books and libretti

in which I totally ignore fandom because that's all I can manage right now

2009-01-27T07:44:39Z

Apparently I'm feeling domestic and productive. This afternoon, I went and bought knitting needles I need to finish this project I'm working on now, a black shrug to wear with my awesome red dress. In the process, I
- befriended the store cat
- worked on my bargaining skills (saving $0.50!)
- discovered a huge trove of my favorite needles for below-retail prices (abusing loss leaders = one of my favorite activities)

Then I made the perfect fluffy baked potato -- scrubbed, oiled, salted, and baked for an hour at 400F. It was so good it deserved butter.

This evening I spent awhile just working on my shrug chatting with my roommate (and, I admit, watching a new episode of Jon & Kate Plus Eight). One sleeve is totally done, and I'm almost finished with the other one, then there's just the ribbing to do. But it already looks sweater-ish and I can try it on, which is very exciting. For me. Ssh.

***

Tomorrow:
- scheduling that commercial/pinup/whatever-it-is-now shoot (or at least scheduling a meetup about the concept)
- working something out with wannabe sugar daddy
- ice skating (if it's nice out) or gym
- salmon and whole green beans for dinner
- late-night donut run with my roommate

~~Wednesday~~ oh who am I kidding, also Tuesday:
- I'll allow myself to e-mail Antonio the PUA suggesting weekend plans (eee!)

bookslibretti @ 2009-01-26T18:24:00

2009-01-26T23:58:38Z

I'm still kind of processing this weekend, which I know sounds bizarre, but whatever. So you wore eye makeup differently -- do you really have to spend two days dwelling on it? Apparently, if you're me.

When I go out like that, I'm used to getting some attention (aka more than my fair share), but I'm not quite used to literally turning heads on the street or having guys look dumbstruck when we make eye contact or being complimented by everyone who talks to me. And the thing is, I think it's not even about how the makeup made me look, it's about the makeup itself.

In general, people rely, a whole lot, on symbols to determine attractiveness. Take any random girl who's reasonably proportionate, give her a red dress and a tiara or some flowers, and put her on the top of a staircase, and everyone will swear she's stunning. It doesn't matter at all what she actually looks like. It doesn't even have to be that complicated -- I have a friend who's 6' and blonde. Her face isn't exactly conventionally attractive, but put her in boots and let her swish her hair around, and men will cross the street in (vain) hopes of introducing themselves. Get what I mean? In these examples, it's not about the girls' actual looks, it's about the "this girl has the trappings of attractiveness!" signals that certain details broadcast.

It's just really bizarre and frustrating to me. The attention might be entertaining, but it's pretty meaningless; the guys who wouldn't come up to me if I didn't look like that aren't the kind of guys I want. Even if it were about looks rather than signals, looks don't mean much -- they can be useful, sure, you can capitalize on them, but they aren't an intrinsic part of your self. I mean, I have roughly five more years before the expiration date on whatever I've got, so why would you rely on them now when you know you'll have to adapt so soon?

***

Okay, that concludes the Thinking portion of this entry. Shallow time! Some guy compared me to Kat Foster. I had to look her up, obviously, but coincidences aside (she also went to NYU), what do you think?

I have ISSUES with homegirl's eyebrows, so ignore that part . . . and you may only be able to play along if you've seen me in person lately. I need to get more decent, recent pictures of me online.

***

Drunk Italian guy from Saturday night told me I had a "sharp smile, like the Joker, not the Jack Nicholson Joker." It was intended as a compliment -- he fell all over himself groveling when I teased him pretending to be offended -- but I sort of like it. Although I may forget the entire Joker part, "sharp smile" may be a pretty accurate description coming from a guy who doesn't know me and doesn't really speak the language.

(Okay, so probably he was just daydreaming about getting me to bite him. Be quiet and let me pretend otherwise.)

***

Yesterday I had a pretty poor date. It's unfortunate, because if he'd been worth writing about he would've had a perfect nickname: the Musketeer. But since when do guys know how to deploy myspace angles? Not cool.

Also not cool: being 45 minutes late. I'd planned to get coffee with him, then do an errand* next door, but when he texted me "running 30 minutes behind," I just did my errand first, then headed out. I actually got his "omg where are you did I miss you?!?" phone call as I was literally heading down the subway steps. He would've had to do a lot to pull it out at that point, but instead it crashed and burned in a cordial, decorous way.

*Buying knitting needles. I went to Brooklyn -- Williamsburg, no less -- to buy knitting needles. They were my favorite brand at a good price and oh man I just realized how lame it is to have a favorite brand of knitting needles. STFU plz kthx.

bookslibretti @ 2008-12-12T01:48:00

2008-12-12T07:45:12Z

It's inevitable: on Sunday morning, I'll look at my social calendar for the coming week and notice it's totally blank . . . and by Sunday evening, it will be totally full. I like it; it gets me out of the house, which is always nice for the freelancing/unemployed, but more importantly it gets me doing things that wouldn't have occurred to me otherwise. And, of course, it means I'm always meeting cool new people.

Tomorrow during the day is the one time I'll take a break and catch up on solo stuff -- laundry, correspondence, gym, another errand or two (I'm getting ice skates!).

This Saturday, after being invited by a friend of a friend, I'm considering Santacon. I like him and want to hang out with him, but the event requires a lot of prep, meaning time and money I don't really want to give it. Plus it's a bar crawl -- starting at 10 AM, so you know it's classy -- and although I'm perfectly fine about going to bars with friends, the focus there is not 100% on drinking. I know the Santacon pictures I've seen always look cool, but I'm not sure I'd actually have much fun. I just don't want to send the wrong message to the guy, since there've been a few abortive mixups before.

Plus I have other stuff going on -- that evening I'm headed to the Met and dinner with a new guy, not quite my type but with a really good sense of humor, so it'll at least be fun. After that (and possibly a trip home to change, depending on timing), I'm headed to the Slipper Room. I'd like to spend some time with the guy there -- argh, I still have to post that story -- although it depends on whether he's working and how busy the place is, of course, so my hopes are not terribly high.

Sunday I have a coffee date at 2 (aside to Alex: the viking!), followed by a nearby Messiah sing at 3.

On Monday I have basically the coolest date ever -- this guy does some dog-walking, and I get to go with him and pet dogs, so it will be awesome. The guy is pretty cool too; I had another date with him earlier this week, although I see him more in a friendship context. The bad news is that after the puppy part, he's going to invite me to come back to his place and watch a movie, which for strategic reasons I have to decline politely. I think the best way to do this would be to create a better option: "ooh, I was looking through Time Out NY when I saw ____ is happening right now and I really want to go do that!" But I missed out on all this girl strategy when I was growing up, and I am not always the best at reinventing the wheel, so let me know if there's a proven technique. Also let me know if you've heard of a fun ____ at 1-2 PM on Monday!

That evening is another Messiah sing. This one I've actually been asked to, but it costs $10, so I'll have to see whether Sunday's got it all out of my system.

Tuesday I'm possibly seeing the wannabe sugar daddy during the day, then I'm taking a trip to Harlem. I want to drop off cookies (note to self: make Sunday night) for my Harlem roommates, then take more to the stitch & bitch I attended all summer -- their Christmas party is that night.

Wednesday morning, my brother will be coming through the city, so it's my job to get him off the bus at Penn and put him on the train at Grand Central. Luckily that's over by noon, so I can go home, nap, shower, and reemerge refreshed for an 8 pm trivia contest with a guy who actually reminds me a little of Ben, except single. That's probably unfair -- they only look similar, which is to say on the bigger side and balding, which is not exactly coincidental since big with a buzzed head is exactly my type.

Thursday is free for napping or packing or something TBD, and Friday I'm leaving for Christmas.

***

I'm having issues with my eating again . . . surprise! It doesn't seem like I can pull it off in a mentally healthy way, at least not for any length of time. Either I'm in Pac-Man mode -- eat as much as you can, and you only lose if somebody calls you on it -- or it's orthorexia/OCD/whatever. Weighing every scrap you eat, calorie restricting, and constantly figuring out macronutrient ratios is not exactly mentally healthy, but since that doesn't seem to be a viable option either way, for now I'm going with the physically healthier choice. I'm preparing to go Pac-Man over Christmas, though.

I've been going to the gym a lot lately, which is nice, but I recognize it's a luxury. $50 -- soon to be $55 -- a month will not always be available, and neither will all this free time. Plus it's so artificial, and of course there's the fact that I hate it. I feel like if I can't find a physical activity I genuinely enjoy, it's never going to last, but it's obviously easier said than done.

I'm not terribly coordinated and I'm not good enough to be competitive, so most sports are out. I thought dance would be right, and I do like the activity, but the scene is all wrong. If I go to ballroom courses, it's a fish-taco-fest, and at over 6' in heels, I'm pressed into the man's role; if I go to informal salsa nights, I'm repeatedly propositioned by 5'4" Latin-Americans. Neither is my idea of a stellar time, since both make me hyperaware of my size.

I did like swimming this summer, but for obvious reasons it's not going to work out so well in New York in February. I do want to get back into ice-skating, so I've asked for skates for Christmas -- the trip tomorrow is to size them -- and I'm hopeful about that. Bryant Park shouldn't even be too tourist-jammed, at least theoretically.

Plus I'd get to wear the snazzy cold-weather gear I've been knitting. I can just envision it now: I'm whizzing around the ice, my scarf falls off, the inexplicably straight guy behind me picks it up to return it, we do a Lady-and-the-Tramp routine with it before adjourning for rosy-cheeked laughter over hot chocolate . . . you be quiet. I am absolutely positive this will happen right after I receive the unicorn that's also on my Christmas list.

***

I realize that all this healthy talk is totally contradicted by the fact that I made pumpkin bread (with roasted pecans and whipped cream!) today. My roommate's ex just indulged in bridge-burning, she's distraught, and I am on cleanup duty. She's watching Snapped, reading bad Twilight fanfiction (no link because I'm pretty sure that comprises half the internet at this point), and eating aforementioned pumpkin bread. This keeps her occupied, so I'm all for it.

I am reading The Godfather (unrelated, I swear) and surprising myself with how much I'm liking it. Other things I've been surprised I enjoy this much: Britney Spears' "Womanizer," Beyonce's "Single Ladies," Li'l Mama's "Lip Gloss." Apparently I am easily assimilated! By pop culture, anyway.

strange dreams can make me think so much

2008-11-30T19:25:23Z

I had a dream about the right man for me. It hurt.

I've never actually dreamed about a good relationship partner before; I thought "dream man" was just a figure of speech. But Alex and Maggie and a few others have been telling me what they think I should look for, and I naturally have a few ideas of my own on the subject, and I guess it all got together subconsciously.

But the thing is, even in my dream it wouldn't have worked. He was a man, and he had the right personality and he was in the right place in his life, emotionally . . . but he was a film/TV writer, a New Yorker, but with a pied à terre in LA in case he suddenly got big. And I could see that that was exactly what would happen, and I would have to stay with book publishing in New York, so that some unknown amount of time into the relationship, it would suddenly rip apart -- leaving me even more broken than I'd been before meeting him.

I need to chill out. I need to meet more people and invest less, and I need not to hope. Hope is not something I've tried to kill before.

***

In vaguely related news, this guy I've had a huge crush on (but haven't felt worthy of) posted a journal entry about how much he dislikes upper arm fat on girls. Usually hope does just fine dying on its own without my help!

I ATEN'T DEAD

2008-09-05T06:20:28Z

so I realize I haven't posted forever, but I promised Chrissy I would, and I will!

...it may just take awhile, since I'm trying to get everything in the update -- but in case you were curious, no, I'm not dead, and I'll be back with way more detail than you ever wanted.

very quick summary: graduated, moved to Harlem for the summer and then (just Monday) to Queens, haven't found a 9-5 yet, doing some freelance editing and a tiny smidge of plus modeling, reading and knitting and going out, still seeing Doug and also occasionally going on dates with other people. nothing's perfect but everything's pretty sweet for the moment.

sleep, plz

2008-03-28T03:25:00Z

This week was killer. I can't even tell you how wiped I am right now.

I got back from spring break on Sunday, so I had to unpack and clean up and go grocery shopping and all that. Monday was actually not that bad -- I had a make-up class, so I couldn't go into work; I just had one three-hour class in the afternoon.

With Tuesday, it began. Tuesday morning I got up early, got ready for the Acting Medieval Lit piece yet again, finally managed a decent Cupid's bow (and I didn't even get any pics for evidence!), and was off to class. This entailed a whole lot of walking in too-tall heels.

After two classes, I raced back here, threw my stuff down, and changed. I immediately left again and caught the subway to Union Square for a Wasserman presentation -- "Next Steps: English." The point was to reassure us undergrads that English majors could do anything. Who was on the panel? A teacher, a grad student, someone who went into business, and someone who worked in college administration. Could we get a couple more stereotypes in here?

I ran around a little more and submitted forms before my two-and-a-half-hour evening class. Well, it would've been three hours . . . except the professor got sick one week, so to help make up, this class was four hours long. I was dying.

After that, I had to do a library errand for the new job, then I went to the lab with free printing to do a ton of stuff for my Women Intellectuals class -- it had to be late at night so I wouldn't tie up the printer.

I finally caught the bus home -- past midnight -- put together some sort of dinner, and fell into bed for a few hours. To make matters worse, thanks to the heels, I woke up with a horrible cramp in my calf. Those are always miserable because you're sleeping and clueless and suddenly in crippling pain, and if you're like me, you can't understand anything when you wake up, just that you're an animal in pain.

Wednesday wasn't as bad; I had stuff to do around here in the morning, but only one three-hour class. After that, I had more forms to fill out and drop off for the new job, plus another library errand.

Then back here at Water, there was a meeting I had to go to. I signed up to see Rent for $10 on Sunday, but when I signed up, I also committed to attending this thing, which was called a discussion of Rent. But no, it turned out to be a two-hour lecture on "using condoms is important mmkay." It was just so frustrating and such a waste of time when I could've been doing other stuff I had to get done.

Then, when I was carrying dinner up to my room, I tripped on my pants leg, fell on the stairs, showered the common room with milk and spaghetti, and managed to hurt myself pretty decently; the bruise on the outside of my right leg is still developing, but it's already over 3" wide and 6" long (yes, I measured).

Thursday I had two classes in the morning, then I met up with afrai! We had lunch, walked around Greenwich Village, and got Cold Stone before she had to go. More on this later -- but it was fun and she's very cool. (Also, I ate way too much junk food.)

Tomorrow, Friday, I have work all day. I couldn't go during spring break, or this Monday because of the makeup class, so I really want to make up the missed time and show them I'm taking it seriously. I want to be there at 9 latest, and I'll probably stay until 5:30ish.

Then I'm going out with Sarah, and it's definitely going to be an adventure. Lauren, the middle-ground one, isn't going to be able to make it tomorrow; in the past she's been the one who keeps it a little more low-key. Sarah is a lot of fun, a lightweight, and a six-foot blonde. And I have an unfortunate tendency to egg her on a little ("okay, why not go to a club?").

Saturday is also busy. I can sleep in a little, thankfully, but at noon I'm going ice-skating. I've wanted to go for awhile, so I'm really psyched.

After that ends, I'm coming back, showering, then getting all dressed again and going to this club -- it's kind of a long story, but it's supposed to be sketchy but fun. We'll see.

Sunday is, mercifully, relatively low-key. There will be a lot of sleeping in, probably a fair amount of cleaning the apartment, and then in the evening Rent.

And then it's Monday and I get to do it all again yay.

***

I talked to Doug today, before I met up with bravecows, and it was good. Not perfect -- he's got rehearsals all weekend (for Edward II! I'm embarrassingly psyched). A evening thing might've been possible, but one of Doug's good friends is one of the five guys in The Seafarer (I know!), and it's closing this weekend, so Doug wants to go party with him (and Ciaran Hinds).

He said next weekend should be good, though; he was saying it'd work out, and I was joking "Oh, I should pencil you in, then?" and he was all "No, no, I know it'll work!" I was still only agreeing to pencil, not ink -- it was all super-teasy and not serious whatsoever, but on some level I think stuff like that registers. I hate, hate playing games, but if I have to do all this crap to pretend to be high-value so he treats me better, I will.

Plus I'm secretly kind of glad that I get to go ice-skating and clubbing this weekend. I mean, don't get me wrong -- I love spending time with Doug -- but this way I get both: ice-skating and clubbing (this weekend), and seeing Doug and not doing anything else all day and making breakfast at 2 PM and cuddling to watch Slings & Arrows (next weekend).

***

This entry has been Benless, by the way, because the poor guy has the flu. Okay, one quick story: We were texting the other day and he was telling me how miserable he was. I texted something like "Have you tried the brat diet?" He went quiet for a few minutes, then sent something like "Listen, you know I really want to see you, but I'm so sick, it's the flu, I'm afraid it's not going to work out this week...I'm sorry!"

I laughed for about five minutes before I could stop long enough to text back "brat: bananas, rice, applesauce, toast."

bookslibretti @ 2008-03-19T20:15:00

2008-03-20T00:47:54Z

I'm home on spring break and chilling out a little (or more than a little). The other day Doug and I left phone-tag messages for each other, and yesterday and today Ben and I were texting, and I'm feeling pretty calm in that department -- like everything's okay, just on hold until I get back in the city.

I don't have that many school assignments, either -- read and summarize a book for Irish Music, get word-perfect on my Acting Medieval Lit monologue -- so I'm pretty chill about those, too. Also, I thought I crashed on the Women Intellectuals midterm (and didn't think I'd been doing that well in the class overall), and somehow my midterm grade is an A-. For the makeup class, where my silicone didn't set at all, I also wound up with an A for my midterm grade. So I feel pretty relaxed about everything in that department, too.

Today I saw a different dermatologist (at the same practice) and he gave me the impression Accutane may not give me the rotten side effects I was expecting. We'll see -- after all, he's the guy trying to sell you the stuff, and I don't trust him as much as I trust my usual dermatologist -- but it would be really nice if I didn't dry up all over (I like my strong fingernails and even my shiny hair [although okay, it could be toned down a little]). Anyway, I got the first blood tests and I'm registered on the iPledge site; on April 18, I get more blood tests, and then I have another appointment to get and fill the prescription on April 21. I'm pretty -- okay, make that really -- psyched.

I have been sleeping a lot, and not paying attention to what I eat, and it's been fabulous. I came home and amazed my family with my muscles, and then I promptly collapsed on the couch. Tonight I had grilled salmon, spinach fettucine, and steamed baby carrots. Amaaaazing.

Tomorrow night we're heading to my grandmother's for Easter -- I guess I'm not going to wind up back in the city midweek (early plans had had me catching the train back to put in a day at work, see Ben, and catch another train to my grandmother's). That's cool, though; I can get behind some uninterrupted chillaxing. Right now I feel a whole lot like my icon.

Accutane!

2008-03-18T04:42:14Z

So today I had a ton of doctors' appointments -- it's spring break; this is my only real chance to be home and play catchup. Most of them were completely uneventful, but, after 4.5 years of trying every other prescription with no effect, my dermatologist is finally willing to put me on Accutane. It's kind of terrifying -- there are a lot of potential side effects that are really bad, and then there are a handful of side effects I will definitely get that aren't great either. My lips will be coming off in chunks, and my hair will probably never be nice and shiny again. But, on the other hand, to have skin that's just scarred to hell and back, not actively breaking out . . . would be really nice. I only wish he'd agreed to it in the beginning, rather than signing me up for four more years' worth of scars.

bookslibretti @ 2008-03-16T01:09:00

2008-03-16T05:16:31Z

So guess who I missed a call from an hour ago? That was one voicemail I didn't want to retrieve -- I practically puked first.

Doug was on his way back from the murder mystery, happy, chatty, talking about work and Edward II and St. Patrick's Day. Apparently it never crossed his mind that after disappearing, and refusing to answer three carefully-calculated-to-sound-casual-not-psycho voicemails and one e-mail, we might not be perfectly okay. I swear that guy is on another planet.

bookslibretti @ 2008-02-29T02:51:00

2008-02-29T08:13:05Z

I just found out that in October, this guy I vaguely knew in high school ODed on heroin. I wouldn't've guessed. There's not much I can say -- the facebook group, the memorial myspace, are all about as trite as you could imagine. I didn't know him well enough to be able to say anything now -- it was just a tangential acquaintance, through a few friends of drama-group friends but mostly because of my position on the newspaper; I was able to identify him and connect that with what he did (he was an athlete, ridiculously enough, on heroin), but that was all.

God, do I not miss high school.

I'm thinking about going back, though, for a day. The last time I set foot on campus, or spoke to any teachers or anyone but a few close friends from school, was the graduation ceremony.

Now, four years later, graduating from college, I think it may be time to go back and show them -- okay, I'm thinking of one teacher in particular -- who I am now. Earlier today, I was talking to Ben* about the idea, and he was very gung-ho, but I'm just not sure.

It would probably be a surprise -- I've changed a lot, obviously -- but I don't know if it'd be worthwhile. I don't even know if they'd remember me well enough to carry on more than a five-minute conversation ("So, you wound up going to...? Oh, really, NYU?") I don't know -- for one thing, how do you even get and fill out the request-to-visit forms? Especially if you want to surprise the teacher you're coming to see?

I'm not sure I want to cope with all the stress -- plus, by the time school's winding down for them in June, I'll already have graduated and I'll hopefully be working. How could I make it happen then?

In case you couldn't tell, my brain's throwing out excuses trying to stop me from going. Why? Weird. I'm going to have to think about this.

________________
* Who paid me an awesome compliment today, by the way. Actually, there were a slew, but the one I'm talking about is that he said even if it didn't work out between us, long-term (and it's not going to), he would still want to keep seeing me to be friends. It's always BS when you say "let's stay friends" during a breakup, but when you're happy together it seems a bit more genuine. Anyway, that's pretty much my ultimate goal: I need a guy who, if I were a guy, would want to hang out with me.

bookslibretti @ 2008-02-25T00:13:00

2008-02-25T05:29:39Z

This weekend was productive, I think.

- This is before the weekend, but on Thursday, I turned in a ton of assignments that were due.
- I slept a lot -- this is actually a good thing, not just lazy, since it makes my skin better
- I did laundry (after putting it off for weeks)
- I roasted a turkey breast (healthy protein-y lunch for the next week)
- I replied to about 235825 outstanding e-mails, facebook messages, and phone calls
- My apartment is still clean!
- I picked up junk from the health center
- I started looking for somewhere to volunteer to socialize cats (the biggest scam ever: I get to pet cats and they thank me for it?)
- I got a facebook message from an intern I met last semester, saying (a) we should meet up (b) she works at Random House now and LOVES IT, and (c) she can totally get me a job there after I graduate. WHAT.

I still need to do some other junk:
- Call the health center tomorrow about an appointment (sinus infection?)
- Go to Chelsea testing center Tuesday (if Ben's busy then)
- Normal cycle of work, classes, classes, classes, work

Unfortunately this weekend didn't include salsa dancing, which I was kind of looking forward to. No Doug, either, obviously, because both nights this weekend, he had a Long Island show so terrible I refused to see it.

EDIT: How have I never had frozen grapes before? Add that to the things-accomplished list: "discovered new form of crack."

bookslibretti @ 2008-02-21T17:23:00

2008-02-21T22:57:32Z

This week has gone by really fast -- well, logically, since Monday was off and I start chillaxing on Thursday nights.

On Monday, Doug was still here, and it was like 6 by the time he left, so I accomplished pretty much nothing (although on Saturday morning, I did get my apartment sparkling clean before he came over). That evening, I just moped around for absolutely no good reason. (Edit: Except for the fact that on hotornot [which he made me join it is not my fault] I have a 7.2 and he has an 8.9. That's good for some moping right there.)

On Tuesday, I made homemade chicken-noodle soup out of leftovers. Some time last week, I had roasted a chicken, had some for dinner that night, brought it to work for lunch for days, and still had plenty of leftover scraps. Those went in the pot, along with sliced celery and carrot coins put in at the last minute so they'd stay crunchy and awesome. I'm serving it over leftover whole-wheat noodles and it is so good. That's the best part about DIY, whether it's food, clothes, or music -- it's completely customized to exactly what you want.

On Tuesday I also got about half a stripe done on my huge NYU scarf/shawl. Between cooking, cleaning, and sewing, obviously the nesting instinct is at work here; I'd thought Implanon would eliminate that, but, uh, apparently no. And it continues!

On Wednesday, I got my paycheck cashed, my mom came in (her school's on break this week), and we went GROCERY SHOPPING. This was serious excitement for me, because I haven't been shopping forever since I've been out of money, and because I'd been out of staples (like salt), and now having not just staples but also extravagances (grapes were on sale!) is an amazing feeling.

While she was here, she treated me to lunch, which I decided to make my cheat meal. We went to Cozy Soup & Burger and it was amaaaazing. I mean, it was standard good diner fare -- grilled cheese with bacon, curly fries, and a chocolate shake -- but to someone who hasn't had any of those things in about a year, goddamn. Amazing.

I also got to take home my dried head after makeup class. I'm not sure exactly what can be done with it. Right now it's chilling on my bookshelf as a semi-grotesque, semi-laughably-fake conversation piece.

Thursday is, uh, today by my calculations. I was freaked about performing another monologue in my acting class, especially since I'd chosen the piece on, oh, Tuesday morning, and it was twenty arrhythmic, non-rhymed lines -- so no crutches there. And this is for the class where virtually everyone is a Tischie.

My passage was about a beautiful queen, so I felt like maybe wearing something nicer than a hoodie, and I also wanted to feel more confident, and feeling attractive is a shortcut to that. So remember the red slutty turtleneck sweater? I wore exactly that but in green, along with nice jeans and Mary Janes. It went too far, though, and made me less confident because I was self-conscious and kept tugging at it. Argh.

Anyway, before the performance, I was panicking just a smidge about memorization, but I did it without asking for more than two lines -- and I'd known them, it just would've taken more than a second to recall them. When it came time for comments, one guy (who instantly became one of my favorite people) actually complimented my memorization.

In my next class, I had a presentation due. Fortunately, I'd chosen to do a bio of Queen Elizabeth, so it took me all of two minutes to prepare (aka to check dates). Actually presenting it wasn't something I enjoyed, but I did a good job, so I was pleased. During the discussion, the teacher (who doesn't know a terrible amount outside her specialty of medieval Spain) kept calling on me (she knows that I'm a senior MARS major and that renaissance England is my area of interest). It reached the point where I was afraid of looking like a jerk, but I think I moderated my phrasing enough that it didn't look like I thought I was hot shit. I hope so, anyway.

Then I went to buy a course reader. It was $14, I pulled out my credit card, and the guy tells me there's a $15 minimum, would I like to buy a $5 glue stick? Well, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it was something equally stupid, anyway. I said -- and I was totally the textbook model of assertive rather than aggressive -- "I don't think that's allowed; American Express doesn't let you set minimums" (true, except in one unlikely circumstance).

He told me there was an ATM next door. I frowned, but I was actually going to go use it -- my USAA debit card refunds all ATM fees -- but I didn't say so, and I was accidentally slow about handing back the course pack and putting my wallet away, so he must have thought I was leaving. He did a huge dramatic sigh and was all "Never mind, never mind, I'll charge you $14." Thank you for obeying your contract; sorry I'm not buying a marked-up glue stick.

Right now, I'd usually be seeing Ben, but his schedule didn't work out this week, so instead I'm supposed to be doing laundry. Obviously, I'm not, so maybe the nesting instinct has run its course and I'm safe again. I do need to do laundry, though, but it can wait for tomorrow . . . I think. A sock crisis is looming in the not-too-distant future.

Edit: Also today, I got a letter about what's going to appear on my diploma. They got it wrong, of course, and of course I've already tried three different NYU offices that gave me the red-tape runaround and finally told me to appear in person (which I can't do until next Tuesday, and it'd sure be nice to take care of things faster than that). But my point here is not that I hate NYU bureaucracy, it is that I am going to be getting a diploma and graduating holy shit. It still hasn't sunk in; this is just a tiny taste of the "They're really going to kick me out? No more classes? No more Bobst? No more spacious, gorgeous dorm?" shock in store.

fascinating stuff, I'm sure

2008-02-13T21:22:53Z

Three votes for the black, one for the gray . . . sorry, Justine. Once I tried them on this morning, my vote was for the black, too. I should probably take a picture at some point to let you guys know what I'm talking about, huh?

Anyway, my day was easier than expected. I went to bed at some incredibly ridiculous hour (that's not the easy part). When my alarm went off about two hours later, I looked out the window and it was absolutely pouring, and all the snow was slush, and I just couldn't face the walk to work. Soooo I e-mailed my boss and I'll be doing a longer day on Friday, which was the original plan anyway.

Then I went back to bed, got up a few hours later, got ready (this is a lengthy process involving much trying-on and making-faces-at), and came to class. This is the special effects makeup class, which is supposed to go to 5, but has always run to 5:15 or 5:30; I was thinking the timing would be perfect -- if I left there then, I'd get to Ben's at 6. Today, of course, class finished at 4. So now I'm at a kiosk killing an hour before I can head to Ben's (I didn't think you guys were that desperate to hear about my skirt choice).

The bad news is that I just wore my high heels without even bringing my boots. The good news is that it looks like the rain's almost over, and it is supposed to stop this evening . . . and I have 40 minutes left here. Aargh.

Edit: Oh hey I forgot -- I talked to Doug today, he's cool, we're cool, and it only remains for me to hassle him a little next time I see him.

He was Estragon, which I think is a weird casting choice (sure enough, he told me he'd always worked on Vladimir); he was kind of cryptic about how it went -- I'm just hoping no offstage drama went down -- but said closing night was good. Which is good.

I had e-mailed him before about the modeling thing -- there was one ad where the guy had a really interesting-sounding projects, but after e-mailing with him, it developed that some of the shots would be seminude (not explicit or full nude, but PG-13 still includes way more than I'm comfortable sharing with the world); I asked Doug's advice. This was mostly an excuse to get in touch, since his (frequently shared) opinion is that I should go get artistic full nudes done somewhere, so obviously I'm not really taking his advice into account.

I forwarded him my e-mails with the photographer guy, which were hilarious -- at one point this guy wrote, "you have a great face and figure, are quite lovely and an eyecatcher" and followed it up with the slightly more puzzling "you are an exceptionally beautiful all woman woman." Obviously dude was just trying to flatter me into doing what he wanted, but Doug got kind of miffed and called the guy sleazy. He probably is sleazy, but Doug's miffedness is both entertaining and baffling; next time we see each other, we're going to have to say something about jealousy, seeing other people, all that (aka, "if you want me to see other people, you are not allowed to be pissed off -- at me or them -- when I do").

Anyway, TL;DR, no, I am not going to be modeling in a bathing suit anytime soon, no matter what Doug thinks I should rock.

Anyway anyway, he doesn't really have plans this weekend, he thinks. His Monday should be free (this is good), and his Sundays usually are; since this is a three-day weekend, we might make it from Saturday night onward and have an extra day. I'm not holding my breath, but it'd be nice. We'll get in touch Friday, when he'll have a better idea of his schedule.

Even if I wind up not seeing him at all this weekend (which I don't think is going to happen), it's still nice to know he's cool with me. Last time I saw him was almost a month ago, and he was really pissed off (well, we both were) when he left then. After today's conversation, I think he expects us to just keep going on the way we are, pretty much no matter what, unless one of us moves or gets struck by lightning or love (about equally likely). It's nice to know there's that level of expectation from him, but at the same time, I don't want him to be too confident, thinking he can treat me like shit and, oh yeah, I'll call him next weekend just like always because that's just how we roll. That's why I need to bring it up -- albeit indirectly, casually, and definitely not right away -- next time I see him.

I am still killing time at a kiosk. La la la.

argh life

2008-02-13T06:02:17Z

Tomorrow I get up early, get breakfast, and go to work. BUT WAIT, I have to pack a ton of things in my bag (t-shirt, really high heels, other fun junk). I also have to get pretty damn dressy with a button-down (okay not so dressy), really nice skirt, spanx, pain-in-the-ass stockings, low heels, and so forth (that's the dressy part). Also, giant black peacoat.

Then I go take the subway to work. It's been snowing all afternoon, evening, and night here -- I just hope it's cold enough to stay snow, not turn into slush. Okay, I just looked out the window, and it's now rain. Revised plan: wear the above, plus giant freakin' boots, to commute. Change into heels (I guess I can only bring the super-high ones now) and do those inside buildings.

Anyway, get ready and get to work. Then be there from 9 until 1:30 or so.

At 1:30, stash the heels, put on giant snow boots, walk (literally) a mile to my class. Tomorrow at 1:30 PM, according to the weather channel, there is a 100% chance of rain . . . okay, I might be super-weak and grab a cab (hopstop says it would only be $5! and 8 minutes! door-to-door!).

Change into T-shirt, go to class, try not to spill anything on my nice skirt/stockings/heels (this is the sfx makeup class, so we work with scary paint and latex and stuff).

Leave class at 5 (aka 5:15 or 5:30). Put on huge boots again. Catch subway to Ben's.

At Ben's, downstairs in the lobby, change into heels, primp a smidge (there's a huge full-length mirror right outside the elevator, it's pretty convenient). Go upstairs, tell him to go start his laundry; while he's gone, hit the bathroom to fix makeup, kill the spanx, whatever else. This is, theoretically, at 6.

Hang out, leave hopefully around 10ish (aka not too late/sketchy to get the subway).

Get back, collapse in bathrobe, throw together some homework, take a long shower, pass out.

I have to get up early Thursday morning but I'm totally not thinking that far ahead. Also, did you notice that no time for meals is included in my schedule? Yeah I don't think this counts as eating clean.

***

Blue pinstripe shirt, classic sexy black high heels, translucent black stockings. Accessories and bag black/silver.

CHOICE A - Black pencil skirt, just past the knee, smooth stretch fabric, tight enough to be indecent. I can't wear it without tugging at it self-consciously.

CHOICE B - Gray slightly tulipy skirt, just past the knee, kind of thick/rough fabric, looser fit. More comfortable, also more frumpy, but maybe the black one is too "look at meeee"? But this one doesn't match as well.

Vote plz!

Super Bowl? Not quite.

2008-02-03T22:59:23Z

Today, or this weekend overall, I guess, is supposed to be some stereotypically hyper-masculine fiesta of grunting, chanting, gobbling buffalo wings, and running into each other at top speed. Meanwhile, I've had the completely opposite weekend and I'm feeling the girliest I've been in a long, long time.

Thursday included a long, incredibly girl-talk chat with my roommate. It almost resulted in my going to Babeland with her, but we wound up opting for a rain date on that. I won the spelling bee (not stereotypically feminine, afaik), but later that evening, I saw Ben again, which, although it wasn't scandalous, still made me feel feminine as hell.

Friday I basically slept. It was nice -- and needed, since I hadn't really slept all week, had killed half of my muscles, and hadn't even gotten back to the apartment until like 3 AM the night (er, morning) before. That evening I crawled out of bed, microwaved some leftovers, and crawled back in. That was about the extent of my activity.

Saturday was awesome and productive. I got up early (after all, I'd slept for about 20 of the previous 24 hours), took the world's best hot shower, made a big healthy breakfast, and got some stuff done around the apartment. That evening, my mom came in, brought me stuff I needed from home, took me shopping for groceries, and then treated me to dinner -- which included a seriously chocolatey dessert (one cheat meal a week, mmkay). Then I did tons of laundry.

Today, I slept in. Eventually I got up, put on the Puppy Bowl in the background, and did some knitting on the NYU scarf I've been working on for ages. I still have to make cookies for tomorrow, but right now I'm letting the butter soften on the counter. Since the oven has to be on for that, I'm probably going to do a fairly elaborate, thoroughly delicious and healthy dinner of roast chicken and butternut squash.

Later this evening, I need to work out what I'm wearing tomorrow . . . because it's the first day of my internship this semester! I also need to empty out the bag I took to Ben's -- I need to bring a big one to work, because I've got a feeling I'm going to be hitting the take shelves pretty hard.

Also worth noting: Tuesday is NYU's full-time job fair, and I have no idea what I'm wearing. My real black suit is ridiculously huge, so it's out of the question because I don't think the pants can stay up. I recently got a gray skirt suit, but it's ugly and the jacket really needs to be altered. I do have plain gray trousers I really like, but I couldn't pair the gray jacket with them even if it hadn't been altered. Argh. Black huge jacket and a non-matching black skirt? At least I have a few button-up shirts that should still fit, sort of.

Update

2008-02-01T01:19:11Z

Dorm spelling bee: Won.

Loot: $25 bookstore gift card and a little pack of Post-Its.

Tonight's plans: Get ready, take subway to Chelsea, see Ben.

Graduation status: Uncertain but unpromising.

Drama averted (or at least deferred)

2008-01-31T23:44:44Z

I called Doug today at like 3:30, asking what was up -- and he acted totally normal, like nothing whatsoever had happened. He had a bunch of good news; for one thing, he got hired permanently at his day job, which means he gets health insurance eventually! For another, he just lucked into a production of Waiting for Godot (very good) -- in New Jersey (bad). He's staying there this weekend rehearsing like mad; it opens Monday and runs through next Sunday's matinée, so this weekend's out and so is next weekend. He was acting perfectly normal and sounding like he wanted to see me, not like he was making excuses, and last-minute substitutions and awful rehearsal schedules are certainly part of actors' lives.

He did say we'd see each other the weekend he was free again, which works out to February 16 -- and we won't have seen each other since January 21. That's going to be weird. And powerful. And yeah, I am going to start a talk while he's here, because he's not getting completely away with what he tried last time. But for now, no stress and no drama!

***

There is, however, drama about my graduation. When I came into NYU, I was exempted from the foreign-language requirement because I'd gotten above a certain score on my SAT II French test. It didn't show up on my unofficial degree progress report, though, so for awhile now I've been bugging various officials who have sent me away saying everything would be fine.

The official I ran into today said that everything was far from fine. I took the SAT II French Language with Listening and they only accept SAT II French Language. The listening version is above and beyond -- it isn't only listening; there's a written portion first, and that's the same as the non-listening part -- so I more than fulfilled the requirements.

And now this guy -- I've met with him before, and he's not just a martinet, he's a downright unpleasant person -- telling me I have to stick around and take four more semesters' worth of French.

Yeah, I called my parents. NYU sucks for only listening to parents, but what are you going to do? NYU knows the parents are the ones writing the checks, so the school will listen to them if not to the students. My dad is probably going to freak out, call the assistant dean of such-and-such and throw a fit, and everything will magically be fine. It's ridiculous things have to be done this way.

***

TONIGHT:
7:00 (15 minutes!) - Water St. spelling bee
after that - Ben

Join Ruckus!

2008-01-29T02:37:18Z

If you have an edu e-mail address, you can get free music at Ruckus. It's DRMed, but the player doesn't include malware -- one or two incorporated ads, but they're not intrusive. What you get -- access to tons of albums, ranging from current hits to really obscure pieces -- is way worthwhile. They definitely have a deal with Warner, and I think Sony too, so basically their entire libraries are available. For you to listen to. For free. In about thirty seconds. Ruckus.

bookslibretti @ 2008-01-22T00:18:00

2008-01-22T05:18:02Z

I'm throwing a small pity party (I only invited Ben & Jerry) and I have a lot of stuff to do and so instead of doing any of it I am typing up the comments my Cambridge-educated fancy-pants professor wrote on my final paper.

My title (which was less than inspired) was "The Canterbury Tales' View of Intelligence: Learning, Wit, and the Perfect Combination." Basically, I was saying that you can't just be educated and you can't just be street-smart; to succeed, you need the perfect mix of wit and learning.

The sweep of your argument is extremely impressive: you take in such a lot of tales, as your claim -- and definition of "intelligence" -- is supple enough to cast new light on a great many of the texts you discuss. Your ideas are also refreshingly original. The paper is only marred by your tendency to construct straw men -- to target assumptions, opinions that you address but don't substantiate as much sometimes seem to me wrong (?) enough to limit your own claims. You've read with helpful breadth too in a wide variety of scholarship. Nice work! A-

Highest grade in the class bitchazzzzz

Did I mention how awesome grad school would be, if I could do it?

aargh aargh aargh okay

2008-01-22T03:20:00Z

So the date with Ben went well. I'd seen his facebook pictures, in which he looked totally terrible, and while I was talking to him, he also took a blurry myspacey shot with his phone; he looked a little better in that, but it was so blurry and myspacey it was hard to see anything. I was really thinking I couldn't be attracted to him, but we'd been talking and getting along so well I figured I had to go.

So I meet him, and he looks way, way better than anything I expected -- turns out the facebook pictures were months old, and he's lost weight since then, and he just generally looks a ton better and a ton less John Belushi. I was amazed -- when was the last time you were surprised because someone looked better than their internet pictures?

Anyway: he's cool and we get along well and he's definitely into me and we should be seeing each other again, I think. That was Saturday night.

Sunday afternoon, Doug came over. I was playing it cool beforehand, letting him do all the work since last week had gone so poorly I was half-considering giving him the mitten. To his credit, he did step it up; he called to arrange it, then offered to stop by the grocery store if there was anything we needed. It was a definite change from his behavior last week.

This week, everything was absolutely amazing -- it started off phenomenally, and we got along so well. We admired his brand-new headshots, I made dinner, he got a call offering him a plum role he'd just auditioned for, he got a smidge bit jealous about my other date (although he didn't spot the mark on my shoulder), we slept all huddled up (it was cold!), we showered, I made breakfast, we cuddled and watched Slings & Arrows . . . from 4:30 PM on Sunday to 5:30 PM on Monday, everything was absolutely perfect and amazing. He had to leave at 6 Monday evening, and around 5:40 he constructed a stupid argument, pitched a fit, and marched out.

I don't know if it's him or me, but one of us has a positive genius for screwing things up at the last minute. I don't even know how it happened, although I do know the shit he blamed me for today was not my fault this time. Right now I'm more pissed at him than anything else -- it was so amazing until he came up with something stupid! I don't think I'm going to call him this coming week; even if he calls, I'm not sure whether I'd accept or decline (on grounds of busy-ness).

Also also, the last thing he did before he left (well, before fight-related stuff) was break my toilet. I've been dealing with that, and the maintenance guys, ever since. Thanks a million, Doug.

Aargh. DUDES. Especially because, as much as Ben was totally digging me, I'm not completely positive it'll work out; he was having some guilt issues about a semi-unresolved ex, and we haven't even texted since Sunday morning whereas before it was 24/7. Edit: lol never mind he texted me and we chatted and we're on for Thursday evening or possibly Friday awesomesauce.

***

Classes start tomorrow, and I'm ridiculously unprepared. I printed out my schedule just now (looks like this semester includes another 15-minute run from the lowest basement of Tisch to the highest floor of Silver), but I don't have my books yet. One of my professors assigned a Blackboard reading, and it's 25 pages of totally impenetrable feminist theory, larded with MacKinnon quotes, and maybe I should just kill myself and/or drop the class now.

Aargh. Class from 11 AM to 2 PM, and 6 PM to 9 PM, and I'm picking tomorrow to start eating clean again?

At least this week, there's only tomorrow, Wednesday, and Thursday -- and Wednesday only has one class. Next week's a full week, to ease me into classes before my internship starts on February 4 and the semester's in full swing.

bookslibretti @ 2008-01-15T04:34:00

2008-01-15T10:19:19Z

Today -- well, Monday; it's Tuesday now -- was a ridiculously social day. I slept in, and, okay, that was a solo event. In the afternoon, I met a few people from the floor, but that was pretty low-key too.

At my roommate's instigation, I did have a huge fashion show of all my new purchases (her verdict: "Giiiirl, you have an ass!" with subverdict: "You have a waist..."). It was a lot of fun, though, and she, like Doug, is voting for way more fitted clothes. I'm not sure, but I may have to get up enough nerve to wear stuff like that in public.

Anyway, at 6:30 that evening I went with a bunch of other people from the dorm to see Sweeney Todd. I was wearing makeup for the first time in a month or something equally ridiculous, and it's amazing how much better and cuter it makes me feel, even when I'm wearing (as I was tonight) a giant hoodie and a ponytail. There were maybe 10 or 12 of us at first, including one guy who was so awesome I suspect him of being a practiced PUA. He was cute-ish and very awesome and kept starting conversations and using tons of kino, so I talked with him for awhile as we rode the subway up to the Lincoln Center movie theater.

The movie itself was pretty good -- I wasn't totally in love with either of the leads, but it was good for a movie-musical with stars who'd never sung before. It was super-gory; I was kind of expecting it, but still wound up closing my eyes a lot, and I'll probably have a nightmare or two tonight. I was more disappointed by the songs they'd cut -- how awesomely creepy would Alan Rickman's "Johanna" be? I knew in advance they had cut "Attend the tale," but I thought they'd do more with it under the credits or something, even if it was just instrumental.

Anyway, after that, 7 or 8 of us (sadly, we lost, among others, the cute guy) went to dinner at a tiny pizzeria nearby -- it was warm and cozy and we all had a great time talking, and NYU picked up the tab. I had a burger -- a bacon cheeseburger, to be exact; there was tons of bacon, and it was quite possibly the best burger I've ever had. I do admit that might be a function of not having had a burger for like a year.

When we got back to Water, two of the people I'd been talking more with during dinner wanted to come up and see my apartment (I might have been bragging a little, but the duplex is awesome), so we did that.

After they left, I came back down ostensibly to apologize to my new roommate (who seems very cool, btw) for running two strangers through the place, but really just to get in on the chat she was having with her friend from next door. We hung out for what seemed like maybe half an hour, chatting about surprisingly girly stuff, and then the neighbor was all "Well, look at the time," and it was seriously 1 AM. I still have no idea how that happened.

Annnnd tomorrow I'm going to Victoria's Secret with her. Nothing in the store's going to fit me, so I'm just going as her personal shopper. Her boyfriend (of over two years) is flying back into the city tomorrow, and some pretty scandalous things came up during my fashion show (but no, I did not try them on for her), so she thinks I'd be an awesome adviser. Ah yes, I'm obviously the expert here! She also thinks I'll fit into Victoria's Secret's stuff, though, so that might be part of a larger pattern of well-meant delusion.

***

Other things worth mentioning:

- One week until the semester starts! What will I do when I have, you know, classes to contend with? Also possibly the internship, about which I was not yet e-mailed back, so eeee I don't know.

- Right now I'm in the Doug's-kind-of-a-jerk camp. I swear he's like two people; he was so amazing for an entire four days, or whatever it was, over New Year's, but this last weekend he was really not very awesome at all. He gets next weekend to see if this was a temporary downswing and he'll go back to being awesome, but if not, it might be about time for an ultimatum or two of my own -- God knows he's been dishing them out left and right.

bookslibretti @ 2008-01-12T02:31:00

2008-01-12T07:47:36Z

Yeah, so no modeling at the moment. They were only looking for one girl, and apparently they found someone they were happy with before it was time for my appointment.

That's cool by me, though; I really don't want to model. I was just amazed, pleased, happy, and so on that Doug took me seriously and that they did, too, and didn't delete my e-mail as soon as they saw my photos.

Doug did send me another listing, though -- who knew there was such demand for fat models in New York?

Yeah so today is a good day.

2008-01-11T18:29:28Z

I've heard a couple times in the last few months that I should be a model (a plus-size model, obviously). Since it was always from guys who were trying to get into my pants, I didn't believe it at all, just figured it was a pretty standard (and boring) line of theirs.

Then, when I went home for Christmas, at a family celebration, someone said something along those lines. It struck me as really weird, and got me thinking that they must have meant it -- I mean, they could just have said "you've lost some weight" or whatever; it didn't specifically have to be about modeling.

So when I was at Doug's place over New Year's, I was all "I have a stupid question to ask you -- promise me you won't laugh? Promise?" I figured he might be as close as I could get to an unbiased source, since we're intimate enough that he's honest with me, and he knows he doesn't have to feed me lines to get into my . . . good graces.

Anyway, I asked, very tentatively, if he thought I could possibly conceivably sort of be a plus-size model, and he immediately responded "Absolutely -- I thought you weren't interested in that." (We'd talked in the past about why I wasn't pursuing a career in music, and singing/acting/modeling all carries over these days.)

He told me, without an instant of hesitation, he thought I could. I can't see it myself. I know I have a little more shape than most other fat girls, which would be a plus. I've finally got my eyebrows more or less how I want them, and somehow I've seemed to grow into the rest of my face -- my nose isn't as incongruous as before. I still don't like the way I look, of course, but you can tell from my Facebook picture that somehow it seems a little bit more together. My skin is still record-breakingly terrible, but hey, it's not like they're not going to photoshop the shit out of it anyway.

Anyway, I still took it with a huge grain of salt, but it did give me a warm fuzzy glow.

Fast-forward to yesterday. Doug's browsing Craigslist, since he gets a lot of gigs through there, and he forwards me (subject line: Your big break?) an ad looking for plus-size models. So I respond to the ad with a couple of pictures (my face picture from Facebook, plus, to show my body, the ones of me in the sweater from the other day).

And they get back to me. They like my look and I have an appointment later today, which I'm going to head to soon. I'm freaking out over here, and hoping like hell those pictures are accurate enough that they'll still like me in person.

AUGH I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK MY LIFE IS TURNING INTO.

Anyway, next time you get together with people from high school and you're playing "Hey, what happened to...?" I TOTALLY ENCOURAGE you to say "Oh, remember bookslibretti? You know she went to New York for college? Well, now she's getting into some modeling there. . . ."

***

ALSO got another awesome e-mail today, sent by my boss from the internship. Basically, her intern request was denied for the spring but approved for the summer, and she'd offered the summer internship to me. I accepted, of course, but it made me nervous because hey, I'm supposed to have a real job by then.

Anyway, today's e-mail: "For you, I got them to switch my internship from the summer to the spring! Still interested?"

To which I immediately replied "ZOMG YES."

So things are looking AWESOME and Doug's coming over SATURDAY and I think I have a MODELING GIG and quite possibly AN AMAZING INTERNSHIP again. This is not my life so it's not my fault for using capslock.

a meme that takes more than thirty seconds, you say?

2008-01-09T04:45:27Z

1) Go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The article title is the name of your band.

2) Go to http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The final words of the last quote on your page is the title of your album.

3) Go to http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
The fourth image on the page is your album cover. Be sure it's CC-licensed so derivative works are okay.

4) Design your cover. Layout and presentation are up to you.
A normal CD cover is 4.75"w x 4.175"h. As long as you keep these proportions, the size and dpi don't matter.

5) Post your cover, along with these instructions.
In the comments your friends will tell you what kind of music you play and the name of the album's single.

based on this image by n1/thelarch on Flickr
meme stolen from angevin2, who did a much better job than me

bookslibretti @ 2008-01-02T11:20:00

2008-01-02T16:21:20Z

View Poll: The cause of some heated disagreement