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30 October 2006 : break (down) time.
i love/hate the idea that everything is relative.
you remember everything imperfectly, but so perfectly are you situated that you can't quite comprehend your misinterpretation.
how does anyone compare versions of suffering? culturization, socialization, these things ensure that what makes you suffer won't make everyone else suffer and vice versa.
i think that's what bothers the most.
i liked the feel of your hands cupped around mine lighting a cigarette in the wind, but that just makes you another sunny afternoon. something else tall and dark and warm that i can see without having.
western notions of certainty and entitlement baffle the rest of the world but to me are just more causes of insomnia. i don't even know where to start.
for the record, i don't have the time to worry about these things and i don't want to have the time to worry about these things. i want to drink cold water and read my books, write more papers and sleep solid for eight hours a night. i want to walk assured into rooms full of the unknown. that's what i've focused on this past year or so, and i was doing very well until i lost my focus a few months ago.
i think things are back on track, but precariously may hit hiatus status for a while simply because writing what's worth posting is not currently in the cards.
the plans for now include marathon library sessions, carefully worded emails to professors who've never heard of me, studying for the gre, developing a moderately not-pathetic curriculum vitae, learning about burma and trying to find a pair of shoes to wear through the winter.
i am not suffering but wanting. and that's what i've always done best. i'm only just now figuring out that it's only the wanting that depends on no one but me that's worth my time and effort.
everything else is just decoration.
posted by lindsay at 23:06 :: 0 comments
24 October 2006 : tidings.
i ran into an old friend this afternoon.
actually, an old best friend. someone with whom i was inseparable for the better part of five years.
obviously, we both changed significantly in those five years - in opposite directions. for a long time, i could barely stand the sight of her. she had trouble dealing with the fact that i was moving to the left. i had trouble dealing with the fact that she was moving to the right. i couldn't understand why she wouldn't accept who i wanted to be.
i was, after all, seventeen.
now, she has a four year old son (who's about six feet tall) and i'm a little more tolerant. actually, a lot more tolerant.
which makes it sound like she needs to be tolerated; this is not, in fact, the case. it speaks more about who i was than who she was (and is). i was on shaky ground during my later adolescence, desperately trying to figure out who i was while utterly terrified that the answer was going to devastate me. i had an image to maintain and she really didn't fit into it.
i could have let it fade out in a simpler, kinder way than i did. but i sort of dropped everything and ran.
i don't think i can take all the blame here, honestly. who isn't afraid of cheerleaders?
still yet, it was really nice to see her.
[ps: i just registered for the last six credits of my undergraduate career.]
posted by lindsay at 17:44 :: 1 comments
23 October 2006 : keep thinking what you're thinking.
it's late and i still have a lot of stuff to finish before tomorrow arrives, so i am of course busy being preoccupied with thoughts that haven't been bothering me otherwise.
i'm thinking about my nephew's beautiful blue eyes and wishing i had time to see him more often and how adorable just seems to run in our family. and wondering if the reason i've liked blue eyes this year (for the first time) is because of that beautiful little baby. pictures on this forthcoming.
and i'm thinking about how, sometimes, its a lot of fun to want something. and that anticipation is delicious. but currently, wanting something is just a pain in my ass and i'm really tired of it. anticipation and trepidation are far too close in kinship, as far as i'm concerned.
i'm thinking about how strange it is that i hate myself in the mirror in my bedroom all the time, but sometimes the mirror in the upstairs bathroom is okay (even with it's outrageously unflattering lighting), and the mirror in the downstairs bathroom is mostly okay, but i always love my reflection in the kitchen windows.
and i'm thinking about the last man i kissed and how it's strange and sad that he was the last man that i kissed, mostly because it didn't mean all that much other than we were bored and it was so long ago. but he's a really good kisser.
i'm thinking about how many things i want to accomplish and whether or not i'll really finish with anything to which i'm not obligated in some way. for example, learning to play the piano or reading everything herman hesse ever wrote.
i'm thinking about how it's really funny to be ashamed of the way you feel about something; ashamed in the way that you don't want to tell anyone about it and you lie about it so you don't have to be judged. and how i used to believe that every emotion was validated by virtue of its existence, but i don't believe that anymore. because the way i'm feeling about a couple of things right now render useless the comfortable image i have of the woman i'm becoming, or trying to become.
i'm thinking about how i really hope i have enough extra money next week to be a really big dumbass and get another tattoo; it's going to be freaking beautiful. i'll tell you more about it when it happens, but just let me reiterate how excited i am about the archaeology of capitalism and those stupid colonial gardens.
but mostly, i'm thinking about how little i really care about jewish perspectives on euthanasia, at least at one on a monday morning, and that papers are a waste of my time. which is just a symptom of my procrastination disease, so i'm gonna go finish this so i can go to sleep.
good night.
[addendum: i'm thinking about how someone found this site by searching for "totally lindsay" and how much i loved totally minnie when i was a kid and i made my parents videotape it and it was on the same tape with flight of the navigator and i watched it every day after school for approximately two years. and how annoying it is that i have "don't go breakin' my heart" stuck in my head now.]
posted by lindsay at 00:50 :: 1 comments
19 October 2006 : poor you.
i'm feeling a little phased-out lately.
like some people would choose to trade me in on some guy in pakistan who speaks english perfectly over the phone and that would be good enough.
as a result, i've been avoiding certain places as much as possible. it's a good thing i'm the busiest girl on the planet. and that i'm now working in non-profit.
i think this is all in my head; a lot of things have happened in the past month or so that are making me question basically everything, about everything. but even if i'm making it up, feeling marginal never feels good.
frank, can we do the crossword tonight? please? it's been over a week.
posted by lindsay at 07:00 :: 3 comments
17 October 2006 : it's that time of year again.
[where i start posting obsessively in an attempt to avoid homework as long into the wee hours of the night as possible.]
MY VERY MOST FAVORITE THINGS THAT I'VE LEARNED FROM ANTHROPOLOGY
1. women have a creepy enzyme that releases in the 3rd trimester of pregnancy, and it EATS YOUR CARTILAGE. expectant mothers beware: don't let that bitch push you down those stairs.
2. marxism is still a rather valid field of academic influence.
3. objects are multivalent - that is, every object in the world has more than one meaning dependent on who is using them, looking at them, buying them, selling them. multivalence is, honestly, the spice of life.
4. the first thing that gets delivered to an archaeological dig: the liquor.
5. it is decidedly NOT ETHICAL to give infected blood to a group of people you are studying.
6. a skeleton that hasn't been boiled entirely clean smells kind of bad, but it's not intolerable.
7. if you have a sinus infection, go to the fucking doctor. otherwise your brain's going to get infected and YOU'RE GOING TO DIE.
8. colonial gardens were so much more than just gardens. they were actually an instrument of social control!
9. the cia really tends to fuck things up, especially in the cold war era.
10. pretty much the entire world sucks at life, and there's not really anything you can do about it, but let's watch this movie about this genocide and then you can go home and not sleep.
11. hitler and darth vader? they're really bad guys.
12. scientists have a very distinctive sense of entitlement that's really kind of gross and frustrating.
13. hummel figurines are not just cute. they're in fact so overwhelmingly cute that it's FASCIST.
14. australian cowboys are freaking awesome.
posted by lindsay at 22:37 :: 6 comments
16 October 2006 : more than corn.
the surreality of tonight was such that i'm not sure i can describe it.
i went to see a friend of mine play a random open mic show at a tiny nothing of a bar in noblesville, of all places.
this is strange for a multitude of reasons. first, it's sunday and i've been in a good mood all day. second, it's sunday and i was actually out of the house after 8pm. third, it was noblesville.
let me set the scene for you. noblesville, indiana sits on the cusp. it has a good hospital and a starbucks or two, but it has yet to really be affected by indianapolis' crazed urban sprawl. noblesville is still backwater, good ol' boy, warsh yer socks in the crick farmin' country indiana.
and yet, at ten on a sunday night, some hick bar in some hick town in central indiana produced (along with a delightful homebrewed stout that i enjoyed immensely) the following things in succession:
one sincerely amazing bluegrass band with a banjo player whose fingers moved so fast they blurred and some sort of freaking genius boy wonder of a mandolin player (who had obviously come straight from the farm). i grinned and hooted and tapped my feet and wished so hard that there was a man in that bar who would ask me to dance (if only i had some cowboy boots).
one skinny white kid in sweatpants who busted out with some of the most incredible beatboxing i've ever heard. included in his set were blind melon's no rain, don't worry be happy, and the theme song from inspector gadget.
and just when i absolutely thought it couldn't get any better, this guy happened. if you clicked that link, ignore the songs that are posted, because they sound nothing like what i heard tonight. he came on last and had time for all of two songs, but two was enough. i stopped breathing as soon as he opened his mouth and didn't start again until he was finished. when i had enough oxygen to again become aware of my surroundings, i had wrung my hands bloodless and squeezed my legs so tightly together that my thigh muscles were aching. to put it blatantly, the man's voice made my pants place want to run and hide. it turned me inside out and left me completely helpless.
i almost didn't go out tonight.
i got lucky, man. tonight made me realize how grateful i am that music has made a bold return to my life. tonight made me remember that people are still capable of surprising me, and how much i love it when they do.
you totally don't have to be on a coast for this.
posted by lindsay at 00:07 :: 0 comments
15 October 2006 : say this and say that: i haven't the words
things have been a little somber here recently, and i want to say a few things about that. first of all, the tone of my last few posts is in no way reflective of my mood - in fact, for the past week or so i've been particularly upbeat and calm about all my obligations and the ways of my life in general.
i've been getting plenty of sleep, finishing my homework on time, working hard when i'm at work, and i've said the phrase "man, i'm pretty" at least once a day since last monday. things feel easy and right, right now.
however, i am exploring themes of "home" in both my personal and academic life, pursuant to a senior thesis in which i will be examining the cultural differences between americans and the karen burmese which contribute to difficulties and misunderstanding in home and community building upon arrival in the united states (hence the working with refugees i've been so excited about). eventually i will develop an orientation program for the organization geared specifically toward the community of karen burmese which is being built in indianapolis.
in keeping with that, i'm looking at all the places i've lived in the last four years and all the ways in which they have not been home. and the reasons why. three posts so far and four to go; moving is one of my talents. i'm 23. i'm in the grey area. mom's house is no longer home, but as of yet i have neither the time, the means or the surroundings to build a home of my own. and the past four years, as most of you know, have been rocky at best, so the things i have to say about my various apartments are bound to be tainted with a little sadness. and believe me, i have a lot to say about this. bear with me while i get it all out; i'm preparing for what is going to be a very challenging (and rewarding) winter/spring.
and as far as that goes, i want to talk a little about friday, which was exhausting and amazing and long and quick and the weirdest day of my life.
have you ever felt brave and humble at the same time? it's a very strange sensation.
i felt brisk and professional, but i also managed to feel the weight of an incredible responsibility that had been placed on me. i was trusted without any reason - and i did deliver on that, i made no mistakes and everyone was returned home safely with all of their belongings and the mission set completed - and that terrified me.
i feel graced by the opportunity - it was such a small thing i did, and yet monumentally important for both myself and the other parties involved.
how much more excited can i be?
posted by lindsay at 18:27 :: 2 comments
11 October 2006 : porto allegre drive
everything about those six months remains obscured by a stretch of 48 hours on the canal downtown.
he had dark hair almost to his waist. he smoked clove cigarettes and told me i had the "biggest, poutiest eyes imaginable." he was tall, so from above me i'm sure it looked that way.
after dinner and coffee we went back to my apartment and watched a movie.
i took him to bed. before i closed the door behind us, i knew i didn't want him there. it was going to hurt. i was scared. i thought i was in love (with someone else). but we crawled under the covers and i touched him. i let him touch me. after dinner and coffee and all our suggestive conversation, i felt obligated. like i owed him at least this much.
the orgasm left me sobbing. i finally found the words. i said no.
we slept.
after he left the next day, i ate every scrap of junk i could find in the house - wanting to make myself believe that it hurt this badly for some tangible, physical reason. my fever kicked into high gear as my blood sugar rose.
after i puked, i drank. when i started bumping into furniture, i called the man who was the reason for all of it. i told him everything that had happened and he laughed at me. i said, "i've still got you in my head."
i was incapable after all of wanting anyone else. i would feel guilty for weeks about how i treated this other man. i would feel guilty for weeks about how i treated myself.
how much more concretely can i demonstrate the difference between 20 and 23? i ball up in anger over the knowledge that i allowed myself to fall that far. how little self respect i had.
my heart is still broken for that barely existant shadow of a destroyed little girl.
the apartment on porto allegre drive, it wouldn't bear the weight of anything else.
posted by lindsay at 23:27 :: 0 comments
: poncetta drive
daly city, it's sort of a giant trash bin for san francisco. every day you'd descend stairs from the beautiful city, fresh air and blue sky above you. you'd hop on the train and travel eight miles south, and every day it was grey and rainy and windy.
the apartment had a balcony. if you stood on tiptoe and craned your neck and it wasn't too dark outside, you could see the faintest darkening of sky at the horizon which indicated that the ocean was near.
this was the apartment of little girls. seven roommates in eight months. we didn't eat, we smoked cigarettes in the most pervasive wind imaginable, read books by the light of the 76 station in the parking lot.
elouisa was a street-hard latino dyke from san jose. she and her girlfriend got lube on my favorite pj harvey album and didn't clean it up. or tell me.
jamie was a giggling fashion designer from wisconsin. she yelled at me every day for wearing red together with purple, bought a hamster named "sandwich" and she was my favorite.
chrystal was half sioux, half mexican and her black hair was glorious. she couldn't claim five feet in platforms and her hair was almost as tall as she was. she went through a zen phase and insisted on calling me "little grasshopper."
amy was crazy, and canadian. she brought home stale pastries from her job every night and my body turned on me in its quest for protein, my hair clogging the shower drain and covering the floors, my knees weak at the drafting board.
chantelle wasn't even eighteen when she moved in; she teased her blonde hair sky high and wore two belts every day. all the boys loved her, but she loved the gangly, good natured one that no girl would look at twice. i spent weeks wishing to be just like her.
lindsay was the oldest. she made the world's best macaroni and cheese and smoked more weed than maybe anyone i've ever known. i hated that. she hated that i hated that.
lauren was the beautiful one, who at age eighteen left her 26 year old boyfriend in ohio and said to me one night, "i just don't think i'll ever love anyone again." i couldn't look her in the eye for days.
on good weeks, i spent no more than two nights in that apartment. instead i dragged myself to san francisco for school and then made the trek through the mountains in any weather to sleep at scott's house, even if i had to get up at 5am just to make it to the city in time for class.
he said, "you spend so much time here because it's a home. you don't have that there."
no, all i had were stiff brown carpets and little girls. i cried for hours after i said goodbye to him, but that apartment held nothing. absolutely nothing. driving away was the easiest thing i ever did.
posted by lindsay at 23:09 :: 1 comments
10 October 2006 : timberhead lane
the thing about our apartment in foster city was that at the beginning, it wasn't quite large enough to hold all our hopes.
the walls were white. the carpet was white. the tiles and the counters in the bathroom and kitchen were white. the upholstery on the furniture was white. the wooden tables were white. the dishes were white.
it was fresh and square and perfectly clean: the only possible place to start a new life, midwestern girls hurtling toward the coast blindfolded and without a map.
this is where we kept the book of t.s. eliot in the bathroom. this is where we turned the recycling bins upside down and sat on the porch for hours, just waiting - for what, i never learned. this is where, for the first and only time, something i made up in my head played out in real life exactly as i'd imagined (he kissed me as i sat on the corner of the balcony railing, nothing but 30 feet of bare space behind me, and his mustache made me giggle).
this is where i did most of the loving i've done in my short life. the girl with the long dark hair, the girl with the sun on her shoulder, the cat who would cry until his voice failed him, the man whose blue eyes at the time seemed kind.
this is where i assume most of that loving remains.
this is where i threw everything in my hands on the sidewalk to hear it break and didn't bother to pick up the pieces because nothing mattered.
this is where i drank secretly and quietly by myself so no one would know, hoping something would come along and make me laugh, just once. this is where i showered in boiling water until i turned red and raw just to clean him off my skin. this is where i showered in boiling water until i turned red and raw just hoping that a little bit more of his scent would rise up off my skin.
this is where i thought i was an adult. this is where i thought i was living real life. this is where i let it start to break me.
the balcony was painted grey. from the porch we could see the water of the lagoon, which was never quite green and never quite blue. it was hard and cold and painful under my bare feet. the dirt of our lives lay in the corners and i threw my clothes contemptuously in the washing machine, hoping just once to not smell like the waffle cones i baked for eight hours a day.
it was pale and muted, transparent and unreal: the perfect place to find the first wrinkles around my eyes.
the thing about our apartment in foster city was that at the end, it wasn't even halfway large enough to hold my disappointments and the rubble that remained from the destruction of my defenses.
posted by lindsay at 20:54 :: 0 comments
09 October 2006 : interested parties only.
i am currently engaged in preparation for a week long formal debate in my religious ethics class which considers questions about the legality and morality of physician assisted suicide and oregon's 1994 death with dignity act.
in keeping with my promise to challenge myself and stay busy as much as possible this year (i'm experimenting with success outcomes - too much free time has proven to make me lethargic and delivering dazzling displays of academic mediocrity), i signed up as a support for the petitioners - that is, those who opposed legalized physician assisted suicide for competent terminally ill patients. i wanted to see if i could properly support something i do not believe in at all.
this morning, i wrote the following:
Similarly, in Washington, California, Michigan and Maine voters have rejected initiatives which would have similarly legalized physician assisted suicide in their respective states. Clearly the people of this country have demonstrated their feelings on the matter. That the state of Oregon, backed by the Supreme Court of the United States, has chosen to uphold this law flows against the current of popular public opinion of this country and undermines the authority and decision making capacity of the federal government. As all states are governed by the provisions of the Controlled Substances Act, Oregon has no authority to allow physician assisted suicide by way of lethal dosage.
now, i know this is for school. and i know i did this deliberately to better evaluate the scope of my capabilities. still, that paragraph (among others which are similarly shudder-inducing), will be presented to a professor i admire in pure black and white on a paper that has my name clearly affixed at the top.
basically, i feel like i walked into the oval office, took off my pants and said "good morning, sir. how would you like me to take it?"
following the conclusion of the debate next monday, i am sure things will have only gotten worse. i can only hope that oppressed minorities, terminally ill patients with low quality of life and the forefathers of this country can forgive me.
stay tuned. tomorrow, i'll be buying a girdle, embarking on the atkins diet, burning all my rock and roll records, and attending confession in order to ensure i'm properly absolved and capable of recieving our lord and savior jesus christ in communion on sunday morning.
posted by lindsay at 10:01 :: 8 comments
08 October 2006 : on being so glad this week is over.
[please forgive that i'm using my blog to say this]
if i were being petulant and self absorbed and exactly the kind of girl i hate being, i'd say this: am i even fucking here, douche? do i exist at all? even in your periphery?
but i'm neither petulant nor self absorbed (ever!), so i'm going to leave it at this: the kind of question i asked, it deserves an answer. so just give me one already. the only reason i asked is because i was feeling particularly sure of myself and i thought you'd like that.
i probably wouldn't be this annoyed if it weren't another one-way sunday and you were the only bee in my bonnet right now. but you're just another thing to make me feel totally transparent (and ignorable) right now. and i took a chance, which is supposed to pay off - at least once, ever!
just say yes! or no! but say something.
nights like tonight are why i much prefer timidity to bravery and proactivity. i am far too familiar with the backfire, and clinging tenuously to my dignity. reward my chutzpah, seriously.
i hate being this in tune with the exclamation point as a literary device.
posted by lindsay at 19:23 :: 0 comments
07 October 2006 : field sobriety
tonight i admire the reflection of my bone structure as i close the kitchen window on the cold. my glass is one quarter full of warm spicy wine; the pink matches my cheeks and makes my eyes glow.
there is a feeling in the air here i can't name. i'm strangely fine with everything in my head, though i should not be.
in the car, on the drive home, i clenched my fists until my wrists ached and shouted "god dammit, no," at the stereo. again and again. it's dangerous to love anything so much, even only a song.
tired, delighted, disappointed - the drive was too long and too short. the true story of this past week. i let myself get distracted, my careful life got disrupted and now i will pay for it in working hours and fractions of gpa.
perhaps i'll look up my guitar tomorrow and see about making amends. i have a few things to say, and a few things to do.
i'm old enough to understand, but young enough to still believe.
it's not the sturdiest precipice.
lucky i've learned to walk on tiptoe to stretch my legs out and make my jeans fit. i'll toe this line as carefully as any other, and find success that stems from a slow cigarette on a steamy august afternoon. i made my decision and i possess the integrity to stay with it.
if you hold out your arms, you can find balance.
posted by lindsay at 01:25 :: 0 comments
03 October 2006 : green-eyed monster
everyone who doesn't have to do my job tomorrow morning.
jenny about whom the mountain goats song "jenny" was written.
scarily intuitive songwriters.
girls with inseams longer than 25 inches.
my cat and his life.
hairy mary underpants, who is living in china without me right now.
- since that's all i can think of, i'll conclude my life is pretty great right now.
posted by lindsay at 21:02 :: 1 comments
01 October 2006 : appreciation
i recieved a delightfully unexpected apology this morning, for something i hadn't really ever thought about and hadn't much been bothered by when i did think of it.
but it was sincere.
and it felt nice to be given some consideration.
it turned my one-way sunday morning completely on its head.
posted by lindsay at 17:04 :: 0 comments
i love/hate the idea that everything is relative.
you remember everything imperfectly, but so perfectly are you situated that you can't quite comprehend your misinterpretation.
how does anyone compare versions of suffering? culturization, socialization, these things ensure that what makes you suffer won't make everyone else suffer and vice versa.
i think that's what bothers the most.
i liked the feel of your hands cupped around mine lighting a cigarette in the wind, but that just makes you another sunny afternoon. something else tall and dark and warm that i can see without having.
western notions of certainty and entitlement baffle the rest of the world but to me are just more causes of insomnia. i don't even know where to start.
for the record, i don't have the time to worry about these things and i don't want to have the time to worry about these things. i want to drink cold water and read my books, write more papers and sleep solid for eight hours a night. i want to walk assured into rooms full of the unknown. that's what i've focused on this past year or so, and i was doing very well until i lost my focus a few months ago.
i think things are back on track, but precariously may hit hiatus status for a while simply because writing what's worth posting is not currently in the cards.
the plans for now include marathon library sessions, carefully worded emails to professors who've never heard of me, studying for the gre, developing a moderately not-pathetic curriculum vitae, learning about burma and trying to find a pair of shoes to wear through the winter.
i am not suffering but wanting. and that's what i've always done best. i'm only just now figuring out that it's only the wanting that depends on no one but me that's worth my time and effort.
everything else is just decoration.
Labels: Blog vomit, When I grow up
posted by lindsay at 23:06 :: 0 comments
24 October 2006 : tidings.
i ran into an old friend this afternoon.
actually, an old best friend. someone with whom i was inseparable for the better part of five years.
obviously, we both changed significantly in those five years - in opposite directions. for a long time, i could barely stand the sight of her. she had trouble dealing with the fact that i was moving to the left. i had trouble dealing with the fact that she was moving to the right. i couldn't understand why she wouldn't accept who i wanted to be.
i was, after all, seventeen.
now, she has a four year old son (who's about six feet tall) and i'm a little more tolerant. actually, a lot more tolerant.
which makes it sound like she needs to be tolerated; this is not, in fact, the case. it speaks more about who i was than who she was (and is). i was on shaky ground during my later adolescence, desperately trying to figure out who i was while utterly terrified that the answer was going to devastate me. i had an image to maintain and she really didn't fit into it.
i could have let it fade out in a simpler, kinder way than i did. but i sort of dropped everything and ran.
i don't think i can take all the blame here, honestly. who isn't afraid of cheerleaders?
still yet, it was really nice to see her.
[ps: i just registered for the last six credits of my undergraduate career.]
Labels: Two steps forward
posted by lindsay at 17:44 :: 1 comments
23 October 2006 : keep thinking what you're thinking.
it's late and i still have a lot of stuff to finish before tomorrow arrives, so i am of course busy being preoccupied with thoughts that haven't been bothering me otherwise.
i'm thinking about my nephew's beautiful blue eyes and wishing i had time to see him more often and how adorable just seems to run in our family. and wondering if the reason i've liked blue eyes this year (for the first time) is because of that beautiful little baby. pictures on this forthcoming.
and i'm thinking about how, sometimes, its a lot of fun to want something. and that anticipation is delicious. but currently, wanting something is just a pain in my ass and i'm really tired of it. anticipation and trepidation are far too close in kinship, as far as i'm concerned.
i'm thinking about how strange it is that i hate myself in the mirror in my bedroom all the time, but sometimes the mirror in the upstairs bathroom is okay (even with it's outrageously unflattering lighting), and the mirror in the downstairs bathroom is mostly okay, but i always love my reflection in the kitchen windows.
and i'm thinking about the last man i kissed and how it's strange and sad that he was the last man that i kissed, mostly because it didn't mean all that much other than we were bored and it was so long ago. but he's a really good kisser.
i'm thinking about how many things i want to accomplish and whether or not i'll really finish with anything to which i'm not obligated in some way. for example, learning to play the piano or reading everything herman hesse ever wrote.
i'm thinking about how it's really funny to be ashamed of the way you feel about something; ashamed in the way that you don't want to tell anyone about it and you lie about it so you don't have to be judged. and how i used to believe that every emotion was validated by virtue of its existence, but i don't believe that anymore. because the way i'm feeling about a couple of things right now render useless the comfortable image i have of the woman i'm becoming, or trying to become.
i'm thinking about how i really hope i have enough extra money next week to be a really big dumbass and get another tattoo; it's going to be freaking beautiful. i'll tell you more about it when it happens, but just let me reiterate how excited i am about the archaeology of capitalism and those stupid colonial gardens.
but mostly, i'm thinking about how little i really care about jewish perspectives on euthanasia, at least at one on a monday morning, and that papers are a waste of my time. which is just a symptom of my procrastination disease, so i'm gonna go finish this so i can go to sleep.
good night.
[addendum: i'm thinking about how someone found this site by searching for "totally lindsay" and how much i loved totally minnie when i was a kid and i made my parents videotape it and it was on the same tape with flight of the navigator and i watched it every day after school for approximately two years. and how annoying it is that i have "don't go breakin' my heart" stuck in my head now.]
Labels: Blog vomit
posted by lindsay at 00:50 :: 1 comments
19 October 2006 : poor you.
i'm feeling a little phased-out lately.
like some people would choose to trade me in on some guy in pakistan who speaks english perfectly over the phone and that would be good enough.
as a result, i've been avoiding certain places as much as possible. it's a good thing i'm the busiest girl on the planet. and that i'm now working in non-profit.
i think this is all in my head; a lot of things have happened in the past month or so that are making me question basically everything, about everything. but even if i'm making it up, feeling marginal never feels good.
frank, can we do the crossword tonight? please? it's been over a week.
posted by lindsay at 07:00 :: 3 comments
17 October 2006 : it's that time of year again.
[where i start posting obsessively in an attempt to avoid homework as long into the wee hours of the night as possible.]
MY VERY MOST FAVORITE THINGS THAT I'VE LEARNED FROM ANTHROPOLOGY
1. women have a creepy enzyme that releases in the 3rd trimester of pregnancy, and it EATS YOUR CARTILAGE. expectant mothers beware: don't let that bitch push you down those stairs.
2. marxism is still a rather valid field of academic influence.
3. objects are multivalent - that is, every object in the world has more than one meaning dependent on who is using them, looking at them, buying them, selling them. multivalence is, honestly, the spice of life.
4. the first thing that gets delivered to an archaeological dig: the liquor.
5. it is decidedly NOT ETHICAL to give infected blood to a group of people you are studying.
6. a skeleton that hasn't been boiled entirely clean smells kind of bad, but it's not intolerable.
7. if you have a sinus infection, go to the fucking doctor. otherwise your brain's going to get infected and YOU'RE GOING TO DIE.
8. colonial gardens were so much more than just gardens. they were actually an instrument of social control!
9. the cia really tends to fuck things up, especially in the cold war era.
10. pretty much the entire world sucks at life, and there's not really anything you can do about it, but let's watch this movie about this genocide and then you can go home and not sleep.
11. hitler and darth vader? they're really bad guys.
12. scientists have a very distinctive sense of entitlement that's really kind of gross and frustrating.
13. hummel figurines are not just cute. they're in fact so overwhelmingly cute that it's FASCIST.
14. australian cowboys are freaking awesome.
Labels: old chestnuts
posted by lindsay at 22:37 :: 6 comments
16 October 2006 : more than corn.
the surreality of tonight was such that i'm not sure i can describe it.
i went to see a friend of mine play a random open mic show at a tiny nothing of a bar in noblesville, of all places.
this is strange for a multitude of reasons. first, it's sunday and i've been in a good mood all day. second, it's sunday and i was actually out of the house after 8pm. third, it was noblesville.
let me set the scene for you. noblesville, indiana sits on the cusp. it has a good hospital and a starbucks or two, but it has yet to really be affected by indianapolis' crazed urban sprawl. noblesville is still backwater, good ol' boy, warsh yer socks in the crick farmin' country indiana.
and yet, at ten on a sunday night, some hick bar in some hick town in central indiana produced (along with a delightful homebrewed stout that i enjoyed immensely) the following things in succession:
one sincerely amazing bluegrass band with a banjo player whose fingers moved so fast they blurred and some sort of freaking genius boy wonder of a mandolin player (who had obviously come straight from the farm). i grinned and hooted and tapped my feet and wished so hard that there was a man in that bar who would ask me to dance (if only i had some cowboy boots).
one skinny white kid in sweatpants who busted out with some of the most incredible beatboxing i've ever heard. included in his set were blind melon's no rain, don't worry be happy, and the theme song from inspector gadget.
and just when i absolutely thought it couldn't get any better, this guy happened. if you clicked that link, ignore the songs that are posted, because they sound nothing like what i heard tonight. he came on last and had time for all of two songs, but two was enough. i stopped breathing as soon as he opened his mouth and didn't start again until he was finished. when i had enough oxygen to again become aware of my surroundings, i had wrung my hands bloodless and squeezed my legs so tightly together that my thigh muscles were aching. to put it blatantly, the man's voice made my pants place want to run and hide. it turned me inside out and left me completely helpless.
i almost didn't go out tonight.
i got lucky, man. tonight made me realize how grateful i am that music has made a bold return to my life. tonight made me remember that people are still capable of surprising me, and how much i love it when they do.
you totally don't have to be on a coast for this.
Labels: Charmed I'm sure
posted by lindsay at 00:07 :: 0 comments
15 October 2006 : say this and say that: i haven't the words
things have been a little somber here recently, and i want to say a few things about that. first of all, the tone of my last few posts is in no way reflective of my mood - in fact, for the past week or so i've been particularly upbeat and calm about all my obligations and the ways of my life in general.
i've been getting plenty of sleep, finishing my homework on time, working hard when i'm at work, and i've said the phrase "man, i'm pretty" at least once a day since last monday. things feel easy and right, right now.
however, i am exploring themes of "home" in both my personal and academic life, pursuant to a senior thesis in which i will be examining the cultural differences between americans and the karen burmese which contribute to difficulties and misunderstanding in home and community building upon arrival in the united states (hence the working with refugees i've been so excited about). eventually i will develop an orientation program for the organization geared specifically toward the community of karen burmese which is being built in indianapolis.
in keeping with that, i'm looking at all the places i've lived in the last four years and all the ways in which they have not been home. and the reasons why. three posts so far and four to go; moving is one of my talents. i'm 23. i'm in the grey area. mom's house is no longer home, but as of yet i have neither the time, the means or the surroundings to build a home of my own. and the past four years, as most of you know, have been rocky at best, so the things i have to say about my various apartments are bound to be tainted with a little sadness. and believe me, i have a lot to say about this. bear with me while i get it all out; i'm preparing for what is going to be a very challenging (and rewarding) winter/spring.
and as far as that goes, i want to talk a little about friday, which was exhausting and amazing and long and quick and the weirdest day of my life.
have you ever felt brave and humble at the same time? it's a very strange sensation.
i felt brisk and professional, but i also managed to feel the weight of an incredible responsibility that had been placed on me. i was trusted without any reason - and i did deliver on that, i made no mistakes and everyone was returned home safely with all of their belongings and the mission set completed - and that terrified me.
i feel graced by the opportunity - it was such a small thing i did, and yet monumentally important for both myself and the other parties involved.
how much more excited can i be?
Labels: Refuge to spare
posted by lindsay at 18:27 :: 2 comments
11 October 2006 : porto allegre drive
everything about those six months remains obscured by a stretch of 48 hours on the canal downtown.
he had dark hair almost to his waist. he smoked clove cigarettes and told me i had the "biggest, poutiest eyes imaginable." he was tall, so from above me i'm sure it looked that way.
after dinner and coffee we went back to my apartment and watched a movie.
i took him to bed. before i closed the door behind us, i knew i didn't want him there. it was going to hurt. i was scared. i thought i was in love (with someone else). but we crawled under the covers and i touched him. i let him touch me. after dinner and coffee and all our suggestive conversation, i felt obligated. like i owed him at least this much.
the orgasm left me sobbing. i finally found the words. i said no.
we slept.
after he left the next day, i ate every scrap of junk i could find in the house - wanting to make myself believe that it hurt this badly for some tangible, physical reason. my fever kicked into high gear as my blood sugar rose.
after i puked, i drank. when i started bumping into furniture, i called the man who was the reason for all of it. i told him everything that had happened and he laughed at me. i said, "i've still got you in my head."
i was incapable after all of wanting anyone else. i would feel guilty for weeks about how i treated this other man. i would feel guilty for weeks about how i treated myself.
how much more concretely can i demonstrate the difference between 20 and 23? i ball up in anger over the knowledge that i allowed myself to fall that far. how little self respect i had.
my heart is still broken for that barely existant shadow of a destroyed little girl.
the apartment on porto allegre drive, it wouldn't bear the weight of anything else.
Labels: The walls too thin
posted by lindsay at 23:27 :: 0 comments
: poncetta drive
daly city, it's sort of a giant trash bin for san francisco. every day you'd descend stairs from the beautiful city, fresh air and blue sky above you. you'd hop on the train and travel eight miles south, and every day it was grey and rainy and windy.
the apartment had a balcony. if you stood on tiptoe and craned your neck and it wasn't too dark outside, you could see the faintest darkening of sky at the horizon which indicated that the ocean was near.
this was the apartment of little girls. seven roommates in eight months. we didn't eat, we smoked cigarettes in the most pervasive wind imaginable, read books by the light of the 76 station in the parking lot.
elouisa was a street-hard latino dyke from san jose. she and her girlfriend got lube on my favorite pj harvey album and didn't clean it up. or tell me.
jamie was a giggling fashion designer from wisconsin. she yelled at me every day for wearing red together with purple, bought a hamster named "sandwich" and she was my favorite.
chrystal was half sioux, half mexican and her black hair was glorious. she couldn't claim five feet in platforms and her hair was almost as tall as she was. she went through a zen phase and insisted on calling me "little grasshopper."
amy was crazy, and canadian. she brought home stale pastries from her job every night and my body turned on me in its quest for protein, my hair clogging the shower drain and covering the floors, my knees weak at the drafting board.
chantelle wasn't even eighteen when she moved in; she teased her blonde hair sky high and wore two belts every day. all the boys loved her, but she loved the gangly, good natured one that no girl would look at twice. i spent weeks wishing to be just like her.
lindsay was the oldest. she made the world's best macaroni and cheese and smoked more weed than maybe anyone i've ever known. i hated that. she hated that i hated that.
lauren was the beautiful one, who at age eighteen left her 26 year old boyfriend in ohio and said to me one night, "i just don't think i'll ever love anyone again." i couldn't look her in the eye for days.
on good weeks, i spent no more than two nights in that apartment. instead i dragged myself to san francisco for school and then made the trek through the mountains in any weather to sleep at scott's house, even if i had to get up at 5am just to make it to the city in time for class.
he said, "you spend so much time here because it's a home. you don't have that there."
no, all i had were stiff brown carpets and little girls. i cried for hours after i said goodbye to him, but that apartment held nothing. absolutely nothing. driving away was the easiest thing i ever did.
Labels: The walls too thin
posted by lindsay at 23:09 :: 1 comments
10 October 2006 : timberhead lane
the thing about our apartment in foster city was that at the beginning, it wasn't quite large enough to hold all our hopes.
the walls were white. the carpet was white. the tiles and the counters in the bathroom and kitchen were white. the upholstery on the furniture was white. the wooden tables were white. the dishes were white.
it was fresh and square and perfectly clean: the only possible place to start a new life, midwestern girls hurtling toward the coast blindfolded and without a map.
this is where we kept the book of t.s. eliot in the bathroom. this is where we turned the recycling bins upside down and sat on the porch for hours, just waiting - for what, i never learned. this is where, for the first and only time, something i made up in my head played out in real life exactly as i'd imagined (he kissed me as i sat on the corner of the balcony railing, nothing but 30 feet of bare space behind me, and his mustache made me giggle).
this is where i did most of the loving i've done in my short life. the girl with the long dark hair, the girl with the sun on her shoulder, the cat who would cry until his voice failed him, the man whose blue eyes at the time seemed kind.
this is where i assume most of that loving remains.
this is where i threw everything in my hands on the sidewalk to hear it break and didn't bother to pick up the pieces because nothing mattered.
this is where i drank secretly and quietly by myself so no one would know, hoping something would come along and make me laugh, just once. this is where i showered in boiling water until i turned red and raw just to clean him off my skin. this is where i showered in boiling water until i turned red and raw just hoping that a little bit more of his scent would rise up off my skin.
this is where i thought i was an adult. this is where i thought i was living real life. this is where i let it start to break me.
the balcony was painted grey. from the porch we could see the water of the lagoon, which was never quite green and never quite blue. it was hard and cold and painful under my bare feet. the dirt of our lives lay in the corners and i threw my clothes contemptuously in the washing machine, hoping just once to not smell like the waffle cones i baked for eight hours a day.
it was pale and muted, transparent and unreal: the perfect place to find the first wrinkles around my eyes.
the thing about our apartment in foster city was that at the end, it wasn't even halfway large enough to hold my disappointments and the rubble that remained from the destruction of my defenses.
Labels: The walls too thin
posted by lindsay at 20:54 :: 0 comments
09 October 2006 : interested parties only.
i am currently engaged in preparation for a week long formal debate in my religious ethics class which considers questions about the legality and morality of physician assisted suicide and oregon's 1994 death with dignity act.
in keeping with my promise to challenge myself and stay busy as much as possible this year (i'm experimenting with success outcomes - too much free time has proven to make me lethargic and delivering dazzling displays of academic mediocrity), i signed up as a support for the petitioners - that is, those who opposed legalized physician assisted suicide for competent terminally ill patients. i wanted to see if i could properly support something i do not believe in at all.
this morning, i wrote the following:
Similarly, in Washington, California, Michigan and Maine voters have rejected initiatives which would have similarly legalized physician assisted suicide in their respective states. Clearly the people of this country have demonstrated their feelings on the matter. That the state of Oregon, backed by the Supreme Court of the United States, has chosen to uphold this law flows against the current of popular public opinion of this country and undermines the authority and decision making capacity of the federal government. As all states are governed by the provisions of the Controlled Substances Act, Oregon has no authority to allow physician assisted suicide by way of lethal dosage.
now, i know this is for school. and i know i did this deliberately to better evaluate the scope of my capabilities. still, that paragraph (among others which are similarly shudder-inducing), will be presented to a professor i admire in pure black and white on a paper that has my name clearly affixed at the top.
basically, i feel like i walked into the oval office, took off my pants and said "good morning, sir. how would you like me to take it?"
following the conclusion of the debate next monday, i am sure things will have only gotten worse. i can only hope that oppressed minorities, terminally ill patients with low quality of life and the forefathers of this country can forgive me.
stay tuned. tomorrow, i'll be buying a girdle, embarking on the atkins diet, burning all my rock and roll records, and attending confession in order to ensure i'm properly absolved and capable of recieving our lord and savior jesus christ in communion on sunday morning.
Labels: Blog vomit
posted by lindsay at 10:01 :: 8 comments
08 October 2006 : on being so glad this week is over.
[please forgive that i'm using my blog to say this]
if i were being petulant and self absorbed and exactly the kind of girl i hate being, i'd say this: am i even fucking here, douche? do i exist at all? even in your periphery?
but i'm neither petulant nor self absorbed (ever!), so i'm going to leave it at this: the kind of question i asked, it deserves an answer. so just give me one already. the only reason i asked is because i was feeling particularly sure of myself and i thought you'd like that.
i probably wouldn't be this annoyed if it weren't another one-way sunday and you were the only bee in my bonnet right now. but you're just another thing to make me feel totally transparent (and ignorable) right now. and i took a chance, which is supposed to pay off - at least once, ever!
just say yes! or no! but say something.
nights like tonight are why i much prefer timidity to bravery and proactivity. i am far too familiar with the backfire, and clinging tenuously to my dignity. reward my chutzpah, seriously.
i hate being this in tune with the exclamation point as a literary device.
posted by lindsay at 19:23 :: 0 comments
07 October 2006 : field sobriety
tonight i admire the reflection of my bone structure as i close the kitchen window on the cold. my glass is one quarter full of warm spicy wine; the pink matches my cheeks and makes my eyes glow.
there is a feeling in the air here i can't name. i'm strangely fine with everything in my head, though i should not be.
in the car, on the drive home, i clenched my fists until my wrists ached and shouted "god dammit, no," at the stereo. again and again. it's dangerous to love anything so much, even only a song.
tired, delighted, disappointed - the drive was too long and too short. the true story of this past week. i let myself get distracted, my careful life got disrupted and now i will pay for it in working hours and fractions of gpa.
perhaps i'll look up my guitar tomorrow and see about making amends. i have a few things to say, and a few things to do.
i'm old enough to understand, but young enough to still believe.
it's not the sturdiest precipice.
lucky i've learned to walk on tiptoe to stretch my legs out and make my jeans fit. i'll toe this line as carefully as any other, and find success that stems from a slow cigarette on a steamy august afternoon. i made my decision and i possess the integrity to stay with it.
if you hold out your arms, you can find balance.
posted by lindsay at 01:25 :: 0 comments
03 October 2006 : green-eyed monster
everyone who doesn't have to do my job tomorrow morning.
jenny about whom the mountain goats song "jenny" was written.
scarily intuitive songwriters.
girls with inseams longer than 25 inches.
my cat and his life.
hairy mary underpants, who is living in china without me right now.
- since that's all i can think of, i'll conclude my life is pretty great right now.
Labels: Blog vomit
posted by lindsay at 21:02 :: 1 comments
01 October 2006 : appreciation
i recieved a delightfully unexpected apology this morning, for something i hadn't really ever thought about and hadn't much been bothered by when i did think of it.
but it was sincere.
and it felt nice to be given some consideration.
it turned my one-way sunday morning completely on its head.
posted by lindsay at 17:04 :: 0 comments