Don't wanna live my life again....

Here it is, the evening of the most haunted day of the year. The eve of Samhain. The prelude to La Dia Des Los Muertes. A time when I take it upon my self to reference holidays of other people without bothering to do a spell check.
In traditional holdiay spirit I am sitting in the dark, refusing to hand out candy to the neighbor kids because they didn't bother to put on custumes. By costume I mean any item of clothing or accessory that did not wear to school today. I would've accepted a funny hat, a protractor beard or a shower cap and bathrobe. But these kids were just running door to door in street clothes. The bummer is there were probably kids in costume, but since I didn't see any I made the executive decision to keep all my candy for myself. That'll teach the little shits. Mmmmmm Butterfinger.....
Also in the traditional holiday spirit I am watching a scary movie. A movie made particularly frightening for the amount of sex being acted out by Alan Alda. This movie is called The Mephisto Waltz-I think it was made for $45 in 1970. It wasn't made for TV, if it was it would be a pretty good made for TV movie, but being a theatrical release (the studio's only for 1970-fun fact) it's about 40 shades of silly. I watched Carrie today too. And yet despite this film festival and a trip to the park I've got a few things done today. Not as many as I would hope but some. My paper that is due tomorrow is completed. I have a second listening assignment typed and awaiting my editing hand. So, I could be doing far worse. Tho, i could also have a well thought out topic for my FA paper---which I don't and it's No-fuckin-vember. And I could have my music paper in rough form-which I don't and I am planning to present on it in 2 weeks. But in doing these things I would be denying myself the joy of working under intense and stifling pressure. Pressure that is only mounted by the difficulty I've been having turning out pages of late (don't look at me like that-this doesn't count-if I were taking a course on blogging I would probably have feck all to say about myself.)
Here-since I am typing and this doesn't count I'm going to try to outline what those papers are on. And if I fail at that-I'll probably just drink and watch horror movies. The same thing I'll do if I succeed. So, see, it's win win.
ALRIGHT
Music Paper:
Americana music has a wide range of musical styles included therein. The basic context of the musical style isn't so much how it sounds but the attitude exuded by the musicians. The interaction between fan and performer in the genre of Americana is reminescent of the way country music fans used to feel about even the most popular country artists. Of course, Americana tends to sound an awful lot like the music being played by those artists, so it sholdn't come as much of a shock that the personas of traditional country singers would translate into a modern musical equivelant.
Because of this feeling that the performer is actually glad to have someone willing to listen to their music, buy their CDs and attend their shows fans become very attached to their favorite performers. Artists that have little to modest success in mainstream music have fierce and dedicagted followings. This fangroup may not be large enough to knock Big'n'Rich off the country charts but what they lack in size they make up for in their intense support of the artists.
Communication is vital for fan groups' success in spreading the gospel according to their favorite artist. The Internet has made participation in groups much easier. With that ease comes a language. As the adage goes, get 3 people trapped in an elevator when they come out they will have established traditions. I assume Alan Dundes said this, he said most things at some point, it makes him a really great answer at Folkardy-the Folkie's Jeopardy. Despite who said it, the fact remains that a group of people in regular contact develop a language and a value system that is reflective of their beliefs and taste culture. As they develop a vernacular it becomes tedius to repeat the same phrases and references over and over in correspondance and an emic shorthand is created. Along with the shorthand comes the creation of a class system, a system clearly demarkates the old timer (...five and dimer) from the new kid.
Language is a qualifier within fan culture. The educated member of the culture will be able to navigate through the esoteric terminology without issue while the person new to the group will stumble and ask questions that, to the more seasoned members, seem obvious and comical in the innocence. In order to maintain this insular quality the group will press the issue of cultural collateral to other musicians and areas of taste. An example of this is the OKOM ("Our Kind of Music") a term used to define a performer that falls within the realms of what is appreciable by the group.
As I work on the concept of fan culture as outwardly inclusive and covertly exclusive I will look at the application of terms such as this andthe way that members exert their status within the culture. Particular to this I will look at the practice of time lining fandom in order to show the length and breadth of one's dedication and how practices such as this often show the nicks in the armor of fandom. Often the most vocal among the fans are the ones with the shortest and most doubtful pedigree, like the nouveau riche they haven't yet learned the refinement necessary for successful navigation of cultural waters.
My main concentration will be on Todd Snider, whose listserv is very active and populated by a wide range of people across the fan culture spectrum. I will use other musical sites as well, possibly stepping outside of the vernacuar to explore the similar or dissimilar as the case may be habits within the Black 47/ Celtic rock fan group as a comparison and contrast.

--------------well, whaddya know, that's 2 pages right there-wonder how long it has to be anyway-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Art Paper
The way people decorate their homes is one of the most tangible reflections of sense of self in which a person can participate. The poorly kept home can represent many things, from poverty to lack of housekeeping skills to lack of imagination.The perfectly kept and decorated home is troubling for the lack of personal emotion present in the materials. Growing up, I spent many years living in construction. My parents, never comfortable being idle, and not prone to accepting that as it is is good enough, were prone to knocking down walls over the course of long weekends. Early memories are of my father asking me to check if the wiring for a light switch had been succesful by flipping the switch in my bedroom. I should add that nearly every area of the house served at some point as a bedroom, either out of necessity becuase there was nowhere else to sleep becuase of the endless construction or because my belongings had been relocated there in order to accomodate the newest architectural layout. Discussion with my family leads to the conclusion that no one is entirely sure how many different forms the house took, how many walls were torn down and put up or how many pizzas we ordered from Guiseppe's Pizza over the course of my childhood and young adulthood living in that ever changing house.
My parents designed the house themselves. My mother spent hours sketching designs and flipping through magazines and catalogues looking for inspiration. My father learned to do electrical wiring by stringing the wire and hoping nothing caught fire when electricity was sent courses through them. They're odd and brilliant people that have not quite given up on the individuality of a bohemian youth or the tendencies of frugality.
They are both educated in fields relating in some way to design and construction or engineering. Mum has a degree in design and Daddy has worked far too many years for IBM. They are detail oriented people by nature. Opposite details. Mummy will be bothered by a tzotchke misplaced on a shelf whereas Dad is unable to fathom how anyone could fail to notice that faint click every 20 minutes is the cause of a technical malfunction. Mum can describe step by step how to re-upholster a couch over the phone and Daddy can, in a manner similar to Click and Clack only without the call screening process, fix a car in the same situation. They're very useful people to know.
As their personalities may make clear their uniqueness spills over to how they decorate their home. While the house has transformed many times over the 30 year period in which they have resided their ability to incorporate the peculiar with the classy, the meaningful with the mundane and the humorous with the disturbing has been a part of their home throughout that time.
Writing this paper is part excercise in folkloristics and part family record. There is good reason to believe that they will be moving out of this house in the near future and it is important to document the things inside the place in order to create a reminder of tthe spirit of the building. I will interview my parents, a daunting task as they are parents and thus by their nature take the leadership role. I will photograph and document some of the more interesting items (the $500 fruit dish, the whisky I've never had an occasion momentous enough of which to partake, that scary mask that I SWEAR is evil but Mummy is certain is completely innocuous.) My goal is to chronical some of the more interesting belongings accumulated by my parents This is a survey rather than a study, and thus I do not feel that it is necessary to craft a hypothesis. I want a detailed accont of the interesting collections my parents have amassed and any backstory I can collect. I feel that this is useful as a record for my family, and representative of folk art. It is folk art because it is pure organization and assemblage and it expressed both emotion and aesthetics. I hope I can pull this off.

Huh. And that's 3 pages. All I really need is to add some of that-what do you call it? Illustrations? Ummm...nice but no....8x10 color glossies with arrows and a paragraph on the back? No no...Wait...wait....Oh yeah, scholarship!

The prophet is celebrating the Celtic New Year

co-opting song lyrics is lovely

Hoist a pint and dance around the fire...
The indictments.
The stepping downs.
The scandal.
Is that the smell of smoke wafting from the White House? Is that the violent retching of an administration struggling to breathe as it drowns under the flood of their own wrong headedness? Was that a stutter another misstep are you falling. Where's the smirk Georgie boy?
You laughed as New Orleans was sinking.
Proclaimed victory in a war that had not yet begun.
Jovial dining on $500 leather-y chicken while 2000+ have died in yr Jihad.
The world in the palm of your hand, every leader the Godless liberals placed even the slightest faith falling in yr wake.
And now your puppet show is falling apart.
How long until yr strings break?

Then the prophet will really celebrate. All of us waiting for your end will.

peace
love

They hate you if yr clever and they despise a fool

Was doing some copying for a case-social security appeal. This person claims she can't work for all the usual reasons. Well, not to say much but it's not a physical disability that is the problem with this individual.
What struck me-several things did really-but what really got me was this is a person-who couldn't hold a job for longer than a few months at most and who had only a high school education alongside of several disability issues.
This individual-without fail-was paid more per hour at every job that she had before application for benefits than I have EVER earned before the job I have now.
Think about that. A person with a mental disability and only the basics of education was consistently paid more than I ever was. At jobs that I was turned down for, at times (yr burger flipping paper hat desperation jobs). I have no mental incapacity (unless procrastination is a disease) a college degree and am progressing at the expected rate and with some success toward a master's.

What.
The.
Fuck.

There's no such thing as an original sin

Last post on the CultCon MT---promise.

I am forced to ponder, being that I'm the pondering kind, what exactly this means...Y'know, whether it's good or bad.
For you see---I wanted to be sure I knew what I was doing for a course related thing-y. At least to the point that I ever do. Swung by the office, only need a minute you know, so while it wasn't polite I stopped by in the last few minutes of the workday. Blah blah blah idle chatter but this is my point----The information was relayed to me that it had been relayed to the person with whom I was speaking that I had done notably well on my mid-term.
Well, I was delighted. Not because I need the approval of anyone--tho, I suppose I do because without approval of some sort I will not succeed academically. And it feels good to know that my work is being noticed and that I'm not breaking my balls for fun and games. But I readily admit, I was pleased because that meant that I was getting attention for my ability as an individual-this is a purely solitary emotion that I felt. I have something to prove. Not, I feel like I have something to prove-I do. I have to prove that on my own I can be good at this shit I'm studying--I have to prove that I may not live in town and I may have to work an actual job and I may be poor as dirt and on the dole just to survive and I may not be a darling for all those reasons (I may have my own charm because of the same)---every thing I've got I've fought and earned. And the reward means so much more to me than if I didn't have to work as hard as I do. Everything I get is worth more because I know I shouldn't still be in the program because I wasn't given one miserable break and it's those breaks that make the degree possible.
What I said was: "Well, then I must've done particularly well if she's mentioning it."
What I thought was- best left out of a forum that might be public in some way.

and Molly says this as she takes him by the hand

Got an A- on my CultCon (what a delicious bit of shorthand that is, don't you think) mid-term. The main thought about this that I have is that I am one of the few to not have a pre-test meltdown. I can't really say that-plenty of people may have not melted down...but I didn't change my schedule or worry much at all about what would happen. I did the reading (mostly) I studied (some) I either would succeed or I wouldn't. No skin off my nose. Much as it would be great to think it would be possible I don't believe this is my life. This is just a thing I'm doing. I enjoy it. I intend to do the best job I am capable but I do not believe my future is hinging on whether or not I know what a SHPO is. (It's a State Historical Preservation Officer-case you were wondering.) My dog still loves me. Rosie will still get me around whether I do well in the class. Life, as it is,goes on. That is what keeps me going. Knowing that failure doesn't stop the world.
I can fail and I won't die. I won't be happy. But I won't cease to be.
That's as may be----I got an A-.
I am so rock'n'roll.

Have a good time, all the time

Alright-I just re-read my last post and I would like to clarify that it is my glasses that I cannot see without---not my parents. As an associate member of AAEM (American Association of English Majors) I should know better.
It was Friday. I got through the day-lots of good panels and thought provoking instances. Missed a few things I would've like to have seen but that is the nature of things like that. Friday night-reception for the school. The beer was evilly overpriced so those industrious among us went to the hotel bar where it was up to 25 cents cheaper per beverage.
"Heard you had a good time there last night."
"Oh Lord. What did you hear? It wasn't that bad. Oh the shame!" Probably turned bright red.
"No. Just that you got a little drunk and a little y'know."
"Augh."
After this exchange the only possible option was to get everyone else drunk-so that we all had to keep quiet because the possible amount of embarassment and ribbing would be huge if we all decided to talk.
Really enjoyed the reception-crashed the one going on next door-as they had desserts. Tried to mingle-didn't do the best job-some people have the power of mingle-my mother has this skill-others have to power to conversate in small groups of 2-5ish. That would be me.
The idea was planted in my brain that the atomic watch might be the answer to my clock killing ways-as it gets time from a satellite or something. I'd probably kill it too. The inability to wear a watch is one i'm used to but y'know when my phone went missing on Thursday I was about as clueless as humanly possible for that time. Not that I'm not clueless most of the time anyway. Combination plate-missing a burrito.
Had a couple of drinks at the bar....this sounds like a lot of drinking was going on----really it was more like drinking regularly and over extended periods of time. I was tired tho and it was time to go back to the hostel.
Bunches of people were in the lobby--I walked over:
"Any of you big strong men want to walk me back to my place?" I batted my eyelashes in my best Scarlett O'Hara (do not take that to mean it was good-but it was my best).
3 guys-and a non-guy accepted the invitation when I reminded them that I had bourbon. Around the corner a bunch of hippies were leaving a concert of hippie affiliation.
"Anybody need any weed while we're here?"
"Not that crap." So we moved on.
We got to where I was staying, I refilled the thermos since the supply was depleted on the walk. There we were, standing on a dark street in ATL in a circle, passing a bottle around taking swigs of Jim Beam. It was so classy.
"Y'know what would suck? If one of us has the mono but doesn't know it. That would kind of suck."
"the mono? Or what about the herpes?"
"Like in Spinal Tap!"
(insert here 10 minutes of Tap quotes and drunken laughter.)
I am not a tactile individual, until I am drunk. I don't become a grope machine but I admit with some shame I was playing with the curls of one of the males of the group. This is typical of me+alcohol+long haired guy=strangeness. Shameful. I half expected--judging by the back slapping, and witty remarks tossed off with a bottle in one hand and an arm around the nearest shoulder that we would break into song. That would've rocked.
When they headed back to the hotel I thought that they needed a cab this time (you see, like I said, it was all so as to assure I wasn't the only one with a drunken goofball story to tell) but they walked and made it back alive. Barely alive the next morning but alive.
Then Saturday morning-more conferencing-one more Cuban meal-splitting up and leaving the enclave space.
Didn't get home until 9. Was too worn out for the DT shindig. I stayed in and crashed out in short order. Baxter is acting as if my disappearance barely registered on his Dog-dar. There is no food to eat. I have about 17,348 pages to read for school papers to work on.
That's where I'm heading now.

There's a whole lot of rhythm goin down

During the course of my trip to ATL I believe I divulvged the name of this blog. So-you know who you are and if you happen to be reading this-make yourself known and be prepared. I'm scandalous....But I've gotten pretty good about the naming thing. Naming is very powerful.
Being in ATL for AFS was different from being there for JJW. In that the choices for places to get beer was limited. But there was plenty of beer.
Here's the highlights and explanation as I see fit...
Pushing a Buick up a mountain
Seeing Rock City (from a distance)
Getting to the conference with 1 minute (really) to get to my volunteer shift at the Reg desk
Talking cheap motels with MOJo
The big fat confusion at the reception-I had to check into the hostel. My bags were in the car. The keys were slightly too hard to get. No-wait! We're going to go get a burger and beer. Oh look! Another person to schmooze with! I'm really hungry. Let's go. But first let's chat with this person right here. I'm going to gnaw my arm off. Fuck it. I'm going. We'll be right there. AHHHH!!!!!! I'll walk. You won't walk. I have to GO! (repeat for 45 minutes)
Walking into the common area in the hostel "Anybody gotta beer I can buy off ya?" Several beers arrive-free, cuz ladies shouldn't have to pay for beverages. Staying up too late drinking while some young Australia boy sang Pancho and Lefty.
Sleeping late on Thursday (all of 9am! I am such a REBEL.)
Conference stuff...la la I do think I need to hypothesize and ramble on about the conference. I got a lot out of it. It was informative and eye opening. I had more fun on the periphery. The edges of culture, the Other-if you will allow me to use this negative term (only to create a readable dichotomy of course) are much more fun to hang with. Gradual students-revel in our liminality.
ANYWAY-there's this conference going on and lots of professionallism and I was getting (during regular business hours) lots of great information about what it means to be in this field I've chosen. Meeting people, seeing what's being presenting, finding myself capable of seeming at least somewhat professinoal. I was thrilled and the amount of fun that i had (nerdy-academic fun) was great. I got to put the droning voices to the droning writing. It was all one could ask for.
***REGULAR WARNING ABOUT CHANGED NAMES AND THAT SHITE*******
all people mentioned hereafter would not answer to the initials, descriptions or creative titles given herein. any resemblences to people you think you know is purely because we are the world dammit
****BACK TO YOUR SCHEDULED RAMBLE**************************
Around the conference was the usual. Chatting over coffee-meeting at the hotel bar. There is a project in the hotel bar. Only there will a sane and reasonable person pay $5 for a domestic beer. Only in the bar culture is chicken strips (no fries, no slaw) a good idea at $8 a basket. Only in the hotel bar does money stop having meaning and beer become currency.
The first great hotel bar story was on Thurs. I was down there not arguing something related to being all folked up (I think having to do with fan culture----or maybe the Cosby show----maybe both---fuck if I know) There Iwas all happy drinking and kickin it and two guys walk up and I'm not the brightest or most observant person at all really so I think they're probably members of my party. They swarmed about me as soon as my fellow Barfly walked off for a moment. They wanted me to "tell them a story." I replied that telling them a story would be contingent on them buying me alcohol. They agreed. I told a Todd story-KK Rider. There was even singing. It was obviously not my story. But I tell stories fairly well. I'm not great-but anyway-it was worth a couple of drinks. Then the night went a bit weird. Other people from the dept showed up. They acquired beverages. The blatantly sexual that aligned themselves with the peeps I'm kickin' it with this post (a rant for a time when I feel it's worth discussing) got exactly what she pretends she didn't want (oh that sounds awful-as if by looking for sexual advances she would be deserving of whatever....that's unpleasant) I guess I got very drunk. That's what I was told the next day. That's the rumor that got back to me. I was tossed into a cab even tho I was only staying a couple of blocks away. I don't know-I've been drunker. Lots drunker. Maybe not in a situation that allowed for such chatting but...Sigh... For what that's worth. That's really not worth the paper it would be printed on if it was that kind of correspondance.
Friday. Woke up. Feeling like-well-better than I should-but bad enough thanks.
THe morning started up fine-I got dressed I had breakfast I went upstairs and my glasses were broke. Two pieces....one a lense and the frame. I flipped out-calling my parents in a fit of misery....I can't see without them. Then the oddest thought was pointed out to me---super glue. They'll never look nice but I can look out of them. I missed a panel and a professional develpment panel. I was a cranky goat girl...The day got better....Then it got hilarious....
I'll be telling about it on the morrow...When I'm not all tired and loopy.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ..........................

I used to get mad at my school

Mid-term--down and done. Did I do well? I don't know. I didn't fail. I felt pretty good about it. Almost too good. Only one essay really threw me for a loop. I will be surprised to get any more than one or two points for vague reference for that one. But it's alright. I am comfortable in the theory that I will get at least a high C and at best a nice B. That's all I want. I just want to pull off a B in the class. Then I'm happy. Anything better than that is great but it's a long shot. I'm a realist.
People were freaking the fuck out about it tho. Study sessions rivaling the length of the Mexican American War were held. Classes were skipped. I suspect, privately, tears were shed. But me. I planned the ATL journey, read my email, chatted with peeps, ate a pizza. I didn't stress-the world doesn't end. My dog still loves me. My friends still think I'm worth being around. I still have a job and the lights won't be turned off if I don't well. O bla di. O bla da. Life goes on. It's not that I don't give a shit. It's that I understand that worrying doesn't do a damn bit of good-not in a case like this anyway.
In E's class there was about half attendance. So, it was cool because there's this one guy-he drives me up the wall you know he always shows up 45 minutes late and he usually has to leave early. I don't think he's going to be doing too hot in the class.
*****sidebar:the last 2-3 minutes of The Office was touching in a very uncomfortably real way, especially the part with the kids trick or treating****
So there was that class, it went well, it ended early. I was sitting in the back room of the cabin being somewhat worthless for a few minutes. Me and another one journeying to ATL were plying for information. The questions:
"So, what would be, say, the appropriate amount of panels to go to, say...you know...
"The least you can do?"
"Well..mostly..."
Talking about a side trip to a groovy neighborhood:
"I will be taking a group of folklorists to little 5."
"Oh, be sure to take me!"
"We'll probably run into you there..."
"At the 'head shop..."
"With (in joke of epic proportions)."
then we all laughed and laughed
Oh folklorists are funny little creatures. We should have a reality show. That would be awesome.

I'd be having nightmares if I could only sleep....

In 24 hours I will be home and in recovery from my midterm in the class that gives me the greatest pause this semester. OH-sure-there's something to be said for the stress from each class....but in this particular case I am unaware of the testing style of the professor in question. (I've had classes successfully with the other 2) While we had one of the few good conversations of my ill advised career I am still concerned. (I have cried in her office, been pissed to the point of fist into wall fury and annoyed and frustrated-I tried to drop out once too, although rumor has it drop outs don't usually announce their intention just cease appearence- but I've only just recently become comfortable with the fact that my situation is what it is and the best idea is to make of it the best instead of the crankiest.) At any rate, I have studied quite a lot (for me) and all I can hope for is not to blow up spectacularly. She's notorious for her ball breaking exams, but I also believe that it is not in the best interest of any professor (even the most hard assed of the lot) to put together an exam that will destroy the morale of those she is teaching. Course, I'm still smarting from the microphone debacle of this time last year...fuckin' microphones.
I hate days before exams. But I dunno any way to cope but to pretend I'm not worried. I could study like a mad thing, I could re-re-read my notes. I could pace and toss and turn. Or I could do what I'm doing.....
I finished my laundry. I packed for ATL (as much as one can 2 days before leaving). I got an oil change. I bought food for the trip. I'm compiling MDs of music for the journey. I am trying to remember-concepts, preservation, issues, politics vs. representation, problems with preservation, hertitage tourism, cultural conjurors, heritage brokers, the forest not the trees, National Trust isn't a government agency, TCP....I need a drink....My brain hurts...::hits self upside the head with bricks::...I would tax people that ponder conservation....wait...
This is maybe my new favorite sentiment---
"You have to do what makes you happy...What makes you happy?"
"God! I don't know. What makes me happy? Dogs and drugs and music and food. The same things that makes everyone happy."
Saturday was Daddy (not my Daddy-the band Daddy---check 'em out) and a Wrecks(!) show. And a lot of beer. And a bad idea or two. Rounded off with a drive thru music row following every known and a few not yet contemplated laws of the road. You know it's bad when there are emails waiting in the morning checking in to find out if you arrived home alive. Sigh. I'm not sane.
Ooooh! Dolly's on the Daily Show! I love the cable television.....Was I worried about something? Nah-I was just waiting for Jon Stewart.

you have no scars on yr face

Last night I repeatedly tried to post an update. Sadly, I don't know how to use my computer machine. Ahoy ahoy.
The life update---the Black Crowes were 3 times awesome. I got home high as a kite but all I'd been ingesting was adult beverages. High on the scene, man. Like whoa. And I'd even sobered up from the most slobby I'd been. Which was described as "2 steps forward, 1 step back." I'm fairly sure I was randomly hugging people. Some of them I may have known-tho I cannot prove this to be the case. It was great. The music was totally cosmic, there wasn't room to think it was too loud and pulsing. Also there were pretty flashing colors. I tried to sneak up to near the front, non-chalant wandered closer to the stage but the usher beasts caught me and I had to pretend I didn't realize row U was farther than 6 rows back...So close! So far!
Then after the show me and many others stood in the alley for some reason. Barefoot. I was barefoot in the alley not 3 feet from trash cans and God knows what. Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. We were trying to get things signed I guess. I think it was possible I might've been able to weasle my way backstage if my inclination had been strong to do so-but I was in the wrong place when that moment opened up. This is fine-as I would've probably only had something real intelligent to say like "I dig what you do."
Friday-while I deserved a hangover I got far worse than that. I truly and fully believed that if I died it would be a mercy. Stupid lady issues. I managed to crawl into the living room-took only 45 minutes to get there from my bedroom (imagine that)-and took some pain killers. Then another 30 minutes to get back. SUCKED! Curled up in bed, fell asleep and I thought I'd been out for half an hour when the phone rang-I'd been out for 5 hours. And missed work. I was almost a human person again by then tho.
The big news of this week is that I will be traveling and staying it ATL alone. Such is alone-I'm staying at a youth hostel-as 5 strangers are better to share a room than 2 that are known to me. But I'll have my truck. No more of that being at the whims of another for my travel. Should mean I'll get to be home on Saturday night. You see, I just don't care to spend Saturday in ATL with nothing to do (sure, there'd be SOMETHING but I can come home and do what I want. I do what I want.)
When finally I got the nerve to say that the pre-arranged plans just simply wouldn't do it was less than 2 weeks from the event. One of the two had an attack and said she just wouldn't go then. She even gave up the room to others that are going but had a less decent priced lodging arranged. Then before the day was over she'd changed her mind and thought it feasible to travel with only 2 as opposed to 3. But she'd given up the room. Wouldn't that be as bad or worse than what I did? Her excuse was she couldn't afford it with one less person sharing the cost. I'm confused, because it's not something I've ever experienced-married girl with an assistantship probably has per month to live on what I make in 4 and I can afford it but she can't. I get tired thinking about the class differences within that tiny department and how much more work it is for me because of that assistantship I don't have-not really want but still I don't have it and I always sort of want what I do not have. Aye-but I have SO much more fun. It's not really comparable I don't think. I'm going to live before I die. They're just going to have more spending money. Until graduation-when they have no money and no job and I still have employment.
Winter will soon lead to very little work at the office. The law shuts down during the holiday season. I just need $100/$150 a week to get by on for that time-some bill paying cash is all. The rest will come out one way or the other I am sure. It is a bit terrifying that I have bills up and down and possibly no income at all during the month of December. I'd rather not take a job as one of Santa's Elves to make ends meet if I can avoid it. Let's just cross our fingers that doesn't happen....as we all know how I feel about small children.
All of this has successfully killed a bit of time. I have to clean up the house, do some laundry maybe study a bit. Then early this afternoon it's off to 21st for Bocktoberfest. I'm getting there early whilst there may still be a parking space. I would ride the bus except that it is possible the event will go later than the buses and that would SUCK. A cabride from the West side-approx $30. I don't think so. Oh how I would love to ride the bus, tho, and not battle parking or worry about drinking and all that. Oh well....such is life.

That ain't nothin' but drugstore lovin

--------or------Loretta Lynn should sing Hard to Handle

Got some coin to go to ATL. This makes for a happy hippie.
Other happy hippie events include that I will be going to see the Black Crowes tomorrow and the paper I will be writing and presenting eventually in my world about OKOM.
Got one presentation out of the way. I was good and knowledgeable but I dunno to many "ummmmmm"'s. That bothers me about my presentations about certain topics. I can answer questions without stuttering but reading from a paper makes me less feel a bit like I'm cheating. As if I have the free time to put all that information into my head in an enjoyable narrative form.
I find most people have some issue of presentation. Don't like to read off a paper (I should be off book by the time I go on dammit!) or want to include every motherfuckin' detail to the point of nauseum (-why say in 10 words what you can say in 10,000?)
Ha! "Thank you, I enjoyed that." Good Cragin quote. And how damn hot was Olivia tackling that child pornographer last night? Oooh! Tackle me St. Olivia! I need some law enforcement! Otherwise the episode left me a little cold. Liked it better when the "little girl" was a hoax. Maybe if St. Olivia AND un!Stabler had tackled the perp, got bored with all that law stuff and then tackled each other...Oh-pardon the digression----la la la!
Do I watch anything but SVU? Yeh, I also watch the Daily Show and soaps. High culture is for losers.
In one of my classes there was this wacky diagram of class cultures. Sadly, I can't find with a quickie google. But most interesting Salvador Dali and Pot Luck falls into the same class. I like Dali and pot luck. So I guess that's my culture. Tho I still don't know what 7-11 music is. Guys that play music outside of the 7-11? French cultural theorists are disturbing as hell. I fear them and yet they keep haunting my dreams, It's like watching paint dry in the midst of dense hypothesising. It's upsetting because one day, I may have to read them again.
Drinking beer today at the local at school I managed to synthesize why my career choice is no more or less useful than that of any other person in cultural studies. Sadly, I've lost the exact wording. Too bad I am not clever enough to tape all my most genius moments. thus, I am back to wondering why I made this career choice. And I'm missin fall. Here, it is not fall.
If I have anything else worth mentioning it's mysterious to me. Ooooh I'm so great! Ooooh! I'm so great!!!

4 in the morning-tapped out-yawning

Woke up at 3am. Decided I was up for awhile, turned on the TV my favorite episode of the X Files (Post Modern Prometheus) was on. Had to watch that. Then I didn't recognize the next episode. For the first 5 minutes, then I knew which one it was and kept watching it. It's easy to convince oneself to do stuff like that at 4 in the morning.
But the choice of commercials didn't seem to fit the audience. Every commercial break featured that John Basedow creepy workout dude. Are insomniacs the target audience for fitness? The other commercials were those hungry kids like Sally Struthers used to cry around all the time. I don't think that people watching science fiction in the middle of the night are feeling charitable either. Maybe I'm crazy to have not been inspired to get into shape, I did consider buying the 24 head screwdriver set tho. That thing was awesome.

I don't need you to worry for me cuz I'm alright

"I heard you talkin' to Mik, you're real lucky to like someone yr related to that much."
"Well, yr an only child. So it's a little bit different. I think."
Sis is trying to decide if she likes the West Coast. And I believe fully that there's very little that'll hold her back from success at what she wants to do. But then, I'm awful biased. She is my sister after all. And even if she makes me frustrated I know I frustrate her as much if not more----probably a lot more. I am so damn frustrating it ain't funny. I know and accept this.
We had a good bit of phone craic this morning (afternoon-we were on the phone close to an hour-shocking lot of time on the phone-I heart the cellular phone and the IN plan for unlimited minutes for Verizon customers) she had me laughing like a plum fool. She's a damn funny girl, Sissy is. When she wants to be. Ain't fair she missed Will and Rodney tho-it's expensive to be in West Hollywood. Course, I missed Will and Rodney (you know, I think Rodney is really the draw in the line up-and yet, I still list Will first, cuz he's well...he's Will! Gotta laugh, cuz Mik said the same thing, "I tried to go see Will Kimbrough and Rod...Radney...Ralph..something....I tried to see Will.."
Flashback-repeat-Widespread Panic, maybe 6, 8 years ago. At Nautica-Todd and the Wrecks opened. Me, and Mik and that boy she was dating sitting on the bleachers with the Nervous Wrecks: "What're you going to do now?"
"Go back to Tennessee and get a job I guess," said Will.
I'm hoping to go see Widespread next Friday. I can't afford it, but hell, you only go around once. Might as well enjoy it. That's my theory- this week anyway. Besides, what kind of hippie would I be if I didn't go see Widespread Panic? A bad bad hippie. That's what kind. I don't want to be a bad hippie-I've been at it too many years to fail at it.
That's Monday anyway. That and I somehow acquired an iPod. I'm assuming it will be re-acquired, but for a day or a few hours, I have an iPod. That's fun. I feel so 21st century.

Rich girl lives in a big brick house

today was a big day in my world as I know own a washer AND dryer. and I have more debt. but debt is the American way so I'm just letting my patriotism show. It's how I support the troops.
Also in the 90% range that I will make a trip to Boston and NYC for my birthday. It's the weekend before finals-so I think I'll be best served going on a 3 day drunk. Also hearing lots of Irish music. Happy 29th birthday to me. Gonna buy the ticket when I get my next paycheck. Probably-kinda waiting to hear from a friend out that way and see if I can gain any further insight into the Atlantic region. ANYWAY-it's one of those things I'll be filling in as time goes on. Like, say, when I get the ticket, I will post nothing but
WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!11111111111111111111111!!!!!!!! For a week straight.

But right now I have other things to think about. Like how I own a dryer. And I am assuming eventually said dryer will dry my clothes. I'm not sure what the normal time for a load of clothes to dry is and I keep looking at the clothes to see if they're still damp. I'm a geek.
Luck would have that I got a portable dryer from the Sears scratch and dent for a pretty good price (I hesitate to say because it is more than I can afford-but with winter coming on...) it WAS over $120 less than original asking price. But I was only planning to pay about $90 so what I paid is way more. But, like I was talking with some *$ cronies-"If you buy it new it's good for at least 4-5 years. But second hand...who knows." And like Daddy and Mommy said "for that price, yeh, hell yeh, charge it and go out to dinner. That's my big girl. Owning a nice car and a dryer she's so grown up." Funny Mommy and Daddy. But-this humor might've been prompted by the fact that when I made a bad turn and ended up at the fair grounds and there was this clown-this scary scary mean clown. And I was forced to panic. It was a figure-BTW-to make it even worse. But it was a freaky damn clown and it scared me. "Mommy! There's a mean clown! There's a mean clown in the fairgrounds!"
"Get out of the fairgrounds then!'
"But it's so BIG!"
"It's ok baby, mommy's here. Mommy won't let that mean clown get you."
I was hyperventilating. Stupid giant clown head. But when I got away from the fairground I did my best to put that mean thing out of my head. I just hope he doesn't come back and haunt my dreams.
Never made it to Grimey's. That's where I was trying to go all day. But I got distracted by the dryer and then when I had time to go there it was over. So I went grocery shopping.
it's very exciting to be me. I think I had somehting clever to sum up this day but mostly I just hope I've got the dryer all hooked up right-would hate to bring havoc to my house.