since we last touched

found out the graduate program i was gunning for is a no-go, so this morning i withdrew from my current classes. fuck school, or something. i'm going to get a motherfucking JOB, start keeping normal hours, etc. come up with a plan, renew my life, blahblahblah. stop being so goddamn bored.

also: this fixed-gear scene says sex to me. i'd upload a picture but i don't have one right now plus i don't know how. maybe i'll e-mail one out. camo and orange. i can't sit still anymore; my legs start screaming at me to MOVEMOVEMOVE. hence fuck school. spin till you puke, right? right.

and she screamed yayayayaya yayaya

a real artist, etc.

i just had the last day of the job i'm pretty sure i quit three months ago. strange how these things seem to linger.

and so i'm at jobless, where i may well remain 'til september. which means lots of !@#$%ZOMG^&*()ing and a little school.

maybe i should have been an artist. like raymond pettibon. or wesley willis. maybe i am an artist.

i need to start taking brain pills so that i can blame my lack of creativity on them. any suggestions?

also, tattoo

ttfn,

-(no man is a) ryland

at least it's an ethos

so i'm going through some old emails while i listen to music and just as i found one where jesse is writing about listening to the dresden dolls really loudly, i was listening to the dresden dolls.

not as really loudly as i would like, but it's better than nothing.

ite

I wrote this in '04:

I'm worrying I'm fucking everything up.
No, you just can't keep your hands still (and you've got HABITS).

straight up, bitch

that's me. i'm going straight up. and telling you about it makes me a bitch.

all i need to finish my research proposal for the national park service is a couple measurements from this guy in my lab. i finally bought the goddamned tickets to sasquatch. i ran AND lifted weights yesterday. everything is in order for the guest lecturer tomorrow. last week, i was told i was awarded a grant to fund a research assistant for the summer. it's money i don't really need, but it's something to put on the c.v. i have a place to live i'm moving into this weekend that is a 10 min. walk from my building (that houses my office).

things are fucking kick-ass.

sure, i need to practice the 1.5 hour lecture i'm giving on thursday on biodiversity and put the lab lecture together for the week. but fuck it.

it's a sunny day and i'm going outside.

...

Ooh GaAAAaaAAAAaaAaAAAAAAhd...

insulation speaks best

learning german one word at a time is infuriating, so i got a book and cd on how to learn german in 30 days. it's great. i'm really learning a lot about german culture. for instance, did you know that germans like to drink alcohol at weddings, parties, and family gatherings? or that they are avid cyclists? apparently, there are also different "dialects" of german, which, from what i can infer, means they speak differently in different parts of the country. what a fascinating people! and so different from americans!

something about not knowing

making the effort to stay awake today, do my taxes, take stock of the school situation. eat real food (bagels), drink only water.

flat tire in milwaukie yesterday, 2-hour walk home. pleasant, though.

all i ever want to do is have fun.

i've been having these incredibly vivid dreams: opening a mexican restaurant, falling in love with a girl, quitting a job, picking up litter, assisting a superhero. and then i wake up and bike somewhere and drink soda and eat a bagel. maybe some of those little pecan pies, if i'm lucky.

there's no get-up-and-go right now because my hands smell like soap instead of camels. i can see my reflection in the shiny apple logo on this school computer, and i look like everyone else. i spend my time silent.

RACK AND RAUL hate yourself awake and throw sex to the wind RIGHT.

Blogging in Hindi

so it's 8:30 pm and until now, i was working my ass off on the course website. it's a great website, if i do say so myself, even if i did use this program provided by uw that makes creating and maintaining a webpage as easy as using word. whatever. i still rock.

i sound like a fucking tool. i need to stop that.

god makes no mistakes.

i am the messiah.

.: i make no mistakes.

there might be some steps missing in that syllogism, but i'll dare sammy to show his face on this blog once again to correct me. that funny concentration of dots is supposed to represent "therefore." but it's really just another way philosophers confuse the public at large so that no one figures out that the philosophers are all full of shit and don't do anything but argue semantics and shit like that. take that, sammy.

Gy

Does anyone read this any more? Hey liz, Sup. Grad school. Yeah. Grad school. I should be starting a prelim. Yeah. Should.

This man has things figured out:

counterfit chaos

shit was really fucked up when i rolled into the office around noon today. i'm searching for something to say, as i want to have an excuse to sit here and listen to more sheryl crowe. to maximize my desk area, i moved my computer in such a way so as to render my headphones useless (as they are now too short to stretch between my cpu and my ears). so now i try to encourage the others with whom i share an office to leave early. or just never even come here.

stevie wonder rocks. the early stevie wonder. when he was thin and being blind MEANT something.

when you date someone from a different country, your vocabulary is suddenly impressive. unless you date someone from like, england or australia or something, but that's hardly even a foreigner.

i'll never be alone, not with my coin-operated boy.

Where's the Spring?

Back in highschool, me and Zach White of Divided Highway were starting band(s). One we may or may not have actually played as was called "Slacker Impulse," because Zach took some psych class and was intrigued by the concept- the urge to do nothing.
I feel like all my complaints in the world stem from SI. Maybe Dr. Peppar was right- "Solves ALL Your Problems!" Caffine does tend to conteract the urge to do nothing. Yeah, maybe that's what I should do. Go get a MotherFucking Mountain Dew.

super fucked up

for serious

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17914681/

more proof you can never trust an architect