Such is Life

The Only Blog On The Internet Born Of Tabasco Sauce...

Saturday, December 30

poetry smoetry


Like a drum
my heart beats,
chanting an exotic dance.
unpredictable, unsteadied.
air displaced by the
haunting resound of alone.

Life beats and beats and beats...

Each strike echoes through
what's not
and what should be.
Each echo defeats forgetting;
they pound again--
thoughts pound,
pain throbs.

Life beats and beats and beats...

Sometimes defeaning, sometimes a murmur
but always faltering unnaturally.
Today drumming a dirge, tomorrow a soft tremolo
or war call.
Sometimes bullying red life through me,
Sometimes weakly coaxing it.
An inconsistant drummer.

Life beats and beats and beats...

Like a drum
my heart beats,
its chambers capture the pulse;
traps the rhythm
and becomes trapped
by it.


hm...want another? i do. same author, i believe...

Gurgling in the gutter
Iron bars separate the stream
Dirty water dives down
Streetlights glisten over a cold road.
Why can the sky cry
but I cannot?

Watch the tears, God's cleansing drops
heal the earth, seep through snow.
The dry life, brittle in wind,
Strained by stress--it cracks.
Dust stings, bites, grainy in open wounds
No Rain.

Ominous pain, black beasts linger in the air
smirking down--I look up pleadingly.
No, collapse against unyielding, unforgiving ground.
The weather governs itself.
Cursed thirsty heart opens again
to choke on broken rock.

No humility, No sincerity
No honesty about the woman in the desert.
She does not care
I am not me
We are only lost travelers,
dying dehydrated on a paved prison.

Helpless, Hopeless
the drops drip, streams flow on
time ticks on;
I watch behind the glass.
Hollow eyes reflect into mine.
Sadness beckons.

Loneliness beside me
on top of me
kissing my arms, my shoulders, my neck;
too intimate, too close, too familiar.
Why can this sky cry
but I cannot?

Sunday, December 24

dude santa IS my homeboy

I had a peak of Christmas spirit yesterday! I watched "Elf" while babysitting, and listened to a Ray Charles Christmas cd and James Taylor Christmas. Solid yo. Here is my proof: I wore this shirt I bought for $2.

In other happenings, pretty much our only long-standing "family" tradition ("family" because now it is only ze parentals and me home) is to go see a movie Christmas Eve. I saw Apocalypto (and for some reason just didn't feel like it was a good holiday movie), and last night I went to The Good Shepherd, which was decent butt I would have to explain a lot because my mom doesn't like to wait to find out why--so she constantly asks. We went to Night at the Museum. Holy guacamole. The best part was that my dad didn't say even one word about it during the movie or on the ride home, and when we finally get home he says, "In the movie Theodore Roosevelt carried a 1854 Winchester. Roosevelt shot a 1855 Winchester. That movie wasn't historically correct." Exeunt.

I would like to remind y'all to be home by your curfews because I got a nice talking to last night at like 1:30 am. They said they would call my parents, but didn't. We stopped home, I told my mom, and then told her I was going to get my car from the theatre and would by home by 3am. She was cool with it, and wasn't pissed at all that I got caught taking pictures in a park. Nice. Merry Christmas.

Keep it real. Way real.

Friday, December 22

call me when your sober--evanescence

I woke up this morning, pumped that after a laaaate night of finishing the synthesis essay all i had to do today was get through one more day and then i was FREE. Apparently "freedom" is relative. Suck.

First things first, I walk into my bathroom and there is a note taped to the mirror. Ooh, dangerous. Mom writes notes when she's 1. not slept all night, 2. pissed beyond speech, or 3. needing things from me. It said "Goodmorning!! (good start, i thought) your vacation doesn't start until..." and then she left me a bulleted list of crap to clean. I went home from school and worked more. I am a little bitter. Maybe just because she started the note with "Goodmorning!!" and the outline of a Christmas tree, as if to make me feel better about having my plans cancelled so I could organize dvd's and do random, unnecessary chores while my parents go out for dinner. Whatev. I really don't care that much. I'm just tired. I got pulled into babysitting last minute, so this "break" is a lie. At least so far. I'm planning to change that asap, but first I need to break my addiction to Christmas cookies and get some sleep. I think I'm going to be retarded, though, and go have a lotr marathon after this. Sounds like fun, which is also noticably lacking at the moment in my life. Ideas for fixing that? Anyone?

Tuesday, December 19

2006's top ten albums, says Rolling Stone

1 Modern Times BOB DYLAN
"Thunder on the Mountain" kicks off with a salty old Chuck Berry riff, stretched out into a six-minute lust letter to Alicia Keys, and things only get weirder from there. Dylan hasn't sounded this frisky since John Wesley Harding in 1968, and like that underrated masterpiece, Modern Times is a groove album disguised as a poetry album, leaning hard on the rhythm section. Dylan breathes fire while his current road band beats up on some tough blues and country licks: the Muddy Waters stomp "Rollin' and Tumblin'," the Irish parlor ballad "Nettie Moore" and the mean Slim Harpo strut "Someday Baby," which as an iPod commercial became the closest thing to a hit single he's had since the Traveling Wilburys. Where can he go from Modern Times? Anywhere he goddamn wants.

2 Stadium ArcadiumRED HOT CHILI PEPPERS Love songs, nothing but love songs, across two CDs of encyclopedic variety and explosive verve: Stadium Arcadium, the Chili Peppers' first Number One album, is also a confessional and creative triumph.

3 Rather Ripped SONIC YOUTHTheir mean age now up to forty-eight with thirtysomething troublemaker Jim O'Rourke gone, indie's gray eminences made a light, simple, terse, almost-pop album.

4 Return to Cookie Mountain TV ON THE RADIO This Brooklyn band's major-label debut comes with David Bowie's seal of approval -- the Thin White Duke contributes vocals to "Province."

5 FishscaleGHOSTFACE KILLAHWith crack-rap ascendant, Wu-Tang's iron man dares Young Jeezy to tell everything he knows -- not by showing off fresh slang but by displaying his knowledge of old-school slangin'. As always, Ghost raps on the edge of some kind of breakout or breakdown, but whether revitalizing Bomb Squad freneticism or settling into the ominous luxury of RZA soul, it's the beats that seal the deal.

Mick pointed out to me that B of the D is number one, of course, and I laughed when I read number five because I listened to a rediculous Wu-Tang Clan song recently and definitely like the term "crack-rap ascendant."

In other news today, I had a really fun time at C-ball, or H-ball if i'm politically correct, but still feel the lack of sleep from that night, which never ended. I am also finally felling the Christamas spirit finally! I like Christmas songs, cookies, and movies all of the sudden. We already had our family Christmas for multiple odd reasons, so Christmas is pretty much over for me. However, I am apparently going to Wisconsin for a few days I think to be with extended fam. We'll see. I love the week before Christmas, but I actually really hate Christmas day. I hope I'm not the antichrist. It's seriously not fun at all, and we don't wake up and make incredible cinannamon rolls like SOME bloggers...

Saturday, December 16

Post #49 (Jules, you can have 50)

The best part of Friday was AP Chem. We had a sub who left the room for pretty much the whole hour, so we were bored out of our minds. Finally I got an idea and told Ryan P. that he should go draw a snake on the chalkboard. 15 minutes later, our masterpiece stretched across 3 contiguous chalkboards and included a 3-headed snake holding a flaming shark with its tail over a Weber grill. With a bowl of fruit salad on the side. I thought it was hilarious, but maybe you had to be there.
Friday night I also worked at my church's Christmas play. They decided they wanted to have a dinner theater this year, so myself and a small army of servers worked to serve 400 people from 4:30 to 10:00. It was insane and so exhausting, but really fun. We raised a lot of money for the program my church has recently joined to help the homeless in our area, so it was worth it. Although pretty sure I spilled coffee on someone's chair. And water on the table. And then picked meatballs out of the carpet.
Christmas Ball tonight... I'm sure I'll find plenty to satirize. (Thank you, Mrs. Niemi!) See y'all there.

Sunday, December 10

Stop! You shattered the sausage!

Pretty sure my brother and I just had a frozen-food fight. Now that's hardcore. The fight ended with him jumping out of a cupboard and stabbing me in the side with a frozen pork loin. Good times.
Friday night I went to a random party and we watched Young Frankenstein. I love that movie. My favorite quote: "Hearts and kidneys are tinkertoys!"
I went to another random party last night and ended up acting out "bacon and eggs" and "Greyhound bus" for charades, riding those metal light-up reindeer in someone's yard, lighting a pile of brush with diesel fuel (ok, I personally didn't do that, but I watched), watching AO egg a mailbox (she missed), having sliding contests on a lake and coming up with really bad pickup lines. My personal favorite: "Are you magnetic? 'Cause I can't fight my attraction to you." Oh, and we also fought over a "herpes bottle" of sparkling grape juice. And ate puppy chow.
I think this has been the busiest weekend I've had in a while. I was supposed to be researching colleges, but I guess not.
Hopefully sometime soon I will publish "The Seven Deadly Sins of H-Link," in honor of Mrs. Niemi, but for now I don't have time to blog.

Saturday, December 9

big brother

This is an email from my older bro (who is at college right now), and I thought it was funny. He lives alone 2,000 miles away in Oregon, so for Thanksgiving I made him a thoughtful and practical carepackage of necessary items from target (popcorn seasoning, an elvis magnet, awesome chocolate, and a card). Here's his reply:

What up foo?

So, I'm all like, "I'm checking' my mail yo."
And then I totally checked it.
And then I totally found this little green paper that says I have a delivery.
And then I went to the post office and like totally got like the pAckAge.
And then I like found some nacho cheese amongst other fine products.
You're awfully good to me Julie.
Thank you.
When it comest to people,
you're dynamite.
See you soon.


My family is strange, not gonna lie.

Thursday, December 7

I happen to think the lang essay today was fairly "problematic" and not very "accessible." Oh well. At lunch, Mick told me that George Savile and King Charles II were gay lovers. For the sake of my essay, it's a good thing he was joking...

MY WHOLE FRICKIN MOUTH HURTS. My mouth is not very large, and all four of my wisdom teeth are growing in and making my jaw throb ...dangit. They don't come out for another month.

Tonight Ali, Heather, and I played Chrismas carols for the radiothon to end child abuse. It was exciting. The highlight might have been seeing Ms. Bye from my Washington days clogging with three other women her age before we started to play. Impressive.

I'm scattered in the brain. Or my brain is the scattered one. I don't know. It's been a short week, surprisingly, and yet it feels like I'm constantly barely making deadlines or meeting standards or whatever and always on the verge of collapsing and falling behind. What a crappy feeling. I don't feel like doing ANYTHING school-related, so I don't. As much as I don't know what next year will be, I'm ready. Right now. By the by, I know what I'm doing next year. Assuming I'll get accepted into the U of M this week or next, I'm going to try to get into both the honors program and their journalism program, which is pretty reputable I guess. Otherwise the U of Iowa is apparently pretty awesome for writing. It is Iowa, however, and I really don't see msyelf being satisfied there. Huh. I should, uh, do that.

Saturday, December 2

Artisticality Should be a Word

This is some Julie randomness for you. I was home alone a lot today and feeling too tired to think about stuff and too cold to go to the hockey game. That is where all this came from. My favorite is the first one.

This dark one is the original.

I am not sure what expression this is. I don't think I make it very often though.


That stands for "Thank God No Shave November Is Over."
Newsflash: Dr. Foss is not good-looking. Not "fine." Not even cute. Granted, I'm not sure if the guy who checked my mouth yesterday was Dr. Foss, but he certainly wasn't Dr. Baker. I'll still give him the benefit of the doubt and hold out for the man-god of oral surgery, but I'm less sure he exists now.
Partly because of that AP Lang essay prompt, I started reading Wuthering Heights the other day. Dang. This guy Heathcliff is pretty hardcore. He hangs puppies, murdered his pregnant lover (well, sort of), and has to lock his bedroom door every night because he lives with a guy who wants to kill him and carries around a pistol with a knife attached for this purpose. Oh, and he doesn't shave (or bathe). That must be the reason for all of that.
Anyway, I never knew 19th century literature was so violent. No wonder Emily Bronte had to write under a pseudonym.