Sunday, August 28, 2011

who says i can't get stoned, plan a trip to japan alone?

So I am in Minneapolis. I bought a ticket last month to see Death Cab for Cutie in St. Paul and I wasn't about to waste my free weekend. So, money problems be damned! I can brave the big city by myself once again. And I have.

It's about an 8 hour drive between Dickinson and the Twin Cities, but it didn't really seem all that long. Boring, though, god yes. Once you get out of the more interesting part of ND and into the truly flat part-- sorry, Red River Valley, you suck-- it's a bore. But it was worth it. The concert was a good experience-- kind of strange, again, being there alone, but I don't think anyone really noticed, and who cares, honestly?

Death Cab is not my favorite band by any stretch, but I definitely wanted to take the chance to see them since, when I think about it, I realize I've been listening to them for years and years now. The first song I heard of theirs was "Photobooth" which my friend Sonia sent to me over AIM (AIM!!) and which I eventually put on a cd that I listened to as my family relocated to California. I didn't listen to them much after that, I thought they were too "scene" and that all of their music kind of sounded the same, even though I kept downloading their albums and sampling. Finally, around the time my family moved back to Texas and I stayed put, I started listening to them alot. I remember when things were weird between me and my friends and I just felt so lonely and unwanted and awkward around everyone and I didn't know what to do so I drove to the beach and sat there for hours one night with my ipod, listening to Transatlanticism-- which, by the way, is one of the most beautiful songs ever composed. That night a bunch of stupid kids were also on the beach, though far away from me, and they started to set off fireworks. After that, once things got better, I was working all of the time, but when I'd get off of work at 1AM and walk home I'd be so wired that I'd have to walk around a bit, mainly in the sketchy park across from my apartment complex. I'd pull up the Plans album on my ipod and listen to it for forever, just walking the park or sitting on the swings, thinking. "Marching Bands of Manhattan" I also associate so much with my last days at VC, when it started to feel dried up and hard to deal with, when most of my friends were gone or not around.

Anyway. So that's why I wanted to go to their concert. And it was lovely. Ben Gibbard is a very interesting creature. They didn't play sound of settling, or what sarah said, which was a bummer, but they played everything else that I wanted to hear. I was actually a little surprised at how emotional the whole experience made me-- I felt a huge jump in my heart when Gibbard started to sing "I Will Follow You Into The Dark." I full-on started crying at the end of "Marching Bands of Manhattan." And Transatlanticism was glorious. And the songs from their new album [WHICH THEY JUST STARTED PLAYING IN THIS COFFEE SHOP THAT I'M IN].

When you find yourself the villain/in the story you have written/then it's plain to see/that sometimes the best intentions/are in need of redemption/don't you agree?

Anyway. I've been thinking about Follow You Into the Dark and the new song, St. Peter's Cathedral. Gibbard is very anti-theist, which is strange to me, and is what, I think, gives his music such a passing melancholy. Not happy, not utterly sad. Yesterday I explored St. Paul-- I saw The Fitzgerald Theatre, the downtown, Mickey's (the famous diner of Prairie Home Companion, Mighty Ducks, and Jingle All The Way fame), the Capitol, and St. Paul's Cathedral, up on a hill looking over the city. It was the most beautiful building I'd ever seen-- I don't think I've ever seen a REAL cathedral, except maybe in San Fran, however this was HUGE and furiously gorgeous, not like any that I've noticed before. I spent a long time just walking around it and staring, and I couldn't help but think of Gibbard's music, "there's nothing past this," and what an incredibly different perspective that is from mine. If I really did believe that there was nothing past this, what would I be? What kind of person? I don't think I'd be writing beautiful music about it, that's for certain.

Anyway. After all that I went on my pilgrimage to find F. Scott Fitzgerald's old neighborhood, thanks to a walking-tour guide I found online (glory be the internets and phones with online capabilities), bought a cup of coffee, and wandered. The whole area is historical and well-preserved, so there are a bunch of gingerbread houses and amazing brownstones, all with their original style intact (or restored, I guess). I found his birthplace, a duplex-type brownstone which is now being used as apartments (CRAZY. Someone is LIVING there). It had a lovely front porch with twin hanging porch-swings. I know, obviously, that these swings were not there when F. Scott was, however from the looks of it there were some kind of swings. So I took the liberty of climbing the stairs and just sitting there, looking out over the neighborhood, rocking back and forth next to F. Scott's window. Did he ever do that, I wonder? How different did things look to little Scotty? After that I wandered a few blocks to the home that Scott's parents moved into after Scott had gone into the army. Another brownstone with the most ornate gutter/drainpipe I've ever seen.

The story goes that Fitzy met Zelda in Alabama while he was in the service, and they wanted to get married but she finally dumped him because he was a poor writer. Depressed, F. Scott came home to St. Paul, moved back in with his parents, and finished This Side of Paradise, his first book. It was in this house that he got the letter that he was going to be published, and he ran outside and into the street, telling all of the cars passing his good news. Of course this meant that Zelda would come back. And he wouldn't have to live with his parents anymore. He was 23. My age.

I got to see that house and that street. That was worth the 8 hour drive through nothingness, let me tell you.

So after all the fun in St. Paul I drove around for quite a bit in Minneapolis, getting a feel for uptown and downtown, located my hostel and my room which I am sharing with four other girls, one of them INCREDIBLY crazy and apparently perpetually drunk/a snorer. I got went to the outdoor sculpture gardens at The Walker art museum, I wandered downtown and went to go see Beginners at the local art house theatre.

This morning I dragged myself up after a night of strange sleep, hauled out of the hostel, and made a loop uptown then came over to Hennepin-- the "groovy" part of town, and am currently nestled safely in "Uncommon Grounds," one of the most famous coffee shops ever, apparently. And definitely the "hip" place to be in Minneapolis. Anyway. After this I shall hop on over to the city hub and say hi to the statue of Mary Tyler Moore, see the Guthrie Theatre, and check out the Old Mill. And eat, good lord, eat. This is a pretty fabulous city, however, I have to say, the drivers drive ANGRY and the people aren't the nicest you've ever met. Surprising, since I've never been disappointed by the Midwest.

I love living like this. I wish I didn't have to make money. I wish I could just roam around all the time.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

i don't belong here

Why was I born in the 80's, again?

Thursday, August 18, 2011

So, it's been a lousy week, work-wise. Well, not so much work-wise as sanity-wise. A few days ago I watched Grandma, who has gotten to the point where she will not let me sleep, which is troublesome considering I NEED to sleep during the day. Of course I love Grandma to pieces but. Grandma. Nap time is nap time. So I got no sleep that day or the next, when we hung out once more, and that set off a very treacherous pattern involving me only being able to sleep for 30 minutes at a time and therefore getting no real sleep for about four days, which begat a painful cycle of anxiety, which prevents me from sleeping (because I'm scared about not sleeping), etc etc. So I'd show up to work completely wiped and sleep on break, all in all getting about 3 hours of sleep per day. Ish. Anyway. I finally got some rest last night so I suppose I'm good to go, but I still have a cranky strain of exhaustion in my head. I hope I am not on my way to getting sick, blah.

Reading about screenwriting today for the first time in a while. Itching to start new projects and follow them through, but still plugging away on the old western. Ah well. Must MUST get to the point of writing every day, no matter what, whether it's on my main project or not. And yes. I want to have many projects (which... I do...). Also I need to get started on other projects, like career-building and networking projects. I'm getting back on twitter, and not just to read Conan's tweets (although I still think they're pretty much the only thing worth doing on that stupid site) , to NETWORK. And I suppose if I'm going to be a serious working writer I need a website, eh? I also need a MAC. And I also want a camera. Nothing fancy, just something to tool around with and make fun things. I hadn't watched my short movies in awhile, mostly avoiding them because I get worried that maybe they won't be as good as I remember them, but I watched all of them again last night and I was just so pleased with how entertaining they still are. Sure, they're amateur and completely technically unimpressive but they're actually good. I enjoy them, anyway. I want to make more.

So I guess that's the strategy. Write every day. Network. Submit stuff. Work on a website. Tool around with film-making some more.

I've fallen into popularity with the very young crowd at work (and in Dickinson in general). Turns out all of the highschoolers tend to really appreciate me for whatever absurd reason and I have become an honorary HS senior/college freshman. Which I suppose is nice since it hearkens back to one of the positive times in my life. But that doesn't stop it from being hilarious and a little weird, considering my life consists now of very few people my own age: highschoolers and the elderly. Will this provide me with some balance, perhaps?

Incredibly underrated. New favorite. In love.


Sleep is a wonderful thing, and I don’t know what could be a more wonderful feeling than waking up comfortably and realizing you can sleep more if you feel like it. Still. Ultimately, I wish we didn’t require so much sleep, us human beings. There literally is not enough time in the day or night, and these bodies of ours are so demanding.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Today has been one of those overwhelming "real life" days. Y'know... when you realize how much money you owe and that even though you're making bank at your job you'll never be able to get ahead. WHAT'S A GIRL GOTTA DO TO BREAK OUT OF THIS JOINT?!

School debt. Late fees on unpaid school debt. Credit card debt. DMV debt. Random work registration. Airplane tickets to go to weddings. Deposits for internet service (gee dee!!). GAS. Car repair. And I'm still desperate to get my filling replaced and get freakin' driving glasses before I go blind, BLIIIIIND!!

BUT THERE IS NO MONEY. Despite the fact that last week I got the biggest paycheck I've ever received, I am now in possession of about 40 dollars until the 20th. Eff. Eff. So annoyed. And I can't write! THERE IS NOT ENOUGH TIME IN THE DAY OR MOTIVATION IN THE STUPID WORLD!!!! And when I don't write I don't feel like working out, because if I can't write, then who cares? Not me. Eff. arararrarararrarrrr.

Oh well. At least I do indeed have a job. I just wanted to be more out of the pit by now but stupid things (OVER 900 DOLLARS???? REALLY???? FUCKING A!!) just keep dragging me back IN. Damnation.

And I'm lonely today. Despite the little string of weirdo redneck hicks that just came into the coffee shop and this random guy sitting across from me, peacefully reading a book called-- no lie-- "He-Motions." Like... emotions? For men? Or is it a religious thing? Either way, I hate it.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Hi, John Krasinski.

Be my boyfriend. Sound good? I know Emily Blunt must make a nice wifey-poo and all that but I think once you consider what's missing in your life you'll definitely realize that it's a girl in North Dakota who works at a nursing home.


Stupid day. Stupid me for thinking I could write today.

Monday, August 8, 2011

it's so good to learn that from here the view goes on forever

My friend and I have a specialized way of communicating. I find most of his conversational texts just utterly great so I have a hard time deleting them, but so many have accrued that I have to just get rid of all of them. But. I can't. So:

Him: 3/1
Sybil! Ahhh dammit Sybil! I cannot come to get polly with you. Manuel has the most elephantine classes on Tuesdays.

Him: 3/2
How ya doin', squalor victoria? Tis a National day over here.

Me: 3/3
Still breathing. The National is always choice. it's been U2 over here today, know ye "Far Away So Close"? Favorite.

Him: 3/3
Aye. Reminds me of late nights in the old town. 711 cigarettes, and you can go anywhere.

Him: 3/5
Forgive me! My phone died and I crashed on a foreign couch. am at work now. are you all right, buddies and pals?

My goggle! Quite so, quite so.

There ain't no QUARK in my BEND-IT!

Me: 3/7
Apocalypse Now, NOW! Come home! Lonely cigars and napalm in the morning.

Me: 3/11
What. Hellooo. You call. I'm in a movie. What's the rumpus?

No rumpus, no rumpus! Enjoyensie ihre film.

Me: 3/12
Gone to bed, lambchop?

Him: 3/13
Hello apocalypse now now, I'm going to bed to avoid death on freeways.

Me: 3/13
GOOD. Previous visions of death expunged. Sad not to see you, though.

Him: 3/13
Aye that too. We talk soon.

Me: 3/13

Him: 3/13
???...Rawls alms's....?!?!!

Me: 3/14
Sleep well, fearful Jesuit. {ULYSESS REFERENCE}

Me: 3/14
Doya have school on Wed?

Just alot of HW, what goes?

Actually nothing. I had a whim to break out of here for an afternoon, but it's passed now.

Well, come on down if it blows round again.

Unrelated: You read the part where Stephen's at the library expounding shakespeare theories, right? Do you reckon that's satirical or serious? Or both?

Leaving Ventura now. See you in a few. {Day I officially decided to move to ND}

Meet me at school, for we must feast and free is all I can afford.

Me: 3/17
What was Plato word? Want to remember before I forget.

Him: 3/17
Eudamonia. Spelling Bah. Read Symposium.

Me: 4/2
I am officially an impressive person {upon the finishing of Ulysses}

Well done, good and faithful Jesuit!!

Me: 4/5
I am going to North Dakota. What.

That fact continues to surreal my brain, Black-hills wise.

Me: 4/9
Annnd now I'm abandoning my packing for cookies. Eff you and power of suggestion.

Damnation I am trapped library desk ! cookies !

Serves ya right. Your car will lose, Leslie will lose, I WILL WIN! AhaHA!

Me: 4/11
Hands remember, rocking chairs, black hills snow frightening. If send address will write real letters?? Ugh dead.

Will send letters, is promise. If send invite, will u come to Torrey Grad? if smoke, will you smoke with?

Me: Yes I said yes i will yes. Marlboro with a mickronee finger. {WAY TO WORK IN A ULYSESS + obscure Beatles reference}

Me: 4/14

Isn't it a great town? i feel at home there.

Me: 4/14
Have a bit? Am in Portland. Want to walk about but is busy city and dark and late. Would like someone on phone?

Him: 4/15
Katrine are you alive because my phone was dead and i do not know! Trails happy?

Never to doubt the Texas Ranger.

Me: 4/16 {Seattle}
I just literally defended myself with an umbrella.

CALL ME RIGHT NOW. But get to a safe place first.

Am fine am fine and fine fine.

Him: 4/17
Still alive, Texas Ranger?

Ever stalwart. Tonight is long drive though.

Him: 4/18
You need to stop nearly dying when my phone is dead. You need to stop nearly dying. I need to charge my phone. Ere yew alaive?

Ever stalwart! Alive and [mostly] well in South Heart. What a strange thing life is! We talk soonish, I hope. Do check your mailbox.

Him: 4/21
Ahahaaahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Just got the cowboy postcard. Death by chortle.

You are tryin' to get at me.

Me: 4/27
Why, Martha! Your Sunday Chapel Dress!

Him: 5/2
Those assholes want me in the field a minimum of two years! They are not Lebeouf. {Darjeeling Limited + True Grit reference in one. Nicely done}

Me: They are men... who walk in front of bullets. I wouldn't worry, though.

Me: 5/7
Who is that contemporary author you love? Also, SQUEEZE the Heinous One for me today, I cannot get her on the phone.

Him: Jonathan Safran Foer? Annie Dillard? Etc? Will do, Mumzy. Give me five shillings.

Me: Excuse me, JSF is MY contemporary author, not yours. Must be Annie. Shillings: cracked me UP. Tears. Letter soon?

Him: Letter sent tomorrow. yes, past tense in future.

Me: 5/17
Received your letter yesterday, about the time the doorknob broke.

I got a cartilage piercing yesterday. It looks cool. Yep. Cool. And I finally decided what I without-a-doubt want as my tattoo (a blackbird with the lyrics "all your life you were only waiting for this moment to be free".... or maybe "to arise." I can't decide. Nevermind, I fold at tattoo planning for today). Neither of these additions to one's body seem very me, but I've been wanting a tattoo (one. ONE) for quite a few years, and the piercing thing. Well. One gets bored.

Yesterday after work I was also so tired that I wound up having my first full-blown crying jag since I've been here. I was trying to stay up after work in order to go to church, but I had already been up for so long that I was just suffering in the church parking lot in a giant creeper van and all of a sudden things seemed very stupid. After crying for about an hour and a half and then sleeping for 14 more, I seem to be all right.

Writing = still frustrating. But get this. A few days ago, mother goes to partake in lunch catch-up with her cousin, one of the few members of the family who really likes me (due to my traveling/artsy tendencies/dreams) . Honestly, I don't even really remember the woman but that's irrelevant, she's always been awesome to me from afar. Anyway. After hearing my lifeplan via Mumsy, cousin tells my mother that her best friend (since highschool, who she even planned on marrying before she found out he was gay... tmi?) is now the PRESIDENT of the SYFY CHANNEL in NYC.


And that when I go there next year she can hook me up.


!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT ARE THE CHANCES?

Anyway. Time to nerdify and catch up on the scifi trends.

All of this must have caused me to have the dream that occupied my subconscious last night. Which I think was memorable due to the intense feelings involved-- and for once, not intense in a depressing way. My parents and I and maybe some random other characters were making a car trek through some states, and at one point we were driving towards a large, futuristic looking city (reminiscent of parts of the movie AI, which I haven't seen in YEARS but seems to stick with one), and I was like-- I recognize this stuff. What is this? And my parents were like, SURPRISE! We're going to New York! And of course none of it actually looked anything like NY really looks, but my subconscious must not have been able to conjure up anything uber familiar on such short notice. Dreaming on a budget.

So we cruise into the city and look around, and stop first at this museum place. We're confused about what lines to get in, but then my parents tell me that surprise, despite the fact that I thought they never traveled, they have actually been here before, and that this museum actually is mobile-- it actually sprouts legs according to schedule and takes tourists around, guided by a holographic tour guide, so long as you get in the right line. So we do that. And I'm so excited and happy to be in New York that I can hardly stand it.

An outlandish preview of real life, I hope. Except I don't want my parents to be there.

Things I really like right now:

1. Quiet Song:
Eat Yourself by Goldfrapp (a band I don't usually like)

2. Happy Song:
Elle Me Dit by MIKA (I have no idea what he's saying, not even a vague topic, but I LOVE this song!)

3. Movie:

(it's like a classic western except with random interjections of spaceships and stuff! and really good casting! AND DAMN DOES DANIEL CRAIG MAKE AN EXCELLENT COWBOY OR DOES HE??) (OH and SAM ROCKWALL AND PAUL DANO are in this too. YES on favorite supporting actors)

4. Other movie:

(a little movie called The Music Never Stopped. It's a bit long, but I just reveled in it. the power of music on a human soul is just... amazing. also, I LOVE LTP. also, I LOVE JK SIMMONS. so. this was good.)

5. Book:

The fact that this entertaining and incredibly thorough history lesson is written by a Python is just a delightful bonus.

6. Word:

Pancake. Just. Yum. If you say one word all summer, make this it.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

bah bah blacksheep

I finally feel like writing tonight, but I’m not sure where to start and what to write about. Strange, the way I work; all of these ideas—really, countless and wonderful ideas, so visually clear, sometimes even scene for scene, but when it comes to putting them down, no matter how well I know them, or how well I know the freeing, euphoric feeling of being “in it,” that is, writing a blitz, I have the hardest time actually DOING it. Probably because of my fear of failure. I’m sure that is what it all must come down to. My dad is the same way. My dad who had his little birthday yesterday. He is one year away from sixty. That will make him very old. One of the ladies I work with at night is nearly seventy-five. She is very old. But Dad seems older.

Tonight I finished reading The Talented Mr. Ripley. I like the film very much, it’s a complex, dark piece, and once I discovered that Highsmith was the same author of the similiarly themed Strangers on a Train, I definitely wanted to give at least one of her books a go. This book is terrific. She writes very bravely and with great certainty, which is impressive given the time in which she wrote and her subjects of murder amongst the upper class. Her ability to create sympathy for a sociopath is interesting. Her ability to make you an anxious wreck as you turn the page, fearing for Tom but also for his victims is such a skill. I think writers must take an awful risk when they write from a killer’s perspective, especially one as strange and sensitive as Tom Ripley.

According to Goodreads I am not quite on my book-schedule. A few behind, it would seem. Well. That’s something to be conquered this month. I started reading the first few pages of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo this evening, not wanting to stop my reading roll. I didn’t really have much interest in touching the thing, except that several people here have recommended it to me and my good friend in Texas is reading the series before she sees the upcoming movie (which, if the trailer is any indication, will be impressive), and it’s always nice to be able to discuss what I’ve recently read. It doesn’t happen often, though that may be because I don’t read many contemporary books, exception of Jonathan Safran Foer and a sampling of Eggers and Hornby, although, I just noticed, each of those authors writes with a decidedly nonfiction/confessional bent. Interesting! ANYWAY. I’m in the midst of two biographies (Lewis Carroll, JD Salinger), one autobiography, a how-to screenwriter’s advice etc book, a book about Chaucer, a book about multiple personalities, and a fictional account of a zombie war. That’s how I do. Once those are done-ish I’m going to venture into philosophy land (that is, dip my toes) with Nietzsche’s Birth of Tragedy, and then back over to popular contemporary stuff with The Hunger Games. Haven’t read many classics this year, which is weird ‘cause that seems to be what I usually read. I think the only other big classic I’m going to conquer this time around will be The Cancer Ward, because you can’t have a year without a Russian classic. Plus, with all the ND snow that I’m preparing for, Russian literature will put me in the mood. Add a little Plato, a little C.S. Lewis, a dash of Hemingway and one more F. Scott Fitzgerald… THERE ARE TOO MANY BOOKS IN THE WORLD OH MY GOSH.

Tomorrow, in spite of the fact that I do not have a working Ringo, I am going to begin my for-real gym regime. I’ve been going lately, but the whole no-car thing has thrown a wrench into it all. But rain or shine, it’s gonna happen, kids. And good eats, too. Today was officially my last day of eating badly. No more fast food, unless it’s something crafty like a grilled something or a salad something. I have a wedding to go to in November and I plan on not looking like a giant whale.

So far as my new year’s resolutions went, I kinda suck. I’m gonna get back to the guitar stuff though.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

You probably can't tell by my cynical tone in the previous blogpost, but I'm starting to like life alot more.

I can't wait to see more beautiful things.

let this whole town hear your knuckles crack.

At my coffee place of choice, I sit always in a little alcove beside the door. I guess it's where people congregated before marching down the aisle or where folks hung their coats and whatnot when this place used to be a church. Who knows. Anyway, they can't see me from their register/backroom when I sit here, so every hour or so they send someone to come and nonchalantly check the tiny garbage can by the door. If I happen to visibly notice them mentally check-marking me, sometimes they'll get fancy and do something weird like open the door and check the sky or adjust the doormat. I feel like we should be beyond this by now, since I'm here every day. They should just be able to yell at me from where ever they are. "Writer girl, you still there?" They'd ask. "Yep," I'd say. "Bring me more coffee." "On the house!" They'd say. Oh yes.

Well. Predictably, I'm no longer in love with myself (or, incidentally, charmed by anyone else at this juncture. suddenly the weird attraction that I had for the aforementioned whoever has dissipated, I realized that while said person has good character, ultimately, there was no reason for me to fancy him other than boredom and that flailing fear of failure that I get. Romance is not and has never been that big of a deal for me, but achieving a comfortable romance seems to be included in the whole "success" package, especially, I hate to admit it, so far as my personal image goes. I've said this before-- I get worried that my parents think that maybe they've produced this unlovable schlub of a girl-child. I imagine that since I'm the "other" child- IE the supposedly capable one with whom their only hope lies (because goodness knows nothing is ever going to come of Child #2, the special needs one)- that other people tend to politely ask my parents about me. And all of my cousins are married. And my parents probably have nothing really to say. And now my friends are getting married. And there's still really nothing to say. It's almost like I fear the inevitable pity, but really it's probably just imaginary pity. It's not that I mind being alone. Sometimes it sucks but it would probably suck more to be stuck with someone I didn't understand and vice versa. And I don't think I'm very good at that. So, what this comes down to is being bothered by imaginary pity.

But still. What if it's not imaginary?

ANYWAY. On the more optimistic track, my good friend of 6 {nearly seven!} years is tying the knot in four months or so. He proposed to his girlfriend (also my friend) of two years {or so} a week or so ago. We all knew it was coming, perhaps even down to the week, but the news was still so enchanting. This is it, this is the very first of my peers to go {and he's YOUNGER THAN ME. wtfshutup}. An old friend of mine in Tejas was married a few years ago, some months after her preemie baby was born, and that was an amazing wedding, I was so pleased for her and continue to be. However, though we grew up together and love each other we are not close, so I was still a bit cut off from the concept. I also have a friend who went to live with her boyfriend and tied the knot quickly and subtly in another state, but I had no insight into the relationship whatsoever. But now. Now, this is madness. This is someone I would count among my closest of close friends heading to the block! I'm so excited but I also can't even wrap my mind around it. They are going to be married, and have a life together. What. How. I don't even... what? How do you DO that? How incredibly incapable of human insight I am sometimes.

Anyway, this is all manner of excitement. I am going to go to this wedding in November and party the heck out of it. I'm going to behave as though I am the best man (though I'm obviously not, damnedable tradition and those that adhere to it). I am going to dance at this wedding and cry and be one of those people who stays for hours after the newly wedded couple drive away. Also I am looking forward to having a reason to be in California again. I miss the Ocean. It's one of the very few things that I actively miss right now, just the feeling of being close to the open sea. You laugh, but there is definitely something less claustraphobic, more comforting about being close to the water. Inland you know there's no escape. Not that my #1 escape plan would be to jump in the water, but I think that's a normal human comfort. An escape route. My escape routes here are somewhat limited. Which brings me to a short mean-spirited list about things that I dislike about North Dakota:

1. Their word for "soda." It's pop. But not just pop. The way they say it, it comes out sounding like "pap." Which is gross.

2. Too many trucks. They like to threaten me and bully little Ringo. Not appreciated.

3. The staring. NORTH DAKOTANS STARE. It doesn't matter where you are. If you are toodling around town, they will stare at you. They will stare at you as you drive past. They will stare at you as THEY drive past. They will stare at you in Wal-Mart. God forbid you be wearing something noticably colorful or unusual, because then you will get the full on STARE DOWN. (Also, the oil guys will eye-rape you but that's another matter.)

My theory for the reason behind this is as follows: Dickinson (and South Heart, obviously), is so relatively small and with so few hot spots that it is always highly likely that you will spot someone that you know. That's why it's best to avoid places of ill repute here, or to not lie to anyone about where you might be going. You can't really avoid folks. I don't know hardly anyone but I've started to see the few people I DO know every-bloody-where. Which actually I kind of like. POINT BEING, the staring occurs because the NDers are trying to discern whether or not they know you. But still. The staring must end! What's worse is that the staring is occasionally accompanied by judgmental expressions. Not to say that NDers aren't friendly-- I think they may be some of the most genuinely friendly people I've ever encountered, however I can't count how many times I've locked eyes with a starer and smiled to avoid awkwardness, ONLY TO BE MET WITH A BLANK FACE. Way to up the awkwardness, NDers.

Also, I have these bright orange short boots (hiking boots, more or less. very nineties and admittedly eye-catching, however...). People here CANNOT get the hell over these boots. Although the other morning when Dave Foley and I were walking through a coffee-shop parking lot a woman yelled at me from her car that she liked my shoes.

So that's a point for the friendly ones with good taste, I guess.

4. I've been really good at not being a movie/book/music snob, but... but.... but...............
On the upside, sometimes this makes me feel like the hippest person alive.
On the downside, if a hipster falls dead on a North Dakota farm, did he ever really exist?

5. Finally, the ultimate pet peeve: There is a man-made lake here. It's impressive somehow because it's one of the biggest man-made lakes. I am not enthralled by man-made nature. What's worse, everyone goes to this famed man's creation. What's heinous is they call it THE BEACH. Let's go to the beach, the locals say!! IT'S NOT THE BEACH, LOCALS!!!!!!!!!!!


In other news, my little car has continued to be plagued by all manner of illness. He is once again parked in front of my place of work. I hope I do not get in trouble for that. In otherother news, Amanda (my room-mate and probably sole friend here) and I are preparing to go apartment hunting. She has been given a huge promotion to assistant manager at her caretaking facility (which is huge), so she'll need to be alot more available at work. And mostly, I'm scared of driving in the snow, which I feel is imminent. Anyway, this may be really hard to pull off because getting an apartment around here amidst the oil boom is VERY difficult and somewhat expensive, relatively speaking. I don't want to contribute to expenses and wind up making exactly what I did in California. On the other hand. An apartment with the best room-mate I've ever had? Dreams of colorful decor? Making our own choices completely? Cooperative cleaning? Actually having people over if we ever make any friends here? YES PLEASE.

I have fallen behind in my book-reading challenge for the year, but I'm back on the wagon with some crazy reading this week. I've started to dig into The Talented Mr. Ripley, which I am 100% INTRIGUED by. Highsmith was a VERY talented writer and I can't say what exactly it is about her style that pulls me in, but she's got me now.

I also finished The Alchemist in 2 days. Although the fable-style annoyed me (I can't help it. I don't like fables!), I came around, and I thought it had incredibly clear and comforting things to say. Quotes later, when I'm not too lazy to find it in my bag.

I've also started Sybil, the first documented "official" case of a woman with multiple personalities (I think she had 16). But I'm only a few pages in. Regrettably, it's one of those books that dramatizes a true event so it suffers from being... too... dramatic, perhaps?

Also, anyone who isn't already, please get on Goodreads. Fuh real.

I haven't been doing too much writing lately. I've been tired. Two days this week I spent sleeping, utterly, 12 hours of valuable reading/writing/daydreaming time GONE. I wonder if that wasn't depression creeping in a little bit. Be gone, dark cloud, we want none of your kind here. The Coppola script contest that I completely failed at entering last year is open at present and I want to enter my Western script this time. Which means, Western script, you are going to have to be perfect.

I've been listening either to VERY BAD MUSIC or very ethereal stuff. Like this:

I feel like I have alot to say today. But it may just be the coffee talking.