The Interstate sucks.

I hate hotel pools--undersized and overchlorinated.

Anyway, I was kind of hoping to make that into some sort of metaphor...but I couldn't think of anything. I suppose I'm a bit braindead after all the highway driving. The thing that sucks about driving on the interstate for looonnnggg stretches is that you don't have room to think. You spend hours on end doing nothing but trying to keep the steering wheel pointing forward without swerving into the other lanes, and maintaining speed. I'm driving along, wishing that I could zone out and start thinking something interesting, but I can't. The only thing I can think about is the road ahead--and let me tell you, it really isn't that interesting of a road. The most interesting part of the drive? Trying to get past a line of five semi trucks.
And another thing. Why are semis called 'semi'? Normal car-trucks are about fifty bazillion times smaller than semis. And they're just called trucks. The semi should be the car-trucks, and the car-trucks should be called semis.
That is my rant.
I don't know when I'll have internet access again.
So you guys have fun with life while I'm gone--perhaps you should text me if you miss me :)

Mary was the type of girl, she always liked to fly.

I haven't updated this in a while. I feel kinda bad...but not really. You might have noticed that I have changed the title of my blog to This is the Life on Mars. If you recognize that song, score one for you. If you don't, it's from Buddha for Mary by 30 Seconds to Mars. I listened to nothing else this weekend--30 Seconds to Mars, that is. I listened to other songs of course. But my favorite of theirs will always be Buddha for Mary. And yes, I'm about to post the song on here. Listen to it before you read on, and I'm sorry it's a bit long. But it's worth the five-ish minutes, I swear.



So I don't know why that strikes me so much. I mean, duh, it's supposed to be striking. It is about rape and not believing in God and all. But stuff like that doesn't usually hit me that hard. Especially when you think about the other kinds of music I listen to...and I won't torture your lovely ears with that. And yet.

SUNDAY I find myself sitting on the very top of the roof of the play structure at the playground by my house. By myself. Trust me, it's a long way up. I can see pretty damn far. And I'm listening to Buddha for Mary. And crying. If you know me at all, you know that crying isn't something I do. Emotion in general isn't something I do. But there it is. Me. Crying. It could have had somthing to do with the gray clouds, or my lonesomeness, or my confusion about a whole lot of things, or the fact that I was twenty feet off the ground.

But what I really think is that the combination of religion, rape, and it being the story of a girl that I somehow relate to that made the tears. I'd really like to discuss this experience with someone willing to give me their ears...and trust. I've got plenty of time for the next month.



Anyhow, that is the story of the blog title change. We'll see how long it lasts before I become too depressed by it.

Creepy fish make me happy.

A friend request sent by a friend of mine, to a different friend of mine, niether of whom know the other.
She said he was a purple leprechaun, had heard he was a creepy fish, and that she was also creepy so they should be friends.
It made my day. And today is only a half hour old.
I sure hope he accepts the friend request, because it was endlessly hilarious.

"My dear I lie for you, but when I lie down I'm simply lying to them too."

I heard someone say once that we are all whores, and we are all selling ourselves to society. I wonder how much truth there is in that? I'll have to find the exact quote. Because it's really very striking. I think it's even more striking that society has gotten to a point where a member of it can compare herself to a whore, but in a completely intelligent heavy metal sort of way. If that makes any sense at all. Because it's the epitome of the opening to a metal song...but also has some real substance behind the concept.

Thoughts, anyone?

Music is playing to an empty room...

A favorite song from a favorite band. I would rant at you about how all the elements of this song combine to make an emtionally and sensually stunning piece...but I'll just let you enjoy.





P.S. This song, The Inquiry of Ms. Terri, is on The Dear Hunter's first album/more like an EP, Act I: The Lake South, The River North. Their second album, which is much longer is called Act II: The Meaning of, and All Things Regarding Ms. Leading. But the point of this P.S. is to tell you that their new album, Act III: Life and Death will release SATURDAY!!
The albums are acts--obviously--in a six-segment rock-opera about 'the boy'. I love it like you wouldn't believe, and so I had to share it with you.

A bit of theatrical culture.

Singing for my Theatre III class tomorrow will most likely be an utter disaster. But I might do it anyway. Just so long as I make sure everybody promises not to laugh at me. And I'll redeem myself afterward with a very awesome monolouge. I'm pretty good at those...

I was going to do one from A Hard Day's Journey Into Night, but I haven't read the whole thing. I think that might be a problem. So I'm going to pull from my monolouge from my Encore audition. That one is from A Streetcar Named Desire...my second-favorite drama. I read it for my sophomore research paper, and hated the paper. But I love the play. It's a little...shocking, I suppose. At least for its time. But then, so was Death of a Salesman. That one is my favorite drama. I also read that in English class. Willy Loman is probably one of the most fascinating characters. Plus the way the entire play is infected with Willy's insanity makes me immensely happy. If you haven't read either of those plays, I think you should drop everything you are doing and go read them.

Or, preferably, see them.

"The jungle is dark, but full of diamonds."

Anyway, the song I want to sing is from Parade, another favorite of
mine. I've only ever seen it once, but I want to see it again. I got all sorts
of chills watching it. If you don't know the story of Leo Frank, that's another one you should look up.

In between the lines.

I've been up for nearly two days, I finally finished my creative writing project, and I have nothing to say.

Oy.

Novacaine anyone?

I cannot feel the left side of my face. Gross.

So I just tried to puff out my cheeks and fill them with air, right? Yeah. Didn't work. I can't keep my lips shut!!!

I mean, granted it's much better than the excruciating pain I was in BEFORE they put the novaciane in...but it's still annoying.

I think there should be some sort of new natural selection type thing where humans will no longer be able to feel pain. I'm fairly certain that there would be quite a few more things that could go wrong then right with such a trait. But I would be totally fine with it.

Sleep? Me? Nah.

I've just finished listening to Waking the Fallen by Avenged Sevenfold for like the eighteenth time.

Exaggeration.

It was only the third. But that's okay. I find that screaming in the middle of the night is quite soothing. Perhaps I'm a nut case? I'll accept that.

There has never been any great genius without a spice of madness.

Seneca

But what is madness anyhow? Mad as a hatter. Is that a phrase? Huh.

Well it reminds me of my desire to read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

ANYWAY. Waking the Fallen. Avenged Sevenfold. I borrowed it from a boy with newly black hair and not-so-new purple pants. I'd never heard the album before, and was a bit skeptical. I have a tendancy not to trust albums that are considered the artist's 'Best Work'. But I must say, I quite approve of this one. Nice flow to the songs. If you're into this kind of stuff, which on occasion I can be, it's a good listen. My favorite song on it is 'Clairvoyant Disease'.

So now I leave you. Goodnight, sleep tight. Don't let the obscenely tattooed stud muffin bite.

floink.

Well. I did it.

You could say that I've wanted to create a blog for a long time. Or you couldn't. Not the point. But here it is.

Me.

Unscripted.

That's why, as of right now, it's called floink. It's occasionally a word I use when there are no other words. And there aren't any...I cannot come up a with a good name for this thing. Whatever. It's the content that counts, after all.

And that's all for now.