Sunday, March 30, 2003 Victory laps part I
I remember how full of hubris I was last summer. I was staying in rural Maryland, interning on the Podunk Weekly, and I thought I was such hot shit. For one thing, I was the snappiest dresser in the whole office. I wrote the best copy. I didn't have any motivational plaques on my desk at all. Also, I was *ahem* working on my novel, and I was knocking my own socks off on a daily basis with how well I was doing. I began to tell myself that novels were really my "thing."
This served as an immense relief, because I've always been on the lookout for a "thing" to call my own. Previous "things," including veganism and Cure fandom rendered me insufferable to most of the population of the world. I'm serious. Inuits wouldn't let me into their igloos, and on faraway Pitcairn Island, villagers rolled their eyes and made gagging motions at the mention of my name.
Novel-writing produces much of the same results, but in my little pleasure dome that summer, I surrounded myself with people who were duly impressed by my "shock and awe" literary strategy.
I found the NaNoWriMo website sometime in June, and after that it was all over for any vestiges of humility I still clung to. Not only was I going to write my thesis in novel-form, I was going to write the entire first draft over the summer. I would spend the first couple weeks of school blowing theatrically on my freshly-painted (shell pink) manicure and asking people what *they* did over the summer in a bored-but-polite tone. Then, I would revolutionize Pravda. I'd start by redesigning the logo and front page, move on to firing the indesirables and replacing them with my smarter, more competent friends and acquaintances, and start doing some really hard-hitting articles about Things That Mattered. By then, it would be November, and after recovering from my usual Halloween bender, I would leap out of bed and begin writing MY SECOND NOVEL OF THE YEAR !!!
After that, I would chill out a little, eat some tofurkey leftovers, and then pick which novel was the most worthy of revision. I would spend Christmas break and the spring month polishing the most likely candidate, and then I would graduate with honors and take home a large cash prize.
posted by Frenz | 3/30/2003 12:12:00 PM
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Thursday, March 27, 2003 Hoola Boola
I've been up all night. I remember when that used to mean I'd been partying hard.
Tonight was Pravda night, and in honor of April Fool's day, Pravda was actually called Pravda for this edition only. Forced humor in a shitty college paper is worse than a painful skin rash. Grrrawk. It's a living. I must, I must, I must complete my thesis. Otherwise I'll never get out of this one-horse town.
I've actually been working on it tonight, for the first time in a week. I think my advisor is right and I do have to swittch the whole damn thing into 3rd person. It is to weep, but it really is surprisingly better that way.
Right now, I really envy Miss Wong, and all my other classmates who are writing poetry theses. Even if they sweated blood for every word they wrote (and they probably didn't. Despite the myths the tortured artist industry tries to spread, at least some percent of the writing she does comes easily or satisfyingly to any writer. If it didn't, she would've chosen a different career path.), even if it was that fucking tough to write, you can go back and re-write the whole thng as gibberish in a fairly short period of time. If I want to re-write my thesis as gibberish, it's going to take a while.
And another thing! Here is an un-retouched excerpt from a story a very guy kid turned in for my fiction class:
"His statement could have been taken as a smart-alecky comment. But Mona understood Keith's way of speaking. He was wise, for his forty-six years, and he will speak his mind. But her husband has this way of speaking potentially demeaning phrases of clarity with a genital ease, as genital as his touch. It's soothing knowledge has comforted Mona these twenty years of marriage." I don't have time for this. Arrogant as it may be, I'm kind of insulted that I have to spend my time dealing with cactopusses like this when I could be eating vegan bon bons and basking in the spring sunshine.I used to take a stand against anything I thought was remotely elitist, and one of the things I really liked about my school initially was that they didn't make you jump through hoops to be in the writing program. I probably wouldn't have tested into one of the hot-shit writing programs my freshman year. I don't know if I would now, but I know I've learned a lot in the past few years, and it would sort of suck if I hadn't gotten a chance to do that.
Now, that being said, that story was written by an upperclassman, and he's not the only one who makes this mistakes. We spend most of the workshopping time in class telling each other "That was really good, but..." but it made no damn sense, or didn't have a single developed character, or was barely decipherable due to numerous hilarious errors of spelling, grammar, diction or syntax. I don't make a lot of those errors very much. I make other errors, and lots of them, but nobody really calls me on them because I have basic technical skills. Bah. That's what I say.
posted by Frenz | 3/27/2003 07:13:00 AM
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Wednesday, March 26, 2003 I need child poison
The special needs child learned how to set small items on fire with a magnifying glass the other day. This beggars commentary. posted by Frenz | 3/26/2003 11:44:00 AM
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Wednesday, March 19, 2003 I...I..I feel so...FREEEEE!!!
Oh, wait, I actually feel like hiding under the bed and crying. That was what I was planning on doing anyway, but this war stuff really makes it into fun with a purpose.
Some friends are going to DC tomorrow to protest. For once, I want to go too, but that would mean missing the class that I promised just yesterday that I would never miss again, ever. Also, another arrest would violate my probation for the last batch of arrests posted by Frenz | 3/19/2003 10:55:00 PM
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Ok, are we at war, or what?
Please let me know. posted by Frenz | 3/19/2003 10:08:00 PM
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Reminding you to help control the pet population
Pet spaying was the closest thing we had to a religion when I was growing up. I was taught to scorn infidels who let their animals breed as the mormons scorn reasonability. People who purchased purebred animals were our household version of blue-eyed devils, with the blackest depths of hell being reserved for those who purchased cats and dogs from pet stores. All our animals were from the pound, or stolen from the neighbors who we felt were less deserving.
My mom once had to get massive quantities of anti-tetanus serum pumped into her hand, because it had swelled to the size of a catchers mitt due to a cat bite. She had been on a guerilla spaying and neutering round up, and one of the neuters-to-be really attacked her hand. These direct action campaigns were nothing new to her, as it was her habit to build doghouses and things for the neighbors while they were away on vacation or at work. when they got home, there would be an assymetric structure of particleboard and plexi glass waitiing for them in the yard.
Still, the great spaying rodeo was really the most dramatic. Getting someone to perform surgey on the neighbors pets without ever telling them really sweeps all the categories of being a wackadoo neighbor lady. Still, I'm really proud of her. Bob Barker would be, too.
I'll probably start volunteering in a pound of some sort pretty soon, because the District of Columbia has a real bug up its ass about me and the mate's first date, and wants me to do community service.
I'm dreading it, because it's spring, and that means there will be a surfeit of puupies nd kittens that will either go unadopted or will come right back to the pound once their cuteness quotient drops. Letting your animals breed is not early as stigmatized as it should be.
posted by Frenz | 3/19/2003 01:50:00 PM
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"If I bring back the ashtrays, can I have my pre-frontal?"
As they say on NPR: Let's do the numbers
How I have this ingrained in my head: the tape deck in my car is broken.
What does this lead to: liberal babbling overdoses.
Possible solution: changing the station
What this leads to: Panamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Panama: Panamaaa-aaaaa-aaa
Panamaaaaaa:fast cars, hot women, carry a big stick. canals. yellow fever.
These are not numbers: nope.
Freedom fries:.Pepsi Free
Pepsi free: oh no, you're going to have to pay for that.
What did you do: jump ship?
posted by Frenz | 3/19/2003 12:54:00 AM
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Monday, March 17, 2003 Mama mia!
Well, the sky falls around me, and I'm behind on every goal I've ever set, I'm out of shape and I'm terrible at controling my emotions, but luckily, the cockapoo is over her bout of worm-induced constant pooing. It's the little things that make life so wholesome and kind. posted by Frenz | 3/17/2003 05:38:00 PM
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Monday, March 10, 2003 hate for dinner
Last night the mate and I were pretty sick of hearing the thumps and squeals that issued from the four children, all under the age of eight, that were in our house. Our roommate/landlord's girlfriend has three, and he has Little Precious. Little Precious does not get along well with the gf's five year old, and it sounded like a real Itchy and scratchy fight. The funniest part by far was the dad trying to discipline them.
Still, it wore thin, so we went out to dinner. Since we live in Nowheresville, there's about 4 restaurants that' both of us can agree to set foot in. One is a diner, and one is too expensive for our po' asses. So we went to Eat. Eat has another name, but its campy Telahoman theme requires lots of tacky neon and knee-slapper spanglish slogans. (Refrigerated air inside!) It's like South of the Border, but no arcades and fewer sunburned fat people.
Anyway, the waitress saw us and got the most shit eating smile. "So, you guys come in here ALL the TIME don't you? It's like, don't you have anywhere else to go." So we turned around to leave. She called us back in, but continued talking shit the entire meal. "Isn't that what you ALWAYS get?" she asked when we ordered. As it happened, I was trying the unfamiliar vegetable fajitas. We just kind of looked at her. Later, we tipped poorly. posted by Frenz | 3/10/2003 04:22:00 PM
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"This diamond ring doesn't shine for me anymore..."
I spend a lot of time listening to the radio. I have about two hours of total commuting time every school day, and my friends are scattered in all kinds of ungodly places like Detroit and North Carolina. Add in mandatory vacations and getting lost in strange towns, and take into account a broken tape deck, and you hear a lot of Dixie Chicks. I never used to hate them. That landslide song gives me the horrors.
On the oldies or classic rock stations, there are two songs that I want to hear: "Bad Moon Rising" and "This Diamond Ring." Unfortunately, each song is part of the great radio conspiracy. I have heard each song enough to know that I really, really like it. After that, the DJ's of America crawled out of their manky little holes and made a pact to only play the last fifteen seconds of each of these songs. I haven't heard the beginning of either of them in years.
I don't really have a point here, but my first chapter re-write is staring me in the face, and even stress-eating was getting boring, so I thought I'd blog. posted by Frenz | 3/10/2003 01:01:00 PM
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Sunday, March 09, 2003 Whoopsie
Man, I turn my back for a damn minute! It seems sooooomebody posted on my page the other day when I foolishly left my blogger account signed in. Helen asked me how the Jews and Niggers were doing when we spok on IM this morning. I wasn't really sure what she was talking about.
I think the Niggers and Jews and Irisish and honkies and gringos and fishbelly gai-jins are all doing just fine. But I think one disgruntled mate is still just a little bit sore-headed about having had to hitch home. He was asking for it, though, and don't let him tell you different. posted by Frenz | 3/09/2003 02:54:00 AM
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Saturday, March 08, 2003 This post came about when my (now-ex) boyfriend decided to try his hand at a little satire, on my blog, without my knowledge. Other posts provide a little bit of context, but I just looked at this in the archives and realized that this post pops up separately from the ones where I let on that, you know, I'm not actually a raging bigot.
Thanks,
Cara
New Rules Concerning this Blog
1) No Niggers are to read this blog
2) No Jews are to read this blog
3) The Irish may read this blog, but only after denouncing catholicism.
That is all. posted by Frenz | 3/08/2003 03:10:00 AM
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Hey, kids!Try and find out exactly where the blog got hijacked for some more of that satire-without-my-consent!
This just in...
I've made a resolution to post more often, but this is kind of ridiculous. Still, there's an event taking place upstairs right now that is too hilarious to be believed.
See, the man and child are out for the evening, which means I don't feel horribly self conscious sitting on their computer and typing about them. It also means that it' once again up to the mate and I to tend to the cockapoo.
She's been a little sick today. Along with the vomit she left on my car seat, she's left some pretty impressive offerings on the living room carpet and in the neighbor's yards. We're making sure to let her out fairly often, both to guard against future accidents and because she's always so psyched to go outside. We figure this will take her mind off her upset stomach.
After her most recent round of fetch and waste managment, the mate noticed that she was a little tawnier than usual, especially around her delicates. The Mate than went up and shampooed the dog. i of course did nothing to help. i rarely like to help the mate. Whenever possable, i try to hinder him.
By the way, my project of emasculateing the mate by berateing him and makeing him feal like shit by random and unchartable dislogic is going super! Today, i made him hitchhike home from a compleately unfermilar place. i'm so bloody mean. i'll have him shrivilled up to a tiny little excuse of a man in no time. Go Feminism!
well, i'm gonna go make some coffee now, 'cause i'm a fuckin' addict. goodbye. posted by Frenz | 3/08/2003 03:08:00 AM
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Karen, have you seen my motion sensors?
Today the child I live with asked me this, then went to mix sand and food colloring in a pail, which he left on the kitchen counter, where it sits even now. "His grandfather was a chemist," the child's father said. "Dad," said the child, "I need the salt now, and I need my motion sensors." I haven't been able to explain to Little Precious that my name isn't Karen. He's a sweet kid, but I worry about one with such a tenous grasp on logic and reality having such free acess to scientific equipment. He really does have motion sensors, and all kinds of other electronic crap. "His mother was an electrician," his father explains. ( She had another career, but I don't think the dad wants his boy to follow in her footsteps. Maybe I'll explain in another post. For now, I think it's sufficient to say that she was once featured on Unsolved Mysteries.)
In the interest of encouraging scientific aptitude, dad gives child a fairly generous allowance and takes him to Radio Shack every week. In a way, I applaud him for dreaming big, and for being really supportive of his kid. The thing is, I feel like little Dylan Klebold got his start that way.
In truth, the kid is nowhere near as sinister as any Columbine misfit. He's more like Calvin, star of Calvin and Hobbes and numerous pro-urination decals. He's mischeivous, bright, and weird, weird, weird. Maybe one out of 100 times I go into the bathroom, I find the sink filled with shampoo or bath gel. His dad has explained that this is just another way of experimenting.
Also in the manner of Calvin, he pees on things other than toilets or urinals. The television doewnstairs does not turn on or off without a remote control, because tehre was a little incident last fall, and apparrently a sufficent amount of urine corrodes plastic enough so that it disintegrates.
Soon, I think I'm going to have to post some backstory about why I live with this special needs child in this godforsaken corner of Delaware. posted by Frenz | 3/08/2003 02:43:00 AM
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Friday, March 07, 2003 There is a goose down in this bag?
Today I went to the dermatologist to get some moles removed, and man, was I impressed. Those guys don't fuck around! Any other doctor, they ask you all kinds of questions, poke at you, take your blood pressure, weigh you, and do all kinds of other irrelevant shit. At the dermo's, you point to the problem area, and they remove it. Easy peasy.
Across the parking lot from the soul-less early 90's shit-box of a medical/dental complex, there was a swampy meadow full of Canada geese. Later, I took the dog there so she could chase them. My reward? She threw up on the car seat. Ungrateful hound. posted by Frenz | 3/07/2003 05:53:00 PM
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Thursday, March 06, 2003 I'm a professional.
I'm a stupid. There is no paper this week. Next issue, there will not be two papers. There will just be this weeks paper, which will be two weeks old by then, since next week is Spring break. I'm happy to report that I do not care.
posted by Frenz | 3/06/2003 11:48:00 AM
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Tuesday, March 04, 2003 Airport
Last Wednesday I was supposed to hop on a plane to Gainesville, Florida, to correct a little legal misunderstanding there. It was all planned out. The mate would drive me, I'd whoosh my e-ticket through the console, and I'd change planes in Atlanta.
The only thing I hadn't counted on was being goddammned retarded. I somehow mis-read my 12:40 flight as a 1:40 flight, so instead of arriving an hour and 20 minutes early, I was 20 minutes early. Then my e-ticket wouldn't whoosh, and I couldn't get a boarding pass. I stood in line for two hours as snow piled up outside and more and more flights were cancelled. When I finally got to the ticket counter, they stopped just short of telling me to go fuck myself.
I called the mate, and we decided it would be more efficient to drive fifteen hours. By the time he turned around and came back to the airport, it was 5 p.m. in a blizzard, and court was at 9 a.m.. If i didn't show up, the judge would issue a bench warrant. I had a nagging feeling of suspicion that Fox was behind it all. I kept looking around for hidden cameras, but all I saw were irritating yuppies.
Finally, the mate showed up and we started heading south on 95. posted by Frenz | 3/04/2003 12:29:00 PM
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Monday, March 03, 2003 My Mandatory Vacation, by Cara
God, I haven't been this psyched since Color Me Badd guest-starred on 90210. I've had a couple of court cases hanging over my head lately, and as of about one this afternoon, I got them both over with.
I've been driving ridiculous distances and ending up doing my best to sit pretty for the judges in exhausted states. I've eaten "regional delicacies" no one should have to palpate with their shriveled little paws, much less put in their mouths. I've passed up the chance for a free strip show for the first time ever. I've been in the presence of more cat-urine soaked "antiques" than I ever thought existed. I 've listened to polictical debates and lunatic ravings, some of them in amusing eastern-bloc accents.
I'll blog little stories for awhile until this trip gets boring. with luck, something else will have come up by then.
posted by Frenz | 3/03/2003 07:02:00 PM
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