The shitty movie to shitty critic ratio is 1:10

I watched Youth in Revolt this weekend with my boyfriend. The weekend was fabulous. The movie? Dry, pretentious and fucking annoying. And so, whenever I watch a bad movie I like to hit up RottenTomatoes to read nasty reviews which are easily my favorite kind of reviews. Why? Because I thrive on hatred? No. Because I like it when people agree with me.

Anyways I couldn't help but notice the numerous times a critic has name dropped Holden Caulfield in reference to any other rebellious youth in the history of rebellious youths. Quote: your average Holden Caulfield fanatic will find his tale fun


So in the name of any proper Catcher in the Rye defender, I have to say what the fuck. Seriously? It's offensive but most of all it's just lazy. I'm not going to get into details about why Micheal Cera's turd-faced character is nothing like The Catcher in the Rye's but if movie critics are going to claim to be writers than they should start acting like them. That means referring to literary characters with a level of intelligence beyond Spark Notes. You wouldn't write about how fans of Lolita will find the pedophile in Little Children familiar so don't fuck up with Holden Caulfield.

What I'm saying is if Nick Twisp is Holden Caulfield than that little black dog really is Albert Camus.

gay

This blog post was going to be about summer updates but you know what I feel like writing about? EFFING DYKES

Can somebody please explain to me why I love this website so much? Why do I have such a blast reading about this promiscuous lesbian?

I was thinking it had something to do with that weird study they did a while ago where scientists (probably gay, btw) found out homophobes were secretly turned on by man on man action.

But I'm not a homophobe.

I root for gay people in the way that I root for any minority group struggling for human rights.
I mean...

I don't LOVE THE GAYS because I'm SOOOOO OPEN MINDED AND OMG I HAVE A BEST GAY FRIEND WHO DOES MY HAIR AND GIVES ME SHOPPING TIPS AND IS SASSY AND AMAZING AND HE'S MINE AND I OWN HIM OH AND LESBIANS ARE COOL TOO EVEN THE ONES I DRUNKENLY KISS AT PARTIES BECAUSE GUYS FIND IT HOT.

where was I...

Oh yeah. Anyways this isn't about her being gay...actually it is. Mostly, she's hilarious and a great writer and is a pro at finding cool pictures on the internet to enhance posts. But I know a secret part of me is fascinated by this lifestyle that I will never be a part of. She loves women so much...it's flattering! Krista talks about fucking and fantasizing about women. But she's a girl, so it's not disgusting or piglike. This is not a double standard because effing dykes talks about women in a way that straight girls WISH straight men would talk about women. Is that confusing?



What I'm saying is...it's nice to be worshiped and awe-inspiring and desired and loved. So... much love to those who love.

sticks in the throat

Me: I had this really great gelato at WholeFoods the other day, it was AWESOME.

Bear: Wait, what? Like, the women's shoe?

Me:....Not stiletto. Gelato.

yuck

I don't know how I feel about this. There is nothing religious or too tree hugging about this aspect of my personality. I just feel really uncomfortable when I think about it.

I'm talking about killing bugs.

Don't get me wrong. I hate bugs. I think they're gross and creepy and if they weren't a significant part of our ecosystem and the earth's biodiversity I would be fine if they didn't exist. However, there is something unsettling about squishing a bug. I'm KILLING IT! I am ENDING IT'S LIFE. And sometimes I can't seem to shake that.

I mean, we can't be THAT arrogant to possibly think that it's okay to end a life just because they're gross. Right?

I don't know.
They are gross

in due time

Everyone is saying how boring summer is, but I feel like there's not enough time at all. I'm going to the motherland (GUATE) for a month, and that only leaves me with, well, a month more of "real" at-home summer. And this is a summer of stressful tense macroeconomic classes, so it feels like even less time. It's not like I'm entertained every second, but every time I have the opportunity to be bored, it feels kind of nice. I wonder if this is what all the rest of the summers of my life will be. I'm not complaining (ok maybe just a little bit) but it seems strange to think about. Basically, no longer will I be lounging around all summer, looking ahead into three months of complete nothingness. This is both good and bad. Mostly good, I guess.

To drive home this point, "There Is Never Enough Time," by The Postal Service:

In due time/We'll finally see/There's barely time/For us to breathe

leather-bound books and rich mahogany!

This makes me so sad.
For real, my bookcase (besides my clothes, of course) is the only thing in my bedroom that I even really consider mine, or representative of me. I don't think of my room as my room, really, it's just a place I stay in for now until I go back to school. Not that my dorm room is any homier...I just feel like it's too much effort (and too small a space) to try and make my room my own. Sure, I have posters on my walls, but I put them up knowing I'm going to take them down in a few months when I have to move again. But my bookcase is the one thing that has stayed constant ever since I moved to my current house nine years ago, and its my bookcase that I add to and rearrange with some weird sense of contentment and pride every break and whenever I'm bored. It's nothing impressive, but it's mine.
 Dreaming about my future house/apartment (I only do this SOMETIMES) I always include a small library. 
The pipe and scotch are optional. 
MAD BOOKS are not. 
Cell phones do not figure into this room one bit.

Next stop...TWITTER! JK

COMO ESTAN, BITCHES.
So I made a tumblr. Don't cry or anything. I'm still a loyal Mighty Beluga-er. It's just that my attention span is limited these days. It's the heat. I'm going to still write here. Blogger will always be in my heart to rant or talk about my day. I'm an internet woman! So don't you forget it.

Kay peas

post script: yes, I still live in this delusional world where I think people give a fuck.
GO HERE EVERYDAY:
http://junk-drawers.tumblr.com/

this coffee gives me two marginal utilities

What I've learned in my microeconomics class, and am in the process of relearning in my macroeconomics summer class:
Happiness can be measured. It's called utility. Or marginal utility? Something like that.
This is why I don't like economics. I'm also probably way off in my definition of utility but either way it sounds weird.

SIGH (auditorium)

CRISIS!
The new Time magazine's cover article was about facebook and how its changing the world and 5 bajillion people use it and it's how we connect and all that stupid shit. I think Time is actually a crap magazine compared to other magazines I should be reading but...
I don't know.

I have been second guessing myself and now I don't know what to do. I deleted my facebook a few months ago because I wasted too much time there and most of the time I just realized how much I hate everything and everyone. Yes, I am angst-ridden.

Being facebookless has made me realize who my true friends are-people I talk to on a daily or weekly basis and enjoy. I have also been able to concentrate on my school work and ignore petty rumors and gossip and scandalous photos.
However it's not like I don't enjoy projecting myself on the internet. THAT'S WHY I HAVE A FUCKING BLOG (that nobody really reads but whatevs).

However, going away to college means I can't keep in touch with everyone...

and I don't want to be forgotten by my fake friends!

Plus I'm buying a digital camera soon and what's the point of taking pictures without it.
Shit Okay.

I'll probably delete it when I head back to Boston.
I feel like I'm giving in, abandoning my principles.

On the other hand you're probably thinking
"Stop being so goddamn dramatic nobody CARES."
So fuck you world, I'm gonna re-enter the social network and pretend you do care.

well said

My boyfriend and I have been watching Lost on Hulu for God knows what reason. But basically we are hooked and have managed to reach season 5 already. Anyways we wondered why we wasted so much time to catch on with a fad that is past its coolness.
He said it better than I ever could have:
"I just like carving out a couple of hours of the week and spending them relaxing with you...
and being confused and aggravated."

Same old, same old

I suppose I should write something instead of lurking around here and commenting on Danielle's posts.
I've been home since Friday and nothing interesting has really happened.
Work doesn't begin until the end of June so I'm looking for things to do in the meantime. Volunteer stuff and what not. Already read my first book of the summer: Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas.
It's nice to go back to Tom Robbins after two semesters of pre-medieval texts but the lunatic writes about the same mystical stuff that may or may not be true and it gets pretty unoriginal. He's a one trick pony I can't stop paying to see.

That last line even sounded like Tom Robbins.

This summer, let's be original.
When I went to visit my aunt's house and saw my extended family for the first time in months they all told me: You look exactly the same.

Same thing happened when I saw Danielle's mother.

I guess, superficially, I don't change. But why should I? We will figure this out another time. In the meantime, I'm going to make a list. The way I always do.

Nice things awaiting me this summer:
warmer weather
books I don't have to write papers on
http://bookmooch.com/
a gift basket for my mother full of tasty European spreads and chocolates
la mia bicicletta
possibly practicing my Italian through paid conversation with a native
playing catch up
a decent tan
a decent paycheck

old dirt road, rambling rose

I'm finally back in Princeton. I wont come back again until summer vacation, but I'm looking forward to springtime in DC. Some notes I jotted down on the various trains and metros and T's I took to find my way home:

Girl in pixie haircut reapplied hand sanitizer for the 17th time so far. It makes me feel nervous, especially thinking about the state of her poor dry skin...

Old women sitting behind me with the weathered face has a frightening cough and an equally frightening sense of humor.

Religion: what does the shaping, men or gods? Investigate.

I wonder what Lily's hair will look like oh la Lilyyyy

It may be years until the day/My dreams will match up with my pay/Old dirt road/Knee deep snow/Watching the fire as we grow old

JABBERJABBERJABBERWOCKY

To read: The God of Small Things, Peace Like A River, A Farewell To Arms shit you will do no such thing before writing your paper!!!

Cold rain sucks. Being hungry sucks.

And of course, variations of my S-duck, my beloved S-duck. I will upload a photo later of my renowned S-duck.

Yes, I have the vocabulary of a five year old, and no, my musings do not provide powerful insight into my mind. Sorry.

because I can

I think I'll like making lists of five things, SO here is a list of five instruments that my 8-year-old self thought my 18-year-old self should have complete mastery of by now:

1. The Piano (check! Kinda, not really. I gave up)
2. The Glockenspiel (I am totally impressed that my 8-year-old self knew what that was)
3. The Saxophone (I don't think I have enough jazz in my soul to pull this one off without coming across as a total tool/nerd)
4. The Guitar (I can strum like three chords, but not without whining about the strings cutting into my fingers. I'm a baby)
5. The Kazoo (I still have hope!)

My 8-year-old self is shaking its head in disappointment at my current self. Sorry little dude(ette).

Home is wherever I'm with you

It's awfully late but I guess that doesn't matter when you're waiting for a boy
especially one who smells good and makes you laugh and holds your hand in his pocket since it's terribly cold outside.

It's cold inside too. I'm back in Princeton for a good while and the house is never a comfortable temperature. Thank god for flannel. Anyways to get to my point: I'm back.
Surprisingly a semester of college doesn't mean my mom can't boss me around anymore. She'll still drive me to Danielle's house tomorrow and tell me to do the dishes.
I'll end with a cliche: Some things never change

now that's progressive!

My cousin Abby, who is my little brothers age, came over today. I was in bed vaguely listening to the two of them screaming about wars and dinosaurs, when I heard her say "Let's play doctor!" Although I hadn't ever played that when I was little, I TOTALLY knew the implications of that game. I tried to overhear them, in case I needed to interfere, but I soon learned that the game had involved into something much less scandalous but equally frightening:

Dr. Abby: What seems to be the problem, Mr. Alex?

Alex: My nose fell off!!!

Dr. Abby: Oh no...there seems to be a problem. Your insurance only covers you from the mouth down! I'm afraid I can't help you. Goodbye Mr. Alex.

Alex: Goodbye Dr. Abby.

peachy?

This summer I worked a second job for this exceptionally rich, exceptionally sweet old lady doing various outdoorsy, gardening-type chores. I thought I would hate it because I had to wake up early each day and by the end of it I would be drenched in sweat, but it turned out to be more lovely than I imagined. She had a little farm, with figs, peaches, cherries, and various vegetables and flowers. I would wander around and practice my daydreaming, which I've now been able to slip into with a bit too much ease. I would often do my daydreaming by the fruit trees...there's just something a bit magical about growing fruits, to me at least. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the hunger, maybe it was the pesticides, maybe it was the thrill of stealing or my newly recovered imagination, but I have never tasted a more delicious peach.

Hold it in

When the dog starts barking for no apparent reason it's safe to assume that he has to poop. Either that or there's a ghost in the kitchen. Since I'm obedient and loyal I take him out to do his business. I'm supposed to go to the back yard and make sure he dumps it by the edge of the woods but depending on my mood I might just take him to the front yard and hope my mother doesn't notice the shit in her garden. I took him to the back today and remembered what an awful, weedy mess that place is. In the summertime the mosquitoes go nuts back there and while I watched Peter squat in the bushes I was swarmed by little vampires. A bite on my neck, a bite on my arm and a bite on my leg. I was out there for three minutes!

I can only come to the conclusion that my blood is exceptionally tasty. And now I wait for Edward Cullen to whisk me away.

Whatever, I do what I want!

My weekend was dedicated to domestic bliss and I say that in a totally un-ironic/un-sarcastic way. Sometimes I hibernate at home. And by hibernate I mean help mom in garden, do the dishes, go grocery shopping, walk the dog and pick out a good looking recipe for dinner (Salad Nicoise). I even managed to paint my nails properly. They are now Pink Breeze.

I don't know exactly what point I'm trying to prove here. Maybe that it's kinda lame to stay at home all weekend but putting coolness aside I find great pleasure in doing housewife-like tasks every once in a while.

I feel weird saying it too because, well, I'm only a seventeen year old girl who, for the most part, fantasizes about the glamorous and sophisticated city-life waiting for me in the future and in terms of 1950s housewife ideals I become insanely defensive in a no-shave feminist sort of way...not to mention I dislike the idea of cookie cutter suburban communities (my Weeds addiction doesn't help) AND I just watched Revolutionary Road last night-the ultimate HORROR movie in terms of domesticity...

The point is, I sometimes like "playing house" if only for a little while.

Diet plan

I think I have food poisoning. I haven't been hungry for a long time. I feel like I could go my entire life without ever eating again. No it's not an eating disorder, and yes I am eating despite my lack of appetite. I just thought I would share this odd feeling. I suppose this is what it's like to be a machine. Although I do need sleep. Sleeping beauty slept forever without eating. Maybe she ate the lox I had for breakfast yesterday morning?

Infinite Jest update:
I'm on page 185. So 796 pages left (not including footnotes)! I keep picking up "toughen-up" mottoes that seem to make perfect sense. A lot of the quotations are for the insane tennis players in the book and although I'm not exactly athletic, I could easily have an athletic mind-set.
(Not necessarily) good life lessons for the day:
"What is unfair can be a stern and invaluable teacher."-IJ

"If you are an adolescent, here is the trick to being neither quite a nerd nor quite a jock: be no one. It is easier than you think."

"Please learn the pragmatics of expressing fear: sometimes words that seem to express really invoke."

Oh say can you see

happy birthday America. I'm getting along fine with the book, thank you very much. I took it to the ocean yesterday and it survived the sand, the water and my smelly messy dog stepping all over. So far the book is really funny but at times difficult. The best way to approach the book is with ETA's former motto:
TE OCCIDERE POSSUNT SED TE EDERE NON POSSUNT NEFAS EST*

*since I failed latin my Junior year, the only reason I know the translation is because it is footnote 32: They can kill you but the legalities of eating you are quite a bit dicier.