This is the maestro for the opera...except not. I happen to think the maestro looks and sounds like David Sedaris.

That's all I can say about him.

Now I'm watching LOST, and all I can say about that is it better kick ass, or I will be one dissatisfied customer. I'll start singing the praises of Heroes.

The one bad thing I can say about Heroes is that there's this black guy on the show, and he's a Haitian. Everyone on the show calls him "the Haitian." This would be totally cool with me, except that most people on the show who've seen him, only see him. He doesn't talk. That's his "thing." So, in the real world, they would just be calling him the creepy black dude that never says anything, but of course, that's politically incorrect.

Second time around

Crap! I am sick again! This time it's just a head cold, but I swear to God, if this cold bug were a real person I would kill it. Probably bludgeon it with a hammer. That sounds adequate.

In other news, my parents bought a Mac computer. Quite frankly, I'm slightly disappointed in their decision making. I'm a PC user, even though my computer is a piece of crap. Every time I download an episode of Heroes (yeah, I'm super hooked) off of iTunes, my computer freaks out when it's time to finalize the download.

Oh yeah, and it's really cold outside. Anyone notice?

And the Super Bowl...or Ueber Schuesell...Yeah, I don't care about that really. I was going to watch it with the kids on the second floor, but they're jack-asses and didn't pay their gas bill for 6 months, so the gas company finally turned their heat off, and they can't get it turned back on until Wednesday. There's no way I'm going to freeze my ass off there for a few hours, even if they do have cable and a bigger TV than we do. To me, heat is more important, which is the very reason why we never got cable.

XXX

Oh my god. Probably the most funny thing happened!

Picture this:

Me, Jessa, and three teenage gays on our furry couch. We're watching the first season of Queer as Folk on DVD, and some lesbians at a party come on screen. One lesbian is married with baby, the other is single, wild, and saying that she is "PC." That of course means "Performs Cunnilingus."

Jessa and I look at each other, and there's a silence from the couch crowd. Then one of the gays say, "Wait. What? What does PC mean?"

Me and Jessa:"Performs...You know..."

Gays: "No. What? Performs what?"

Me and J:"...Cunnilingus..."

Gays: "What's that?"

Me and J: "Oh my god. You don't know what that is!?!?!?"

Gay 1: "Something about vagina?"

Me and J: "Oh god. This is weird."

Jessa: "Well you know what Fellatio is, right?"

Gay 2: "Yeah..."

[silence]

Gay 3: "Oh! So it's, eating out? Right?"

This only proves that gay boys, no matter how old, are still just boys, and don't know EVERYTHING yet. Not that they need to know about that kind of thing, exactly... Well, it's still funny to me...

Poll time!!!

Some of you may shake your head, thinking how bad you want to be in my position. But I have a serious dilemma on my hands.

Here's the deal. So, you all know I'm going to Wales. Really really exciting. But now, I'm also seriously considering not going home right away. Maybe heading to Germany for a week...Just like Sarah, I'm having some huge wanderlust issues. And since I'm taking German this year, I thought about trying it out.

I think I have the money to go, but I'm afraid that if I do this, I'll kill all my savings (unless my grandparents suddenly die and leave all their money to ME!!!) probably. But I'm really trying to save the majority of my church money.

Bah!!! I want to travel so bad right now. The bug has hit me HARD!!! So I need some rational people to either tell me to wait on Germany, or totally go for it while I still can.

Oh yeah, and it's a little scary, and I will probably never take advantage of this site, but it's pretty cool. Couchsurfing.com

Pissy

My internet is being super slow, I'm hungry, I have a quick recording session with my A Cappella choir that I don't want to go to, I have homework to do, and to top it all off, the sermon at mass this morning was PRO-Life.

Ugh...

So I would just like to say in my most pissiest voice possible:
I hate frequent YouTube vloggers because all they do is make fun of the stupid shit on the internet like "Dick in a Box" and when I want to watch or show someone "Dick in a Box" all I can find is your shitty-ass remake of it.

IT WAS FUNNY THE FIRST TIME! I DON'T NEED TO SEE YOU DO IT TOO. THANK-YOU!!!

For all you wondering

For all you wondering if Middlesex is a good read: Yes it is! I highly recommend it, although I'm not finished with it yet.

I only read it because Dan kept reading bits and pieces out loud. The part about the crocus got me hooked. Jeffrey Eugenides first book, The Virgin Suicides, didn't impress me all that much. It was good, but it wasn't THAT good. You know what I mean? Mainly, it just pissed me off that it's never explained why any of the girls killed themselves. Maybe that was the point, but whatever. I like things spelled out for me. Plain and simple.

But Middlesex is much different. This has history to it. Fascinating history. And it seems like he's done his research well. The book's history spans for three generations, and a lot historically happens. It's so cool. Even if Jeff does look like a stuck up ass in his pictures.

So read it. Love it. Get back to me.

P.S. I would like to address the mysterious person who wrote "prunes" on our apartment grocery list. I want to know who you are so that I can thank you for the hysterical joke, and also ask you if you were the person who left a tiny, glittery pumpkin on our table for Thanksgiving.

P.P.S. My dear readers, none of this is a joke. Some unknown person really did write prunes our grocery list and left a glittery pumpkin. Weird shit always happens to us!

Last night

Last night I had these plans of cleaning up the apartment and then leisurely reading my new book, Middlesex, and going to sleep early.

I did everything except go to bed early. Turns out I couldn't fall asleep till 4 am, and then at 8 woke up to get ready and go sing at church. Bitch! I hate not being able to sleep.

Anyway, while I was cleaning, I came up with this list of questions to ask my apartment if it could talk. Here's the list, and the answers.

Apartment, why does Martin (the landlord) hate us?
Because you're good tenants. If you were bad ones, he'd have leverage to raise the rent on you at the end of your lease.

Doesn't he have that leverage already simply because of where we live?
...Yes. Ok, Martin is just a douche bag because he has to be one. Didn't you listen to This American Life this week?

Oh yeah. Ok, well why is our apartment perpetually messy?
In buildings this old, dirt grows.

Do we have ghosts?
Probably. But I'm really not an expert on the manner. If you're talking about the footsteps that you here while you're taking a shower, that's the previous tenant who never gave his keys back. He likes to visit his old haunts.

Is that supposed to be funny?
Yeah, it was. Guess it didn't work.

You are so retarded, apartment. Will you just please stop shifting around? I'm so tired of the slanted walls and ceiling and floors. Nothing about you is level. That's so not cool. I'll live in you for as long as I can, but once I'm gone, I'm gone forever. Aufwiedersen Baby!
That's what they all say.

God, apartment, you're just as douchey as Martin. I don't think I want to talk to you anymore.

Dr. P

As some of you may know, my choir director last year went to Georgia last year, on a Fulbright.

This quarter, we are singing mostly Georgian folk music, which is super great because we get to sing as loud as we want.
But mainly my point of the story is that Dr. P normally gives us bites of wisdom about Georgian culture, and how cool and quirky the people are.
Today, we learned about Georgian dance. Dr. P tried very hard to demonstrate both traditional male and female dance. Personally, I thought he did a fine job, especially after spending 5 seconds on YouTube and saw this video!!!



Dr. P described these dances to the T!!! Including the creepy ladies with long dresses and wavy arms. Oh yeah, and men, don't forget to chuck your daggers by your side.

Goddamn Dr. P is so cool!!!

Resolutions...

Dan and I made a New Year's resolution that we weren't going to eat out this month...I haven't been doing so well at it. So far, I've been to two restaurants, and the student center a couple of times...At first I wasn't counting student center food as "going out," but considering I've only eaten shit when I was there, I think it does now.

I haven't done much work this week, which is bad, because I have a lot of practicing to do. This whole singing thing is becoming a drag. Since I didn't practice tonight or Monday, I'll at least clean up my room right after I'm done typing this blog entry, and then practice in the morning, like I should do every day. Yeah.

As a side note, I would just like to add that I love it when people reference NPR. It is the one, true radio station. Anyone who listens to NPR is smart. I am one of these people. I am smart because I listen to NPR.

Not that you care

I did some tidying with my template. Thought about changing it, but as much as I wish I was, I'm just not talented in that area. Besides, all the templates on blogskins.com are far too...original for me to pass off as my own.

I took away some band sites, and I added a few. I also added some of the websites that I've been frequenting. I'm in a German groove, if you can't tell.

PS. I have a new German teacher this quarter and he is a CUTIE!!! This could be a difficult class to get through with him around all the time. But who knows, maybe he'll be a complete jack-ass and I'll hate his guts. He did do the typical DePaul professor line, "I got my PH.d at Northwestern University...blah blah blah." But he lived and studied in Berlin for five years, and his voice just sounds so warm and friendly. He could definitely be a day-time TV star.

Wish I had this weekend off, but I don't. DePaul Acappella Choir has me working my but off tomorrow, and Sunday is church day. [General Grumbling]

Speaking of DAC...did I mention that we're going to Wales this summer? I am so excited! We're competing in some international chorus competition/festival. It's going to eat a big portion of my savings, but oh will it be fun. I seriously think I'm going to have a hard time coming back to the States.

There will be much more posting about Wales. I have a feeling that from now on, the choir is just going to sleep, eat, and breath for the competition. Wales. Wales. Wales. We will win at Wales...

Just Kiddin...

Hahahahahahahahahaha.

I went to the hospital today. Took an ambulance and everything.

This morning, I thought I was having an asthma attack because my throat got all tight and I felt like I couldn't breath. The paramedics thought I was having an allergic reaction or a panic attack, but I wasn't. Although, I suppose I could have been since I didn't really want to go back to school...But that's not why I couldn't breath, I swear! Anyway, my lungs were fine and so was my blood-oxygen level saturation...thing.

I learned a new term today. When someone is "tacky," it doesn't just mean that they're wearing a bad shirt, it means their heart is beating fast. So when they took my pulse, I was tacky. Cool huh?

Anyway, it wasn't an asthma attack. I just have a throat infection. Got my antibiotics plus steroids. And I am A-OK. So stop worrying about me, please.

Oh yeah, and my doctors name was Dr. Frederic Fishman. I thought it was funny.

So, now I really have to go back to school. Yuck!

Liebe auf den ersten Blick

I have a new love in my life. His name is Ubel Knubel.

Watch him, and you'll love him too.

Update

Christmas was fun.

New Year's was hilarious.

I gave my boyfriend whatever viral infection I had that left me with no voice for five days, and now I have it back again.

Watch out for this stuff. It is killer!

Oh yeah, I start school tomorrow, too. BOO!!!!

Clean.

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.

Craaap...

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.

BURRRP!!!!

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

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.

TODAY IS A GOOD DAY FOR DEMOCRATS!!!

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...


YOU SUCK CTA!!! YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY WORTHLESS ON THE WEEKENDS!!! AND THE WORST PART IS, YOU DON'T EVEN CARE HOW MUCH YOU SUCK! I WANT TO GO TWO MILES NORTHWEST ON A SUNDAY MORNING SO THAT I CAN SING AT CHURCH, BUT NO! YOUR BROWN LINE HAS TO HAVE 1/2 HOUR SPAN IN BETWEEN TRAINS. OR WHAT ABOUT THE TIME I WAS TRYING TO GO TO DAN'S PLACE AT AROUND MIDNIGHT, AND I WAITED FOR AN HOUR!!!! FOR A REDLINE HEADING SOUTH TO THE LOOP. BOB SAGGOT!!!
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...

LISTEN!!!

Although, this comes close...

LISTEN!!!

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."

AND...

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.

VICTIM!

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.
Wow...
Wow...
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

EDIT:
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.

Yay!!!

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!

Look...

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!!!
It's ok. IT'S OK! IT'S ALL GOING TO BE OK!!!
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

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?"
"Paulina."
"Oh yeah, Paulina. I remember her because she goes to DePaul, right?"
"Yeah."
"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.

EDIT
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.

Update

I just updated my buzznet site. Finally, all my pictures are up. They go back all the way to the Limelight show. Check them out.

New Moon

There will be a new moon tonight.
A perfect night to be alone and wallow in the sins of the world.

Nothing brings a smile to my face more than a gay man

Two gay men make my day even better!
I had to go to the mall today and buy a birthday present for the B-man. While I was in this particular store, I happened to run into a fellow DePaul classmate who worked at the store. I said hello to her, and then she just so happened to check me out. Glad to be leaving (not because of her, but the store's overwhelming atmosphere), I scampered to the exit, only to hear a man's voice call my name.
"Hello, Darling."
"Brandon! Good to see you again." Brandon looked at someone else from his party approaching. "Alex! Oh my God! I haven't seen you in FOREVER! How's it going?"
Alex and I were in the very first Limelight Theatre production together. Every once in a while, I'd see him over the summer while he was living with his dad in the area. Alex (19) is Brandon's (20?) younger uncle. Funny family.
They weren't doing anything special, so I suggested we chat over some coffee.
It was such a good time. They ranted and praised the life-changing experience known as Brokeback Mountain. Brandon and I booed and hissed at our high school choir director. He also told me that I had not yet lived until I see Kapote. Alex is as wonderful as ever and still doesn't blip on my gay-dar. He has turned into such a movie buff and has a really good voice. It's too bad we never went to high school together. We always got along pretty well.
They really cheered me up, though. You might try and take a jab by calling me a fag-hag, but there's nothing better than having a good talk about the arts and people we hated in high school and, of course, scoping out attractive men.

I need a holiday hopper

Sorry for lack of updates, kiddies. I started writing a post a few days ago about the size of my family's Christmas tree, but I never got around to finishing it because then I realized that I'd have to take a picture of it and I didn't feel like doing that because then I'd have to update my Buzznet as well. I have a ton of pictures that I just haven't felt like posting.
Sigh...
What's wrong with me? Limelight is done now. I don't have that excuse anymore. Christmas is here. I'm excited to see my family again. My cousin Josh is back from Spain. He'll have a lot of stories to tell. I went to Alex's Christmas party last night. That was lots of fun.
So why don't I want to do anything right now? After all my complaining about not having anything to do, now all I want to do is stay at home and be with my brother and sister.
I still don't have my Dekalb hat back. Oak Park Mastermind must want to keep it for good. This makes me very sad.
I go back to school January 1. I can't tell if I'm excited or dreading.

The age old question

What do you want?

Since infancy, we have all been asked this question.
What do you want?

Answers are usually one of the following:
[Crying and screaming]
Chocolate.
Money.
success.
Love.
I don't know.

Usually, the last seems to be my answer, even if I just want something to eat from the kitchen. I don't know what I want to eat or what I want my life to be. Are we supposed to know what we want? The power to choose and to reason supposedly separates us from other animals, but what good does that do us when we can't come up with an answer?

All of this thinking is spurred by something Brian said to me this past week.
"I'm almost 34 and I don't even know what I want."

This concept nearly floored me.
We can go through our entire lives without feeling satisfied with ourselves. I guess I always thought that at some point in our lives, we would eventually reach a nirvana of sorts, a complacency with a career or living situation or relationship. And if one does not find this happy place, then she is a failure, a vagabond, a gypsy in life with little hope of really "settling down."
This pinnacle should start to be reached during the college years because that's the time you're supposed to "find" yourself.

Well, I've decided that my previous beliefs are shit.
College is nothing. It's fun and you learn a trade and you learn to be independent, but at this point, we're all too self indulgent and starry-eyed and wet behind the ears to really learn anything about ourselves, except maybe our alcohol tolerance.
And most of all, it confuses the hell out of you. If you're not confused, then there's probably something wrong with you, or you're too motivated for your own good.
Do I know what I really want to do with the rest of my life? I haven't the slightest clue, but I'll get a degree in vocal performance and see where that gets me. Maybe later in life, I can go back to school and learn something really cool, like Russian history.

I know I don't want to be aimless forever, but I don't think I'll be concerned if I can't find the perfect job right away or get upset if things don't go according to my original plans.

What do you want?
I don't know. What do you want?

Dentist

Normally, I don't dread going to the dentist like some people. My dentist is a good friend of the family, and she's nice, doesn't give me too hard a time for not flossing.
But there are factors beyond the dentist's control.
My appointment was for 11, but I got there nearly 20 minutes early. So like a normal person I sat in the waiting room, reading a trashy magazine, and I barely notice the man sitting at the other end of the couch.
"Hello. How are you today?"
Shit. He engaged me, and I was obligated to return the favor.
"I'm fine."
"My name is Charlie."
My god, it had to have been the most awkward 20 minutes of my life. It was like talking to a friend you never really liked, but for some reason or another, you have to be nice to them.
He was CLEARLY gay (the speech impediment was a clear give-away), but worked for a video production company that filmed for Maxim Magazine and Budweiser. He would giggle uncomfortably while describing the "scenes" he had to set up for half naked girls to play on.
At the end of our little chat, he invited me to watch the Chronicles of Narnia with him and his dad.
"No, that's ok. Sounds like a family thing I wouldn't want to intrude upon."
Then I sat in the dentist's chair while the dental hygenist brutally scraped away the enamel on my teeth.
When my real dentist came into the room, I smiled at her with my gums bleeding.
I have to go back next Thursday to get a cavity filled.
At least next time Charlie won't be there.

Drunk Dialed...Again!

At least someone is having a good time.
For the past two nights one of my friends has drunk dialed me.
Now, normally this wouldn't be a problem, but due to my sick circumstances these phone calls have come at very inopportune times. (There is a mountain of dirty kleenexes by my bedside. If one didn't know better, they would think that someone has been furiously masturbating.)
I'm not mad at my friend. I think it's hilarious that I have been chosen as the designated drunk dialee. But it is a sign of the times that we are now in. No longer are we innocent, goofy high school kids. This is the beginning of something much greater. First come these random phone calls, then come marriage and babies and then death.
As far as I'm concerned, the combination of marriage and babies is fatal for at least the first fifteen years. Then, when you're 45 or so, you get to have a life again.
Literally, and symbolically, it's a wake-up call. This is life now, and all the playing fields are level. Whatever upper edge I thought I had over people my age is now gone.
Other people want the same singing career, so I have to be on guard at all times.
Maturity wise, I'm starting to feel no different. In fact, I have a sneeking suspicion that I have digressed.
It's not like this: Oh, I want to stay a teenager forever and have all my friends be the same so that we can live in peace and happiness and giddiness for the rest of our lives because I don't want to be old and jaded.
It's more like: Wow, this is really happening. We really are growing up and becoming (or not becoming) the things we once wanted to be. Some of us have changed a lot, and others not so much.
And this is only the beginning.

I am deathly ill.
Not really, but I want to die.
I think I have bronchitis or something of the respiratory sorts. I'm shaky because of the medicine I'm taking, but I haven't seen a doctor yet. There's this awful thing called a breathing treatment. Basically, it's a bunch of liquid steroids put into a container, and then this machine that makes a lot of noise vaporizes the medicine and you breath in. It takes forever and makes you feel like you have Parkinson Disease.
The stuff works though. I can breathe slightly better now but I'm still coughing. That probably won't go away for a while. And I still have a sore throat. At least that can be solved.
So, if you're one of my true friends, leave me alone and don't call me. Even if I answer, you will not recognize my voice.
Let me die in peace.

Gray Skies

I need a day job.
I love cleaning houses two days a week and judging speech meets on Saturdays, but this is ridiculous.
I'm hiding from my father but he has the day off today so it's a little challenging.
I should see what Chops is doing.
Hopefully something slightly more interesting than visiting blogs and buzznet all day long.
This is the dark side of frequent posting.
Hott Gurl hasn't given me my Dekalb hat back yet.
I'm too impatient.
Many things have been ruined because I haven't been patient.
This post is inspired by this one, but I spell better.
Boyfriend is visiting ex-girlfriend in Chicago today.
Shouldn't let it bother me.
I have little room to talk.
This post is going to piss off more than one person.
There's snow on the ground today.
What is that?
Chops, I hate you sometimes and why in the world would you have a crush on MJ?
I need a better life.

Honey Bear Ham wants you to stay in the city

What kind of kids go back to school while they're on break?
Alex and I, of course!
Kids, the suburbs suck.
The city is where it's at.
According to some important people, we'll all be living in the city someday. Of course, I don't remember where I heard this fact and I can't give any real numbers, but we're all living in the city, in the slums.
Which I think is a better place to be than home right now.
Never come back home, kids. It only leads to heartache and dependency.

MY HAT!

One of the Hott Gurlz, Erin, found my Dekalb hat!
I'm so happy! This makes my day!
It supposedly smells like Pez.
I'm not too excited about that, but it's the price I pay for forgetting my hat in the first place.
Man, I need sticky glue on my hands or something. This losing streak is not cool.

I'm not going to the speech meet on Saturday (which is at Neuqua, which I LOVE because I always won there, which always rocked!), or at least I don't have to judge. Donna supposedly has that one covered. *Tear* I could be nice and show up anyway to watch all the little speechers, but probably not.

Speech team!

Oh man, I'm getting so excited about speech team that it borders on the ridiculous.
Donna B. sent me an e-mail asking if I wanted to judge and coach.
Hell YEAH! It's only what I've been waiting for since August!
God, I'm such a nerd.

back to work

I'm working again with my mom cleaning model houses while I'm on break.
I love my job. Sometimes, I wish I could be a cleaning lady for the rest of my life. I could learn Spanish fluently or Polish! That would be kick-ass.
It's hard going back to work after three months off. The vacuum is much heavier than I remember, and now my hands sting because of the handle. Man, I missed that beast. Royal vacuums are superior. That might be funny to some, but Hoover and Dyson have nothing on the Royal. It's the king of all vacuums. You just have to be careful not to run over the cords with it, or it will suck them up and then you're in trouble.
But I still remember all the little cleaning tips my mom or boss taught me and I distinctly remember the houses themselves. I could probably draw every single layout of each house and tell you exactly where the furniture goes and even where each trinket belongs. Not to mention the distinct smell of each house: some good, some baaaad!
Now, I think I'm going to take a nap since I stayed up half the night working on this blog. I still have a little more work to do: add more links, maybe change a picture or two. Oh, and I have to stay away from Elliot; he has the flu. And we all know how much I Love to vomit.

Buzznet buzz

Yeah, I know those posts haven't been updating themselves...

Brian, Alex, and I went to the Chicago-post Buzznet convention. Good times! Although, I'm sorry to say that I can't really write about it. Just one of those things you had to be at to understand. I'll recap the highlights for all you news junkies.
We didn't show up to the shindig until 9:00pm because we got dinner in Lincoln Park, and didn't want to look like BIG losers and be the first people to show up, the whole fashionably late concept.
We all met Tony P, Dave, Byron, and Chris. Good, cool peoples.
Dave bought Alex and I drinks in the name of underage drinking.
We talked about everything under the sun, but all I seem to remember is Tony P telling Alex and I that we should party more and do shrooms and acid in the woods. Whatever Tony. I don't know what you're talking about...
We left soon after the hott gurls arrived shortly after midnight.
I lost my hat. My fucking favorite hat with the DeKalb badge! Tony, if you stole it, I'll fight you.
We didn't get back to the burbs until 2:45 because earlier in the night, we decided it would be better to park in the loop than in Lincoln Park. Man, I love CTA, but those trains run soooo slow at night.
So now, I have tons of new buzznet friends, and probably more blogger friends, which means that I'll actually update on a regular basis. Times are super easy now because I'm on break for 5 weeks spending quality time with my parents. Joy!

KK is in a coma

KK is in a coma.
KK is in a coma
KK IS IN A COMA!
Someone I've known throughout all my high school career is now in a coma and might not come out of it.
KK, you're stupid!

Why didn't I go to school in Miami?

Today sucked hard. It's cold and the wind sucks. Suck suck suck! Plus, the school "Cafe" doesn't know how to make coffee. It wasn't even hot, and the barristas knew it too because they didn't put the cardboard wrap-around...thing on! Bastards.
And one of my finals is going to take away my soul. The class needs a diaper for this one. It's expected to run from 8:45 to at least noon. Food is also not allowed during the exam. AHHHHH!!!!!
I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'M GOING TO DIE! Do you hear me? Die DIE DIEEEEE!!!!!
I've officially freaked out.
You're all invited to my funeral.

there's no place like home

I genuinely missed home today.
The Bears played at Soldier Field today. Plenty of suburbanites came to the city today with all their garb and the grills in Lincoln Park were fired up.
This would have been a day when my dad cracks open a Sam Adams at 2:00 with maybe a friend or neighbor. I would be in the sun room reading or doing homework. Elliot and Jo would be in their rooms or on the computer. Mom would be in and out of the kitchen, probably cooking chili or soup. Every once in a while she would call to me to chop or wash something, maybe set the table.
That is the perfect Sunday at home and I miss it.
I know I'll be home soon enough. I just have to get through this week and then it's six weeks off. But I know when I get home, I'll just be itching to go back to school.

Ravi Fuckin Shankar!

I didn't even know I was going until this morning! Fucking Alex likes to keep things a surprise.
The man is amazing. He's been my hero ever since I saw the Concert for George. At 75 he can still "rock" on the sitar and compose beautifully complex orchestrations. Not to mention his improv (which is what he mostly does) is like nothing I've ever seen before. At one point towards the end of the concert, he played a minute or so of variations on Yankee Doodle. I kid you NOT!
Not to mention his daughter, Anoushka, is beautiful and incredibly talented as well. And the tabla player, Tanmoy Bose, is not human.
Simply A-mazing.

Sickness

Alex and I are never drinking again.
Bleh!

Penny for the blind

I think I'm a terrible, awful person.
I've probably said that before, but didn't mean it, or said it in a completely different context, but this time, I'm pretty damn sure I'm going to hell.
There are bums/hobos/street people in the city. That's a fact. I walk past them everyday. Not even Lincoln Park, one of Chicago's poshest neighborhoods, is impervious them. They rattle their cups or try to sell you Street Wise, and you walk past them without batting an eye lash. But yesterday was different.
There was a man wearing semi-dirty clothes outside the Fullerton "L" stop with a box full of red roses. At first, I couldn't see how much the roses were, and I most definitely walked to the far left (wrong) side of the sidewalk so he wouldn't try to heckle me. That's when I noticed the sign. Please, Donate to the Blind.
Immediately, my thought was, At least he can't see me.
And then I realized how terrible of a person I am.
This all happened around 3:00 pm while I was on my way to choir rehearsal. Three hours later the man was still there selling roses for the blind, still half smiling, and my self worth dropped even lower.
Honestly, I didn't have a penny on me! Otherwise, I would have donated to redeem myself. They were nice roses too...
Maybe I'll go Oedipus Rex style and gouge my eyes out and walk through the world alone, in exile.
Well, at least I didn't fuck my mom and kill my dad...

The City is on FIRE!

THE CITY IS ON FIRE AND I'M RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF IT!
The Sox winning the Series is like the apocalypse here in Chicago. A happy apocalypse. The kind where everyone gets into heaven.
The streets are going wild. People screaming, cars honking and honking back at each other. No one will sleep tonight.
This is pure mayhem.
God bless Chicago!

SOX

Because I'm living in Chicago and the White Sox are in the World Series, I'm supposed to be interested in sports.
I don't really follow baseball. If it's on and my dad is watching, I'll ask him who's winning and who's sucking. At least I understand the sport, sorta.
Technically, our household is a Cubs household, even though my father was raised by a South Side. Something about the Sox trading my grandpa's favorite player and never forgiving the team, so he switched and started cheering for the Cubs. You would just have to know my grandpa to understand the significance of this trade and his sour disposition on everything. And if you ever expressed interest in the Sox, he would rip into you and tell you that you're wrong and how awful that team was, and you're stupid for liking them. He wasn't a very nice man in the later years of his life.
Anyway...
The city is Sox crazy. Even though where I live is on the North side, people are going CRAZY! On Saturday night, I thought the entire city would explode with excitement because they won their first series game. Flags everywhere, cars honking, people shouting. Ridiculous.
But I don't care. Yeah, the Cubs are the golden team of Chicago, and there's no doubt that the Sox are the ugly South Side stepsister, but nonetheless, the Sox are still the home team. You have to be proud of them, and pray to God that they're smarter than the Cubs and not blow a three game lead.
Go SOX!

Down with Wilco

I had class until 10:40 today, so I couldn't order Wilco pre-sale tickets right at 10 like I wanted to. I didn't sign on a computer until a little after 11.
1 hour 15 minutes, probably much, much sooner, all tickets SOLD OUT!
I can't even describe how pissed off I am.

Wilco Tickets

Wilco is playing a benefit concert for the victims of the hurricane on November 1.
I'm going.
Don't care if I have to go alone.
I'm going.

Purple Line

The Purple Line in Chicago is a mysterious beast.
The line used to run through the loop clockwise, regularly. It was beautiful, especially when traveling to DePaul University because there was no circling.
Well this spring, CTA had to make some cuts because there wasn't enough money floating around, so the beloved Purple Line got cut except during rush hours.
It just so happened that yesterday I was downtown during that time and was lucky enough to catch the elusive Purple Line for a ride back home. Only problem was the train was packed! I've never seen the L that full before.
Not only did the sardine can thing freak me out, but earlier in the morning, a Brown Line (or maybe it was Red, I don't remember) jumped off the track. No one was injured, but morning rush hour was hell for many.
Anyway, because the train was so crowded, I stood right next to the doors. Unfortunately, however, there was nothing for me to hold on to. All I could do was push myself against the divider wall. But when the train takes a sharp turn, it don't do jack shit! Consequently, I smashed into a cute little Indian lady not once, but twice! And I mean smash as in smash. I knocked her back several feet, into the crowds of people.
I felt awful and apologized profusely. She said it was ok, but once the train thinned out, she moved away from me, to a safer side.
You can say whatever you like, but I still love the CTA.

Homecoming

I've done a terrible thing, punishable by death in my standards.
I went home for homecoming.
I didn't even realize what I had done until I got ready for bed last night.
Last year at this time, I wrote a piece about how I hated alumns for coming home and telling me how great college life was, and how they were a bunch of losers for doing so. Now, I am among their ranks. I am disgusted with myself. Especially since I verified going to the homecoming game to see the marching band's new field show (which was cool and worth sitting through). I lied to myself! I really wanted to go home and see my old friends, only it turned out that the people I really wanted to see weren't there (but of course, Abby, I love you unconditionally and came to the game just to see you...).

So now that I'm back home in the suburbs, I have to learn how to drive again, and come to terms with my complete and utter boredom here. My entire day today was spent grocery shopping with my brother, and playing with my sister's stupid hamster that escaped from its cage today. We found it.
I don't know what I'm going to do in December when I'm home for the entire month. Maybe I can go through the winter quarter so that I don't have to come home.
No, I wouldn't do that. Family is more important despite the locale.