turn on, tune in, drop out

some rando videos so as not to become complacent in the blogosphere

2008-11-30T16:14:00.000-08:00

"the night we went insane"...summer '08, zach and brittany's wedding

(actually this is pretty standard)

"a tupac kind of birthday"...covs' hits the big 2-2. and gets out-thugged.

the sundae that secured my place in the world

2008-03-25T23:33:00.000-07:00

i make poor life choices. we all know this. i'm often getting into trouble for being too impulsive on one hand, but then procrastinating to a point that borders on sheer lack of fulfillment of an obligation. so it wasn't surprising that not four days before i was to be kicked out of the stanford house and onto the harsh, cold streets of oxford that i still had no place to stay. let alone no money and no baller connections to harbor me for three weeks. in truth, i was getting ready to curl up on a park bench and start selling "the big issue". but fate had a more...interesting plan in store for me. let's rewind...

BACKGROUND INFO:

we met toby on this night. i'll try to paint as good a picture i can with the finite store of images i have in my possession, but bear this one in mind for now. this night. toby. in theory, this explains a lot.

WHAT HAPPENED NEXT:

it came to light a few days later that on the aforementioned night, sonia "fancied a drink" at a later date. remember toby? well he remembered sonia, and he also remembered that drink. wtf toby? are you for real? we accept. (sonia and i came as a sort of unit, so to speak, hence the acceptance on the part of both parties - or single party, if you will.)

we were a little nervous about what the evening had in store for us...toby felt the sushi restaurant we had suggested was a bit effeminate, and sonia had already had a run-in with a friend of his. "we" were hesitant. so, true to our style, we located the nearest bottle of wine - it wasn't our's, but sitting in the study room, opened and only slightly tapped into, it wasn't really anybody else's - and set off.

THE PLOT THICKENS:

the evening was pretty relaxed. the wine provided the social lubricant we had hoped for, and all was going well. toby had brought a friend we had never met before, so things were actually going better than expected. then another guy shows up. having already eaten, we decide to go for this drink that was fancied. but what can you really drink at a japanese establishment smack in the middle of oxford? sonia and i explain to the boys the beauty of the sake bomb. ordering unhealthy amounts of sake and asahi beer - instilling preoccupation and annoyance in the heart of an all-too-knowing waitress - we prepare to drink ourselves under the table. the tray of sake glasses comes out; we choose our weapons. this is already more exciting than it's ever been. what happens in the next moment confuses us. the waitress comes out with tiny japanese sized glasses - terrible for dropping in our sake shooters and chugging into oblivion. after discovering that the shot glasses did, in fact, fit into the glasses, the tension eases a bit. we decide to proceed with the festivities, but scorn the watered down version of our epic game. how naive we were. not only did the smaller glasses prove for a higher proportion of sake to beer than is normally partaken of, but additionally, the smaller amounts of liquid failed to deliver the staggering blows that would normally slow us down, as we emerged from our glasses breathless and aching. in short, we got cocky.

THE DREAM TEAM:

the girls decide to let the boys in on the legend that is sonia and kaitlin. a more apt description would be "the dream team". vodka practically pumping through her veins, sonia scoffs at any one individual daring to take her on in a drinking contest, outlasting most mofos out there. and kaitlin - arguably with a hollow leg of her own - has the skills to drink liquid faster than most normal people. in the end, we make a fine pair. the boys buy the tale, and for the rest of the evening we are known as "speed" and "endurance". i enjoy this game. i know it well. in fact, i'm seldom content to call people by their real names, as nicknames are infinitely more intriguing. on our crew date with the blues rowers a few weeks ago i met a young man named brad in a particularly loud bar. at first i thought he told me his name was "red"; a moment later i thought he said "bread". my warped thought process took over. for the rest of the evening he was "slice". (this actually caught on...) see? i do this kind of stuff. that's probably why people find me strange.

anyhow, i struggled hard to find some names for these dudes. the struggle didn't last long, however, because out of nowhere the newest friend falls backwards out of his chair, literally heels over head, landing at the feet of the two diners across the aisle. and this isn't a subtle fall either - this is a loud, shocking, make-you-stop-dead-in-your-tracks fall. i begin to laugh uncontrollably. we all find this comical. the sad thing is that i don't stop laughing. i never do - you know the idiot that laughs at a joke for ten minutes, and after finally calming down, lets out stiffled giggles at regular intervals for the next few hours? that's me. that's always me. i laugh so hard at this kid i start to cry. that's also often me. i make fun of the guy for "eating shit" - apparently a phrase unheard of 'round these parts, because it takes me two minutes to explain it. finally, i christen the boy "trip". i know, i score practically zero points for creativity, but i was too busy laughing to be more clever.

endurance and i are intent on staying true to our names for a few more rounds of sake bombs, but shortly after we take to the streets again, heading for the st. peter's college bar.

THE DREAM TEAM MAKES MORE NEW FRIENDS:

i'm pretty sure the dream team also doled out a few more nicknames, but i don't remember them, nor do i remember these pictures. the saki bombs didn't take long to work their magic, and it wasn't long before some genius ordered me a "krosky", some really pretty green drink with six more shots of god knows what.

SPEED CRAVES ICE CREAM:

despite imbibing insane amounts of hard a, i begin to sober up fairly quickly - i wonder if sushi does this to you? very very strange, in fact. anyhow, something happens that happens quite a bit. i begin to develop an insatiable appetite for ice cream...surprise surprise. anyone reading this who knows me even a little bit will know that i am a girl who loves my ice cream. ice cream is my weakness. i can't explain it, but ice cream has this magical power over me that, when it takes hold, drives me crazy until i give into it. i start appealing to the crowd to venture over to g&d's with me. this takes a bit of convincing, as the original plan is to go out to some club. and then, some dickhead, thinking he's being all suave, gives one of the guys shit when he finally agrees to take us: "are you really going to take these girls to go get ice cream? you're so lame. take them to a club or something." no, you asshole! i want to go get ice cream. this was my idea. i set him straight and we are off. some are hesitant to step foot in the car with a guy who has been downing as many sake bombs as this one has, but i know what's truly important. i call shotgun and prepare myself for the ride.

WELCOME HOME, KAITLIN:

the five minute ride lasted an eternity. i was so close, yet so far. i needed this ice cream stat. we finally pulled up to the store, but trip had some trouble parking - i got very ticked. finally i jumped out of the car and rushed in. i was exactly where i should be. from the moment i made my first acquaintance with george and delila's a few weeks before i had been ordering the biggest, baddest creation i could find.

the brownie fudge sundae.

ice cream, fudge, whipped cream, sprinkles, a delcious brownie - dear lord, what more can you ask for? i ordered and sat down with the losers who refused to partake in anything.

the topic of my homelessness came up. trip decided to be funny and challenge me.

"if you eat that entire thing with no hands, you can stay with us."

"what, for free?"

"sure."

"trip, you are ON."

when someone offers a challenge, i usually accept. and i take my challenges very seriously. none of this half-assed shit. none of this "oh, i was just joking around" business. no. you offer one thing for another, and you live up to your word. eating a brownie fudge sundae with no hands in exchange for a free place to stay? done.

REFLECTIONS:
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there's not much more to say other than i did it. i did it with confidence, poise, and speed (don't forget it). and now i can only describe the situation that i walked into as a learning experience. some douchebag stole my room the first night, i've been shuffled around between beds, i don't have much privacy...i'm pretty sure this place poses a health hazard. but the guys have been fun and i'm still "speed(y)", and you know how i revel in the nicknames. the most difficult part of all of this, however, has to be all the fools who have LEFT ME. (this mostly means you, sonj.) that and the fact that i miss my car desperately. i'm not one for staying in one place and right now i'm really needing one of my "5 hour getting lost with my homies in the mountains with the top down and the music too loud for everyone else" escapades. that or a real spring break. it's strange to think that this time last year scary mexican guys with sombreros and whistles were shoving tequila down my throat while i danced barefoot in the sand in rosarito. but this is still oxford and the love is still there.

...so are the sundaes, which will never lose their novelty.

kaitlin the class act

2008-03-08T23:31:00.000-08:00

as i walk down the street and observe oxford students starting to pack up their belongings to head back home over the break, i feel a burning sense of sadness - i'm gonna miss these crazy kids. i've had some time to reflect on my adventures in oxfordland, of late, and it really only makes the nostalgia all the more difficult to stomach. i could regale you with tales of my more noble pursuits, though these would be far too many to count, and perhaps less intriguing to read about. compiled is a list of experiences that often left me wondering how in the world i was able to hack it over here.

stanford welcome dinner, night 2: it was brasenose hall. it was assigned seating. now the principal of brasenose is kind of a big deal, i.e. some renowned physicist who worked on the linear accelerator, has received honors from the queen, etc. etc. naturally, they place the genuis asian girl who's taking two tutorials in math and physics next to him. how was it that the next logical step was to place me, kaitlin, the english/creative writing/makes naively inappropriate remarks student next to the man? and why in the world was i also placed next to the director of our entire program? sandwiched between two important, intimidating academics for the evening - something had to have gone wrong. it wasn't all terrible to begin with though. i held my own. principal brasenose was actually quite witty, which put me at ease. i joked back, maybe overstepping my limits a bit, but he was tactful enough to handle my very well-intended sarcastic blows. we talked about skiing, we talked about our backgrounds, we talked about how the c.s. lewis relics at brasenose weren't half as impressive as the christ church links to harry potter (to be honest, i think that's where it all started to go downhill; he looked pretty sad when i brought that up). though this appears to be taking on a certain direction of its own, rest assured that it wasn't a conversational faux pas that left me cringing at the end of the evening. oh no. near the end of the dinner i was pretty sure i had made it through unscathed. then the dessert made its way out: a delectable pear tart covered in whipped cream and accompanied by an assortment of berries and multi-colored syrups. de-lish. i set to work, sans a knife, and it was this lack of a knife that was to make all the difference. this pear tart was freaking hard as a rock. my mouth watered during the years that lay between bites, my hand started to ache as i tried breaking this thing with my fork, with my spoon, with my fork and spoon. the rest of the world became a haze, as all that existed for me was that pear tart that i couldn't for the life of me eat like a normal human being. and then it happened. my harsh yank back into reality. the fork slipped, the sound of metal on porcelain echoed throughout the hall, the pear tart flew back behind my head, leaving sprays of whipped cream all over the table cloth and my nice dress. it finally came to a halt on the floor, leaving in its wake a trail of sugary goodness and a gape-mouthed me. all i could do was stare on in horror, until the principle turned to meet my eye, observing, "sounds like you've been fighting with your food over here." i'd say that i was glad he was able to have a sense of humor about it, if it weren't for the c.s. lewis comment i had made earlier. hence, i'm thinking this was more of a low blow, a one-upmanship, especially as i had made my way onto defacing school property. and i didn't even get to eat the whole tart!

there must just be this thing with me and important authority figures, because the next formal hall that i went to was at my home college, magdalen. of course i was running late, having arrived 40 minutes into the dinner due to a delayed bus ride from london. after one of the servers kindly allowed us in, my friend and i sprinted into the hall as they were bringing out the second course. unfortunately, the only two seats left included one amidst a group of friendly students, and the other, next to the president at the high table. guess where i got to sit. he didn't pay me much heed, as several of his friends were also present - perhaps professors or tutors at the college. and lucky for me, my junior dean was sitting directly across from me so i got to talk to him for the majority of the remaining dinner. but then me and the prez got to talking. i can't remember much of what was said at all, except that after he told me he went to cambridge for his undergraduate work i called him a traitor. this seemed like a clever remark to me...at the time. when he told me, i thought of the diehard rivalry between stanford and cal, and i thought that maybe it paralleled such an oxford/cambridge rivaly. such is not the case, as the two british universities are far too sophisticated and upstanding for these types of trivial layman's games. the conversation petered off after that moment. i try to comfort myself by imagining that perhaps he didn't hear me. after all, he was having a difficult time with that earlier, and truth be told, i'm sure he just wanted to get back to his friends. but as i gradually related this tale to others, the gravity of my remark became more daunting. score one for kaitlin.

i have a broad range of interests, and so i don't like to think that there's any one experience that i'll miss out on in life. this includes some of the more foul tasks the world has to offer. it was a thursday and my friend and i were leaving student night at one of the local clubs. the entire evening had been a bit strange because a bunch of what seemed like 16-year-old boys had been buying us drinks. it felt a little creepy. so as we were finally leaving i was probably being a little too sassy as usual, joking a little too harshly with random strangers, and strutting down the street like there was no tomorrow. and then all of a sudden something caught my eye - two construction workers barracaded off with a noisy truck and a pump thrust into the ground. "what are you doing?" i asked, fascinated. "hahaha," the toothless man grinned. "just pumping some sewage." i should have turned and politely walked away at this point. but no. my response: "sweet! can i try?" "HAHAHA. sure!" the man handed me the equipment. i began to pump sewage. after a few minutes of childlike laughter, drawing attention to myself, and overall awe at my labor, the episode lost its novelty. i was quickly handed a moist towelette and sent on my way. oh, what a night.

and now for the screw-up in the social setting - the night i defaced brasenose property, part 2. it was rugby cocktail night...all-you-can-drink cocktails for 6 pounds. taglines like that only provoke me. cocktails, as it turned out, translated into giant plastic bins full of rum and coke and gin and tonic. after getting my temporary fill, kicking some major ass in chugging contests (i will stand by this statement forever...i dare any one of you to take me on), and flashing the horns for several pictures, i decided it was time for my friend and i to man the bar. i hope none of this gets back to any of the rugby guys, because i successfully snuck several bottles of cheap vodka to my friends. those sloshed rugby players were none the wiser. my friend and i then took to the floor again, as it was approaching the end of the night. then, half-naked, giant rugby player sporting st. george's cross on his chest walks up carrying the remnants of the cocktails in a plastic bin. he says something to the effect of, "you two have been good sports. help us finish this, we can't let it go to waste." i had a genuine, burning desire to help those guys finish the cocktails. i couldn't let them go to waste. but i wasn't thirsty. solution: take my cup, fill it to the brim with gin and tonic, and pour it directly on to the floor right in front of rugby player's face. i'm not sure how i got away with it, but thank god i didn't incur the wrath of the entire rugby team. i did get several hateful stares from a group of girls about ten feet away, however.

i feel as though this is probably a good place to stop. i may decide to withold further stories for another day, or perhaps i'll find within myself a sense of shame and decide to keep them hidden away forever. either way, it became clear to me this term that fools like me can survive the big, sophisticated world of british academia, despite their day-to-day fuck-ups.

welcome to britain: guard your ass

2008-03-06T11:43:00.000-08:00

i realize that i'm slipping into random train of thought mode, but i really just need to get something off my chest. the brits. the ass grabbing. it needs to stop. i punched some guy last night because i swore to myself that if it happened again, shit was going down. i didn't want it to have to come to that, but if i'm not going to stand up for myself, who else will? apparently chivalry has died, and these fine young gentlemen are the ones perpetuating these violations in the first place. don't worry - i didn't deck him that hard; he didn't even do anything about it; it was well-deserved and this sad, lonely fucker knew it.

but i can't end without trying to rationalize why the other ladies in the house seem to let this stuff fly. is it a culture thing? surely, the ass grab could signify a quick "hello", or perhaps a "hey, you're rather fetching. let's talk a little more if you decide to make the rounds again - i'll grab your ass next time you walk by so you know it's me." (indeed, the latter situation is NOT fool proof.) i could be getting this all wrong: does the ass grab really just stand in place of a friendly high-five?

perhaps it's a drunk thing. attending a club even half sober is like removing the soft, sweet veil of ignorance. though it would seem counterintuitive, everything is just a little bit scarier. maybe i would have been okay with the multiple run-ins had i been royally shitfaced. though, i maintain that this truly isn't the case, as this is a problem i've run into before, drunk or not, and i never come out pleasantly surprised after a good feel-up - even if i was, i would probably just feign anger, looking for an excuse to fight.

finally, maybe it's a wardrobe thing. having worn nylons and a fun little dress last night, there really were very few layers of fabric that lay between me and those dirty hands, so perhaps it's just that this sudden seizing of my ass was intensified by the lack of polyester. in all honesty, i'll give the brits some credit in admiting that they really don't grab all that aggresively - it's more just a casual, inconspicuous, "just-for-the-hell-of-it" clutch. but then i'll take that credit right back, because if you are going to grab my ass, grow some balls, stop being a little pansy, and assert yourself, if you REALLY feel like it's your place to have your hand there. because otherwise, you're no better than the awkward, horny middle school boy or the old, lonely pervert creeping over in the corner.

ahhhh. why?

my epic return

2008-03-05T09:23:00.000-08:00

in the spirit of wasting more time, revealing the innapropriate nuances of my life, and degrading my public image through my abrasive rants, i've decided to REVAMP THE BLOG! that's right friends...order has been restored to all of our worlds. but first, the method behind the madness: because this fun little forum was started about two years ago and quickly spiraled out of control as a space for me to complain about random shit and jot down every single trivial thought that came to mind, i've done an extensive cleanup job, deleting upwards of a hundred posts. thus, should you choose to delve into the kaitlin archives, most of what you read probably won't make sense, as it was likely connected to some other nonsensical train of thought. if i could make one suggestion, stick to the new stuff. although you'll certainly come across a few gems (cuz i'm just that awesome) you probably won't get very far because i'll have annoyed the shit out of you by about post 3. you have been warned.

i've also transposed much of my travel blog onto here because i'm not getting caught up in that thing of having to worry about both of them. unfortunately, the picture transfer didn't go as well as expected, so most of the vertical ones are all skewed and terrifying looking.

finally, i'm trying desparately hard to clean up my act and make this family appropriate, though if we're putting this on par with my family's sense of right and wrong, i'm pretty sure this will still fall pitifully short of being reader friendly.

alright people. enjoy the comeback.

for your amusement

2007-10-18T08:34:00.000-07:00

although, i don't think the last two are all that shabby. that's right. i'm getting better fools.

the infamous lion/snake/antelope picture. laugh it up.

these next two i did at the photography museum. i had about 15 minutes for each, and in all honesty, i'm quite impressed with my ability to turn these out under an extreme time crunch and low lighting conditions. i got skillz. they're not finished yet, but i'll probably never get around to it because i'm too lazy.

yes, i know it looks like my shading got a little out of control on this one, but this is a picture of a miner, and he was supposed to be dirty.

a lady wearing some sort of cloak thing. more unfinished than the last, but you get the general idea.

i will never eat chocolate again

2007-10-16T07:54:00.000-07:00

If you’re like me, when you think of Italy you think spaghetti. Ravioli. Gnocchi, caprese salad, olive oil…you think food. (And you think right.) Some of you may reflect back on the genius of Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Petrarch; maybe it’s the structural wonder of the Duomo, the ancient Roman Colosseum, the Popemobile. But let’s face it, at the end of the day we’re a people who love our food and Italians definitely love theirs – and certainly do it better. A shining model of excellence amidst an already glorious land of deliciousness, Perugia, the capitol of Italy’s Umbria region, once a year satiates the inner hormonal woman in all of us. They call it: Eurochocolate.

When I heard the words “Europe’s largest chocolate festival”, I knew that this was the place for me. So I set a whole day aside to go check out this chocolate extravaganza - you know, just to make sure these guys were truly worthy of this self-proclaimed reputation (mine are the only standards that matter) - and fasted for three days so that I might gorge myself with as much chocolate as humanly possible. I joke only about the former part of that last clause. When I disembarked from the train in Perugia with several of my friends, the city appeared to be in a state of sheer chaos. Cacao, or the prospect of it at least, has a way of driving people mad, and I was no exception to this rule. I quickly tore through the crowds, weaving in and out of less important people, dodging giant bodies that didn’t need the chocolate as much as I did, and throwing little old ladies to the outskirts of the mob. And somehow along the way, Jessica and I managed to get entirely separated from our group of 150 people on the Florence for Fun tour and miss our bus. Nice goin guys. Yet driven entirely by instinct, we quickly hopped on to the next bus we saw and prayed that it might take us towards the chocolate. It was only when I saw the reflection of the bus in a store window that I was able to make out the fact that we were headed in the right direction. And lo and behold, we jumped right off the bus and into the welcoming arms of our four other friends not 15 minutes later. (That whole episode was quite strange, to be honest.) The day began with me downing an entire box of Choco Vitamins. I have a feeling I was supposed to space those out over several days, but I was pumped about getting the Chocofest started and this happened to be my very first “choco” for the day. Alright, I’m gonna stop with all the chocolate puns right now because this is getting old even for me. Trust that they’re still here in spirit. Now I’m just going to tell you now that this festival was not quite what I had expected. There were no chocolate eating contests (I would have dominated), over-the-top chocolate sculptures, or even chocolate wrestling tournaments. The large part of the fair was made up of booths for different companies to hawk their chocolate wares. The eating insane amounts of chocolate part came in with all the free samples. And the other ways in which we were able to work the chocolate system… (I’m doing it again, I apologize.)

Our first stop was this underground network type thing in Perugia. First we visited a chocolate exhibition. Boring. Who wants to shuffle like a bunch of idiots through a little educational tour on chocolate? That’s right – losers. I was there to experience my first heart attack, so Jessica, Erica, and I quickly bailed and found the hot chocolate stand. But as luck would have it, they had just run out, and had to make a new batch. They still had a bunch of the Cioccolato Caldo Pepperoncino – Spicy Hot Chocolate – something which I just wasn’t feeling right then. Something which I’ll probably never feel. So we literally stood around waiting for this freakin hot chocolate juice to get hot for a good half hour. The lady kept telling us “5 more minutes”, and we eventually reached the point where to give up on waiting for the stuff would have been to undermine our entire time standing there thus far. I’m not going into the outcome of this little incident, because all that need be said is that the stuff was completely unworthy. We were far less than pleased. But don’t worry - unphased. Our next stop was the “Lindt Snap!” stand, the point of this activity being to put on a blind fold and try chocolate in the dark to heighten your other senses to the chocolate experience. They even gave us canes to use in the dark, but the bastards wouldn’t let us keep them afterwards. And unfortunately, they gave us terrible directions; whereas we thought that we were supposed to pick up the different types of chocolate at various points along the hallway and enter a room to conduct the taste test at the end, we were actually supposed to have tasted the chocolate along the way. Unfortunately for those Lindt people, we all stuffed our bags with as much of their delicious chocolate as we could carry. So it was fine.

Next we decided to step into the light of day, where we continued to collect even more free chocolate with our special Eurochocolate cards (one of the perks of the FFF group), see the world’s largest chocolate bar – 11 meters squared – and pretend we were interested clients at each of the booths so that the people working them might give us more free chocolate. We also got free Coke Zero (this Coke promo is everywhere in Italy, by the way), iced tea, and bottles of brandy. Sadly, Erica peaked early in the day and had to cut herself off from the chocolate festivities. Jessica and I, however, forged on. We visited more stands, went through a little chocolate mini-tour, and made some new friends. I bonded with two Perugian boys in the early afternoon by letting them listen to awesome songs on my iPod. The event unfolded after they asked me some question about Guns ‘N Roses, after which I had them listening to some more epic bands. They should have known that they had opened the floodgates with me when it came to music. And I should have known that I too had opened the floodgates by naively befriending two young Italian gentlemen. After considerable efforts, we were finally able to part ways, shortly after which Jessica had to throw in the towel with all this chocolate business. My friends were dropping like flies. The true champ (me) proceeded to guzzle down another cup of hot chocolate - white hot chocolate this time - work the booths for yet more free samples, try some chocolate covered churos, take a spin on the merry-go-round, and join a chocolate choir, because apparently it reached the point where I had to sing for my goods.

I’ll stop narrating and post the pics.

Erica on the train to Perugia right before she passed out.

Jessica, Anna, Paige, and Natalie.

Erica and I pissed off at the hot chocolate stand because it took so damn long.

me and my free stuff.

crowds in perugia. my favorite part of this picture has to be the guy wearing the "playboy" shirt.

the chocolate started getting to our heads.

example of a chocolate booth.

example of another chocolate booth.

the mad hatter.

she took the chocolate pretty hard.

we are god.

ok, now we are really god.

the guy in the background would not stop taking pictures of himself. i tried to get one of him standing up holding the camera low and taking one up at his blue steel face, but i couldn't bust the camera out quick enough. i guess i'm giving him too much in posting him online, but oh well. you had to see what a dick he was.

"dammi, oh bello, il tuo cioccolatino." these are the words i sang in my choir of fellow chocolate lovers.

erica got caught up in a crowd of people jumping for pieces of chocolate. this was after she had gotten hit in the face by an old lady with a bag of oranges.

almost sickeningly beautiful.

the magic of the merry-go-round just never died for me.

this is what the sun looks like when it sets on chocolate.

you've seen one garden, you've seen 'em all

2007-10-14T07:49:00.000-07:00

Now I’m not trying to rip on the Boboli Gardens – they’re very beautiful and all – but I felt as though a montage of flower and tree pictures might get a little monotonous after a while. So I have compiled a series of photographs entitled “Posing at the Boboli Gardens,” starring none other than yours truly. I realize my title screams “poser,” but at least I’m being upfront about it. Seriously though, how often is it that you get to look at a bunch of pictures of me amidst the beauty of nature? And I’ll even venture to claim that it is perhaps my lovely self that is all the more aesthetically pleasing than one predictable cross-section of God’s Green Earth. Am I right…am I right? Yes I am. So consider yourselves lucky.

gypsy is the new emo

2007-10-14T07:48:00.000-07:00

From the very day that I arrived and got intercepted by my first gypsy at the Duomo, something about that sly looking woman seemed oddly familiar to me. You can’t really match the unbeatable long neon skirt, floral pattern bubble shirt, sandals with socks look, but the forlorn looking person waving a cup in my face stirred a sense of nostalgia in me that was hard to place. And then it clicked – when I saw this girl wander over to her other gypsy friend and give her the cocky “hey, I’m really working these suckas over here” look, I knew that the spirit of the gypsy rested in none other than the breasts of countless emo kids the world over. Think about it. They walk around all day, bemoaning their ill fortune and trying to get people to feel sorry for them. And half the time, I’m pretty convinced they’re faking it (as evidenced by the cunning look that our prior gypsy gave her fellow con-woman). I realize that kids back home aren’t begging me for money and gypsies aren’t cutting themselves, but there really are a lot of parallels. Take the greasy hair look for example. Totally gypsy…totally emo. And now I know that hopeless adolescents back in the States wouldn’t be caught dead sporting those bright florescent colors – they tend to go for the black and 73 shades of gray color scheme – but I think it’s a valid argument that both groups of individuals are in desperate need of a fashion makeover. Come on. Purple socks with Tevas? Skinny jeans on guys? The only thing I haven’t figured out yet is who can give me the better sad face.

the slaughter

2007-10-14T07:07:00.001-07:00

I got my ass handed to me in Milan. Rife with high-end labels, glamazons, and beautiful negozias galore, I tried to bat in the big leagues in the fashion capital of the world and lost more than the designer duds I couldn’t afford. It was a good portion of my budget that I have set aside for the next ten months in Europe, along with my dignity, that went down the drain. I had always thought that I had some inkling of self-discipline, but when it came time to set foot into fashionista territory, I just lost all control. Of course, I was able to rationalize this all at the time, thinking to myself, “Hey Self, you’re in Milan, homie. Let loose. Enjoy the ride.” And enjoy it I did. For your viewing pleasure:

It was this horrifying image that greeted me to Milano, and which would proceed to haunt my dreams for the next couple of nights. She served me well, however, as I used her as one of the subjects for my sketches for class. If you thought this image couldn’t be any more frightening, you were wrong.

To get a good sense of Milan, you have to realize that they have the most amazing advertisements plastered all over the city. Try as I might, I couldn’t seem to capture this in a picture, but I feel as though this giant lady might come close to doing the trick. (She was about two stories high.)

Oh wait a second. Is that a break dancer? Yes that is. Even Milan can be ghetto fab.

The Duomo in Milan is absolutely stunning.

La Rinascente was the 7 story department store that I popped into, that truly had everything. After my visit, I better understood the mindset of a gold-digger. Unless you rock the black AMEX card, you really have no business being there. I literally found $100 t-shirts (which were adorable, by the way – that store is also quite depressing). The following are the displays in the windows of La Rinascente, and as they are the sexiest displays I’ve ever seen, it was worth taking pictures of all of them and posting them for you.

A little view inside the store, one which does it no justice whatsoever.

This is what rich guys see right before they have sex.

There was an entire floor devoted to sections like “Armani Junior.” I shit you not.

First interesting point to consider about this picture: there is an actual dog being walked through the store. Alright, fine. This is typical of Italy. But in a store like this one? Seemed a little strange to me. But then considering that there was also a section for household pets, I realized that it was probably I that was more out of place than these dogs – which probably have more money to their names than I do.

And then…there was this. The top – and most glorious – floor of La Rinascente. Full of bins upon bins of candy and delicious food, this place was a refuge for a dazed individual like me.

When I said La Rinascente literally had everything, I didn’t make this statement lightly. I even saw an albino in that store. I’m going straight to hell.

T, this one’s for you buddy. This was an ad I saw on the subway. I thought that only I made that face (see kid on right), so when I saw this, it was necessary to share. I realize that my family members are likely the only people to understand this one, mostly because I’m better able to contain my eccentricities in public.

The token Kaitlin picture.

Castello Sforzesco serves as a testament to the fact that Milan is more than just shopping. It’s actually got a whole historical side, one which I’ll stick to the next time I stop in.

The reflection pool…I thought this was pretty.

I finally got around to taking a picture of the people who sell illegal knockoffs in Italy. These guys really intrigue me. They lay out all their wares on blankets, and then the minute they spot the po's coming, they quickly swipe up all their stuff and book it. So far I’ve been scared to buy anything from these crafty buggars, mostly because we had the Italian Consulate come in and talk to us in Florence about how we could get arrested for doing business with them (probably a semi-hollow threat). Needless to say, I haven’t been willing to take the risk. But as these guys came in the dozens in the middle of what was essentially a park, I decided to go for it. And damn, can I barter. What was originally a 45 euro bag, I got down to 13 euro, a handful of coins, and a 5 dollar bill – bear in mind that the exchange rate favors the euro. The guy even asked me if the bill was real, which stirred a thought in me. If these guys can’t tell the difference anyway, why not counterfeit my own money? I would make out like God. One more anecdote about these dudes. They also try to sell little things like bracelets and belts – and these businessmen are actually a bit more pushy. So this one guy comes up to me and starts tying a bracelet around my wrist. I immediately told him, “Hey man, I’m sorry. I’ve don’t have any cash.” “Oh don’t worry, Miss, this is for good luck.” “For good luck you say? And it doesn’t cost me a thing? Sweet deal.” My friend Jessica had a similar interaction with the man in the next moment, and immediately after, he was petitioning us for donations. After weaseling our way out of that one, I had another idea. Why not see how many free good luck bracelets I can collect while out here? They’ll be like trophies. My only concern is that I actually have a terrible cold right now, and I’m wondering if it’s because the guy placed some sort of voodoo curse on the bracelet after I refused to pay him for it. Well guess what? I’m not taking it off. It was free.

Welp. That is all.

Casentino, Rimini, Pisa, Siena...

2007-10-08T02:54:00.000-07:00

(written october 5)

So here it is, finally, the lowdown on my travels this past weekend. Sorry about the lag time. I’ll skip the formalities on this one and cut right to the good stuff.

Last Friday I journeyed with Camp Stanford to Casentino, an Italian city about an hour and a half away from Florence. Every quarter, Dr. and Mrs. Bing, our benefactors, pay for every student in every study abroad program to take trips, go out to dinners, etc. There’s about 30-40 students in seven or eight programs, so basically the Doc’s a baller. This wasn’t our big trip, but as a general rule, the Bing’s like to go for show, flying students throughout Europe and the like. So mostly because we’re all a bunch of spoiled brats, my comrades and I were baffled as to why we had gotten the old shaft with Casentino. To put this in perspective, the parts of Casentino that we visited were so rural that the only people we came close to encountering were a group of hermits at an old monastery. Now I’m as big a fan of piety as anyone, but when the only signs of life I can observe are smoke clouds curling out of chimneys, I start to feel a little tense. And why smoke curling from chimneys in September, you ask? Because this was the coldest, wettest, windiest day I have spent in Italy to date. It wasn’t so bad, if you disregard my broken umbrella. But Professor Verdon, who accompanied us to provide the narration for the excursion was completely unphased. Hence, we literally stood outside for hours, vulnerable to the elements in all their fury. I suspect that it’s Verdon’s other vocation as a priest that allows him to remain so stoic in such a dire circumstance. And indeed, it was surely the hand of God that intervened to protect him, as he literally brought his lecture to a close and took us inside right before the torrential rain really started.

On Saturday I went to Rimini for two days, an Italian beach town on the Adriatic Coast. It was one of the most gorgeous beaches I have ever seen, and because it was low season we nearly had it all to ourselves. While there, I ate the best margherita pizza I’ve had in my life, and, once again, I splurged on souvenirs. I swear to god, I fall for every single tourist trap. In all fairness though, I didn’t go for the shameless “I Heart Rimini” t-shirt. I instead went for postcards to send to all of you and a spiffy new pair of shoes. Another thing that I’m loving about Italy is all of the music I’m hearing on the radio. There’s this one song in particular that I’ve heard a couple of times…actually, it’s currently my favorite song - I feel so worldly. Anyhow, I happened to hear it as I was passing a store, so I quickly ran in to ask the store owner if he knew what it was. Because he didn’t, the two of us stood there for a couple minutes (rockin out) until finally it ended. But those novice Italian DJ’s failed to mention the song OR the singer. So my new friend and I did the next best thing: we called the radio station. After sitting on the line for several minutes (is it so much to ask to simply talk to a human being anymore??) we finally got the info we needed. Sweet, sweet victory. Oh! So my story about the nasty perv…I’ll make this quick because I already have the foul image burned into my mind and would rather not dwell on it for too long. I shouldn’t have been too surprised as I’ve been inundated with warnings from just about every person I know that the Italian guys are shady, but this one caught me off guard while I was off enjoying Fairytaleland (Rimini – such a magical place). My friend Jessica and I were walking down between the beaches, basking in the sunshine, enjoying the ocean breeze, MINDING OUR OWN BUSINESS, when all of a sudden, some sicko in his forties drops his pants and starts wacking it. I’m really sorry for being so crass, but I don’t know how else to put that, and it was just as much of a shocker to me. We were the only ones in sight and he wouldn’t stop staring at us so it was pretty creepy. My solution was to keep walking, because I refuse to let some gross old guy have that kind of control in a situation like that, but Jessica made what was probably the wiser decision and quickly led us away. Rest assured though, the next time this happens I’m pointing and laughing. Aside from this little episode, Rimini was absolutely wonderful – my favorite part of Italy so far.

Enter Pisa, the world’s most overrated city. If it weren’t for a bunch of 12th century construction workers slacking on the job, I seriously question whether or not Pisa would have a vital enough economy to support itself. They literally depend on pedaling those cheesy little leaning tower nightlights and shot glasses. It’s seriously one of history’s most profitable screw-ups. I had my suspicions that this would be the case before I wasted a day of my life in the small city, but I have no one to blame but myself. A very small part of me would have died had I not obtained my token tower picture. So to answer your question, yes. I did stand there with all the other imbeciles pretending to push/hold up/get crushed by/flick over/and kick that hyped-up architectural mistake. To be fair, it actually is pretty cool for the first two or three seconds that you lay eyes on it, and I got to go up into it and catch an amazing view of the city (which is so much better from a bird’s eye view).

Finally, today (Friday the 5th) I took a train to Siena. Siena is almost a mini Florence – and they’re actually longtime rivals, stemming from days of bloody battles and castle building competition – and there were actually parts of it that I liked better than my home city. For example, Siena’s town hall and Duomo far supersede Florence’s. Although the Duomo in Florence has a magnificent exterior, one step inside of the Duomo in Siena landed me in one of the most beautiful cathedrals I’ve ever seen.

Anyhow, I’m off to eat dinner right now, but I’m leaving tomorrow to spend the weekend in Milan so I’ll most certainly have stories for you later. Sorry for the very dry report of my weekend, but I had to bang this out quickly and I’m exhausted. I’m sure I’ve left out about a million things, but you’re probably tired of reading this anyway.

Buonasera.

september 28

2007-10-02T05:15:00.000-07:00

I have spent nearly two whole days being one score old and already I feel ancient. Twenty puts me at two decades; a fifth of a century; halfway to my midlife crisis. I realize that birthdays are entirely arbitrary, but there’s something about waking up on that morning that makes me long for the youth of yesteryear. If you know me, you know I’ve never been the slaphappy gift monger that most people are on their special days. Rather, I tend to sulk and reminisce until the clock hits 12:41am (the exact time of my birth – I draw it out until the very end) and there’s nothing more I can do about it. But you know what? Having il mio compleanno nel Firenze wasn’t so shabby. I sipped wine during the day, then went out to a pub at night. It really felt like I was working the system, as I got a jumpstart on the big “two one” celebration, but we’ll just call this rehearsal for next year. Then I hung out with some Gonzaga kids, went to a nifty little discotheque, and then on to an Italian house party – that one was pretty fun, as I got to chill with those rambunctious native youngsters in their element. And yes, it was awesome being the novelty in the crowd. The flat was also near the train station, so I got a little taste of the darker, racier side of Florence, though nothing exciting happened. However, I did discover that the bathrooms have blue lights, which is apparently meant to ensure that heroin users can’t find veins and shoot up in the stalls. Charming, really. (Mom, Dad, you’re going to love that one. But I’m 20 now and there’s nothing you can do about it.) And though the world was bathed in sunshine, rainbows, and lemon drops when I entered it, sadly, it rained most of yesterday. Thus, I stopped at a little street vendor on the Ponte Vecchio to purchase an umbrella, but as I was in no position to barter for one of the cool ones with Boticelli or cupid graphics, I settled for the cheap ugly one. Big mistake. Not halfway to my destination did the unsightly thing break, and I was left to fumble with it for fifteen minutes/fend for myself in the downpour. I felt like I was in the Zoloft commercial, being followed by that rainy depression cloud. My expedition was going to require a little more skill. When I spotted a raging stream of water pouring from a roof on my little jaunt through the city (clearly originating from some sort of gutter) I strategically dodged it. But apparently the gutter must have been so intriguing that I had to take a look back up at it once I had passed, and I subsequently got nailed in the face with another jet stream of rain from some other godforsaken gutter. So far I’m reppin pretty poorly for all those other twenty year olds. Guys, I apologize. Hopefully I’ll get better at this whole “older and wiser” thing, but until then, please sit back and enjoy my indiscretions. It would be a shame to see them go to waste.

a true artistic prodigy

2007-09-26T06:23:00.000-07:00

When I set out to conquer the world, no one ever told me that there were certain things I would just never be good at. One of these things happens to be drawing, and as it turns out, I’m taking an art class. I’ve frequented art galleries most of my life, I’ve interviewed renowned artists, hell, I’ve even had a few of my own masterpieces adorn the refrigerator of my beloved mother. But attempting to recreate some of the works of genius in Florentine museums in my sketchpad is just belittling. And I know that the sheepish grin I give my professor when he’s gazing over my shoulder at the utter disarray lying in my lap says it all. Not only have I regressed to the level of a two year old when it comes to my communication skills, but I’ve also lost ground when it comes to my proficiency level in a class…though when it came to drawing, did I ever really have it? Thankfully, as all young human beings need a guiding force, there is Fillipo Rossi there to hold my hand throughout the progression. Not to mention that art teachers are like this anyway, as we live in a society where everyone is special and subjectivity when it comes to art in a classroom just doesn’t exist.

So as I meandered the halls of Il Museo di Archeologico, searching for my two favorite artifacts to sketch, I imagined that I was one of the accomplished artists who were scattered throughout, copying down their own renditions. And finally I stumbled upon the thing I was to re-master. Did I choose a perfectly shapely, symmetrical Egyptian sarcophagus? Or even settle upon an endearingly simple scarab? No, no. Not I. I decided to tackle the roaring lion with a snake for a tail, which happened to be biting the head off of an antelope that reared out of said lion’s back. That’s right. I went big. I even gathered a small audience at certain points during my creative process – nosy tourists who were sorely disappointed to see the majestic creature botched before their very eyes. But that’s okay; I wasn’t worried about destroying their fantasy…I was fulfilling mine.

So there you have it. My first day of classes, and already I possess the cockiness of a five year old strolling into kindergarten (I was never one of those criers). Tomorrow I intend to take on the Duomo, and after that – who knows? Maybe even the entire Tuscan region itself. One step at a time, my friends. Baby steps.

yo

2007-09-24T02:56:00.000-07:00

It feels like forever since I last wrote, but in reality, I think it’s been something like three days. This is most certainly representative of the fact that these past few days have been JAM PACKED. Additionally, the fact that I really haven’t been able to sleep and that my long periods of lying awake at night are, for all intents and purposes, days in and of themselves, makes it easy to understand why I feel like I’ve been gone for a week. Anyhow, I digress.

I’m really pretty wired right now with all of this over-stimulation and speaking in different languages and the like, so I’ll likely forget to touch on most of what has been happening, so I’ll just focus on the high points.

1. My host family is wonderful. I’m staying with an elder lady, Grazia, who lives by herself in a beautiful apartment right by Piazza San Marco (a bit north of the Duomo). Her entire house is furnished with antiques, paintings, drawings…you name it. Grazia is an amazing artist, so it’s her work that adorns the walls of every room, including mine! She also has a daughter, Guia, and a grandson, Cosimo, who live in an adjoining apartment. I also have a roommate, Alexis, aka my savior. However, the first night here was terrible. As hospitable and as much of a culinary genius as Grazia was, I felt like an absolute failure. I couldn’t for the life of me recall all that Italian I’ve studied, so I couldn’t communicate AT ALL and I really couldn’t understand anything. Even 11-year-old Cosimo made me feel like an idiot, as he slowly talked to me like I was five. Then I got attacked by mosquitoes for three hours straight in the middle of the night. Not a pleasant situation. Alexis, who’s freaking awesome, definitely helped, but definitely emphasized the fact that I was the class dunce that night. I’ve since picked up my skills, and the world is at ease again.

2. I have my own room and bathroom. ‘Nuff said.

3. Oh! So back to those mosquitoes – those mofos run rampant around these parts. I’m guessing it’s the fact that we’re so close to the Arno, but that is still no excuse. And these things are aggressive. I think they’re called tiger mosquitoes or something, and these seedy little a-holes literally assault you when you least expect it. The innocent, naïve victim wakes up covered in bug bites. I, on the other hand, fight back. For two to three hour intervals during the past few nights, I have been lying awake in the pitch dark, daring those mongrels to challenge me. As soon as I hear their annoying little buzz floating towards my head, I strike. This does have its drawbacks, as I generally end up slapping myself in the face and don’t get to sleep at night; and inevitably, I end up giving in or thinking I’ve killed them and waking up covered in bites anyway. But because I want to protect myself, several of these bites end up on my face because I’ve pulled the sheets all the way up to my face – very unbecoming. I’ve tried hiding under the covers, but more often than not I end up gasping for air and hearing their awful hum close to my head anyway, so it really isn’t a practical solution. So last night, I decided to raise the white flag. I instead took up my iPod, with the intent of drowning out their horrible noise so that I might calmly fall asleep sans anymore conflict. It was really quite depressing though. I felt like I was committing suicide, offing myself in the most peaceful manner I could. The music made it even more dramatic.

4. My classes are looking like they’re going to be awesome. I’m taking two art history classes that meet on sight all around Florence, so I’m basically going to be taking walking tours of the city for my lectures. AND these classes are taught by Professor Timothy Verdon – if you know art history, you’ll likely know Tim, as he has written several books on the subject, and is also the foremost authority on Florentine art history. He’s also a high priest at the Duomo, so he gets us into all sorts of secret places that the normal public (i.e. you suckaz) couldn’t dream of getting into. His celeb status over here explains why we have several tagalongs during lectures. Then I’m taking an art class (theory and practice) with a famous Florentine artist, Fillipo Rossi. Don’t be mistaken though. This will not be ten weeks of me fingerpainting. I get to draw, paint, take photographs, and write dreadful response essays in Italian every week. I wanted to take the cinema class, because they’re going to get to go to the Roma Film Festival, but that was my only incentive for taking it, and trust me, the class itself was a heavy price to pay. Perhaps I’ll get to accompany them anyway, as well as visit the sets of movies with them. Yes, you can read that sentence again. The other class I wanted to take is taught by a member of the Italian Parliament – our teachers are kickass if you haven’t gathered that by now – but again, that was the only incentive there, and the class looked really boring.

5. Today I visited Fiesole with a couple friends. It’s this gorgeous little town right outside of Florence that overlooks the entire city. It’s very small and very old-world, and I may have even pissed off a nun while I was there. The story isn’t that interesting, but I’ll provide some context so I don’t seem like a total blasphemer. I enticed my friends to wander into a private monastery with me where I took a picture. But I didn’t know it was private or that a little, old nun would wander into the room right after the flash on my camera lit up the alter. The three of us and the nun literally stood there for 20 seconds, silent, and extremely awkward. We then asked her for directions for the best view.

That’s all I got for now…I’m tired of writing and I’m sure some of the issues I could discuss will come up again, so I’ll go into them later. Right now I have administrative tasks to attend to, i.e. postcards, letters for the mag, and figuring out my life.

Ciao lovers.

the saga begins

2007-09-19T20:46:00.000-07:00

It’s 5 in the morning and I can’t sleep. (This was written last night in my angst.) I’ve been lying awake since 4, and the wind rustling softly against the white lace curtains through a cute little window that overlooks an absolutely picturesque scene is frustrating the hell out of me, so I decided to chill out by writing a bit. Little did I know, however, that my ‘s’ key is starting to crap out on me, something which is sure to annoy me all year long. In any case, I’ll focus on the positive. (It just took me 3 tries to type out positive….NEVERMIND.)

Let me begin by saying that I am absolutely in love with Florence. Now I’m convinced that the half crazy, half quaint little city was calling my name. But I’ll first start by backtracking so that you can really get a feel for my long, perilous journey…

It all started when I set out to board a plane at Denver’s International Airport. But as luck, orange terror alert levels, and inept airport personnel would have it, this task was far more daunting than I had anticipated. Apparently stout, squealy little men with photo badges – he must have been a baggage worker or something – feel entitled to play security line marshal, because some asinine little man felt the need to expound his knowledge throughout the entire process. First he gives me the whole, “Is there a computer in that computer case?” As I stood in line at the conveyer belt as my purse, computer bag, and (gasp!) lap top computer all lay in separate bins, all I could do was smile and nod. But as he supposedly felt the need to recite the entire security sign warning to me, he earned himself a blank stare and nod, rather. I guess I needed his lecture though, because no sooner had I walked past the metal detector than the sneering lady behind the TV monitor snarled at me for not taking my liquids out of my purse (note: they were placed in a separate bag) and placing them in a separate bin. But hey! The squatty son of a bitch standing next to me had to get in on it too, barking so enthusiastically that I had to ask the mean lady to repeat herself, something which I guess was so outlandishly offensive that it merited one of the more hateful stares I’ve received in my day.

I’ll stop complaining and cut to the chase. The airplane ride was long, and I sat next to a man who seemed to be in a thoroughly bad mood the whole time and didn’t even glance my way. No matter – I’m not good at keeping up feigned conversations for nine hours anyway, so it was all good. Plus, I was in an emergency exit row so I had like five feet of leg room. Fast forward to Munich airport: holy sh*t! (I’m censoring these entries because I’m sure my grandparents will be reading them.) That place is a giant f*cking maze!!! (These little stars in place of the vowels in swear words are kind of fun.) Very chique, very new-age, very trendy, and on the whole, quite bland. By the way, Trevor, sorry I didn’t send you your picture, but I was too busy winding my way through an entire glorified labyrinth.

After another hour and a half plane ride over Germany and some of Italy (for the record, Venice looks very dry from a bird’s eye view…maybe it’s just me) I had finally arrived. The taxi ride was everything I had dreamed it would be – we almost got into a few accidents, nearly ran over several pedestrians, and the driver was absolutely delightful as we communicated in broken Italian and English before he went into a yelling tirade at someone on his cell phone. This is not me being sarcastic; I truly reveled in all of it. When I got to my hotel, I pressed the doorbell and was shortly rung in. But as I stepped into the entryway, I quickly realized that I had four flights of stairs to scale with my insanely heavy suitcase, backpack, computer, and “personal item.” Sh*******t. But I was soon greeted by an extremely built lady who helped me haul it all upstairs.

After sleeping for 5 hours, I went out with Molly – the girl I am sharing a room with. It was my first time really seeing the city, and I think I took somewhere around 30 pictures of alleyways. Nevermind that they all looked nearly the same, they were absolutely enchanting to me. We went to a gelateria called “Grom” near the Duomo, and I got Pera and Café gelato. I honestly thought people were just trying to act pretentious and cultured when they told me how amazing the gelato is in Italy, but those bastards really weren’t lying. The Pera was literally the ice cream version of pear. It even had that pear-y crunchiness to it. And, you guessed it, the café really tasted like coffee. But when I say coffee, I don’t mean our typical coffee ice cream, which is reminiscent of our typical non-fat, non-sugar, soy, decaf, whipped cream, Splenda Starbucks creations. This was more like the house blend. The Folgers. This was actual coffee. I was a little taken aback at first, as I am not really a coffee fan, but the café gelato grew on me. Yeah. It did.

Afterwards we walked around a little, got accosted by some gypsies while we sat on the steps of the Duomo, and finally returned home to prepare for dinner. We ended up going to this little restaurant on a street corner by the Duomo (all of my activities thus far are very Duomo-centered), where I ended up getting the Caprese salad and Linguine all’astice (linguine with lobster). Molly and I also split a half liter of the house red wine – the waiter assured us with quite a seductive wink that if we wanted more wine, not to worry…HE would take care of us – and a bottle of water. Man, even the water is good here.

We finally returned home around 10:30 and decided not to go out to “Happy Days” Wednesday at one of the local clubs (two promo guys had hit us up earlier with the invitations), so I decided to get ready for bed and quickly passed out.

But now, here I sit, wide awake and ticked off because I’m probably going to pay for it later in the day when I’m exhausted again. Screw jetlag!

Anyways, I’m meeting up at the center today and later on tonight I meet my host family. I’m sooooo nervous, but so far, my time here has been nothing but perfect, so I’m confident that I really don’t have anything to worry about.

arrivederci

2007-09-18T08:15:00.000-07:00

Today marks the beginning of my voyage. That's right - voyage: an entralling ten months (or more, should I choose to stay and piss off the rents) of sheer debauchery. Right now I'm prepping for my flight that passes through Munich and on to Florence, where I will wreak havoc for an entire three months; and then it's off to England to take Oxford by storm for the following half a year. The real chaos, however, will begin when I take up pack, travel guide, and a finite store of underwear to travess the depths of Europe. And hey, the little bro may even score a graduation gift to come join me.

But for now, I depart to resume the exhilarating task of packing (I tend to slack on these things). Don't fret though homies...I'll be returning shortly with tales of my disgusting ten hour flight and juicy arrival details in Italia.

Sianara bitches!!! (I realize I'm not keeping in line with the theme here, but I couldn't resist.)

7 more days

2007-06-07T22:45:00.001-07:00

eatin a mcflurry like it's nobody's business. (i was gonna make a rhyme but nothing cool rhymed with mcflurry.)

one more week fools!

8 more days

2007-06-06T17:49:00.000-07:00

and today was the last day of classes. with the exception of a few more papers and a final i'm officially done. fuck ya. so random fact for the day: i got electrocuted this morning. it wasn't that bad actually. it happened when i plugged something in that i couldn't see - sad part: this has happened before. you would think i'd learn... i grab onto the metal part like an idiot and then get zapped all the way up my arm. it was kind of tingly for a little. ha. but on a slightly related note, i was reading this article about botched executions. apparently a lot of volunteer medic types administer injections, but a lot of the time they aren't really qualified to do so - i.e. they have been sued for medical malpractice several times over - meaning, that it takes these people upwards of an hour to die. people against the death penalty are calling to have information on these executioners made public so that they can avoid these types of errors - for obvious reasons, pro-death penalty people don't want this to happen so these people don't get death threats or whatever. ironically. and the thing is, that if these identities were revealed, doctors wouldn't really be able to take part anyway because it violates a bunch of medical statutes, not to mention the hippocratic oath. obviously. i've never seen the point in the death penalty anyway, and i think it's one of the most hypocritical, fucked up things this society allows. yeah, you can give me the whole, "well it serves those bastards right" schpeel, but if you want to look at it that way, the death penalty is the easy way out. sometimes it's better to die then have to live in jail for the rest of your life as some giant dude's prison wife. and then people always pose that hypothetical situation to me: well what if someone killed a person you loved? what then? yeah, i'd want to kill them. i'd definitely want to. but the judicial system should not let emotions factor into legislation. what does society get out of the death penalty? i don't think it scares people away from comitting crimes. moreover, it's sentenced in a very arbitrary manner, violating the whole notion of equal protection under the law, my friends. and think about the countless individuals that have been wrongly executed. that sickens me. and finally, the almost humorous part of this article was when this pro-death penalty chum says of people who call for these background checks: "the law should come down hard on anyone who uses someone's legal profession to raise harm against them. it should be a hate crime." there are so many things wrong with that statement. make some unreasonable accusation, but then attribute a level of severity to this "crime" that ties these people to some of the dregs of society? come on. and i suppose that you're some good sameritan because you support murdering people, even if they are killers? (only perpetuating the heinous acts you're fighting so hard against.) what the fuck? the death penalty is cruel and unusual, debases human life, and sets a horrible example, given the main crime it's trying to punish. it's so counter-intuitive. i'm starting to get ticked just thinking about this.

anyways, take home point - 8 more days til i fly back to the motherland.

hi i'm kaitlin, and i'm bored

2007-05-13T23:02:00.000-07:00

ye-uuuup. terribly so. i'm just sittin here at late night, anticipating the week that is to come, and wondering how i'll ever survive writing another two essays and pulling another story out of my ass - although i have a wonderful idea for a very dark, fucked up masterpiece.

you know what i hate? when i tell someone i'm bored, and they respond with "well hi bored!" you know, the whole:

-i'm bored
-hi bored! (like a complete tool - you people think you're so clever)

they're the same tools, in fact, that say shit like "'can't' isn't a word." yeah. of course it's not, if you want to get technical. it's a fucking contraction, and if you think that i'm adept enough to realize that and to also realize that spoken english consists of many contractions, but that i'm too big of an idiot to realize that "can't" isn't in the dictionary then i think it's you who has your head up your ass. so stop trying to put a positive, proactive spin on everything. it's annoying.

jeeze.

i'm clearly in a very cheerful mood right now. i haven't eaten all day and i'm starting to feel delirious. it ticks me off, because nearly every college/university with a few assinine exceptions is either done with school or in the midst of finals, and i'm still stuck here plugging away for another month. i just wanna be home like all the other kids, minus the ones that are staying on campus to do stupid shit like research. come on. do we really need to continue trying to impress everyone? GET A LIFE people.

i don't have anything nice to type so i'm just gonna go back to peer reviewing piles of shit stories.

hi yo

2007-05-06T12:13:00.000-07:00

it's sunday and i just woke up (my roomie and neighbors are gone), and already i'm at a loss for what to do. this weekend was a ton of fun though. by the way, happy seis de mayo! yeah, i missed the other one. aside from being a day of cultural celebration for mexico, yesterday was also stephan's birthday! we surprised him with pizzas from some amazing local restaurant that he loves (he's from around here), a COLDSTONE ICE CREAM CAKE, and lots of other delicious stuff. however, i didn't know there was food involved, so this was right after i had convinced artur to take me to wendy's. so i was very full. it sucked giant balls.

i'm also helping mary make a music video for her sound and image class, and it's very very fun. we're doing this dark, artsy theme to a mix of dj shadow and nine inch nails. in it, i'm picking and handing out "patriotism poppies" and people are passing the fuck out. or something like that - the film seems to be taking on a direction of its own. it's been a little harsh on the sinuses though, because i'm walking through thorny fields in an old-fashioned dress i have basically inhaling weeds that look like flowers and smell like shit. my allergies are going crazy. the sacrifices we have to make for art...i also get to go goth by the end of the film, which is pretty fun, but scaring off a lot of random passersby.

a bunch of us are going to el dorado in a couple weeks. i went last weekend with mary, artur, trey, stephan (it's his cabin), and aaron and it was AMAZING. we had so much fun being in the middle of nowhere - it's about time. i miss the mountains so much. we went rafting down the american river in this tiny little thing with a bunch of oars and about killed ourselves. the rapids didn't seem that big while we were approaching them, but they were giant once we got up to (or under, rather) them. despite the fact that we were supposed to "keep paddling" through them, everybody pretty much dove into the center of our "raft" every time these rapids pretty much curled over us.

hmmmm...what else do i got? oh! i just booked my flight to come home for the summer! i am ecstatic. my dad was supposed to drive out here and help me move everything back since i'll be gone from here for the next year and a half, but gas prices, coupled with laziness, i think, convinced him that storing would be a better option. well i hate storing stuff! i always get spiders embedded in all my stuff. oh well. this summer i'm going to be working at 303 magazine...i've already written shitloads of articles, but i don't think they've put them in yet since my articles have inspired a series and they have to organize everyone...yeah. i also get to sell advertisements for the magazine for some extra cash, and apparently the commission is great. we'll see. and then, for some extra extra cash, i'm gettin another job on the side. i could probably go back to express since i sold those credit cards like a fiend, but i'm not terribly into working til 1 or 2 in the morning refolding clothes, so maybe i'll transfer to victoria's secret...oooooh, sexy.

i've been finding lots of really sweet songs lately. i can't wait to make a mix and listen to it in my new car. (i'm getting a new car when i get back, did you hear? it's going to be sweet. actually, i'll probably get the ol' shaft again, so i'm trying not to get my hopes up right now, but my brother has already totalled my old one, so i'm fucked anyway.)

goodbye friends.

stung in the middle of the night

2007-05-02T12:36:00.000-07:00

why the FUCK are there giant bees in our bathroom at 4 in the morning. i demand an explanation.

cabbie, you suck!

2007-04-23T21:23:00.001-07:00

so i capped off my shitshow of a weekend by taking a trip into the outside world (aka palo alto - 5 minutes from campus...this is huge if you don't have a car) and dining at a local sushi restaurant. it was nice - comfortable seating, friendly service. but my friend insisted on taking a cab because she was too sore, hung over, and starving to ride bikes, and since i made the disclaimer that i was broke, which i am, i simply went along for the ride. you know, taxis are pretty cool. there's something about being chauffered around that makes me feel really smug, especially when i'm not paying for it. so we had a nice, somewhat dazed meal, as we were both exhausted from the prior festivities, but on the whole, it was a lovely night out on the quaint little town. lovely late afternoon out on the town would be more appropriate, as we joined our local senior citizens for the early bird special because we were both too impatient to wait much longer to eat, and are both overachievers that had other engagements around the dinner hour.

i'll just cut to the chase. our cab driver on the way back was a douche bag. first of all, i had to wait a few minutes inside the restaurant to retrieve our credit cards because the cashier was a little behind, so my friend ran outside to tell the cab to wait. but no. she races back in a few seconds later to tell me that this cab driver is having a tantrum outside because he's blocking traffic. blocking traffic my ass. true, the street layout in palo alto is comprised primarily of one lane, often one way streets, but let's be honest. this dude was not "blocking traffic" on the little side street next to the sushi restaurant. so when i finally signed for the both of us and grabbed our cards, i frantically raced out the door and dove into the back seat. now this was a nice cab - black, leather interior, tinted windows...the guy scored some points for this. but then he starts taking the long way home. the trafficky way home. what an ass! for as much as he complained about the traffic before...so after heckling us for directions to the campus (note: the campus virtually is the town we were in) he proceeds to completely ignore what we say. yeah. well, perhaps he knew better. but after a series of wrong turns, we started to get angry. i then told him several stop signs in advance, as well as at the stop signs themselves, where exactly to turn. and he still screwed it up! finally, when we pulled up to my residence he came to a screeching halt and sat their silently. we weren't sure quite what to do until he reeled around toward us and shouted, "11 dollars! is that ok? 11 dollars! is that fair?" no it's not ok, you bastard! you drove terribly! but he was quite a scary fellow so we decided to pay up. (yet our new friend did not merit a tip, so we did not give him one. so there.) anyhow, after this whole ordeal - and we were all giving each other bad vibes...he didn't like us either - he had the nerve to give us his business card. what was this excuse for a cab driver thinking? i don't know...

this weekend was good.

Cheers!

2007-04-19T22:51:00.000-07:00

I met Carla at a random, three day weekend getaway to Lake Tahoe. I had just endured my first week of classes after winter break, and again I needed more than ever to escape the fast paced monotony of college life. True, I was a straggler – merely “going along for the ride” with my friend Matt. Out of the twelve people on the mountain hiatus he was the only one I knew, as the trip was the design of his distant cousin. I didn’t even have the time or the money to put into the excursion because my private school (and private school tuition) had devised to pick up its slave driver mentality within the first three days back, thus leaving me with a bombardment of papers to write and important articles to read. But I didn’t care. This provided me even more incentive to get away and live under the disillusionment that break could last just a little bit longer.

After enduring a sore, crowded, six hour drive through winding roads, I piled out of the car with the rest of my travel cohorts in Stateline, Nevada. The distant cousin had rented a charming mountain cabin, and I was more than ready to indulge in the night’s debauchery. We quickly piled into the house, set up camp, and whipped out the alcohol that our token 21-year-old had purchased for the trip.

Shot one: As we entered our ceremonial circular formation, on the brink of screaming “Cheers!” a girl to my left turned to me. “Hi, I’m Carla!” “Oh hey…my name’s Kaitlin.” “Cool. So how’s it going?” “Pretty good – just excited to get this weekend started.” “I know, seriously! This is going to be a lot of fun. Whelp, cheers!”

Shot two: Carla and I carried on a light-hearted conversation, quickly getting to know each other. She lived in Vista, California, liked to take lots of pictures with her digital camera, and enjoyed meeting new people to party and have a good time with. She fluctuated between extremes, smiling and laughing as she described her friends back home, and frowning and rolling her eyes while she lamented about the snobby girls that attended school with her. Best of all though, she was a huge classic rock fan, a lot like me. This was ample cause to “cheers” for.

Shot three: Seven minutes into my Tahoe vacation had me playing air guitar for my enthusiastic new friend. We loudly “da na na na’d” to the legendary solos of The Doors, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, and even a little Guns ‘N Roses. Carla danced along and burst into uncontrollable, shrill laughter as I busted out with the famous windmill strumming and played behind my back. It wasn’t long before we were singing “Cheers!” between invisible riffs.

Shot four: By this time I had smashed the guitar and Carla and I were on to more important things, such as telling dirty stories. She mischievously relayed to me the latest Vista gossip while donning a huge smile between her chubby cheeks. We playfully flirted with the guys in the room, bouncing jokes off of each other as though we had been friends for years. Soon we started to feel like big, bad 19-year-olds, playing house in the middle of nowhere for the weekend, and decided to “cheers” with the boys to an exciting few days.

Shot five: Carla decided she loved me. “I love this girl,” she cried, “I really do love her!” It’s amazing the bonds that underage drinking often facilitates. It’s fun breaking the rules and it’s fun having someone to break them with. Better yet, Carla and I had become fast friends and I had found my partner in crime for the next few days. Cheers to that!

why i love my little brother so much

2007-04-12T19:27:00.000-07:00

a text conversation:

trevor: sister! i need rescuing from this trip to iowa!
me: haha are you there now?
trevor: no. at DIA
me: that sux, how long are you there for?
trevor: 3 long ass days! i miss you even more in times like these!
me: aw, i miss you too lil bro, but be strong. don't stray the course.
trevor: haha! i shall stay strong! and stand my ground when approached by freaky relatives!
me: ok. and keep uncle louie at bay, lest he incite you to rub his head.
trevor: haha! and thus i board!
me: have a most wonderful and safe trip, dear brother.
trevor: i shall fair as best i can. and when the walls of this world come crashing down, i shall say "i was there, and i survived it!" goodbye dear sister!

oh, t. homies forever.

so it goes

2007-04-12T16:36:00.000-07:00

rest in peace, kurt vonnegut;

think about this one...

2007-04-10T15:48:00.000-07:00

When whole races and peoples conspire to propagate gigantic mute lies in the interest of tyrannies and shams, why should we care anything about the trifling lies told by individuals? Why should we try to make it appear that abstention from lying is a virtue? Why should we want to beguile ourselves in that way? Why should we without shame help the nation lie, and then be ashamed to do a little lying on our own account? Why shouldn't we be honest and honourable, and lie every time we get a chance? That is to say, why shouldn't we be consistent, and either lie all the time or not at all? Why should we help the nation lie the whole day long and then object to telling one little individual private lie in our own interest to go to bed on? Just for the refreshment of it, I mean, and to take the rancid taste out of our mouth.

-Mark Twain

mexico = crazy delicious

2007-04-03T15:21:00.000-07:00

and what happens there stays there...but i'll tell you of course ;-)

i had an amazing time - and after five term papers, a final, a sorority house, and balancing two jobs, i thoroughly enjoyed this well-needed escape.

but to begin, i must note the wonderful time i had in san diego with my family and friends. san diego is so cool! mary knows everything about...pretty much everything there, so we made the rounds both before and after the trip.

the first night we got to mexico was crazy! it was saturday, and coupled with the fact that it was spring break, the night was sheer mayhem. our hotel was kickass: we stayed in some condo that we rented. we had a pool, we were right on the beach, we had the MOST COMFORTABLE BEDS EVER, and we even had some guards at the front gate to keep us safe at night. that one backfired on us though when they didn't allow us any visitors, and since ten of our friends were staying down the street, it made planning stuff much more difficult since they couldn't come visit us as well. they were staying in some ghetto house in a weird neighborhood, so the walk was a little frightening, but we met up with them and decided to get food! mexican food of course! the first place we went to was just nasty. so we tried again, and found a place with very delicious quesadillas. as i told my brother, mexico, rife with sketchy gringos, was a blur of whistles and sombrero guy-administered tequila shots, stray animals, horny (and very touchy feely) dudes - both native and tourist alike - billboard top rap songs from three months ago, good looking people, people who should not be baring their midriffs, and greasy food. food meant tacos, burritos, quesadillas, etc. really, they're all synonomous for each other, they just have different prices. the intelligent (and frugal?) person figures this out quite quickly.

i'm really not one for clubs - i think they actually get really old really quickly, but somehow it just stayed fun. we frequented papas and beers most of the time, and went to iggy's once, which was pretty lame. so between the constant inebriation, the "free" drinks, and the beach location, i had a fabulous time. AND!!!!! i rode the bull. that's right. me. and it is arguable that i stayed on longer than anyone else. and then i guess you can argue that that wasn't too difficult since everyone was too much of a pansy to try it out, but i was on there for a good minute or so. and let me tell you, that is hard, mostly because it's so damn painful. i still have a bruise on my arm from getting flung off.

enough about mexico, i can't think straight right now (class started today). san diego was wonderful also. we went to the beach, to hookah bars, up to los angeles for a night, to the aquarium, shopping, and all up and down the san diego coast and the little beach towns. it was sad coming back last night.

BUT...for once, i'm actually excited about the quarter. i'm taking classes that are actually pretty cool, the weather is beautiful, and i've been meeting A LOT of cool people lately. it will be fun.

sorry for being a slacker.

i'll post some pix to ease the pain once tim, our designated photographer, puts them up online.

later fools.

9 - 4 - 2004

2007-03-13T21:29:00.000-07:00

You fed it to me with a medicine spoon
And restored gravity in my head
I blew your horn it was merely a whistle
Now my hands lie flaccid and red

You gave me the cast before breaking me down
Hit the wrong button but played it off close
Slapped my hand when I reached for the capped dead end
I'm still here but in you I'm a ghost

The soft rehearsed rhythms of comforting thought
You whispered them into my ear
But as they defile my open remorse
They find I can no longer hear

I let you reverberate lost painting prose
For a second we lost myself
Yet you drank me up into numbered success
I was simply a toast to your health

The petals hang limply and dead in the shade
And still shaking I grasp at your hand
I inject you into my invisible veins
Short a grip there's no way I can stand

I cried myself into Advil-induced sleep

2007-03-05T11:50:00.000-08:00

I’m well aware of my addictive personality, and so even though I’ve been having major insomnia bouts for the past few weeks, I maintained my stance that perhaps sleeping pills weren’t the best way to go about things. But last night in my desperation, I decided that instead of going the traditional Tylenol PM route, I should take to heart the suggestion that perhaps Advil PM might be a safer way to go. Why? Who the hell knows…I thought they were the same for all intents and purposes. So anyhow, I halved the standard two pill dosage two hours before bedtime, and excitedly prepared myself for what was sure to be a good night’s sleep. An hour later the words in the book started to blur and then my own started to slur (hey! that rhymes!), so I happily did my customary running leap into my semi-lofted bed – this can be quite painful when misjudging the height – and prepared to jet set into dreamland. And everything appeared fine at first: I was curled up comfortably in my jammies, my sinuses were clear and I could breathe because my mouth wash is so fucking strong, and my fan was softly buzzing next to my head. Sheer perfection. Well I was horribly disillusioned! It couldn’t have gone worse. First of all, I started to boil after about five minutes of lying there. I mean, come on! It’s the beginning of March. Isn’t it supposed to be cold or something? Not here, in the freakin “golden state.” No. I hear people back in Colorado lamenting about the snow and ice storms, but here I am, burning my ass off in bed while I’m trying to get some shut eye. Unacceptable, is what I say. Then, my temperature continued to rise about ten degrees because I was so flustered by the utter racket – that’s right, racket – that was going on next door. My extremely boisterous, shrill neighbors, coupled with the paper thin walls, make life miserable. I have seriously gone through two giant packs of ear plugs over the course of the year. No matter, I would bust them out yet again. And even though they hardly ever phase out the shrieking frequencies of my lovely house mates, I thought that being hopped up on meds might help my cause. I was even starting to feel tired. But no! It appeared as though this so called Advil PM had not abetted my fight for sleep, but rather, had heightened my senses to the excruciatingly loud, annoying world. So I threw open the windows, I kicked off my sheets, I shed layers of my comfortable pajamas. And all for nothing. The noise continued long into the night. I then sought consolation in the boy back home, but all he could offer in the way of solace were condolences and sweet nothings, and even these failed to lessen the blow. Yes, the world was against me last night. Advil PM, in my case, seemed to have a placebo effect of making me overly emotional (because I refuse to admit defeat in the way of fragility), because in the next moment I found myself softly crying into the pillow that I had flipped over fifty billion times in the constant pursuit for the cool side – one of the finer things in life, by the way. And somehow this must have done it, because the next thing I remember is waking up precisely eight hours later (those pharmaceutical companies are quite crafty) to the sounds of the garbage truck. I even felt refreshed and alert in my first class today!

Yes, life was good and I was even in a cheerful mood. But this soon gave rise to frustration because I, of course, am cynical and easily bothered. How is it that I have a penchant for constantly seeking out the most annoying people to sit next to in class? To my right reside the extremely irritating, touchy-feely Indian couple who basically lie on each other all during lecture. They trade off bringing each other coffee and fruit and yogurt parfaits so that they can loudly enjoy their breakfast at the expense of the rest of the class. Then to my left is the…well we’ll be kind and say “husky,” blonde girl hogging the arm rests and sipping on a giant smoothie. But her ritual consists of chugging this damn thing – literally – every three seconds. The girl’s like a fucking machine, raising the cup to her lips and lowering it in the most frustrating automatic motion I think I’ve ever seen. I swear to god, I’m going to be arrested for assault some day, because it took every ounce of my willpower not to stab her with my mechanical pencil. And yet, I wanted to shed light on her world, submitting that perhaps her practice of guzzling deceptively healthy drinks (come on, who are we kidding thinking that these ice cream packed “fruit smoothies” are really all that nutritious) were probably the cause of her unfortunate obesity.

Well anyhow, I’ve said my bit, and I don’t care if I seem like a heartless asshole. Perhaps I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

FIGHT FOR SOMETHING – anything.

2007-02-23T00:41:00.000-08:00

Where are we in the end? Everything is infinitely short, there has to be something more.

It lies in the infinite possibilities of a lifetime. A lifetime devoted to every wondrous thing that ever glittered in our eyes, to everything we ever were and no one else was, to being something where everything is pushing for each of us to be nothing. It is this life force that is burning with desire, craving for something that’s never been done before. How could we live a life without ever recognizing it, much less following through with it? There is something more, and it lies in the realm of everything that takes our breath away. In the unrecognizable. In everything that’s strange and incredible. Eternity is here. Right now. Grab on to it before it slips away.

It’s running its fingers across my soul and blending in with the cosmic music of the heart of this UNIVERSE. It’s passing through me and on to you. It’s shooting up to the stars and exploding high in this world’s heavens. And now it’s plummeting into my upturned face – free fall times a million, striking me through like lightening, into my eyes. And finally, I’m melting into the ground.

Our bodies are the most beautiful things we will ever know. I’m not trapped anymore. I never was.

another trusty picture summary:

2007-02-20T21:19:00.000-08:00

cuz i'm lazy. but you love it...

aww...maRRRRy!

look at that face. (he even has an agent - for serious.)

harry and lloyd: men after my own heart

the mother of all sombreros

the boys we SCHOOLED in beirut.

i think i may have actually gotten my eyes to go in two different directions

b on her second to last day as a 19-year-old

me punch-drunk in the LUV sack. (so comfy.)

b poppin the DOUBLE collar, and aaron with some brass knuckles, perhaps?

this really is quite an endearing picture

mitch trying to look innocent after making fun of someone. we see right through you mitch!

i don't quite remember the motivation behind this picture

look at them! such happy people...

woah there! simmer down, young man

Rest in Peace

2007-02-12T23:52:00.000-08:00

Today’s subversive half of the world lost yet another one of its prominent members. The departure was not all too sudden, however, as he had been fading for awhile. Passion, love, and dissidence were traded in for fair-weather thoughts and feelings, egotism, and conformity. Said individual chose to become anonymous, and is survived only by former cohorts who were finally and, after a long battle, resolutely willing to let him go. He now enters the numb realm of sell-outs, posers, and other stray individuals. Should he continue to traverse deeper into the nine circles of his new reality, a path he has settled upon embarking, he will enter calmly into the arms of 2.4 children, ~ 50K per annum, and Corporate Everyland. Respects may be paid through individual extensions of selves and reminiscences, though these will likely fall on deaf ears. For persons who wish to know the place of internment: if you know who he is, then you’ll know how to find him. Some may remember him as the person who told others to kill him if this was what he was ever to become. Unfortunately, he got to it before they ever could, and now he has left this world forever. But do not fret, dear reader, he is untouchable.

God speed – or whatever it is you’d say.

5-10-03

2007-02-08T00:41:00.000-08:00

here's one of those nifty notebook entries. it's old, worn out, and perhaps a little more impersonal because i've shared it before, so now i feel less guilty. be entertained by my 15-year-old mind!

here creeps in this sallowness
that sucks the life unfaught
that smothers those with hopes and dreams
and snuffs the light they sought

conquering their pithiness
and defeating they who saw
nothing but their own wan lives
with dreams chaffed bare and raw

they only saw a one-fold path
all diversions pushed aside
for the peripheral view that they had lost
contained what was meant to hide

they thought that if they focused
looking forward would pull them through
yet the distractions found their own way by
for they were all that was left and true

and then their was their own doomed fate
disguised and found its way
it unmasked itself in their reverie
and eclipsed the gilded day

unedited, unabridged - you have it all, minus the cute handwriting.

why i will rocket into the sunset...

2007-02-01T17:28:00.001-08:00

yesterday i got yelled at by an old man. well, maybe not so much yelled at as lectured at, but it's all the same with those codgers because they're senile and can't hear very well, so it always sounds like they're shouting at you. so what merited this undue discourse? i’ll tell you what! i, in all of my good schoolgirl glory, was innocently riding away from my poetry and poetics class, when all of a sudden, i happened upon a curb. now this was no small matter: the curb was an astounding six inches high – enough to do some real damage. but being the adventurous young lass that i am, and furthermore, having no other way to go on my merry way without bypassing this staggering son-of-a-bitch, i decided to take my chances. i rode my bike off of the small giant. now, i know what you’re thinking. “that girl’s an idiot. she could have done a number on herself, either flying head-over-heels across the top of her handlebars, launching herself into a nearby bush, or worse, landing in front of another biker and causing the mother of all bike crashes.” but please, rest assured that i knew what i was getting myself into. in fact, i like to consider myself quite the, uh, “curb expert.” moreover, since my brother and i were about six and eight years old, respectively, we have been conquering bike jumps, flights of stairs, and rough terrain on rocky mountain trails. now i’m not gonna lie and say this curb wasn’t a toughy – i mean, no matter how big of a baller you are on a bike, there will always be bumps (and curbs) in the road to keep you in check, but i had this one handled. my worst fears were put to rest when i made it through the episode, alive and pedaling. so as i was riding away from my small personal victory, i heard a voice coming up behind me on my left. now you would think that this would be a voice of concern for my well being, or perhaps even a voice tinged with anger at the notion that i could have barreled into its possessor. but no, it was a self-righteous, somewhat impatient tone, curtly declaring, “yurr going to brrreak yurr spokes thet waay.” dear lord, i thought, as i quickly whipped my head around, frantically searching for the origin of that outlandish sound. “whaaa?” i replied. my stately, gray headed old friend rode into view. “if you do thet, yurr going to brreak yurr spokes. you do not want the prressure like thet.” judging by the fact that he had a funny accent and sported a messenger bag, i figured he was from somewhere in eastern europe. “ah. thank you sir. you have a nice day now. don’t go riding your bike off of a giant rock face because you were too busy playing road monitor!” (i didn’t really say that.) and with that, he sped by, riding off into the distance like a good sameritan, his outline enfolded by the vastness of the horizon as it illuminated him – him that had taught me a lesson. i couldn’t help but bask in the beauty of this new knowledge that had so fleetingly been imparted to me. you learn something new every day right, but this…this was profound. i never imagined that when i rode off of that six inch embankment, that moments later i would be in the presence of such wisdom and generosity.

let’s be honest though – my bike’s a complete beater, another fine product of the stanford bike shop. on top of the thousands of dollars that i’m expected to fork out each year for tuition, i’m compelled to come up with another couple hundred to purchase the masterpiece that will serve as the vehicle for my academic escapades for four years. now i’m not making any value judgments, but i find it interesting that the schmucks at our fine bicycle establishment have the audacity to bestow me with something that has rusted gears that hardly work, a lock that sticks, and a light that is shoddily duct taped onto the handle bars. (said light was stolen sometime last year.) but i can handle that. i’m just sayin…but spokes! now spokes are a thing to be treasured. in fact, it is the shiny metal pieces of sexiness that define my bicycle, damnit! seriously, people, where would i be without spokes. that’s right. nowhere. i would be done for. incapacitated. unable to traverse one of the world’s largest college campuses. before, i had been but an ignorant fool, disregarding the value of spokes, but thanks to the remarks of this slavic prodigy, there was a chance i was going to be able to make it in the world. i slowly and pensively pedaled on into the vast, foreboding universe, stopping only once to soar off of the biggest, baddest bike jump i could find…

i tried to compromise it all in my head

2006-12-30T23:36:00.000-08:00

take a year in a bundle to pawn in a day
the memories shot through the fog
parsimonious living of life as a way
causes only that being the cog

yet to grasp onto nothings to never forget
must come at some ultimate price
further borne life one will never beget
when living the memories twice

...still, i reside in some degree of the latter

another fucking blizzard

2006-12-28T13:32:00.000-08:00

i mean...why? this just blows. colorado is starting to piss me off at this point. the first blizzard was bad enough, as it lost its novelty after my third straight hour of three straight days stuck in the house, but now this? come on! the last thing that needs to happen is for half the state to shut down AGAIN, and me to be stuck at home with cabin fever once more. though at least i'm getting to mix it up a little. the first time around i was stuck in the house with my dad, brother, and sister. now it'll be my mom, stepdad, and brother. the only common variable here is my brother, but he's cool - cynical, fed up with the world, and antsy...just like me. who knows? maybe we'll end up getting into the mother of all snowball fights in the next few days. (this is just a bad idea at my dad's house, as we have a raging creek, which happens to resemble more of a violent river, right behind our house. our fun and games would likely lead to us plummeting to our untimely deaths.) i guess this whole snowstorm thing is good for me though. i always bemoan the lack of seasons out in california, so this giant dose of shit weather should suffice for the next year. perhaps i'll gain a greater appreciation for our stagnant bouts of sunshine with intermittent periods of rain. actually, it rained a lot last year, and rain is just annoying. need i go into this? i think not. on a sidenote, my mom got me an automatic umbrella for christmas. (honestly, the damn thing is still in the package so i have no idea what this whole "automatic" business is, but it sounds wicked awesome.) hey - i might just bust it out the next time a monsoon rolls through palo alto. alright, fine...i guess my school does have seasons, but they're WEAK.

i'm probably complaining so much because i'm already tired of sitting at home. lucky for me, however, my friend has a giant truck that he's going to drive over soon and take me sledding or something. i hate the lack of freedom though, and having to rely on all these other people. but i guess when you've been dealt an '88 acura legend with a failing transmission and brakes that only work about half the time, you can't be a chooser. that's right. i've been relegated to begger status.

so not to put a damper on things, but i do go back to school on the 8th of january, and every time i think about it it feels like i've gotten the wind knocked out of me. it's not that school's all that bad. it's both interesting and easy most of the time. but the monotany of my life and the awkward, obsessive compulsive kids out there grate on me constantly, and that's what i'm really not looking forward to. yet this does inspire random trips to disneyland, burbank, tahoe, and various parts of the wine country up north, so i guess my boredom has led to a little more worldliness on my part. hahahahahah. (not really.) but hey - i'll be in europe for an entire year shortly, and this is what keeps me going.

well, i feel as though i've ranted long enough, and though i've barely gotten anything out of my system, it's probably best for me to stop doing more damage to my character. i love this whole blog thing. reading over these posts, i feel like such an asshole sometimes...

(_________)

2006-12-22T22:34:00.000-08:00

exists in the mind of the dreamer at heart
who knows not only to go
who takes sheer ambition a world apart
and never exists just to know

rediscovered through hidden treasure and note
beyond the grasp of a hand
that muses on words of letters it wrote
buried on unforeign land

riding on whirlwinds of a too distant place
the better, the farther it's grown
for only a gorgeous, spectacular case
exists in a far-fetched unknown

why most of the world can just suck it

2006-12-11T18:17:00.000-08:00

It’s funny how most people choose to live – in the constant pursuit of trying to be “cool” and maintaining some artificial front that they seem to feel will lure others towards the lie that they’ve perpetuated since they were old enough to become aware of their sexual identities. It’s like the boisterous, eager girl sitting next to someone in class and wondering aloud, “Everyone says I look so adorable today; I don’t know why…” in her feigned naiveté. Fishing for complements under the guise of innocence; merely a lack of sophistication is all that it is. And then upon glancing back, only because she has her thick legs sprawled out, frantically kicking the seat in front of her, it’s obvious why her manner is so contrived. It’s people who overuse the newest jargon of our generation. People who talk or make pointless noises to fill silences. People who conform to a stereotype or decide on a new favorite color because they’re now “part of a group”, and suddenly, finally, have an “identity”. It’s people who shift the blame and all of their hang-ups onto others, because they haven’t the spine to buck up to their obligations, and lack a certain intelligence that comes with acknowledging their mistakes. It’s the people who propagate petty rumors in the hopes that they can continue to lie to themselves and others. Maybe the truth will rise to the surface some day, but for now, it’s really more amusing to sit back and see what people are truly capable of.

matt's away message

2006-10-30T19:49:00.000-08:00

"When a 60 year old man hits on your friend it makes your day
Me: im so glad old ladies arent horny like dirty old men
KW: i know!!!
Me: man that would be disturbing to have a 60 yr old hit on me
KW: i know
Me: thank god for menopause
KW: i know
Me: you're fucked they created viagra
KW: i know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: so girls have to endure humiliating episodes with old men
Me: ttyl
KW: bye
KW: i'll call you
Me: just know that you made my day very special by being you :-)
KW: fuck you matthew anthony berggren
Me: c u later katie :-)
KW: yeah, i'm running you over with the golf cart when i see you
Me: hahahaha im laughing so hard
Me: i love being friends with you so much
Me: this is just so classic, so amazing im speechless
KW: lol well anyways. i really have to get this shit done so i'll see you around 3
Me: can you wear a cheerleader costume for me so you look younger
KW: shut your face"

never a dull moment...

matt and i were supposed to take the company golf cart out for a little spin today, but the office of continuing studies had a last minute emergency, and, well...our plans were foiled!!!!! i guess we'll just have to wreak havoc another day. but it's not as though our lives lack every last ounce of excitement on this suffocating campus - i got to watch the fool pound down a 4x4 at in 'n out at one in the morning yesterday/today.

sorry this was pitiful. more on life later. maybe i'll post a picture or something.

life update...

2006-08-24T13:15:00.000-07:00

...cuz i'm still alive. i've just been racing around at quadrillions of miles per hour, so maybe that's why i've seemed to disappear. so life has been goooooooooood. my actual life, that is. now my life away from life, (i.e. work) that's another story. i've been completely owned by my job, as i've worked closing shifts every day for about the last week. the plus side to it is that i get to minimize my time working with people; however, i'm stuck working late into the night performing ridiculously mindless tasks: folding and sizing clothes. women in this country are absolutely ridiculous. and honestly, "closing down" the store is a pretty moot point. by 11am the next morning the store looks like it's been hit by a huge, gnarly tornado. is it that hard to NOT voraciously tear clothes down from the walls and then carelessly fling them back up in your hurry to grab your next plus size pair of pants? apparently not. oh well. i changed my availability so hopefully things'll smooth over. my last day will probably be in about three weeks anyway. LIFE though. hmmm. i don't really have any big adventures to tell of at the moment, just small insignificant things that mean a lot to me. OH!!!!!!! i finally went to the pancake house and got my chocolate chip pancakes with extra whipped cream - my FAVORITE breakfast in the world. now, i'm not really a breakfast girl, per se, but those chocolate chip pancakes really do it for me. with a side of home fries of course. i need the salty after all that sweetness. other than that, though, there's nothing else i want to say.

ah...iowa.

2006-07-20T19:34:00.000-07:00

a land defined by the rolling hills of corn and scattered pastures of cows. and although i can do just fine on my own without the sheep shearing, pig castrating, and lackadaisical drivers for 51 weeks out of the year, it was none other than IOWA that captured my heart and spirit for about the past six days or so. but now that i've finally made my way back to civilization, i can only look back with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia, anxiously anticipating my return to a hub of america's obesity epidemic and the ghetto fab youth of the eastern plains. my voyage began on a wednesday, as i stepped on board a small 28 passenger plane, where my brother and i were placed in seats in the back row and right next to the lavatory. fortunately, we entertained ourselves by sharing his headphones and dancing to the musical styles of queen and the rolling stones. we promptly corrected ourselves when we landed, however, as neither gays nor brits were acceptable any longer. (cedar rapids is for farmers, czechs, and germans.) upon arriving, we made our way to one of the state's seven burger kings - just to ease the transition. yes, sacrilege, you may think, as iowans are heavy supporters of local businesses, but we flocked with the best of them to the nearest red lobster round about suppertime. the chronology of things is a bit of a blur, but i do remember a lot of rigorous games of dominoes and cards, the subsequent taunting of my grandma - she's ruthless when it comes to mexican train - and then...the old folk. come on though. being that iowa is the florida of the midwest, it must be a pretty happening place. there's even a store of scantily clad grannies at the water park in waterloo (oh, those iowans - a witty bunch). and although i threw up in my mouth a little at the time, the sight of an 80 year old woman in a bikini is admirable in its own right. probably my favorite day, though, was when we took the boat out onto the lake and went tubing. not only did my cousin and i get our tans on, but we also got to zip by the hot cliff divers, baring almost all of it, whipping around off the back of the boat on the "exterminator" tube. it was swell. so was my sunburn. i'll spare the rest of the gory details of the trip, but all in all, i really did have an amazing time. i need to be yanked back into that alternate reality once in awhile in order to stay sane. i mean, come on. iowa has fireflies, and that's just magical in and of itself. on a side note, as callie and i lay awake talking one night in the living room, we noticed that a certain firefly was buzzing around the room, lighting up occasionally, and producing some pretty cool effects. we killed it. sadly, i left the hawkeye state this past tuesday, and although we missed our first flight by a hair (our little side trip to get some good ol' iowan pork tenderloins got a little off track) we all got to ride back first class to home sweet home.

2006-06-08T23:10:00.001-07:00

me and tyler...

2006-06-08T23:10:00.000-07:00

...and me and matt

because i'm a little all over the place -

2006-05-29T01:15:00.000-07:00

and very tired/fed up to say the least. it's been a long night. make that weekend. it was fun though - i had a visitor and my friends tyler and matt and i took him into san francisco. but still, everything was crazy nonetheless. i don't even know what to write about anymore. the point behind starting this blog was to have some sort of place where i could get all of my thoughts out. albeit in a screwed up sort of way. i wasn't sure if i wanted anybody to read them, but at this point, it's getting harder and harder for me to write here. i feel like i don't want everybody getting inside my head. i feel like all of my attempts to be poetic or philosophical are just misconstrued as me trying to sound intellectual and failing miserably. i don't know any of you. not a single person who is reading this. most of my friends don't even know about this site. it's just a bunch of random, semi-curious people who somehow ended up here. but whatever. since i feel like writing, i'm going to bombard everyone with my random, nonsensical thoughts. i really want someone to make a movie on either led zeppelin or ac/dc, and i really want to have a starring role in it. i know i'm not a dude or a rockstar (although i'm working on the latter - rockstar, that is), but i could be the love interest or something. i'd totally be with any one of those rockstar guys. i also realized today just how hot layne staley was (alice in chains). why did he have to kill himself? i could have made him happy. well...nevermind that. i also realized recently, just how OLD my little brother is. he's always been so little to me, even though he's now 6'2"-ish - the huge motherfucker. but he's 16 now. i always took his age for granted. i remember feeling all high and mighty when i was 12, but he's always been little no matter what. well, now he's old. i did something crazy a few weeks ago that i wanted to write about, but i'm totally spacing it. weird, you would think i would remember something that's "oh, so crazy," but no. not me. oh. i think i flashed all of white plaza the other day. in fact i know i did. this needs no further explanation. i just don't want to think about it. this was awhile ago, but i was thinking recently how well i rocked a pillow case at a toga party. i don't know how, but i mangaged to pass a pillow case off as a toga. it was a very skimpy toga, but it worked. my favorite laughs in the world are the whistle-y laughs that old guys do. usually drunken sometimes bummish old guys. it makes me laugh. it just dawned on me that i like to make up new words. and as much as i hate over-exagerated sneezing, wimpy sneezes just piss me off. it's just like, come on. stop trying to be so cute. fucking sneeze, damn it. oh. i signed about twenty guys' bare asses earlier this evening. it was interesting. they gave me love letters as well. the perks of pledge quarter i guess. i’m tired of FREAKIN’ school, yo. why can’t it just be summer? i mean…why? this is just unnecessary. finally, may i just end with the fact that saxophones fuck songs over. thank you.

just to pass the time

2006-05-23T02:13:00.000-07:00

here are some pictures from boat dance a couple weeks ago - i forgot to include the episode in my little list, so you can just see a few of our wonderful kodak moments. but yes, i am waiting for tyler the mastermind to edit my ten page research paper. i have not slept in two days. i wrote a fifteen page paper last night. we even filmed the sunrise in here last night! this is the most tired i have ever been. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. seriously, i just typed a bunch of z's. who does that? only an insanely tired person. i'm going to depart. my arms are shaking right now. (that's how tired i am.) and i just sneezed. excuse me.

2006-05-23T02:04:00.000-07:00

boat dances are certainly not complete without some nice refreshments

2006-05-23T02:03:00.000-07:00

dancing the night away in stilettos and a boat that's a-rockin

2006-05-23T02:02:00.000-07:00

we brought the scandal to the boat, mary and i did. well not really. we're just dorks. but they loved us.

2006-05-23T01:59:00.001-07:00

looking very trendy - like we're about to board a boat

a list of crazy adventures

2006-05-21T03:12:00.000-07:00

i would elaborate but i'm insanely tired and there's too much to say. i figured i might as well get to it soon though before i forget. here you go:

i went to pasta pomodoro and found a huge mosquito eater thing in my salad - i almost ate it. ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! i saw kinsey, exorcism of emily rose, and mission impossible 3 (tonight). we had our capsizing unit in sailing - "beRn" pulled a "cat-crawl" and completely flipped our boat, trapping herself under it inside the air pocket for about five minutes - i think i might expand on this later actually. we snuck into the pool to jump off the 10m high dive. i got stuck up there for a half hour while the cops circled the pool once my friends had ditched me. yeah. then matt and i got chased back by the squad car on our bikes. (we lost them.) i dressed like a prostitute - seriously - for exotic erotic, our annual playboy-ranked lingerie party. it was quite the awkward experience, but pretty fun once i was trashed enough. oh! i made my first ebay purchase. this actually took place during kinsey. and let me tell you...online bidding can be quite the adventure. woo! i mean, those final few moments...intense. we had to pause the movie whilst i focused all of my energy towards the computer screen. but i pulled through. and kicked major ass. but the dick weasels haven't sent me my ring (which is what i bought) yet! i am not too pleased with the entire thing. i may just have to be dealing out some negative feedback pretty soon here. it can be a real killer. this evening at the 750 pub i ordered a piece of chocolate mousse cake. i was quite ecstatic until i bit into it and it tasted like garlic. i thought it was my own imagination though, as my biking adventure to jack in the box earlier in the day also proved disastrous (foodwise). i therefore ate nearly the entire piece before forcing matt and tyler to try it. once they both gagged we took it up and found out that the cake had been stored in the spice refrigerator. it was terrible! i didn't get to enjoy my cake! oh, and there is a mugger on the loose. several people have been robbed at gunpoint on the street right outside my dorm over the past few weeks. i can't help but look at everybody suspiciously anymore. muggers know no one identity. they are not bounded by race, creed, gender, sexual orientation, or otherwise. you've gotta be careful out there - travel with a buddy. anyways, i'm tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiired! i am. i want to sleep. but i have to get up early tomorrow :-( life is so chaotic nowadays. and matt is bothering me on instant messaging now. i am trying to write. but i have some knicknames now.

snippets of our conversation:

AAthedudeabides (3:27:12 AM): well thank you for your input
AAthedudeabides (3:27:36 AM): i mean you're the expert, after we couldnt find it i enacted plan consult kaitlin the conqueror
hotdamirok (3:27:49 AM): is that what i am now?
hotdamirok (3:27:50 AM): in the phone
AAthedudeabides (3:28:23 AM): lol no, that's not your name
AAthedudeabides (3:28:31 AM): i havent come up with one that is fitting enough
AAthedudeabides (3:34:43 AM): a few went through my head:
Kaitlin the Pirate
Kaitin the Conqueror
Blue Eyes Blue
Jaded Princess
(Wo)man in the box
and of course "Simply Mcdonalds"
hotdamirok (3:35:03 AM): haha. i like the last two
hotdamirok (3:35:23 AM): can i be simply mcdonalds?

AAthedudeabides (3:36:30 AM): can i be something cool in your phone
AAthedudeabides (3:36:34 AM): like: The Dude
hotdamirok (3:36:46 AM): you are not being the dude
AAthedudeabides (3:36:47 AM): or Matt 'this buds for u'
hotdamirok (3:36:48 AM): that's cliche
hotdamirok (3:36:51 AM): gross
AAthedudeabides (3:37:07 AM): back home im known as the dude
hotdamirok (3:37:15 AM): well sux for you then
hotdamirok (3:37:22 AM): because here in my phone
hotdamirok (3:37:23 AM): you are not
AAthedudeabides (3:37:25 AM): lol
AAthedudeabides (3:40:50 AM): can i be Matt the Mexicant
hotdamirok (3:40:58 AM): haha ok
AAthedudeabides (3:41:02 AM): sweet

so now i am simply mcdonalds. and matt is matt the mexicant. goodness gracious me!

well goodnight people of the world!

things that have made me happy today (thus far):

2006-05-10T16:49:00.000-07:00

a close miss bicycle accident and the awkward moments following it, yelling matches between the construction workers on our campus, the horrified look on an old lady’s face because of them, a guy with a prosthetic leg trolopping through white plaza (okay, that’s bad), a girl with a huge bag and a yoga mat wiping out on the stairs, a guy with two broken legs riding a bike with a weird hand pedaling device, and the dirty look a little man gave me as i waited for him to cross the street (perhaps he felt rushed).

in retrospect, i’m a horrible person. but can i help it if the hilarity of this world amuses me? maybe i’m trying to dismiss this place, or maybe it’s just that i’m not taking it seriously. my fortune cookie message today read, “sow seeds of love and you reap a harvest.” well i reaped a shitstorm last time around, so when i’m plowing my fallow fields i’ll still be giggling from atop my tractor.

more than a feeling

2006-05-07T17:33:00.000-07:00

So…sailing. The feeling was affirmed alright. But I was wrong about it. Quite wrong. For starters, I never thought that when I squeezed into a shitty sedan with five other people that I would have one of the nastiest experiences of my life. It was a hot day, and as luck would have it, the car windows were broken so that they wouldn’t roll down. But this kid had air conditioning. Everything was going to be okay. Or so I thought. I was even on the side, near the window, so that one of the a.c. vents hit me directly in the face. I was chatting away with some kid I had met a couple months before, when all of a sudden, I got blasted in the face with this white, dusty looking stuff. It only took one more time for this to happen, and the sight of the kid who was driving scratching his shaggy, as I would soon find out, unconditioned hair to know what was going on. Yeah. Every time this kid would touch his head (which was about once every 30 seconds, probably because it was so freakin itchy) I would get showered in a whirlwind of dead skin flakes carried over to me on the breeze of the air conditioner that was aimed directly at my head. Ugh. It’s gross even writing about this. It was literally sheets of dandruff flying directly at my face, and there was nothing I could do about it but gag, cover my nose and mouth, and sport the most horrified, scrunched up face imaginable. After all, I couldn’t ask him to roll down a window – they were BROKEN – and I couldn’t lean the other way, as there were three other people crammed in the back seat. I had to endure dandruff, stray hairs, and even a BUG for the entire twenty minute drive over. It was absolutely hellacious. I can’t help but wonder what the kid sitting next to me was thinking, when I stopped talking as soon as I figured out what was going on and started choking in my small corner of the car. Things started looking up when we arrived at the boathouse, however. I sprinted out of the car and proceeded to get ready for my encounter with the pirates. Didn’t quite happen, because I had to share a boat with a husband and wife team from the grad school. So because they were selfish pricks, I spent a majority of the time riding around in the motor boat, which was awesome. I actually had a lot more fun doing that, but for the last ten minutes of class I had to share the boat with the husband, who refused to let me till, because HE had sailed before back home in the south. I mean, why the fuck are you even taking the class if you’re such an expert? He was one of those know-it-all bastards who felt the need to coach me throughout the entire process. A typical conversation between me and Mr. America consisted of:

“Hey! Am I makin’ ya nervous?! Heh heh!” (while turning the boat up onto its side)
“Haha, a little bit.”
“Oh! Haha! I’ll go a little easier! Haha!”
“Haha. Okay!” (despite the fact that it’s not even fun if you don’t run the risk of capsizing the motherfucker. come on, I needed some excitement after all I was allowed to do was pull on two ropes.)

2 minutes later

“Oh! Aha ha! Am I making you nervous again?!” (again putting the boat on its side)
“Just a little.”
“Oh! Well, you see, I won’t let us fall in. I don’t want to get wet. HA HA!!!”

And the result of all of this tomfoolery was that I got absolutely drenched in nasty salt water, something which has never happened with my fellow beginners. But somehow this bigshot managed to do it. That, AND he steered me away from the pirates. (He knows we would have made him walk the plank.)

And the irony of all of this, is that I had to bum a ride back to school with him because I refused to step foot in the car with the nasty scalp kid again.

my mind's a-racin'! (that sounded idiotic)

2006-05-05T11:30:00.000-07:00

first of all, pi phi pacific was a ton of fun. that’s where all of these pictures are from, and i posted a few more below of me and my date :-) second of all, i can sink nine cups in beirut, and if i follow your "sink", i’ll get it into your cup as well. third, i’ve been having really bizarre dreams lately. following closely, however, is the fact that i can’t sleep because i have possibly the worst cough imaginable and it’s keeping me up ALL night. (with random little dream breaks.) maybe it’s this nasty combination that’s giving me horrible headaches and preventing me from distinguishing reality from dreamland. 5th, happy cinco de mayo!!! also, i had to wash my bicycle yesterday because it’s become infested with spiders and caterpillars (those mangy little bastards are turning into goddamn moths now), and that will just not do. i even had a spider egg sack on my tire and i was terrified that it would hatch and all the little spiders would come and attack me. THEN, when matt was hosing off my bike, cuz i was scared (but I helped a little), he found another one under my bike seat. this is just too much for me to handle!!! and then we have the huge mosquito hawks flying everywhere. i know they’re supposed to be the good guys of the bug world, but they’re just so disgusting. and they’re absolutely everywhere. i couldn’t do my homework the other night because there was one flying around my head and i kept on having to get up and move. and if you’ve heard random shrieks from the girl’s bathroom, that’s probably me too. they like to hide out in there and then they make a run (or a fly) at you when you’re brushing your teeth! and speaking of bikes, i need to take mine into the repair shop because it's being a little bitch and the brakes are always partially pushed in, so i have to pedal four times as hard. so be prepared, because when i do, and you see me speed demoning by, you can rest assured that the streets will once again be unsafe. finally, i found out last week that i have a crooked pinky! well, it’s not really crooked, it just kind of bends in a weird way when i curl my fingers. i discovered this during a guitar lesson, when i had a particularly difficult time reaching the 15th fret. the world isn’t fair. fortunately, i cope, and i found a different way to position my hand. or rather, it was my tEaCh that did! anywayssssssssssssssssss i have revealing picnic right now (oooooh, sounds scandalous, no? well, no actually. but i get to find out who my BIG is!!!!!) i’m excited. and then i have SAILING!!! i have a feeling about today. i’m not quite sure what that feeling is, but i’ll let you know about it later. perhaps it could signify me crashing the boat again, OR…….sailing off into the sunset and joining a band of pirates. i’m convinced it’s the latter. so AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH! here’s my final farewell maties: farewell :-D

2006-05-05T11:29:00.001-07:00

me and dominic.

2006-05-05T11:29:00.000-07:00

haha, i look so evil in this picture.

2006-05-04T11:05:00.000-07:00

me and mykella whom i love so dearly.

2006-05-04T10:00:00.000-07:00

you can't have this...you just can't!

2006-05-04T09:58:00.000-07:00

me and mary sunshine. notice the foot pop? (if it were'nt for my gigantic feet, it might actually look cute)

2006-05-04T09:57:00.000-07:00

me and my gUrL jen looking mighty fine, considering that the night has most definitely worn on us.

smooth sailing

2006-04-28T00:48:00.000-07:00

yeah. right. not only did we come close to capsizing our boat about twenty times, leading to the collection of a huge puddle of water that we had to sit in for an hour and a half, but i also got hit in the head with the motherfucking boom countless times as well. it was a ton of fun though. we laughed the entire time we were banging our knees and lacerating our hands with the ropes. i also ran into the side of another boat when it was my turn to till. (i think that means steer – i haven’t quite gotten the sailing lingo down yet. i’m working on it.) it was pretty intense. i think i may have gotten whiplash from sailing today. i've also got a ton of knarly bruises to accompany the badass one on my shin from the barricade. remember that? the boats are getting out of control…we’re now sailing with the main sails, whereas before we just worked with the jibs (the smaller ones), so now they’re moving insanely fast. so is my life nowadays. i had to race back and get to the “poetrython” in white plaza and read a bunch of stuff i had written. it was so nerve-racking!!! i was so scared, especially since i felt like such a dumbass reading a bunch of poetry i wrote three years ago. i had decided that everything that was more recent was a little too close to home, so i read all my cutesy little girl stuff. i felt like a sadistic dr. seuss, as my poems were all awkwardly depressing. i was in a huge rush to pick stuff out though, so i didn’t realize it when i grabbed all my stuff. i had to read for twenty minutes too – it was hard!!! oh, and “white trash bowling” last night…amazing. i rocked the beer, the music, and the axl look. i even had his michelle tattoo. (i’m guessing that’s who it is…?) apparently i listen to white trash music too because i knew every song that came on. we partied at sigma chi and then went over to the bowling alley with them, so now i’m “ms. hardcore” because i kicked ass in triathlon, or just played too much, and then rocked out to the music. even more awkward is that i’m probably the shyest girl in pi phi, but stick me in my element (which is apparently quite trashy) and i’m down.

addenum

2006-04-23T17:06:00.000-07:00

i just found out that the crowbar things are called billy sticks. just thought i'd share...the more you know.

2006-04-22T17:08:00.000-07:00

kid being arrested. when: 4:00 in the afternoon; why: protesting george bush; how: dragged across the pavement and tackled by two armed policemen; where: stanford university, united states of america...

2006-04-22T17:06:00.000-07:00

kid being dragged across pavement

2006-04-22T17:05:00.001-07:00

my new friend - we grew quite close throughout the afternoon

2006-04-22T17:05:00.000-07:00

this is what democracy looks like

2006-04-22T17:04:00.000-07:00

more policemen called in for back up

2006-04-22T17:03:00.000-07:00

bush protest

hi!

2006-04-22T15:59:00.000-07:00

i'm a bit bored right now, and kind of at a loss for what to do...so i thought i'd write to you! you're probably having a lot of fun and doing something exciting, and when you're bored, you'll stumble across this. i feel kind of stupid, addressing you like this, so i'm going to stop. goodbye.

anyways...(wow i'm a loser) i just got back from the san francisco museum of modern art. i have a lot of thoughts surrounding the whole experience, but i'll hold back, because that would take way too long. i really do love modern art - i actually went with the modern art class that i'm taking. the day was marked by a quite nostalgic feel, because a lot of the pieces were borrowed by the tate modern a few years back, and i got to see them when i went to london a couple summers ago. actually, it was when i went to the tate that i really became intrigued by modern/abstract art, so the sf moma brought back a lot of the excitement from before. aside from the tour guide bugging the shit out of me, however, i had a wonderful time. it's really interesting, because i've been reading a lot of art reviews and essays lately, and we even touched upon the subject today, but art really does affect people. not really to the same extent today (or maybe just not through the same mediums); but especially at the turn of the century when new art forms and methods were coming into play, people really became outraged and threatened by a lot of what they saw. certain exhibitions were cancelled, various works were censored, etc. there was even one guy who brought a urinal to display in his own art show and the whole show was called off because the very act of him producing it was bombastic to the public eye. i can't help but think that perhaps just a small part of him was trying to be a smartass, but that's just my hopeful and immature mind wandering. it's funny though, because it shocked people when someone came forth and broke the mold. funnier still, is that "breaking the mold" was painting in unbounded colors and forms. think about it - people were so much more innocent back then! i've had a hard time drawing the line in my mind, though, between innocense, ignorance, and conformity. there's a part of me that wants to be innocent. i want to be shocked by a toilet! it's neat that it didn't used to take all that much. i think i would have liked living back then because i love being shocked so much. then again, maybe not so much shocked, as surprised. surprises are the best. yet i don't ever want to be ignorant or a conformist. but now stuff like that is commonplace, and just think how much more it now takes. perhaps snuff films and child porn are our modern day toilets. okay, that was extreme, and i don't mean to be crass, but i hope it's clear what i'm trying to say. i don't want to talk about this anymore.

i had something else i wanted to say but i forgot what it was. so.......i'll tell you about my mad guitar playing skills. (nathan - if you are reading this, please feel free to vouch for me ;-) i now know parts of TWO iron maiden songs (aces high and phantom of the opera), and i pretty much kick some harmonious ass. (because there's a lot of harmony in them and it sounds wicked awesome.) you'll just have to hear one of these days. i missed my lesson yesterday though because i was at a protest. good ol' georgy w decided to visit our campus to consult some of our economic advisors so our central campus was shut down. it was pretty intense though. they had the entire santa clara police force dressed in riot gear, swat team members all over the place, and snipers on the roofs, among other things. there were a bunch of helicopters flying overhead as well - i'm guessing one of them was marine one. there were people gathered all around where he was supposed to meet, which logically would have covered all possible routes into the building, yet needless to say, no one saw him. apparently there's a secret entrance into hoover tower though, which is where he supposedly had his meeting, so perhaps he went in that way. or maybe he went through the steam tunnels! hell, if i were president, that's the way i'd do it! it was scary, though - all the police were in a line with their huge samurai-looking sword crowbar things (i don't know what they're called). when we refused to get out of the street though, they shoved us back yelling, "MOVE BACK! MOVE BACK!" i was in the front, so i got to get shoved with one of the crowbars. it was pretty awesome - highlight of my day. i was really hoping to get arrested - seriously, that would have been an awesome story! three kids did, too, for refusing to move out of the way from some firetruck so they got dragged across the pavement kicking and struggling, strapped into some sort of plastic handcuff device, and driven away. the whole thing went quite overboard. then another line of police came in with teargass, paintball guns, and sandbag guns. not gonna lie...i was REALLY hoping for the teargass. that would have made this story so much better. i did get hit with a metal barricade though! again, i was in the front, so i got in on the action, but one of the guys put it up and nailed me in the shin. it was so sad though - he was so serious until that happened, and then he was very quick to say "i'm sorry!" in a really genuine tone. he was an old guy too so i felt bad. lol. anyways, i have pictures from my phone that i can post, but i had someone take some actual photos, including some of me with the crowbar guys, so hopefully he'll send them and you can see those.

anyways, my hands and eyes are tired, and i really want to go do something fun, so i've gotta go. but thanks for reading this far! i tend to ramble.

kaitlin's flip flop fund

2006-04-19T00:20:00.000-07:00

due to the recent loss of my brand new black flip flops, i am starting a flip flop fund. yes, as pathetic as this may sound, indeed, it is a flip flop fund. you see, round about last summer...oh, say june...julyish?...my wonderful pair of black flip flops we're unexpectedly devoured by a dog. this posed a huge problem for me, as i wore my beloved black flip flops everywhere. they went with everything - swimsuits, dresses, a nice pair of slacks. hence, in my dutiful effort to rectify this great devastation, i searched the stores far and wide, scourging the racks for a brand new pair. but no. did i find those flip flops i so desparately needed? i think not. as the year progressed, the weather grew colder, and i began to don warmer shoes. the flip flops were pushed to the back of my mind for the time being. but as spring approached, they once again made their way to the forefront of my concerns, and my tireless efforts yielded a nice, shiny pair of reefs at a quaint little store in a local new york shopping mall. but lo and behold, as fate would have it, i happened to lose this pair of flip flops in the commotion that was unofficial bid night, not four weeks after i had purchased my lovely pair of thongs. shocking, i know. so why not simply venture out into the fully-equipped, california board shops and grab me another brand new pair? i'll tell you why not! you see, as of a few days ago, i am literally broke. people. read: LITERALLY BROKE. thus, in one last feeble attempt to make it through the year without having to be a multi-colored flip flop clad hussy (for that is all i have as of now), i am starting a special fund. a charity, so to speak, to raise the money that i need to buy some new shoes. if any of you would be so kind as to send $1 - that's right! ONE DOLLAR - to the following address, i would be most grateful. seriously, it only takes a dollar on your part, and it will make a world of difference to me:

PO Box 14751
Stanford, CA 94309

and if nothing else, wouldn't it be just loads of fun to participate in my little thought experiment? come on people, i constantly prostrate myself in front of you each time you visit this page. is one dollar (4 quarters!) so much to ask? i trust you'll do the right thing.

regards,
kaitlin

yOu CaN rEaD mY jOuRNaL!!! tEe-HeE!

2006-04-06T23:50:00.000-07:00

Wow. I can’t believe I’m finally in New York. The plane ride was only a little horrible – I thought I had overcome all of my air sickness earlier on, but the turbulence was a bit much for me at times. Nothing I couldn’t handle though. I amused myself with the shitty in flight network, which really wasn’t shitty at all considering it was a PLANE, or even shitty in comparison because I really haven’t watched t.v. at all for the past 12 weeks. But I like to call it shitty. I tried watching The X-Files and Popeye the Sailor Man, but then had to settle for some relaxing computer games. Including Space Cadet Pinball, serenaded by The Who’s Pinball Wizard. I’m sure Tyler’s probably thinking I’m a freak. The guy sitting on the other side of me was a bit crazy as well. He had some ipod he was listening to for the duration of the flight – I was shocked at the fact that the batteries lasted the whole time, especially considering mine (but not really mine) loses a charge after two seconds. I think I broke it. It’s kind of my style. Anyways, he must have been listening to some porn soundtrack or something, because every time I would glance slightly in his direction, perhaps to look out the WINDOW or something along those lines, he would swiftly, but very sneakily, tilt the ipod away from me so that I couldn’t read what it was that he was listening to. There was also another strange man on our flight, who I didn’t see on the plane, but who I had the pleasure of observing in his every day interactions with the workers in the airport bagel shop. He was very distraught that he did not get the right amount of pastrami, or something along those lines, on his bagel, and spent a very long, loud time complaining about it. I think he even attracted a crowd. I had almost forgotten about him on the five and a half hour flight out when we met again at the baggage claim at JFK. People these days! What are ya gonna do with ‘em?! Ahahaha. Hahaha. Haha. Ha…

Oh…ANNNNNNNNND…I added a slideshow to my "putfile" account! PACE, brothas.

p.s. we ended up seeing the pastrami guy in times square. weird…

why i'm ticked off:

2006-04-06T13:38:00.000-07:00

AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!! i'm so angry right now! the people here are kleptomaniacs. i'm already missing a pair of pants, three shirts, and 27 pairs of underwear. okay, not really the underwear, but who knows? some of it could be gone - who keeps track of that stuff? and coincidentally, they were my favorite pair of pants - they were white and pink :-) - and three of my favorite shirts. literally. this is not just me being pissed off. so if you are reading this and it was you who stole my stuff, you are an asshole. go steal from somebody else. and i hope you get soriasis. haha - i just think that's a funny word. but on a serious note, you really do deserve it - an extremely horrible case of it. well...goodbye.

this makes my day...

2006-04-05T13:56:00.000-07:00

"Youth minister smites dodgeball opponent" (courtesy of CNN)

LIBERTY, Missouri (AP) -- A youth minister was charged with assault for allegedly knocking down a 16-year-old boy and kicking him in the groin after taking a head shot from the teen in a dodgeball game.

David M. Boudreaux, 27, was charged Wednesday with one count of third-degree assault. According to court documents, the incident happened in February at Crescent Lake Christian Academy.

Authorities said the teen missed Boudreaux with one throw but then knocked the youth minister's glasses off with the next.

The boy apologized, authorities said, but Boudreaux pushed him backward, and when the teen got up again Boudreaux kicked him in the groin and left.

The teen suffered whiplash and post-concussion syndrome and had blood in his urine after being kicked, according to court records.

Boudreaux later apologized, prosecutors said.

Jeanne D. Hewitt, administrator of Crescent Lake Christian Academy, said Boudreaux had been placed on administrative leave.

i remember it

2006-04-03T02:10:00.000-07:00

lost and confused
my wings are broken
i don't even know how to fly
a worn out feather
will serve as a token
to tears i cannot spare to cry

grounded again
my mind is aloft
my solitude causes this pain
i long to be high
where fears here are soft
for down here i'm caught in the rain

pondering now
my heart seeks reprieves
from troubles that branched out from mine
i grasp to let go
of lost make-believes
and stars that lost sparkle and shine

C.2004

hi again :-D

2006-04-02T01:19:00.000-08:00

Now that I’ve had a whole day to cool off, I think I’ll be able to write with some better perspective. (God, I even called myself a “sod”.) I’m feeling very over the top right now, but it’s probably because I’ve had some sort of blogging withdrawal, which really is quite sad, and this is one of the last times I’ll have so much free time on my hands. So deal, yo. Hence, in an attempt to bring this back down to earth, and to redeem myself, I’ll talk instead about what I did today. But who am I kidding, to think that I need redeeming? I mean, c’mon, I’ll probably just end up getting pissed off again or find something hilariously pathetic to make fun of later on anyway. But that is just the nature of me, Kaitlin, so fuck off or read on.

The day began with me waking up and wandering the halls of my empty dorm. Then, to my great joy, I found someone to drive me to In-N-Out where I proceeded to get sickly full of all of that wonderful fast food. It had been way too long. I also made my way over to a track meet and a baseball game. I almost broke down at the track meet, as I stood there, feeling all nostalgic, and pining away for all of the wonderful memories of getting my ass kicked (and touched) throughout the wonderful track practices of yesteryear. But seriously, I really do miss it. I was totally reminded of the crowd, the yelling, the gun, the butterflies, the asphyxiation…and I yearned for it more than ever. Truly, track was my chance to shine. It was my high school claim to fame. I was the track star for sprinting and jumping and shit. And I bet you never knew that. My coach hated me though. I ditched so many practices over the years, particularly throughout my senior year. (Excuses ranged from family deaths to traumatic car accidents.) Despite all of this though, I really did love it, and I want to start running again. I talked to some people, and I found out that I could be a walk on, but my broken leg really set me back. I’m thinking typical. And I’d just like to interject into my little monologue right now and say that I’m listening to The Doors right now, and I really really really want to hear Peace Frog, but I don’t have the bloody song. So I’m pissed. So now I’m listening to Ordinary World. (Think Duran Duran, and suck it hard.) Where was I…I miss the past. I miss the seconds in my life that slipped by while I was dicking around and hating the moment because I was being pushed beyond my limits. But that’s not going to happen anymore. So the baseball game – I froze my ass off. And that’s pretty much all I remember.

Then I saw V for Vendetta for the second time. I have now seen it on two opposite sides of the country. That’s so cool! It was still good. The movie really had it all – a nice dosage of action, a philosophical outlook, the comedic relief, and even a chance for each guy to get his required hard-on when good ol’ Natalie kissed a plastic mask. Damn. Was that hot. I loved the indictment too. You see, High Chancellor Sutler, the extremely religious, conservative prick (ahem…throat clearing…furious coughing – please rest assured that that is the first time I have described a noise that way) and his main advisor, the henchmanish asshole nazi bastard Creedy (rhymes with greedy, eh? Eh?) showed ME the consequences of giving in to the man, and not letting my voice rise above and be heard. Funny thing is, a majority of this country can’t see the beautiful satire that lies within a beautiful action movie filled with beautiful roundhouse kicks and headbutting. No wonder, everyone liked it! Now we’re all friends! And maybe the movie is the reason for my calling myself a sod. You see, the movie was entirely in English accents. (Imagine that!) Except for Natalie Portman, whose linguistic coach made her sound strikingly similar to an Australian stripper (criminals). It was all there though. I felt it. I was even drawn back to stories of my Papa’s British military days where he said things like “diZgusting” (Creedy), and “orrible” (not from the movie, but British military guys rarely pronounce their h’s apparently.) Bollocks!

hey! a leprechaun!

2006-03-18T20:54:00.000-08:00

St. Patrick’s Day was festive – I made my contribution by hanging out with a specific O’Connor. And who would that specifically be, you ask? Justice Sandra Day O’Connor! That’s right people! I got my Irish groove on. And the best part about meeting such an elegant lady was impressing her with my own classy getup…none other than my pj pants and alice in chains shirt :-) But that’s okay. Me and Sandra – we understand each other. We just chilled in the office, knocked a few back in honor of the holiday (it's only right to stop and take a moment to appreciate the meaning of the day), and ate snickerdoodles. And by golly, they were good! Her three manfriends from the secret service weren’t so bad either. My new buddy – Carl - is a whopping 7 feet tall and happens to have a knack for Sudoku. The three of them also found my desk quite comfy, so we all got to know each other pretty well as I made the move to another cubicle in the office. I’m thinking my civic duty has been fulfilled for about the next five years.

Other than that, I tried to avoid corned beef and cabbage at all costs, and satiated my holiday cravings with a nice jr. bacon cheeseburger and the new “number 9 combo”, complete with 10 chicken nuggets and fries, from wendy’s. I mean, c’mon, wendy’s got the red hair and freckles thing goin on – she’s irish, right? It’s that dave guy that makes me question the authenticity of it all...