Oh holy hell

I just figured out where I live

Bless their little hearts

Someone told me that here in West Texas, if you say those words, it negates anything negative that precedes it. For example, "Lubbock is the land of inbred crack babies, bless their little hearts." To me, it doesn't really work, but I'm gonna use it for the title of this post anyway.

I quit making New Years Resolutions years ago and just started naming them after body parts (The year of the boobs, the year of Don Eduardo, etc.). Anyway, the reason I don't make resolutions is because I tend to evaluate my life continually and because my resolutions tend to be the same: stop living balls out forward toward the future and embrace the present, try to enjoy the place you are living right now, etc. And today I tried. I tried to live in the present and embrace the city of Lubbock. I got dressed up and took myself out on a date. This date was planned to be dinner, a leisurely stroll through the bookstore for a few hours, and perhaps a stop to rent an artsy movie (no, I don't have netflix--though I may invest in it now). Instead, here is what happened.

I won't go into dinner but suffice it to say I ended up at a chain restaurant amidst a cacophony of people one might see in the merry old land of Oz. The food gave me heartburn, but I trudged on. Ah, the bookstore. You see, there are a few indigenous bookstores here in Lubbock but they close early and are very cramped, so browsing ends pretty quickly there. One actually has a sci fi reading room complete with action figures, which is awesome, but I digress. Anyway, tonight I went to the new Barnes and Noble. This thing is double decker, which is cool, one would think. Oh but in true Lubbock fashion, it so was not.

The place was crawling, infested with yokels and pubescent junior high kids making out in the stacks (the kids, not the yokels, thank god). It was like a roach motel for the inbred crack babies of Lubbock! But I, dear readers, pulled myself into a zenlike stupor and focused on the books. Now normally, I cannot leave a bookstore without spending around 50-75 bucks. I just can't. Call me stupid, but I can't. It's an addiction I have no desire to heal from. And time stops in a bookstore. I'm there for a min of about 3 hours. Tonight, 20 min.

The bottom floor was filled with games and calendars and a nice cafe, actually. I think the business section was there, and the music section, as well. Plus there were the multitudes of endcaps filled with bargain books and features. To my dismay, these were horrid. The bargain books were all democratic party biographies (JFK, Obama), whereas the featured book section involved rows and rows of books written by Mike Huckabee!!! I ran upstairs. They have a giant kid and teen section and half of the upstairs is taken up with a homeschooling resource center! Then the other half contains 2 shelving units of test prep, 4 shelving units of fiction and literature(of which Stephen King and Dean Koontz are a part), one shelf of "Spirituality" which is anything non-Christian, and the rest Christian literature.

It was insane. 4 bookshelves of fiction and literature??? I thought I was seeing things. I actually walked around again to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. This is our bookstore??? This is our fantabulous 2 story bookstore? Oh god. They've closed down all the libraries in town (except 1 which has limited hours), and this is our bookstore!?

So I left to hit Blockbuster which has everything in boxes because they are closing. They won't rent anything, so I bought Sunshine Cleaning. I hope it's good.

God help me. Bless their little hearts.

Dear Crabby

I woke up this morning to 14 degree temps, and I'm ok with that for the most part. There's something in me that likes winter temps, as long as I don't have to stay out in it for long. I like the nippiness in the air as you walk to the bus, etc. But if it is going to be this cold, I would so much rather be in Chicago, and so I'm feeling a little nostalgic for the Windy City today.

This is further exacerbated by the fact that I pulled up my FB page and saw the morning pictures and loveliness from my friend who lives there. This friend is brilliant, masters in lit from NWestern, etc. She's a stay at home (home=lovely brownstone in the city) mom now, tho staying at home isn't quite the term for her. Anyway, she's one of these creative types who makes her children frocks (yes she calls them frocks), and bakes all sorts of bread, and eats green smoothies made from produce she gets from the farmer's market. Now, none of that part of her life sounds appealing to be, simply because it doesn't mesh with my personality (I am sure you are surprised). I truly admire these men and women who can their own jelly and stuff, but I just don't have the patience for it.

Nevertheless, today she posts a picture of a gorgeous coffee cup, two buttery blueberry scones, the New York Times, her kindle, and a writing journal. The title: first coffee shop visit of 2010. You see, she does this ritual nearly every day, taking pictures of coffee and blueberries, coffee and fritters, etc. And I KNOW the coffee shops she's visiting--love them! Sigh. And so I feel this mixture of happiness and intense jealousy that she is sitting at MY coffee shops with time on her hands to read a novel, write, etc.

And so I'm examining this jealousy, and I think to myself that I could get up earlier, start my run earlier, and then go sit at a coffee shop a few hours before classes. The luxury of a student is that we could do such things, and I should take advantage of it. The negatives, however, are ones I'm trying to get over (and maybe you all can help): There are only 6 coffee shops in town. One is a starbucks in the bookstore on campus, one is a starbucks in a shopping center, one is a stand alone starbucks which is doable but the seating is pretty limited, one is the crazy coffee shop (not really the environment you want for a calming morning java) and one is the hipster coffee shop that has eccentric hours (read: we don't follow the sign on our door) and gives me metaphorical hives to visit. Plus, they put their cappuccinos in espresso cups, and that just furthers my hives. Oh, and there's another shop owned by the crazy coffee shop owner, but it has wooden benches for seating, and that is a pain in the ass, literally.

My other options are the local IHOP and Dennys.

See, and so the big problem is that this is a college town, and with only 6 shops to choose from, there's not much serenity going on. Here, you either party at a bar or a coffee shop, and the atmosphere is about the same (though the coffee shops are definitely higher on the geek factor). I guess I could get up REALLY early before the students, but the other problem is that I'm a night person, and there are biorhythmic, physiological things going on that make people either morning or night people. So even if I got up early, I would still stay up til at least 2. Maybe I can change my biorhythms.


Anyway, I'm determined to have this because I've got at least another full year here, and I have to make it doable. So any suggestions for how to bring Chicago to Lubbock?

Salud

I am having a glass of wine. This is probably not surprising to anyone who knows me pretty well, given that I love a good red. What is significant, however, is that I purchased this wine from the store. That's right. I bought wine from a Lubbock grocery store. Finally. Finally, we have beer and wine in the stores. I can walk out of my house and into a store and buy a bottle of wine.

This is one of the top ten glasses of wine I have ever tasted, solely because I've waited a year to buy it from the store.

Senses

I should be sleeping. I've been so tired today that I can barely think in my own language, can barely formulate words in my own consciousness much less promote them to the tip of my tongue. I can't, though. I'm not sure why I can't other than the fact that I keep thinking, imagining. I close my eyes to sleep but images keep me awake. I hear music. Feel the cool breeze on my bare skin as I sleep under the stars. Taste the crisp burst of a Ranier cherry on my tongue. I watch as the stars swirl behind my eyelids. I enjoy the sight of my arms in the mirror as I go through the motions of port de bras in a warm studio with a wooden, rosin stained floor. I'm walking in The Louvre, standing atop Notre Dame, eating a croissant while reading Sartre at Café de Flore. I take in the scarlet hue of Le Coquelicot while licking a wayward drop of the latest Beaujolais Nouveau from the lips of my own Han Solo. Steal a kiss from a stranger at The Menger Bar.

I enjoy tapas and a bottle of rioja with friends. Enjoy an evening of laughter at the Davenport. Spend a day in the Bodleian Library. Sing in a bar in Italy. Stand amidst the Swiss Alps. Daydream in the Roman Forum.

And then the music stops. I am back on earth. Back in Lubbock. And I breathe in and out and accept this as my stay for now.

Ok and just to fuel the fire

If you think I'm being hyperbolic here (which I admit I am often prone to be), just look at this master planned TOWN. Not community, mind you. TOWN. I know for a fact that there are 3 registered democrats in Vintage Township. They don't actively participate in anything, however.

Stepford family, anyone? I really encourage you to browse the site, especially the map of the town. It's astounding.

My apologies to Cole Porter

Every time I look down on this sad little town
Whether blue or grey be her skies
Whether loud be her cheers or soft be her tears
more and more do I realize:

I hate Lubbock in the springtime
I hate Lubbock in the fall
I hate Lubbock in the winter when it drizzles
I hate Lubbock in the summer when it sizzles

I hate Lubbock
Oh why oh why do I hate Lubbock
I really do not know.

Ok, hate may be a strong word, but I've been here a year now, and it's really getting to me. I love the weather. And though they lack any form of decent technology or the wherewithal to do anything about the reason for which I might be calling, call centers are much more friendly here. They have sno cones year round, and that is always a plus. And the city is overrun with duck roosters and prairie dogs, which are dear to my heart.

But I just don't get these people here. They speak a language I simply don't understand. For instance, if someone here asks you, "Would you like to [insert something to do]," they aren't asking you for your preference. They are telling you to do it. I was ordering coffee the other day, and the woman behind the counter asked, "Would you like to pay for your coffee when it's ready?" I said, "No, that's ok. I'll pay now." And she looked at me, bewildered, and said, "No, I mean, I'm waiting on change so I need you to wait to pay later." Why didn't she just say that?
Another instance: I'm at my practicum. A woman says to me, "Would you like to push the baby buggy (yes, that's what she called it)?" I said, "No, thank you." And then the other woman said, "She's leaving. You need to push the baby buggy." Even more bewildering is that in my practicum, I'm there to freaking evaluate these people as teachers, and they are giving me baby buggies (sp???).

And holy red footed llama, the freaking smile. It's seriously like the kiss of death. If one of these bleach blond helmet headed women here smile at you and their right eye twinkles, you are a goner. Sign that will and move on because that woman is going to somehow passive aggressively ruin your life so that you will never work, eat, or live in that community again.

And this, THIS is Lubbock's idea of a feminist website. Are you fucking kidding me? Granted there are a few essays that have substance, but for the most part, if you don't puke from it, you can get a few laughs off of it.

And the men? They are like a bunch of giant necks prancing around, arms akimbo because they won't go straight anymore. Farm boys, corn fed, they call them. I call them ridiculously spoiled misogynistic pricks.

I'm trying to stay focused--trying to just maintain tunnel vision on my schoolwork. But it is just getting to me! And the more I get involved with the democratic group here, the more angry I become. We are ignored, forbidden to speak, and are too small in number to bitch slap these corrupt people in charge. What needs to happen is that we collectively grab our ovaries and balls and then place some of these jackass city council members in a camel clutch and make them humble like Brian Blair (like that, prax?).

Do you know that they are trying to turn one of the oldest art galleries in town into a visitor center? And they canceled the West Texas Music Festival (West Texas' version of SXSW) for fear that *gasp* it might encourage drinking. They had a biker rally here to raise money for domestic violence shelters in the area, and the city council wouldn't allow beer. How do you think the attendance was for that little fundraiser? OH, and here's the best, in 2004, they defaced a piece of art saying it was pagan. Here's the story.

The more I hear about it, the angrier I get, and what incenses me most is that our group seems to be powerless to do anything about it. And furthermore, some of the people in the group are too scared to make it known that they are, indeed, democrats. It's unbelievable. It's like the Democratic party in Lubbock is an underground movement.

Sigh. I need a white russian.

Fahrenheit wha?

Sigh. Rest is over. Back to the grind. But first, what would Her Crankiness do without letting out a little rant?

We step back to a week ago as I made my way through the LBB airport. All I wanted to do was get out of Dodge the simplest way possible and in one piece. This means I packed light--one carry on, no laptop, flip flops for an easy toss into the xray bin. I figured I'd be through the line in a jiffy, ready to head for the mesas. Wrong.

A husky woman and her little henchwoman stopped me with the flip of a blue latexed hand (two by two, hands of blue). Husky says, "Do you have books in there?" Stunned, I say, "Um, yes." She motions to Igora to start the ransack process.

"How many?"
"I'm sorry, wha..."
"How many books?" She's impatient at this point, adjusting her belt and sucking in her gut.

"Um, 2"
"Really? 2?" She looks at Igora who laughs a sort of half whimper--meheheh, meheheh
"Yeah, 2."
Husky cocks one eyebrow up and looks at me with the reprimanding teacher look.
"Well, I mean, I've got a writing journal and a notebook, too, bu..."
"Aha!"
[I'm thinking Aha what?]

So they flip through my books and begin questioning me about them. The conversation on my end goes something like this: Lolita, you know, Nabokov? Humbert Humbert steals a girl's soul? yeah, ok, well suffice it to say it's a classic. and the other? oh yeah, it's Reading Lolita in Tehran. It's written by a professor who teaches a group of students in her home...you know, really, they're just books, you know? I mean, can I have my books back?

I don't think I was much more eloquent than that. Perhaps I was, but as I recall, I was just in an absolute stupor, and every ounce of my mental reserves went to restraining myself from calling them both dumbasses and telling them to get their azure hands off my fucking books.

I'm still pretty miffed about this. What's ironic about the whole thing, however, is that as I got on the plane and opened up Reading Lolita, I read a passage about how her books were confiscated at the airport in Tehran.

Anyway, it's over, but it still puts me in the foulest mood. I cannot believe I am living in this place. I feel like Cincinnatus C stuck in a prison with a paper moon, a plastic spider and a jailer who wants to dance with me, defend me, and execute me simultaneously. Fucking ridiculous this place is.

Fast breaking news story

So I'm sitting in class today, and I have this sudden realization that I kind of have the hots for my professor. This isn't so out of the ordinary--he's lanky, wears glasses, granolaish, and devastatingly geeky with big feet. But there's something that keeps bothering me about the attraction. He reminds me of someone. But who? Who is it? I keep listening to the voice, watching the mannerisms, and then he does this little squeaky thing with his voice when he is passionate about a subject and suddenly, I know who it is--AAAA! LOL! Just that realization made me start giggling uncontrollably in class. I had to excuse myself.

Ah man. Anyway, class ends, and I'm walking across campus in shorts and a tank when out of nowhere this freak thunderstorma and hailstorm hits. People begin running like it's Armageddon. I can't run because I'm in the most slippery flip flops imaginable. Then, the temp drops about 30 degrees it seemed, and people cram into the bookstore to buy sweatshirts, and I hate to say it, but I was among the throng. It is FREEZING!!

And now it's off for a nap but not before I recount the events of yesterday. I was at my practicum, when we hear this screeching and crashing sound. One of the women says, "Omg, did you see that," and I begin looking in the direction of the crash, when the other woman screams, "Kim, look out, he's behind you!" Yes, behind my desk, separated only from me by a pane of thin glass, was this man on the run from what appeared to be the SWAT Team. Unmarked police trucks come circle the building, and men in flak jackets and ski masks pour out like clown cars to chase the guy down.

Lubbock is becoming more exciting folks.

Con te partiro paesi che non ho mai veduto e vissuto con te

Ciao.

I spent the night in Italy, well pseudo-Italia anyway. Actually, Italy is the place I miss the most from my travels. I miss the language, the people, the beauty. I dated someone whose family was from Italy. He sometimes reads this blog (Ciao, Samuzzo), and while I miss having him in my life as a friend, I also miss the inclusion of Italy in my life, even if in bits and pieces. I was learning Italian pretty heavily at the time, and I gave it up since I moved from Chicago, but maybe I'll take it up again. Yeah, right, I'll do that in between 50 page articles on information processing simulation programs. Sigh. One day I'll have my life back.

It's a Wednesday night in Lubbock with no students in sight because they are all on real vacations, not imaginary ones. The traffic lights are all on blink mode, which is just odd. The place is a ghost town, really. I actually like Lubbock better this way, except for the fact that nothing is freaking open. Then again, these aren't spring break hours. Everything always closes at 9, but I am just always working late or home studying so I never noticed before.

Anyway, back to my trip. I decided to let my Botticelli curls down, which I don't do often. I feel exposed with my hair down, and since straight hair seems to be forever "in," I feel very self conscious about it. But it seemed that tonight was a night for curly locks, and I let them fall as they wished, spilling over my shoulders in wild abandon. I then slipped into a little empire waisted sundress and relished the 70 degree weather. I headed to my favorite little shopping area, which is a renovated apartment complex turned boutique quadrangle. No one was around, so it was very, very weird shopping. Everyone was staring at me greedily, so I gave up and went into the little wine cafe, not Italian but whatever. I probably should've ordered an Italian wine, but instead, I got an overpriced but good Argentenian malbec and a shiraz with a rather unfortunate name (Lengs and Cooter) and chatted up the staff since NO ONE was in the place. The chefs were bored and began having an Iron Chef contest, and guess who was the judge? That's right, yours truly. Yummers! Truly, it was hard to decide: Pumpkin and blackberry empanada with a pineapple wasabi (the secret ingredient) cream sauce or a pumpkin, pineapple, blackberry creme brulee with a hint of wasabi. The creme brulee was the better flavored of the two, but the presentation was lacking, and he didn't have a torch to caramelize the sugar. I scolded him for his lack of MacGyver culinary skills and awarded the prize to the empanada, which was unbelievably tasty. They tried to throw away the remains, but I asked them to leave them there. Hey, I'm not a real judge. I'm a hungry grad student who needs some free food, damnit.

Sadly, they had no coffee, so I tried to go to my favorite little place which was closed, as were all the other coffee shops in town. So I headed home in my gilded carriage, turned on some Bocelli and made a homemade cappuccino. And now I'm exhausted. Buon notte.

Strollin'

It's gorgeous outside, so I decided to stay in Lbb a little longer. The skies are perfect, which reminds me that I plan to take my invisible jet out this evening. I walked to a different park this time and played on the swings a bit, jumping off at the end like I used to do as a kid. I think people thought I was a little mad.

Tonight will be Italy. I don't think I'll be dining out this evening. It's cheaper to eat at home, and I make much better Italian than I would get out here in the 'bock. I do plan to hang out in my favorite little shopping center. It reminds me of Venice, minus the canals, of course.
More to come.

Nothing like waking up to an ax and broken glass

Last night I went to bed at 11:45 due to the glycemic crash from the starch laden goodness I consumed while watching House, The Biggest Loser, and Law & Order. It was very strange coming down from the adrenaline rush of this semester. I think I likened it once to the steeplechase--hurdle after hurdle with no thought but the next hurdle, with the exception, perhaps, of the big water hazard ahead. Therefore, having absolutely nothing to read, write, study, or analyze last night was just confusing. I was unsure of myself. I even texted a friend, "Um, what do I do?" to which she responded, "I don't know. I'm not sure myself."

Of course, there are millions of things that need to be done before I leave for the weekend, but for some reason I was paralyzed last night, except for the shoveling motion of chip to mouth and the one finger remote changing reflex. My friend termed our stupor decompression, and I suppose she's right because about 20 minutes into the relaxation period, my emotions started going all whackassed.

Everything, and I mean everything, on tv was choking me up. I got choked up over House looking at Cuddy with the baby. Tears welled up with every pound lost on The Biggest Loser (WTF?). And the clincher--I even got choked up at a Verizon commercial, not when the wife was giving the husband the phone but when he turned around and saw his network behind him. What in the hell? The only things that choke me up are Rudy, Rocky, Miracle, ET, and that lion video where the lion remembers his previous human caretakers. That's about it. So why did I get choked up when the guy saw his network--it wasn't even intended to be sentimental! I'm losing it.

Shortly after an intense episode of SVU, I made it through the grueling local news to see the weather, and then I started crashing. I got horribly cold and clammy, and my body was shaking. The last time I felt like that was right after my first marathon, and this was about as intense. So I decided to hit the sack, as they say in the parlance of our times, and was surprised to see my head on the pillow before midnight.

Sadly, I was awakened at about 2am by this thunking sound. About a month ago, someone tried to beat down my door, so thunking at 2am sets off alarms in my brain. So I grab the phone with thumb on the 9 when I hear glass shattering. I peer out the window, and there is a young male figure with a ski cap on, holding an ax over his shoulder, the blade gleaming in the moonlight like teeth on an Orbit commercial. This is all happening right over the fence that divides my house from the neighbors. Luckily, my neighbor sticks his head out the now gaping hole and screams, "Richard, you moron, you just broke the window." Richard, drunk off his ass, starts screaming in that tone that only drunk off their ass people can do, "Oh Duuuude. No Way! [chortle] I totally was trying to chop the wood and I guess I got mixed up, duuuuude." Neighbor explains to Richard that he's got an early test tomorrow blah blah blah go home. richard says ok dude but doesn't comply.

The next thing I know, I hear Richard in the back yard chopping wood repeatedly. and I'm thinking to myself, "Guy with ax + drunkenness = disaster" and then I hear, Ow. OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Dude! I think I chopped my hand off". So neighbors all come out (at this point it is 3am) and it turns out he didn't chop his hand off. He just imagined that he did, and so they once again tell him to go home, not daring to come near him because he has an ax.

Ok, so at this point I'm thinking, wtf is going through this guy's head? Obviously his friends didn't invite him over. They were all asleep (from the fact that they were in their jammies with sleepy looks on their faces and girls wearing nothing but tshirts beside them (in 19 degree weather). So did the guy just get drunk at his house, pick up an ax, and come over to his frat brothers' place to start whacking away at wood (no pun intended)? So weird. Anyway, they talk him out of whacking saying it's a bit late, and he sits down on a stump in the back and says he's just gonna "collect his thoughts."

Everyone goes back inside. It's quiet. And then about 3:30, you start hearing him sing! He's loudly crooning, in a drunken slurry slowness, "Golden Slumbers" through "Carry that Weight", stopping to sing, "You only give me your funny papers" several times, each louder than the first. And then he sobs and calls the dog over, who won't come apparently because he yells, "Fine! You won't give me your funny papers either, I see. Well, I'll show you. I'll show ALL of you!" and starts whacking away again.

This continued until daybreak, and I, gentle readers, am now exhausted from no sleep.

Rationing

I leave for HTown this weekend, so I'm trying to clean out my pantry before I go, saving myself an expensive (any amount of money is expensive at this point) trip to the store. So I am now eating a disgusting concoction of broth, tomatoes, and a can of beans. Oh god.

Ah, the days of red wine and, well, a complete meal are over for awhile, but the good news is that 12 graduate credit hours from those days at PISD transfer, so I get one semester knocked off my sentence in Lubbock! Wooooohooooooo!

Ok, I'm on the last few pages of my last final, so wish me luck!

Holy Wind, Batman!

The weather is so bizarre outside. Apparently a snow storm is coming, and the wind is just atrocious. Tech has it estimated at 51mph.

Had my stats final today. I'm beat, but I think I got an A. Still, I'm so tired I can barely type this post, and I've got to finish 8 more pages on my final due for theory class tomorrow. I even took a nap, but I just can't snap out of the sleepy haze.

yeah, I just tried to type a sentence and it came out all garbled. Maybe a second nap would be good.

tumblin' tumbleweeds

My car actually got hit by a flying tumbleweed today. It covered half the windshield.

Ok, back to stats.

My "vacation"

I'm not really off next week. I have to work until Wednesday, so no going away for me, and lack of funds keep me here anyway. So I made my own holiday this weekend. Last night, I watched Grace is Gone, a depressing Cusack film that then had to be followed up with a marathon of Firefly. Went to bed at 3:30, and I slept until 1:30 pm, which was amazing. It wasn't so much that I slept, actually, as it was that I stayed in bed contemplating things. I'm not even sure what I contemplated, but it is what it is. Actually, the contemplation was interrupted by a loud banging on my door--you know, the "hey, it's your neighbor and it's an emergency bc someone is trying to slice my head open with an ax" kind of knock. Sadly, it was just another evangelist from the same damn church as last week. Seriously, if another one interrupts the Tech Game tonight like 2 of them did 2 weeks ago (at 9pm!!!), I'm calling the damned church. So far, 3 churches are on my list to call if they do it again. Really, what do I do about this? It's a nuisance bordering on disruption of the peace, my peace anyway. It's every freakin' saturday.

Anyway, then I got up and ran 3 miles at the gym (too cold here for a real run), and now I'm eating a veggie tamale and an applesauce muffin. Oh, and I'm back in PJs for the rest of the day. Tonight's agenda is the Tech game, an XFiles marathon, much salsa eating, a little reading, possibly some writing, and the consumption of at least one oreo.

Tomorrow I plan to sleep in, too, because Monday starts the work again. I've got an assignment due Wednesday and a final due the Monday after thanksgiving. Winter break can't come soon enough.

But aaaaaaa, I'm likin' this weekend.

chaos theory, potato chips, and I think I need more rum

Really, I think if I had a job writing acrid blog posts all day, I'd be so happy. I'd be like the caustic Peggy Hill with her musings. Only mine would be morose, maudlin, melancholy musings and not redneck, ignorant ones. Anybody know someone that would hire me? I'd quit this PhD shit in a second!

Oh, Prax, my prof is from Jersey, and she told me tonight that I am not cynical enough for Jersey. LOL!

Ok but really, I love my theory class. Seriously, this place makes me crazy, but on Tuesday nights, that all fades away into this blissful 3 hour class. I LOVE this class. Tonight, for example, we mused about the possibility of multi-verses and about what our "other selves" are doing at this moment. Personally, my other self is perpetually drinking whiskey, even when my present self is drinking whiskey, and that posed a problem to the theory, but not to mine, so perhaps I should write my own theory. Cranky Theory. I've got to come up with a diagram, though, because all the best theories have diagrams. I think it would look like Hemingway.

But really, the thing I like about this program is that it is multi-disciplinary. We are learning so much from so many disciplines: art, architecture, physics, biology, chemistry, anthropology, sociology...the list goes on. tonight, for example, it was all about string theory and quantum mechanics with a dash of thermodynamics and field theory. It was the most fascinating discussion, especially since it is such a hard class that everyone dropped out. The dynamics are so different when there are only 2 people in the class. AAAA, I would quit this damn place in a second if it weren't for the classes. I love the classes. Brilliant!

So we left class all jazzed up as usual, and D and I headed out for the customary celebratory wings and beer. I got asked out but ruined it as always by making some stupid comment about age. Why can't I just leave it alone? So he's 23? Who cares? But I had to make some mention about the formula bc now that I had a birthday, 23 is too young. Why can't I just keep my damned mouth shut? Ah well, still got free drinks out of it. Love bartenders.

And the positive thinking shit, well, kinda worked. I mean, I know for a fact that Zach Braff has suddenly realized I exist and is going to look up housing in Lubbock tomorrow! And Agent Mulder, while not in this universe, is certainly alive and living next door to my doppelganger, so that's a plus. The french fry fairy left some tonight at the bar but forgot to leave me some money to pay for it. I'll have to think harder next time. And I did get an A on the paper from the prof who "never gives As" so that rocks!

So let's keep going with this shit. Ok, here goes:

1. The 49ers will win the next 20 superbowls.
2. The cubbies will suddenly produce a butterfly effect that will break the curse and win us the next world series.
3. I will stop mentioning my real age when people think I'm 22. Hell, tomorrow I will be 22 but with the brain of my real age.
4. The french fry fairy, who is married to the whiskey fairy, will pay a giant advanced tab for me at the Davenport for when I come back into H-Town.
5. The vacation fairy will leave me a plane ticket to somewhere civilized very soon.
6. The stunning man, who was checking me out at the bar tonight but just couldn't bring himself to talk to me because I was wasting my life talking to the 23 year old about the formula, will come talk to me tomorrow bc I am telling everyone it is my bday tomorrow bc I didn't get a decent enough Kimday this year.
7. Fence Rider will get a giant kick in the ass and will call me up and confess his soul.
8. I will kick Fence Rider in the ass. And then make love to him in every position possible on my roof in the middle of a storm while a raven sings in the background. (ok, there had to be some 19th centurty Gothic literature in there somewhere)
9. The stunning man will be jealous of the escapades on the roof and will profess his need to have my brilliant, genius mind, so I will give him that and give Fence Rider my doppelganger's body.
10. Someone will randomly send me Zardoz in the mail.

I'm eating potato chips--just so you don't think the title is a farce.

What a weekend

Well, there are no official Kimday festivities, seeing as I'm in the armpit of Texas, but I'm sure I'll be doing something that day. There is a lubbock singles social event at a local restaurant. It has a giant sign on the roof with a man who looks something akin to this. That's kinda tempting.

As for this weekend, I was pretty busy. Halloween was spent passing out candy to children and little people pretending to be children: "Gimme some candy!" Then D, E and I watched Baby Mama and drank rum.

Next was the Tech game on Saturday. Let's see. Highlights: we drank shots for every touchdown; we wore red rider masks--mine was crooked most of the night; we lost our voices; oh, and for the impromptu half time entertainment, I danced the garage choreography from Beat It (cue up to 3:59) on the bar Coyote Ugly style, winning a free martini and much accolades from Tech and UT fans all around. After that was much screaming and jumping, and today, I am still sore and hoarse, but gah what a game!

Sunday was spent with vitamin water and chinese food and The Happening. The most important thing of the weekend was that I didn't do a DAMN bit of work/schoolwork.

Today, took the car back into the shop, worked all night, researched local candidates, which only served to piss me off. Really, there is no point in voting in the local election since there are no choices on the ballot. Only one person (and one party) is running in every category. It's unfuckingbelievable. But the wet county prop made it to the ballot, and I will be there punching out that chad (though I think Lbb has elec voting now).

And now I have to read articles again and try to figure out the intervention I am going to design for one of my classes. Guh.

Finding Funny--Day 1

Yep. Nope. Nuttin'.

Nothing was funny. I saw strange things, but they just irritated me. People, for example, assume that because I wear a leather jacket, I must be in some sort of female motorcycle gang. This made me chuckle once, but when I heard it 3 more times today, I became irritated. Example 2, I would laugh at the undergrads wearing track shorts, hoodies, and Uggs. It would make me laugh except that I couldn't find but a handful who weren't wearing them. It's 39 degrees outside, sure, but track shorts and eskimo boots? You've got to be kidding me.

And for all of you who think I am just a negative Nelly, I made it a point to notice something good about the LBK today. The skies are unparalled. Truly, they are beautiful.

Ah well. There's always day 2. Back to my midterm studies.

Voting in the LBB

If I needed any encouragement to get my voter's registration moved over to LBB, here it is. Sadly, this news article paints a calm picture of this brewing controversy. In reality, you'd see a death match here.

http://www.kcbd.com/global/story.asp?s=8989193

Seriously Lubbockites, join the rest of the free world and get out from under the reign of greed and religiosity.