Smallhouse Log

Getsuyoubi

  1. Portraying: "It's like spitting on a fish"
  2. Conveying: Sleepy happiness
  3. Now Playing: "Hell Below / Stars Above" - The Toadies
  4. When Praying: Jacee
  5. Betraying: Hannah, Amanda, Craig Davis

Conversation time!

Ian: "Nothing interesting has happened? No half-naked women falling into your arms? Nothing?"
Sepehr: "Not more than usual."

Dinesh: (disgusted) "Is this that awful 'How Bizzare' song?"
Ian: "Hey! This song has deep associations with my early adolescence."
Dinesh: "Yeah, but so does that one Chumbawumba song."
Ian: "Heh, I have that one, too."

And there you have it, folks. Maybe I'll work on the site now. Maybe.

after the Sunday late shift

  1. Portraying: 58% of Home
  2. Conveying: Happiness
  3. Now Playing: "Soul to Squeeze" - Red Hot Chili Peppers
  4. The Saying: "A woman came up to me and said, 'I'd like to poison your mind with wrong ideas that appeal to you, though I am not unkind.'" - 'Whistling in the Dark', by They Might Be Giants
  5. When Praying: All those at this college with unhealthy lifestyles

There were several thing I forgot to mention in the last post, but I can't remember any of them now, except the bit about how Sarah kept mentioning her boyfriend in the later half of the night. It was really funny if you were there. Really.

Also, CU is going, again. I think.... I don't know. I like the name Smallhouse, and will probably go back to that name, but not with the text-adventuresque layout of before. Probably a more RotB-style layout, with elements from the layout I had been considering doing for a while, which is a fair mite like CU, actually. I think, maybe, over spring break, I can do it. I'm still swamped with math raight now, but at least I'm halfway through it.

Oh, yeah, and Amanda apparantly cut her hair. She sent me a picture. It's not that good a shot, but it doesn't look that much shorter to me. Ah, well. I'm trying to find someone who took digital pictures of me at Beth's cocktail party so I can show her how short mine got. *grin*

Have I mentioned how absolutely great I feel? Oh! That's what i was going to talk about! I went to this Bhangra put on by SASA on Friday, and my calves are still sore. But it was, por supuesto, a lot of fun. Once again, I left an hour early out of soreness. One day, I will stat the whole night.... one day. Grace and her friend with green bangs were there, too. I ended up walking with her to the bus stop.

On Saturday, I burned my hand. I tried -and succeeded- to put out a match with my bare fingers. No, I hadn't been drinking. When I'm sober, I don't always think about stuff like that. When I've been drinking, though, I am more cautious, and don't do things like play with fire or juggle. And when I'm actually drunk, I generally think about how I could get a ciggarette to smoke and get everyone to excuse it because I'm drunk. As another benefit of this upswing I'm in, I no longer am nearly as attracted to smoking as before. Score.

I did learn how to light matches one-handed, though. See, I can learn things at college.

Sunday morning, before bed

  1. Conveying: Happiness
  2. Now Playing: "Flavor of the Week" - American HiFi
  3. When Praying: All those in their Lenten devotions
  4. Betraying: Jen's away message

It's seven in the morning. I've been awake for 15 hours. I'm going to bed soon, because I've got church tonight. Good to go, eh, since I'm asking the priest to write me a recommendation.

It's been a great night. I feel right again.... actually, I think it all began the night before....

It began Friday night, when I watched SLC Punk. Well, the first most of it. I'd never seen it before, see, and it really set me straight. Basically, it reminded me what being hardcore is about....and also it reminded me of why I used to dislike punks so much (ie. because they're arrogant little jerks; because they have no respect; because I could take pretty much any punk I've ever known, with the exception of my roommate Eric. (That is, six months ago, I could've. Like I may have mentioned earlier, I've gone downhill since.)). That movie -or rather, since the movie was actually pretty well-done, those punks in the movie- really pissed me off.

To be truthful, events got rolling earlier when I crashed the invitation-only party on third floor, where I talked with Sara(h?) (orange-haired Sarah, not Sarah Powers)and she told me she was going to go up and hang out with Aaron later. Then I went upstairs and watched the movie -by accident, por supuesto- and back downstairs. I played some no-stakes poker and found out that she'd already gone up to my floor. So, after a while, (and since I knew that Liz, the RA, had to break up the party at one, which was then eight minutes off) I went upstairs as well.

Perhaps I should explain about how I met Sarah. I work the Fred's late shift, 22:30-2:00, Sunday and Monday. Sarah, though she rarely has work, seems to be an unproclaimed member of the Three-o-Clock Club. She often came in to buy snacks in the early morning, and that's how we were introduced. The first time we really talked at all was one night when she was particularly bored, and insisted on counting all the several hundred pennies in the penny pot, and throwing all the dirty ones in katsup to de-oxidize them. This, I add as an aside, did not actually make them any cleaner. She claims it was because I didn't leave them in long enough, but one would think a full day to be enough time, neh? So anyway, she's shortish, cute, and has really brightly orange hair. Back to the narrative.

Everyone hung out in Aaron's room for a while, Bookie John got sick from the seven shots/no dinner combo and married himself to his toilet, and Invisible Jon, Sarah, and myself tried to watch American Movie. I'd wanted to see it for a while, but somehow found it bizzare that Jon had rented it. It was a really sucky copy, though, and kept skipping. I eventually fell asleep, and went to bed.... but hey, by four, it'd been a long day.

Then I had some kickin' dreams. They were cool, but it's not boot to go into them here. Then I woke up, at, like, four in the afternoon. Did my workout, played some Halo, did some math homework, ordered out from Noodles, Etc., and watched an episode of Sex and the City. What a freaky, weird show. Then I met Igy's sister, heard about a party from Nate, and for the first time ever, Beth and I were able to find not just a third, but a fourth for Euchre. So we played Euchre. Geoff and I won. I told him about the party, and after another half hour of math on my part, we went down to fifth floor with low expectations.

This party was awesome. I can't say for sure why, but I'd guess it was the people. But there were rumours of another party on 56th and Drexel, and Dinesh, Bookie John, and Beth all wanted to go. They invited Sarah, and she invited me, not knowing I was already included. It was still nice. Alla made fun of my attraction to Sarah. Then it was time to leave, and we missed the bus.

So we piled into Carden's car, and left Sarah behind. The other party, speaking as one who was not drinking, really sucked. At least I got in free. People kept spilling beer on me. I wanted to leave ten minutes after I got there, but was most unwilling to walk all the way back in sandals. So. Yeah. I was there for two hours, then caught a ride back with Caroline and Alex in the car of some guy Caroline knew. Caroline had been drinking again, but wasn't nearly as scary this time.

Fortunately, most of my favorite people were still at the fifth floor party. So I hung out there, just talking and stuff, helping clean up, for a couple more hours, with Dinesh, Bookie John, Sarah, and some others. Then a bunch of us came up to my room and wound up watching GI Jane with Eric and Alice. Everyone left partway through. Then, when the movie was over, I started typing this. It's been fifty minutes, which means I still have eight hours to sleep before I get up for church. Rock.

You know, I hardly ever say "Score" anymore. I'll have to start again. Score.

long after Thursday

It's five in the morning.

Why am I still freaking awake?

I'm a bad person.

after Ash Wednesday

  1. Conveying: Wellness
  2. When Praying: All those striving in their devotions this Lent

I just had one of those cool, random experiences. I had been excercising in the lounge because Alice was asleep in the main room, and I was on my way to bed - though the kitchen, por supuesto. Just after I close the pantry door, I hear a shuffling, as of slippers of carpet, outside. So I open the door and find a girl, one I recognise from around campus, trying vaguely to open the door across the niche.

"That door doesn't lead anywhere."

This girl was blonde, well-enough shaped but not my type. Turns out, her name is Hilary. She's got a Southern accent of the type that is what one thinks of when one thinks Southern belle, and the mannerisms to match. She was wearing a night-robe and was, if I amnot mistaken, more than slightly tipsy. Maybe she was just tired, but it IS bar night and she was talking pretty silly. She said that she thought I lived on the seventh floor. I pointed out that this was the seventh floor. She said she meant the fifth floor. I say, nope, the seventh. She says always though I lived with Mike and Eric. I explain that, as facts would haveit, they, too, live on the seventh floor - in the very room we were in the back doorway of. We exchange parting pleasantries and she wobbles off to the elevators.

All in all, a good time. But man, that accent.... I never knew -or maybe I forgot- the way an accent like that could make me feel like melting. Of course, it wasn't just the accent. There was the way she offered her hand when she introduced herself as well.... Ay. I need to sober up (ha, ha) and not think about girls so much. If I could only remember how I managed in high school.... did I manage in high school? I really wish I had my memory in good working order. I almost feel like I'm in Everything Jake, especially since I just read the part where Jake cuts his hair earlier today. Except, of course, I'm not getting high, drunk, or laid. Or attacked by robots/trans-dimensional travelers/pissed-off future ex-girlfriends. All of which is good. I would like a pair of those kickin' shades, though.

Hmm, I hadn't meant to link to any comics. Ever. Except the really good ones like Youthtopia.

More and more, I want to just melt for/because of a girl. Some are beautiful -ok, they're all beautiful, but in different ways. Sometimes it's not physical beauty at all, but sometimes.... sometimes it's the perfect curve of a lip, or a shoulder. Sometimes it's a perfect shade of skin. Sometimes, it's the sheer femininity of a nose or a belly or a neck. And I can see myself, melting. I don't, but I also do. My eyes go glassy and my mouth hangs comfortable open as I slide down and apart like wax next to a fire. None of that happens, of course. Maybe the mouth hanging open. Blame double life. Blame double though. It's more disconcerting now that there's no one else in there to check up on it for me. Hmmm....

Amanda told me that she shouldn't come see me, because now she's open again, and because I still love her. Because of this, if were together, I would want to kiss her.

She's right, of course. But it won't happen. She's not going to get involved with anybody for two months or so, which is, in my opinion, a good idea. Even after that, though, I doubt anything could happen. There's always the distance. And the act that she'll always be upset about the drinking. I've given up drinking until I'm of legal age, but I don't think that's enough to her. Would I be willing to sacrifice it for her? Yes. But not emptily. Even now, I can't see the appeal of getting drunk, but a good drink can be nice - not that I'll be having one anytime soon.

Aaron swore to get me a woman. Then he found out I'd already been on some dates. He seemed surprised. Not that I don't still want his help - matchmakers have done me good in the past. Then again, this IS Aaron we're speaking of....

I guess I'll end by quoting Terminator II.

"I sense injuries. The data could be interprited as pain."

Hmm. It sound so much better with the accent.

the Recipe

  1. Portraying: Mosh to live, don't live to mosh
  2. Conveying: Fear, dissapointment, piss-offedness, intense longing
  3. When Praying: Ian's grades

What's the word for an intense longing for something one can't have?

Tonight was the first night I really missed my hair.

Tonight, I learned how to dance.

Man, from the 'Conveying' line in the header, one'd think I was a swirling keg of violent emotion.

This hat is starting to fall apart.

I'm afraid. I'm afraid that I'm becoming a punk. I mean, let's take the facts: I'm a pissed-off young man with short hair and a hoodie. All I really need now is a blatent disregard for the well-being of others. Then there's those extra things: ripped jeans, brightly-dyed hair, body mutilation. I still haven't patched my favorite pair, I'm considering dying my hair green (though not sure if it's worth it at this point), and I've always wanted an eyebrow piercing.

Caroline got drunk tonight. Caroline is not the drinking kind. Drunk Caroline scares me.

It always pisses me off when I go to something like tonight and I still have both my shoes at the end of the show. These Hyde Park kids, these U of C kids, they're all freakin' pansies. If I don't get a mosh pit soon, I might start a fight instead. Everyone knows that's a bad idea. Tonight I remebered something fromwhat seems like long ago.... The feeling that one can't be completely healthy without some open wound somewhere on one's body. Excepting the one I found last week, I can't remember the last time I found on my body a scap I didn't already know was there. I remember when my wrists were constantly scarred from the zippers and sharp seams of other people in the mosh pit. I can remember limping away from moshpits week after week.... So I'm nostalgic and grieving the unnoticed passing away of what I once was.

I want me back. I wouldn't mind having Amanda back, too, now that she's single again. But she's not going to get involved for a couple months, so that's not relevent. am I even talking about this? I've got important self-pitying to do.

More and more, I have a thirst that water doesn't quench. No, I don't mean 'the Thirst', and no, I'm not talking symbolically. I'm just thirsty, and water feels so rough and hard in my throat. Maybe milk.... but milk is so filling.

So, I miss me. Not just me, but all the other things that helped me be me. I realized the other day that I'm alone in my head.... where did everyone go? Dip, Blue, Daze, all my alteregos.... gone. It's so quiet....

I can't do half of what I once could. I'm not half of what I once was. "Life of the Mind"? Huh. Why does it feel like I'm dying, then?

I need my bike helmet back, so I can do stupid things without killing myself. Oh yeah, and I saw About Schmidt today, and I cried when he opened the painting. That's right, I cried at a movie. I'm not ashamed. I'm proud. Tears are a blessing. I hope none of you ever forget that.

Amanda, I love you. Write me an e-mail.

Wait, I thought today had been Monday.... oh, that was this morning!

  1. Conveying: Late night
  2. The Saying: "Have you ever tried to balance Freid on your head?" -unknown, pd (I forgot, alright?)
  3. When Praying: That Ian gets everything straightened out

I forgot to mention in my post this morning that I'm giving up drinking. Not just for Lent, but for a good long while. Namely, until I turn twenty-one. I decided this for many reasons, but in large part because it was pointed out to me (by Amanda, who apparantly still loves me dearly and takes an interest in my affairs) that it is illegal for me to purchase and consume, on my own, alchohol at my current age. Though I am not morally opposed to drinking -in moderation, por supuesto- I am morally opposed to breaking the law. So. Lucky for me, Beth is also going to stop buying alcohol, so we'll both be sober together, which is fun indeed.

Dinesh got a turntable. I will retrieve my vinyls over spring break.

In the next week, I will be organizing my life. I know I'll have to make cutbacks. I know that I probably won't have time for ZZT, and that I definitely won't have time for chat. SOS, I think I'll take a break from anything major, and just help out at events. IVCF, I mean to go more. I'd like to try to get back into SCA. I'd like to be more involved in the Folklore Society. Euphony will probably stay as it is. I'd really like to get into the Hyde Park music scene a lot deeper; they're nice people. I'd also like to keep THIS, be it Smallhouse, CU, or something else, up, intact, and active. Who knows? All of that is secondary to the real work, the spiritual work, that takes first priority. But that's not so much anyone's business.

Speaking of business, I actually got flirted with at Fred's tonight. There's this girl, Sarah, who's a first year and has bright orange hair. On the days I work, she's always up until about the time I get off, so she buys something almost every night. Tonight, we talked/flirted/polished pennies for a while. I'm not sure what to make of it. She's pretty, to be sure, but she also smokes. Not sure how I feel about that.

Or am I? I know I don't want to smoke myself. Yesterday-ish I took a vow never to smoke again. Again meaning, of course, that both times I've gotten drunk, I've smoked. That's essentially the measure of how drunk I am; whether I'm willing/wanting to smoke. This is another reason I'm not going to drink for a while. I decided to make that vow partly to combat my fears that without it, I would start smoking. I don't have anything against people that smoke, but it's not something I want to do, because it's something I could see myself getting addicted to. I doubt I'd ever become an alcoholic; I don't like the stuff, or its effects, enough for that. Nor do I think I'd get hooked on gambling, since I've gambled a fair bit in my past and felt no need to keep playing against reason (ie, to attemp to win back money already lost, to take unwarranted risks, to gamble in order to win money, to gamble with money I don't have). In fact, I've typically avoided all of those nearly by habit. But smoking.... there's an undeniable appeal to holding something burning in one's mouth. Add to that my general disregard for my own well-being and my fondness of fire and smoke in general, and it's dangerous. The cap of the trouble is, of course, that I no longer find tobacco smoke inherantly unpleasant. If it were not for that, it wouldn't be an issue. Every time I would see a groupof smokers, I would feel a longing, and think back to Aaron's adamant warning against smoking, and how eventually you'll need it just to feel normal. It scares me.

Fortunately, I have several friends who are more than willing to slap cigarrettes out of my hand if they see me with one. Lucky me!