got home from the NP concert last week, I finally put my foot down.

Unfortunately, I cannot tell all the details on this blog, for it would be in bad taste. But if you want to know the whole story, you can e-mail me.


reform now!

Whoever thought that quarter schedules was a good idea should be shot.
Having 3 midterms and 3 finals a year really sucks. Again, I'm having a ridiculously hard midterm in my Musicianship class. Ok, I know I complain about this class every time I have a test, but I swear to Allah, that these tests are ridiculously hard and ambiguous. And it's not like I can even try and study ahead of time because for 4-5 weeks it seems like we're studying one thing, and then the day before the test, he gives us a practice exam, and it may as well be a completely different chapter. Then the one day you have to study, you're forced to guess what's really important to study because the real exam isn't even remotely close to the practice one. AHHHH! The man is a genius, and because of a peculiar incident, I'm even convinced he's psychic or has super-natural powers. But my god, man. Can you give us a break? None of us are going to remember this stuff unless we're going to study Musicology. Yes, this is the top class, and I feel honored to be even in it, considering I never took AP Music Theory in high school, but this stuff literally makes me want to kill myself. Next year is supposed to be even harder. GROAN...

In other news, I want to be a Chimera (either mythological creature or crazy medical condition!)


a champ's breakfast

This morning, I carried a box of Cracklin' Oat Bran with me to school. Most people's response was, "Cracklin Oat Bran? Sweet."
To which I replied, "Hell Yeah."

No doubt about it. Cracklin' Oat Bran is the best stuff out there. Forget Wheaties, forget Lucky Charms. Cracklin Oat Bran is king!


Buzznet RAWKS!

Check out my Buzznet site for a documented trip to lousy Evanston to see a concert on a whim!


Watch me Watchmen

Watching the movie V for Vendetta rekindled my interest in comic books, so I decided to read The Watchmen. Fortunately, I found it at the library and didn't have to drop anymore money on the special edition that book stores only seem to be selling these days.
So, the past week or so, I've been toting around the bright yellow book, and the responses I got all in one day were astounding! Within the course of an hour, three men, (one gay, one black, and one very scrawny white boy), came up to me and said, "You're reading the Watchmen? That's awesome." We would then have other mini-conversations about other comic books we've read.
I finished the comic the other day, and I must say it's quite good, not my favorite though. But there's something very interesting about the graphic novels concept and how people respond to it. I'll try to explain without giving away the ending. There's one character whose goal is to unite the entire world, and in a way, those who have read the book are united. Even though this character is completely fictional, his achievements are almost carried on, in a way. Sorta. It made sense a minute ago. Oh well. Maybe some people know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, I had forgotten how much I love to read. I'm excited about a book I have to read for English, Twighlight of the Ice. It's about Chicago and the men who used to ice down the freight cars in the stockyards. Very interesting.
This English class is going to be really cool. I'll write more on it later, but it's all about Chicago and we get to research any Chicago related topic we want. I'm going to research Little Italy/Taylor St. I can't wait!



Ok, I have to be honest with you guys. This blog, and blogging in general, just isn't working for me right now. Some things have happened that could be blogged about, but why bother? For the past couple of weeks, I've been keeping a diary of the paper and pen variety. I won't delete the blog just yet, perhaps something will strike me, hopefully not lightning, though.


Lament for Edgar

Fox's captivating hit drama, 24, just killed off it's best character, Edgar. He was my favorite because he knew so much about those computer thingys. He was a hacking genius, and Chloe was his socially awkward companion. But now he's gone for good. I don't think you can revive anyone who died of a nerve gas attack.

No one cares except my brother and me, but if you ever watch the show, you too will feel my pain.


Endings, beginnings, and middles

Today is my half birthday. I am 19 and 1/2.

Today, my parents have spent 30 years of their lives together.

My cousin's baby, Iris, is a year old already.

In April, I will have dated my boyfriend for a year.

In two weeks, this school quarter will be over and I will do nothing for spring break but visit my family.

I finally finished A Confederacy of Dunces. I've been reading it for several months now, but I have no idea what my next novel will be.

I've started writing a real diary, one in which I don't have to censure my thoughts. We'll see how long it lasts.

I am a new person today.


Estoy matando el tiempo

I am killing the time.
My piano class was cancelled this morning/afternoon and I had plenty of time before my English, but in true Jigau style, I'm updating my blog with less than half an hour before class. Meh. It's only English, a subject that I'm beginning to loathe, mostly because of the teacher. She wastes class time like no other, and it's not the fun kind of wasting time, either, like philosophical conversations about the evils of Best Buy or Blockbuster. She reads things to us word for word off the overhead and expects us to copy it, or something. Academics at DePaul are slightly ridiculous. Today, I met a guy who is going to major in Japanese (he's white), and when I said "arigato" just for giggles, he said, "Yeah, we haven't learned that yet..." He said something else, but I tuned out. Whatever boy. Keep eating your Krispy Kremes and milk for lunch.
Well, I better go. Don't want to be late for class...


Illinois is for ice-skaters

Did you know that two of the skaters on the men's Olympic ice-skating team are from Illinois? Matt Savoie is from Peoria and even got a degree in Political Science at Bradley, and Evan Lysacek is from Naperville! Woa. Too bad he's not going to get on the podium. He's super cute!

Add another item to the list of things I've lost and/or broken:
I can't find my glasses. Of all things, my glasses! Fortunately, I wear mostly contacts. But seriously, my glasses? I can't see without some sort of corrective vision, so I don't think I could have really left them somewhere and walked off without them. But I've searched my side of the room top to bottom, and they are nowhere to be seen! I'm seriously starting to consider foul-play. Number one suspect: my roomy!
I don't really think she stole them, but what else am I supposed to think? Glasses just don't grow feet and walk off.
Any ideas where to look? I've looked about everywhere, but I'm open to anything right now.


Nothing is worse than a bad lesson

I just got done with my voice lesson about half an hour ago, and it SUCKED! I don't know what the deal was. My head just wasn't in the game, as they say. I had a hard time with a song that I learned last week and should have had perfected this week, but didn't, and it's time like these I kick myself for being a quick learner and having high standards.
My teacher is older, in her seventies, and she's as sharp as a butcher's knife, cuts like one too. She never says outright "You Suck!" but she has her way phrasing things in a nice manner, but upon second examination, you realize she cut you up BAAAAD!
I love talking to the other freshman girls in her studio about her and her little sayings. Like, "Don't be artsy-craftsy. Just sing!" or "Don't pussy-foot it."
She's a funny old lady, except when I have a bad lesson. You know you have a bad lesson when she doesn't say it was a good one. Now I feel like crap and want to write on a sheet of paper a hundred times over "I will never have a bad lesson again. I will not disappoint my teacher." But then there are other singers who never practice and just get away with it, like my friend Meatloaf. She even has a "famous" teacher, but she doesn't get the glare of shame. Grrrr....
Being in the School of Music sucks sometimes.


Olympic Champions

Let me just start off by saying that I LOVE the Olympics. It's the only time when I feel patriotic and want my players to kick the butts of the other ones. Then again, I realize the terrible truth that we're all ethnocentric assholes, but I don't care. I'll root for team America any day. And actually, in the winter Olympics, we're the underdogs, so I don't feel bad for cheering blindly.
However, there are some things I'd like to address.

Apollo Ono, you have let fame go to your head, and for the past two winter Olympics, you have been a disappointment. You're not even that cute.

Shawn White, way 2 go, dude. Right on. But dude, what was up with Bob Costas asking you about getting more babes after winning gold? That was shady. You should have punched him out or whacked him with your medal.

Michelle Kwan, I have cheered for you from the beginning. Tara, Sarah. They are nothing. I know a guy who met Tara Lipinski on the ice after she retired and said she was a bitch. You had true grace, and I'm so sad that you're leaving. I wanted to see you beat all those little girls and show them that it's never too late to win. But that won't be happening, will it? That's a shame. You probably could have done it. And another thing, you, at least, would truly appreciate the medal. Kids burn out so quickly in that sport, but you have remained. Hell, you're only 25 and you're considered old. There's something terribly wrong with that, but I guess that's how things work in the sports world.

Despite all the pro-American ads on the TV, I still love watching the games because there is nothing more exciting than watching the top athletes of the world performing their best, including curling.


Have I changed?

Well, you can certainly take your nickel back.


Malicious Mirabel

Mirabel, believe it or not, is a boy's name. He used to be my floor's RA, but after tonight, I don't think I'll be seeing Mirabel anymore.
Alex and I were sitting on my bed, trying to watch Donnie Darko, but we had just watched Flightplan and probably weren't ready for another movie. Then, we hear Mirabel pounding on my suite-mate's door, drunk as all hell, yelling, "Open the door. Open the Fucking door, Bitch! Open the Fucking door, Bitch." He repeated this, over and over again. I'm very close with my suite-mate Paulina, and I know that she was not doing anything in her room that would have made Mirabel so aggressive. Plus, Paulina is a quiet girl, and had hardly ever spoken to him. I cut across the bathroom to see what was going on. She started screaming back at him, "No I don't have to open the door. This is ridiculous and disrespectful. How dare you call me that...etc." and he eventually walked away.
I give Paulina my phone to call campus public safety and she files a report. Shortly after she does this, Mirabel comes back to her door and starts pounding again. This time, he was dumb enough to talk to someone on his cell and actually admitted to being on duty. This sent Paulina over the edge, and I called public safety to file another report, and they assured me that officers were on their way.
At this point, Alex and I, plus Miranda (a friend of Paulina's) are all in Paulina's room, waiting with her for the campus cops to show up. They come, ask Paulina a few questions, and the search for a missing Mirabel began.
Now, according to Bailey, the black man that sits at the dorm's front desk late at night and can't type to save his soul, later told Alex and I that the only reason the campus cops found him was because he slipped on the ice outside while he was smoking and cracked open his head. They asked him some questions, and took him to the hospital, for both the cracked head and his blood-alcohol level (that's university protocol).
Paulina is pressing charges against him (which means that real police made their way to our dorm) because God knows what could have happened if she opened the door. I don't think she'll get very far, but Mirabel's career as an RA is OVER, which actually makes me a little sad. He was a nice guy, and other than this one incident, he'd never been mean or belligerent.
On a side note, it was a good thing that my door was locked for the reason that my roommate and her boyfriend were out in the study lounge and had no key with them...
But after Paulina screamed at Mirabel, he tried to open my door to get in.
Such drama!
Paulina is ok, though. She's a little shaken, but she'll be just fine.
And because every story must relate to me, I was excited to give my witness statement to the Chicago cop. I might get to go to court too! Yay fun!


Irresponsible? Probably

Well, my camera is broken, and now my iPod has joined the ranks of broke-dom...
I'm not sure what to do. I believe it's still under its year warranty, but ALL MY MUSIC IS GONE!!!
Obviously, I'm panicking a wee bit.

In other news:
Jesse Jackson spoke at DePaul. I caught the end of it, but I'll be honest, I was a little turned off. He had everyone repeat his words, but I was told that that's just "his thing." You GO poor people!

I hate my English teacher. She wastes our class time by making us do elementary English assignments, but that might just be the fact that many of the people in my class can't write for beans. I had a meeting with her today to discuss my writings...worthless. At least she said that I could communicate clearly. Thank-you Mrs. Page.

This week is mid-terms. I'm crying inside.


Weird dreams

I've been having the strangest dreams these past two nights.
The most disturbing dream occurred two nights ago. It started out with me sleeping in my bed in my dorm, and my roommate with her boyfriend in her bed on the other side of the room. Her boyfriend had to get up and leave so he started putting his clothes, only to realize he had no clean underwear. This is where things get a little fuzzy. I'm not sure if he saw a pair of my panties and decided to wear them, or if I offered them to him. No matter. He started to put them on. Now, Ashley's boyfriend is a bigger guy. He couldn't easily fit into my underwear, but in the dream, he managed to squeeze them on, and continued to taunt me. "Hey, Diana. Look, there's a crotch in your panties. How do you feel about that?"
I couldn't tell if I was laughing or crying in the dream, but I was in hysterics.


My baby is in the shop

Last week, I broke my camera. It was in my backpack along with a water bottle. Later, I discovered that my bag was wet as well as my camera.
Fortunately, my mother had the smarts to buy an extended warranty, so I can get it fixed free of charge.
Well, it'll be shipped to the manufacturers tomorrow, but it'll take 4-6 weeks. That's 4-6 weeks without a camera! 4-6 weeks without new buzznet pictures! OH NO! WHAT WILL I DO WITHOUT BUZZNET?
My little camera needs lots of prayers, guys. I want it back as soon as possible, but without your help, I feel as though I'll never get it back.


So much to cover!

Tyler and I met online about a year ago. He started reading my blog, and I checked his out. Then suddenly we started an e-mail correspondence that continues to this day!
He just recently moved to Chicago and we finally met up.
He met me at the "L" stop closest to him. I'd seen pictures of him before, so I knew what he looked like, but had no idea what he would sound like, which is actually what I was concerned most about, for some reason. He has a nice mellow voice. I was glad.
I wouldn't say that things were awkward between us, but things were a little quiet, but things only got better as the evening went on.
We went to a coffee place near his apartment in Andersonville. Nice place, nice atmosphere. More talking, more getting to know a person I already knew.
There will certainly be more meetings for Ty and I. Alex and I are going to take him to H&M soon and help him get some new clothes for job interviews.
Hooray for meeting people!



Ryan Barrows died today. I don't think many people in my circle know him, but he was a good kid, and certainly didn't deserve to die of cancer this morning at the age of 21.
I knew Ryan through youth group. He was kinda weird, I won't lie, but he was charming. The only way I knew how to describe him to people was that he worked at our local movie theatre forever.
We went on a missions trip together and I met his dad.
His older brother committed suicide about a year ago.
Ryan was diagnosed with cancer last year. I want to say it was a type of bone cancer. The doctors wiped out his immune system and he was in isolation for several months.
Did I mention he was 21?


Paulina's Pinch

Yesterday, my sweet-mate Paulina confessed that she had a mega-crush on a waiter that works at a local pizza joint.
"I think he's anywhere between 25-28 years old. Do you think that's too old? He's really cute though. He's tall and skinny with thick, black glasses. Dark curly hair on top, but not like a Jew-fro. AND he always wears the same white t-shirt, jeans, and red converse. I really want to slip him my digits. What do you think?"
I told her to go for it. Be fearless. Bait the trap then watch him bite.
So we designated tonight as the night when Paulina gives this man her number. I told her that no matter what happened, she was going to follow through.
We brought a posse to support Paulina on her mission.
He was pretty cute, I must admit. Skinny and tall like Morrissey, but nerdy like Elvis Costello. The red converse definitely sold me.
We ordered dinner and ate it casually, occasionally sneaking glances at him. Talking about him. Giggling. Eating. I kept telling Paulina to go up to the counter and give him her number when no customers were around, but she hemmed and hawed.
"I don't think I can do it, you guys. What should I do or say? I don't know..."
"Goddamit, Paulina. You are giving him that number or I will!"
The plan was that we were going to pack up, and then on the way out, she would go up to the counter and pass the note. But then pizza-man disappeared. He resurfaced wearing a trench coat. We all started to freak out. "Paulina, it's your last chance. Do it now!"
"No, I can't do it. I can't."
He went out the door.
"Dammit Paulina. Fine. I'll do it for you."
I grabbed the number from her and ran towards the door, but at this point he had already crossed the street. One of Paulina's friend was behind me and told me to go. And I did. I ran across the street to catch him.
"Hey. Wait! Wait up!"
He turned around and I gave him the napkin with her number.
"Ummm...My friend in there thinks that you're cute, and she wants to give you her number, but she was too chicken to do it."
"Oh really? Well, I probably noticed her. Where was she sitting?"
"At the long table, closest to the counter. She's the cute one with short, straight brown hair."
"What's her name?"
"Oh yeah, Paulina. I remember her because she goes to DePaul, right?"
"Ok, well is she going to be home later tonight? Maybe I'll give her a call. Tell her my name is Barry."

The things I do for my friends.
Actually, it wasn't a big deal. I no longer fear the opposite sex, plus this was a person I didn't even know. I didn't care. If I weren't already involved, I might have given him my own digits.
Now, we wait.
Hopefully, I'll have more updates. Now that I'm a part of this, I want to see this thing through.

How about those UTI's?

Last night, I pissed and there was blood.
That's not normal.
I had to wait until this morning to receive medical care, so at 10:15 (as instructed) I was at the medical center ready to fill out paper work and pray to God I get an appointment.
To my surprise, there was only one girl in front of me... a girl I knew. We were both in the Discover Chicago class together. I never talked to her much, mostly because she had designated someone as her best friend in the class. Plus, we're not exactly compatible. She's from Wisconsin, plus she's tall, blonde, trendy, and a business major.
We got to talking after filling out all the forms. As we're talking, I'm trying to figure out her symptoms. She didn't have a scratchy voice, or visible bleeding. She wasn't hunched over in pain...
My God. She was there for the exact same reason I was!
My guess wasn't confirmed until I gave one of the nurses my urine sample. There was the exact same cup filled with pee with her name on it. She also saw me turn in my pee.
"I had to do that too," she said.
"Yep. How about those UTI's?" I said.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. She knew EXACTLY what I was talking about.
I'm still giggling because I saw someone else's pee.


The same beginning

Yesterday was the first day of class at DePaul, and I was happy to be back home.
My classes are mostly the same, but now instead of Discover Chicago: Music Scene, I have a comp. and rhetoric class.
I want to tell a quick funny tangent about this English class. I've never been in a class with so many people with ESL (English as a Second Language) or unique first and last names. My favorite name is a girl with the name of Skysta. That's probably not how she spells it, but that's how she pronounces it. Sky-Sta. I want that to be my name. That's a sweet name.
I'm concerned about the amount of homework I'll get this quarter, especially with this English class. I'll get it all done, but it will definitely cut down on the amount of time I spend dickin' around with my husband.
Oh wait. That's a good thing, especially since yesterday was a reenactment of every other day we've spent at DePaul.
My husband and I, plus two other vocal students (Meatloaf and Ptaaaak!)went to our favorite Thai restaurant and then rented Wedding Crashers.
Same as it ever was.
Wedding Crashers was a funny movie, and I know at one point, all of us were laughing hysterically at something, but whether that was the movie or something Ptaaak! did, I'm not sure.
Then of course my roommate's boyfriend came over and I listened to loud music on my iPod while they made out on her bed. But that's fine because I didn't wake her up this morning until 15 minutes before class started. Oops...
So we're all back in the swing of things. I just hope that this time around, I'll do more work than play.

The thing I was laughing hysterically about didn't happen while watching Wedding Crashers. It happened in my room. Ashley's boyfriend saw a box of truffles that he had given her. One truffle was left. He takes the chocolate, turns to me, and says, "I gave her this box of four truffles several months ago and there's still one here. I force fed her two of them to her."
Let's just say that the delicious Godiva chocolate truffle was fed to her like a dog taking its medicine. Shove the pill down his throat, then rub his neck to make him swallow.
I nearly died, the spectacle was so funny.