Inexplicable

Tonight, I have a case of the mean reds.

I'm not even sure why since I had a great day. This afternoon I met up with Tris, Danielle, Sven, Brendan, David, and Hana for bowling, which––considering that I'm more of a handicap than an addition to any team––I assure you I did not play. Instead, I discovered my bowling calling as the team scorer. It was really fun, especially referring to everyone by their Bowling Names. (For example, Sven became Bad Seed, David Captain Kick-Ass, Brendan Pookie, Tristan Bob, etc.)

Then we went to the Headlands where we hung out and (almost) promptly ran into Jordan who'd come in unsuspectingly under the guise of getting a cup of chai. He was immediately clued into our evening plans, a favor he returned by offering to drive Sparky and I to Mendocino. In other words, things worked out beautifully.

Even the Mac house was incredibly cool. After monopolizing the couches in the "café" section of the bar, we just sat around chatting for a couple of hours. I had some hot chocolate with Bailey's which was delicious, Sparky and a few others finally got to eat dinner. All in all, it was a good night.

Therefore, my case of the mean reds is inexplicable. They just came on me suddenly as soon as I stepped through the door of my house. Maybe I just need some sleep.

If I don't get a chance to post tomorrow, I wish you a happy New Year's Eve. Drink and be merry.

Does it ever freak you out when cats or dogs suddenly swivel their heads into a seemingly empty corner of the room and just stare? As if there's something there that you just can't see. And apparently it's extremely interesting. More interesting than, say, you.

I've been scaring myself with books and TV again. As if you couldn't tell, right? I finished those two books with the death toting heroines and was all set to start on Sunshine, but I decided to intersperse the scary books with happy books like I mentioned in my last post. So, I read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to offset the horror of the other two. Unfortunately, this benign comfort wore off as soon as I began Sunshine, which, I must add, would not be so freaky if my cat would STOP DOING THAT.

Maybe I need another happy book.

I'd forgotten what reading for pleasure feels like. Unusually for me, I've been on a Scare Myself phase for my reading list. In the last two days, I've consumed two horror books-during which heroines see (and speak to) dead people-with plans for a new vampiric volume tomorrow.

I think after McKinley's Sunshine, though, I'm going to move back to the world of realistic, hunky dory fiction. I've had enough of leaving the light on. Oh, wait, I wanted to read some Lewis and some Shelley. Argh! It looks as though I'll be imitating Tom Bodett for awhile longer.

Here's the current reading list for break (note the lack of Impressive Tomes):
1. Grave Sight (check)
2. Twilight (check)
3. Sunshine
4. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
5. Frankenstein
6. The Mysterious Affair at Styles
7. Death on the Nile
8...Huh.

I've finally noticed that almost ALL of these books are guarenteed to make me turn to my trusty lamp in order to forge that secure, cozy feeling. Maybe I need to mess with the list a bit. Lose the Shelley perhaps? Throw in a little Happy Prose? Ah, something to ponder.

Well, I guess I've avoided it long enough. It's time for the sad news.

Sebastian died today, or maybe last night. Since he doesn't make any noise, I didn't notice until 11am this morning when I went to feed him. He stopped eating a few days ago, and his tank contracted an odd filmy residue that kept coming back. But I never thought he'd die. He was the miracle fish. He recovered from a bloated swim bladder for goodness' sake. The vet assured me that that was UNHEARD OF (emphasis mine).

I am going to be holding a small intimate funeral tomorrow, should anyone care to attend. Afterward, I'll be serving Goldfish crackers and Crystal Geyser water in the den. Near his old tank. We can talk about what a good fish he was and what a wonderful mascott he made during Relay for Life for the rest of the Dashing Sebastians.

Ironically, despite the fact that I was wasted all day, I can't sleep. Ha! Good one, Morpheus! You're hilarious! Can I have my dreams now, Mr. God of Sleep?

Anyway, when I get tired––as you all know––I get a little...odd. Earlier, I stumbled across Google's Blog Search and decided to test run it, cuz someone used it to find my blog. When I searched for my name, I found this thing:

A- Age you got your first kiss: Jeez...personal opener.

B - Band/artist listening to right now: In the general sense of "now": The Beatles. In the specific: a nifty band called silence.

C - Crush: Teale

D- Dad's name: David

E - Easiest person to talk to: Teale?

F - Favorite bands at the moment: Weezer

G- Gummy worms or gummy bears? I don't eat things that jiggle usually.

H - Hometown: Fort Bragg, CA

I - Instruments: Piano, guitar (if you really stretch the old imagination)

K - Kids: *looks nervous*

L - Longest car ride ever: From one nameless town to the next on a family road trip when both my brother and I really had to pee.

M - Mom's name: Katy

N - Nicknames: Linnie, Katydid, Kait, Mensa-girl (So I like the games they put out! Sue me!),

O - To graduate high school? Been there, done that.

P - Phobia[s]: heights, spiders and mild claustrophobia

Q - Quote: "The most wasted of all days is one without laughter." ~ee cummings

R- Im making a question for R...its....raddest thing you ever did? Avoiding this question.

S - Song you sang last: "Wedding Bell Blues" The 5th Dimension

T - Time you woke up [today]: 10:13am

U - Unknown fact about me:

V - Vegetable you hate: chard

W - Worst Habit: Toss up between talking too much and lacking confidence

X - X-rays you've had: my teeth and my stomach

Y - Yummy food: Enchiladas, curry and Devika's Indian food (yummmmmmmmmmm)

Z - Zodiac sign: Cancer


I apologize for any boredom you may have experienced during the course of this blog. Please restore your browser to its original position. Thank you and enjoy your stay in Cyberspace.

I got my hair cut today. It's pretty awesome. I'm quite excited. The stylist was actually able to get my hair to hold a wave. Usually it's stick straight and about as interesting as it is green. As a consequence, after I do my hair, it feels boring and conventional. But today it feels flippy and frivolous. I never feel flippy and frivolous!

I tried once. I attempted a perm when I was 12. I got it in the morning. By that afternoon, the weight of my hair had straightened it back out again. So feeling flippy and frivolous for me is blissful.

I'm also feeling extremely tired having stayed up until 6am last night and then getting up at 9am. Well...I tried to get up at 9am. My cell's alarm went off at 9 and I have a vague recollection of thinking, I should reset the alarm for 10. I woke up again at 10:15 to find my hand wrapped around my phone, which was flipped open. Since I turn off the alarm by pushing a button on the SIDE of the phone and, thus, do not have to open it, I can think of only one explanation: I fell back asleep in the middle of resetting my alarm.

That's just sad.

Tonight, my parents and I are going over to Maggie's house for dinner. If you don't know Maggie's mom, Mary Jane, you might not understand the vague nervous feeling that is roiling in the pit of my stomach. Whenever she finds out that I have a boyfriend, it's like an interrogation room. I mean, more friendly and she feeds you, but it's question after question until she knows everything she wants to. Not that I begrudge myself the opportunity to talk about him. Ever.

I should probably get going. I'm almost done burning half of the radio station's music library onto my new laptop. Yes, yes, I know. I'm a music nerd.

Christmas has gotten complicated in Fort Bragg.

Here's how the holiday usually (i.e. for all previous years of my life) breaks down:

-I come home and the Holiday Baking Extravaganza begins. In general, this last from about the 19th to the 24th. Practically every spare moment is spent baking and/or decorating the baked goods. The main attraction is our Sugar Cookie Decoration process, which includes three or four family friends and seven or so hours.

-In the interim, my brother and aunt arrive to fill the empty space within the house, starting with the space underneath the tree. Often, the presents will spill out from their designated area into the rest of the livingroom, exemplifying materialist American stereotypes. (I must take this moment to assure my readers that I am not obsessed with material objects, nor is my family...Have you seen the new Steve Madden heels at Macy's? Righteous.)

-Christmas Eve commences with Family Fun Time (aka a board game, inevitably one that half of the family hates) early in the day.

-Around 2pm, we start cleaning the house in preparation of our annual Christmas Eve party, which begins around 7pm. Friends pile into the house, stop by for a few minutes, eat some of our casually displayed baked goods and then leave again after they've opened their gifts.

-Around 10pm my family opens our gifts, leaving the stockings for Christmas Day.

-We wrap up the holiday with a giant Christmas Day dinner around 3 in the afternoon (which both my aunt and mother insist will be served at noon).

This is how it's worked for the past 21 years of my life. (Granted, things changed a little after I went away to college, seriously compacting our baking time to the aforementioned 5 day interval.) What happened this year?

-I come home to find that my mom has decided to cut the baking in half. This drastic decrease in the size of our produce included a removal of half of the usual batches of sugar cookies. Now, to fully appreciate this, you might have to have been part of one of our decorating parties. We practically remain glued to our seats with thousands of sprinkles, frosting in six colors and about 150 cookies (no exaggeration) that need to be covered in these items. But it doesn't stop here.

-The woman who usually decorates these cookies with us (and has since I was 3) decided to go to Austin for Christmas this year. This is the only explanation I can come up with for the fact that my mom decided we weren't going to decorate the sugar cookies this year. At all. And we were only making 24 to begin with.

-Christmas Eve, I find out, we aren't going to be throwing our usual party. Instead, we're leaving the house around 1pm to see a movie and then go to dinner at a different friend's house.

-My parents decide not to put out half of our holiday decorations and revoke our house's Christmas light priviledge. The only festivity found on my house is a wreath. A bare wreath.

Now, this may seem frivolous, like empty concern, to some. But those who know my family and have seen our Christmas Spirit in action, might be as concerned as I. Just ask Sparky.

Last night, I saw one of the funniest comedy acts ever. They're a folk music duo called Flight of the Conchords who play comedic folk songs. For example, they have one song called "Alby the Racist Dragon" and another where they call themselves the "Hip-hop-opotamus" and the "Rhyme-nasaurus." I don't know if one can describe them. At the end of the show, they pulled out this "guitar" that is also a mandolin, trumpet, drumset and several other digital instruments. Throughout the song, they just kept adding weird noises and then, at the end, they began dancing "provocatively" with their guitars.

They appeared on HBO and the BBC, but they're still pretty new. So everyone should get out there and check them out!

Your mind is subconciously thinking about Monkeys.


What are you subconciously thinking about?
brought to you by Quizilla

Apparently, monkeys have invaded my mind while I was spacing out this afternoon. What does one use to fight monkeys?

I just read that last post (cuz I'm in Fort Bragg and I'm really bored) and I realized that it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Sorry about that. I was going on about three hours of sleep or something equally ridiculous, thus, any nonsensical ramblings are the product of a sleep deprived mind and really must be excused.

The song that I've been hearing non-stop is "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea" and it's amazing. If you haven't heard it yet, you really should. Additionally, you should all check out Sufjan Stevens. I ran across his album a few weeks ago at work and forgot to post about him. A few weeks later, my friend Matt sent me "Chicago" (which is an extremely happening song) and I forgot to post. Then Teale told me he was listening to the guy's album, and, low and behold, I forgot to post. So, Mr. Stevens, I apologize for not shouting from my rhetorical soap-box about your awesome-ness. I repent.

For some reason, all of the Christmas music playing on the radio lately is pissing me off. I'm not sure why. Considering my total adoration of the holidays, it would seem logical that I would equally adore the obvious love everyone else is feeling, and usually this is the case. Recently, however, all I can think is that these people are trying to cash in on the year's most profitable season. There is no joy, no love. Just profit-mongering. *shakes fist at radio*

But maybe that's just the remnants of Finals Bitterness talking.

I suppose I should sign off before I really get caustic. Maybe I'll go bake some cookies or something, that should make me feel better.

*muah*

Teale turned me on to this song by Neutral Milk Hotel that I just can't stop listening to. I hear it in my head whenever I think of him, which is odd since I rarely associate specific songs with people.

Right now, I should be finishing my packing. Unfortunately, I am so far from being done that I can't bring myself to continue, despite my raging tiredness headache and the fact that I have to drive for 3 hours tomorrow.

On a lighter note, it seems that my horrible driving skills have been transferred from being Myung-centric to being Teale-centric. I hit every single pot hole and rough patch on the freeway tonight during all three trips to Oakland/Berkeley. It was horrific. I'm sure that he was fearing for his life. Hell, I was fearing for his life.

I really should go to bed or something. Maybe I'll go get some water.

Anyway, have a great break everyone! Congrats on being done with finals! (Good luck to those who aren't yet finished.) Call me/write me while I'm rattling around in Fort Bragg/Mendo, which should begin around 2pm tomorrow.

*muah*

Fevers do funny things to my mind. I begin to hum odd songs such as The Partridge Family's "Come on Get Happy." I agree to house a cat for two weeks (she really is cute, though). I call people repeatedly, forgetting that I spoke to them not twenty-four hours before.

And, I decided that doing this would be a good idea:

On his blog, my brother posted this weird game that he played. Basically, you type "(your name) needs" (i.e. "Kaitlin needs") into the Google search and post the top 5 funniest hits.

5. Kaitlin needs another pony.
4. Kaitlin needs some love.
3. Kaitlin needs to use the bathroom now.
2. Kaitlin needs to be educated on comic books.
1. Kaitlin needs help evading an assassin bent on seeing her activities halted.

Wow. There are some weird people out there with the name Kaitlin.

I'm mad. So very, very mad.

Not, as one might expect, over the fact that I have six papers due in one week. Nor can I boast a confrontation with an annoying Republican. In fact, considering my cushy life, I have very little to be mad about. But I am.

(Attention please, we regret to inform you that a malfunction has occured within our system. As a result swearing, ranting and raving may ensue. We apologize for any inconvenience. Have a nice day.)

A friend of mine quoted something at me the other night about how all the tragedies of the world can be traced back to a woman's fickle heart. Now, I'm fairly certain that he just found this amusing, but I did not. At all. Contrarily, I find that idea insulting, untrue and an horrific thing to say to any woman.

Men cannot understand the ramifications of being a woman. I know that this is a partyline sentiment which many people might find argument with. However, I must disagree with these allegedly "enlightened" people and tell them this: Men do not understand the Female Condition. I'm not saying that this makes them bad people. And I'm not claiming any intimate knowledge of the Male Condition, so don't get uppity with me over my "hypocrisy."

I got in an argument today about the morality of thought. Now, in general, I don't think that punishing people for their thoughts is just. When we begin regulating thought, we will have lost all true freedom. So, perhaps I suffered from the horrors of asymptotic language when I told my friend that thinking carnal thoughts about women on the street shouldn't be allowed to happen.

However, I truly believe that thinking these thoughts is a violation of someone else's rights. The sanctity of one's body should not be compromised by any individual at any time without express permission. Therefore, having a strange man wink at you on the street, blow you a kiss, whistle, make naughty comments, is more than just an annoyance. To me it's more serious than the word "harassment" can entail. Of course, this could be a result of the nerve-wracking experience of a man following you, courting you with rough language, and telling you you're a "bitch" because you won't lie down on the sidewalk and do the dirty with him.

Men don't get this.

They cannot comprehend that thoughts could do so much damage. They've never experienced some stranger deliberately letting them know that he/she would like to violate them ten ways to Sunday, and they probably never will. It is a purely feminine experience. By virtue of being born male, they have a right to personal space that women are denied daily.

So for a man to tell a woman that men have the right to "think whatever they want" about her…That's inexcusable, insulting, and, frankly, terrifying to me. But what is more terrifying is that some women aren't pissed off about what we've been told is our lot in life. They just except that this is how things are and try to take the comments, whistles, jeers, etc as compliments.

Screw that. I refuse.

Sometimes I think I need to go to work stoned. That's the only way some of these albums are going to sound listenable. For example, the musical stylings of No-Neck Blues Band on their album "Qvaris." I swear to you, the only way you could sit and listen to this album is by smoking lots and lots of pot. So much so that you can't move to turn it off.

Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration. If you were stoned, you might actually enjoy the crazy noises and sampling. I, however, wouldn't know, having never been stoned myself. But others assure me that this is the case.

Obviously someone told the lyricist from Parks and Recreation that his genius lyrics ("Star 69 girl" and "la la la la la" just to quote a few) would catapult him to stardom. Someone needs recind this lie out of kindness to that man.

Aside from an unfortunate name, The Beating has an interesting sound. They're like a less melodic and synthesized version of The Killers. In all, they're a nice counterpoint to the whole Bright Eyes Emo sect of the world. Sometimes we all need relief from the Mellow.

Pearls and Brass have this song that sounds exactly like something I've heard before, but I can't place it for the life of me. I'm not sure if it's a cover or just a really stereotypical hard rock song. Either way, I'm a little confused. I mean, if it's a cover, that's cool and all, but why include a cover on your break-out album? If it's not a cover, why aren't they trying to sound less like all the bands of the 80s and more like, I dunno, something different.

However, considering that covers are becoming more and more common on popular albums (see the lastest Jessica Simpson and Mandy Moore contributes to society), this aversion I have to them must be unique to me. Obviously, I need a head readjustment or something.