Crème de Menthe Thins

This morning I woke up nice and early to meet my cousin who was in town for a soccer game. It was the first time I had been to Pamela's - if only for a glass of water. And it was the first time I had made a point to have a conversation with this cousin. She calls herself the "drug dealer" because she carries around a bag of wonderful things like Ibuprofen and Pepto Bismol. I found that amusing. (The game is St. Bonaventure @ Pitt today 1pm.)

But we had a really nice chat and even bonded a bit on the subjects of family, quasi-family, jobs, swine flu, and other current events. We learned that neither of us really talk to our siblings very much, that both of us find a certain person annoying, that stenographers make a lot of money, and that swine flu really isn't all it's cracked up to be. I think our relationship is unique because she is the only female first cousin I have. Sure, she's at a much different stage in her life; but I was and wasn't surprised that we found plenty of things to talk about - both personal and impersonal. I learned that she finds my Facebook updates funny - and that she checks my Facebook often. Oddly enough I am actually very OK with that. Although there is a part of me that wishes to conceal a lot of my personal life from my family, I feel almost eager now to share whatever is public on any of my internet profiles - including my interests. (I wonder if she's seen that part.)

Either way I also learned a lot about my family (extended or otherwise) from a person with a much different perspective. It was really quite refreshing; even more so than my pumpkin cooler from Caribou (which, by the way, is sending my stomach some wrong signals). A few of my thoughts were confirmed while still others were completely new. It's as if I've been reintroduced to my family in a whole new way.

This morning I met my cousin for coffee. This morning I met a new friend.

the sky is white,
my screen is black.
here, i sit dumbfounded.

so hello folks. for this entry I'm going to say everything outloud as i type it. and i'm not going to go back and change anything (even punctuation or spelling). This is because i just don't care about that right now...right now. Maybe later, but just not now. Ok then. let's begin. I have a caffeine addiction. It's really not great. when i don't have caffeine in my system i feel like i'm going to die and my body doesn't want to do anything...at all. it's really unfortunate. in fact, i had more than enough sleep this weekend and still i couldn't bring myself to do more than an hour or two's worth of work...for anything. (ok i just realize that i am going back a little bit for spelling. so maybe i do care about it...a little). anyway, so i'm in soho, life is grand...nnnnno. scratch that. i'm sitting here writing a paper for my psych class and trying to do research for it at the same time. it's a lot of fun. i wish i had done the research earlier. but because i suck at time management (and don't know what to do about it...or basically i'm pathetically in capable of fixing my issues), i am unable to anticipate any deadline in my life - especially 20 page research papers. it's really a great attribute of mine. i hope you knkow i'm kidding. it's difficult because while i'm typing i'm using all this inflection and it's not being represented in the text. and i really don't want to do a transcription because...well i just don't want to. transcriptions are a bitch. yes, the collection of multiple transcriptions can be a single bitch object. thus 2=1 and math is disproved. the world explodes. the end.

just kidding. where was i? nowhere i guess. i'll just start somewhere else. (just as a disclaimer, this doesn't really reflect my normal speech patterns because i'm speaking as slow as i'm typing and it is affecting how fast my thoughts are being expressed. if this were real, i would have written 4 pages by now... wow i think i really put that well.) anyway, i was thinking about how i understand language. i was considering the possibility of me having an aphasia which could be true. maybe not as clinical as... no... not as clinical... just not clinical. how's that? (what was it? oh!) so it occured to me that i have a difficulty with reading because in order for me to understand language it almost needs to be uttered. and often times, the utterance must be my own, strangely enough. for instance, when i am thinking to myself, i almost always talk, yes, produce speech, vibrate my vocal chords. my ears hear myself speak and thus the words and clearer in my head. i guess that makes sense. does it? apparently, i have a hard time - maybe not with identifying lexicons in my head - but with interpretating... interpretating... interpreting the meaning of these [maybe not lexicons but rather] words/ideas/thoughts (yes i actually said "slash" in between those words. i'm a dork). for instance, i had no idea what a dictionary entry said until i read it out loud. but of course, if i looked at it long enough, i would have gotten some sort of meaning out of it. that would only make sense. but i would probably have to at least mouth the words or put the syllables to some abstract rhythm that i would as a result make into an interpretive dance regarding the syllable structure. but then, is the syllable structure really a direct mapping to the meaning of the uttera- well... not utterance. the...written words, the sentence, the phrase(s), the ideas. holy shit. i have an aphasia. but.. wait a minute. i can write things without physically, actively... producing them. like i can write notes to people or just to myself that could be meaningful. but then again, don't i just at least think the actual phonetic and ...visual-spacial-graphic qualities of the words in the note? am i making sense? i mean to say that i regard the literal sound of the word that i write. i can't just regard it graphically. if i were to regard it graphically only, i would be interpretating... interpreting it as a work of visual art. or maybe non-art. but some form of non-semantic, non-phonetic, non-language entity/object (that time i didn't say "slash"). this brings my back to math which i mentioned earlier. i think of math in objects. people ask me if i think in words or pictures. and really i think in neither. i feel that objects are distinct from pictures since objects can also be abstract. for instance, what kind of pictures would one even think of in math that don't have to do with curves and graphs and charts and tables? but for me? there were bubbles. little bubbles of stuff. sometimes blobs. (ok i guess that's a picture. but i never saw... i never actually envisioned a bubble or a blob. i may have called it that, but never actually thought of it as what it actually was.) so, blobs. blobs are the parts of an equation. blobs are quantities [not usually qualities; those would be lists]. when looking at a sentence, i can totally understand why deep structures would make so much sense. because i can say words that begin a sentence and not know where i would end up. but, because i said those words meant that i was going to say something beyond that but maybe forgot. i guess those are kinda like blobs also. except that these blobs are a bit chunky. they fall apart sometimes. not chunky but rather clumpy. ew. alluding back to my explanation of my music-language module in my brain: i think i know why i have a hard time remembering things. and it's important to note that i didn't realize this until recently even when i've been forgetting things a lot earlier than then. i just didn't realize it. but anyway. music helps me to formulate a memory system... for life. rather the way i made... myself... memorize music was crucial to the way i memorized anything else ever in my life ever... ever. it was usually associated with both repetition and rhythm (which is how i memorized 40 bible verses verbatim in two weeks or 400 digits of pi in three weeks). how did i make a rhythm? i guess i was just really creative (maybe less so with the verses considering it was actually english). but with the digits, i don't remember the rhythms i made. they weren't meaningful at all. but i would memorize them like i would memorize a piece of music... oh my god. does this mean... music is meaningless? what the hell? is music meaningless to me? wait a minute! music is my first language! i started reading music before english! did i start to understand music before english(?) is the better question. no that's really all it was. music to me was just a bunch of rhythms and notes and pitches that i could somehow in some ridiculous and strange way memorize in large quantities. i could like memorize an entire sonata. even to the point where my motor memory went without my brain. i would be playing and not actually paying any attention to what i was doing. Oh MY GOD! music is meaningless! (just for anyone who is probably offended or confused or whatever, by meaningless i mean in the semantic sense... and maybe possibly the emotional sense as well. i'm not at all saying that there is no purpose for the professional pursuance of the field of music. no really, good for those people who have the time and money to commit their lives to an art form that most of us don't really understand at all if any of us). and yeah, i understand when someone says, "well music is basically whatever it means to the listener and that can be different from anyone else's interpretation." but what does really mean? what does that say about the meaning of music? the purpose of mus- well never mind the purpose. we won't go there. (we being myself and whoever reads this. no i'm not schizophrenic... right now.) does it mean that music is personal? that's funny to me because if it were personal then we would be able to write music for ourselves, right? maybe? or then, why would the works of other composers be at all "meant for us" when it (in my opinion) reflects truly the emotions of the composer and not the listener. but then maybe it does reflect the listener's emotions. but then why does everyone have a different interpretation of it? what was the composer thinking? did he/she really write the music for the listener? maybe it was for a friend or a spouse or a neighbor or a prostitute. who knows? why do we find "meaning" from it? when i hear music, i don't actually create an image in my head really. rarely i will but only with certain cases and i can't remember which ones they were. ok, so maybe it's not as rare as i think. but mostly i think in groups of rhythms and sounds and pitches. and when there are lyrics i can sing along with the lyrics but i wouldn't actually know what they meant until i read them out loud aside from the music (or oddly enough when i read them... sing them without the song playing. but then, in that case, i would be placing insane amount of emphasis on the important words. in fact, so strong of an emphasis that if i spoke like that people would think that i'm insane or crazy or retarded or impaired or god-forbid aphasic. like i would even try to move my body with the accented words in the lyrics when i sing them. and by accent i mean the stressed syllable. like i would do this *swings arm* to explain the importance of a word in the lyrics. not really explain but rather... compute the relevance of the word within the phrase in the lyrics). yeah, i'm weird. (btw, parenthesis are blobs too.) sometimes i put a period on the outside of a parenthesis (like at the end of an appended parenthetical). and sometimes i put them inside the parenthesis. (for instance, this is an instance. "i am a separate thought or rather sentence." boo ya.) oh my god. this is ridiculous. i'm tired. i need to finish my outline for this project so that i can go to bed. what the fuck?! it's almost 3:30. how did that happen? oh, i've been writing for an hour... this entry that is. so i guess it's time for me to end this entry and as you can see i suck at it. so this is me sucking at conclusions. and i'm just going to say good bye. have a good bye. not a bad one. goodnight to the world... even thought you're probably all asleep anyway. i win at life. just kidding.

the end (for real this time).

I have this sudden urge to write again. It has been seriously way too long. Everything in my life is telling me to follow through. Why can't I? For some odd reason there's something holding me back. I have a feeling I know what it is but it really could be anything. There should be something more substantial in the near future - after I've moved, and after I've had sustinence myself.

*inhale*

These past 12 hours have been the breath of fresh air that I've needed. Talking, reading, writing, listening: these things are what make oxygen more breathable for me. Thus, I'm not kidding this time when I say I need to write more. But reading will help too. I need a little more enlightenment than what I'm creating for myself.

*exhale*

I miss the days when Kelly and I would have fulfilling conversations. But tonight was amazing. It was as if so many things had developed between us since our previous serious talk. Kelly has so much wisdom that I admire. And mixed with my experiences it made for a truly inspiring hour. In many cases - especially for the sake of a journal - I suppose it would be appropriate to give a report of what I learned or how I felt about it. But in this particular case I think it's best to meditate on it and keep it for myself. Because tonight I got to know someone better. This person is myself. And hopefully, in the way I need to, I will learn to grow from it.

Thank you, friend.

I've decided that I need to write more poetry. Seeing as how music is becoming less and less a part of my life, as symbolic as that can be, I must resort to other forms of expression that I am familiar with.

I have drawn upon a new dimension. The pen shall be my hammer.

In the meantime, I will reflect on some words that do not belong to me. But for 4 and a half minutes on the train, I thought they were mine.

*
*
Where are we?
What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to form
Crop circles in the carpet,
Sinking, feeling.

Spin me 'round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening
When busy streets, a mess with people
Who, stop to hold their heads heavy.

Hide and seek,
Trains and sewing machines,
All those years,
They were here first.

Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments come before
The takeover: the sweeping insensitivities
Of this still life.

Hide and seek,
Trains and sewing machines,
(Oh, you won't catch me around here.)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.

Mm, what'd you say
Mm, That you only meant well?
Well, of course you did.

Mm, what'd you say
Mm, that it's all for the best?
Of course it is.

Mm, what'd you say
Mm, that it's just what we need?
You decided this.
Mm, what'd you say?
Mm, mm, what did you say?

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth,
Bittersweet talk, newspaper word cutouts --
Speak no feeling. No, I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth,
(Hide and seek)
Bittersweet talk, newspaper word cutouts --
Speak no feeling. No, I don't believe you.
(Hide and seek)
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth,
(Oh, no, you don't care a bit.)
Bittersweet talk, newspaper word cutouts --
(Oh, no, you don't care a bit.)
Speak no feeling. No, I don't believe you.
(Oh, no, you don't care a bit.)
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
*
*

So, I'm sure those of you reading this know the song and I'm going to assume that. And of course being a linguist I've unknowingly decided to alter the phonemics and syntactic arrangement of the lyrics to match best. It just makes it work better.

It's so hard to cry these days.

Today is one of those days which could almost definitely be described as "in limbo." Mostly because I'm packing all my things and getting ready to move on to a different life...down the road. Just seeing the progess of my roommate's packing is hilarious - and pathetic. I wonder where he learned how to coexist with humanity...

Anyway, I am also in the process of packing and it just occurred to me that I really have no idea what I'm going to do in the future. I mean I'm studying linguistics and all that jazz. But it just occurred to me that there is no focus. I'm split on all the angles of the field. I have no idea where I might end up. I'd like to teach someday. At a collegiate level would be ideal. Eh, I don't know. It seems that the thunderstorming outside has calmed my worriedness. It has also made me realize that I won't be in America next year at this time (assuming all goes well). And it's very possible that there will be some miraculous moment when I realize exactly what I want to do. I mean it's obvious that won't happen because I'll end up thinking it's not what I want to do later. There are days when I wish I could be 10 again.

*FLASH*...*CRACK!*

I love the rain. It just started. And the thunder and lightning add a soothing percussive effect to the concert in the sky. Oh, and here's the crescendo. (I'm starting to sound like V). This celestial show is so dynamic. It also managed to knock over my miniature gong on my window sill. (Yes, my window is open.)

*FLASH*...*CRACK!*

It seems to be settling down now. The tree in front of my window seems relieved from the cease of wind.

*flash*...*rumble*

The rain is swelling and giants are bowling in the distance. I'm starting to wonder where they found a piece of land flat enough to make into an alley.

*rumble*

Rain is a nice change of heart. The snow was starting to become too cold, too...opaque. I'm enjoying the transparency of this terrestrial shower.

The tree outside my window is still under-developed in comparison with others.

Now I hear sirens...and yelling.

acronym: All Days Have Dizziness

A friend told me I had ADHD. It's totally true in some respect.

[Hook]
I, I, I, I, I, I
Know how to transform
I can transform
Ill transform
I'm a transformer
I, I, I, I, I, I
Know how to transform
I can transform
Ill transform
I'm a transformer

I'm just being myself
Plus I gotta be me too
Silly of me to think that
I couldn't bring myself to be you
Ah but behold there is benevolence
Behind this but don't stare though
Be careful cause I'll kill you
With kindness
That why I'm dressed quite neatly
Cause Its easy and discreetly they seek me
And when they reach me and see me
they believe me completely
I'm a real live wire I ain't lying
If its between me and you I ain't dying
I can transform, I can transform, I can transform
Without even trying wow

[Repeat hook]

Now I'm someone else
Now someone can be me too
Behold the beautiful and bold
everyday I
Wake up to be new
Oh but its simple but they still can understand why
I think I can, I think I can, I think I can or can I
I'm a microchip off the old block
You know not but I was a robot
And I sold Rock and you would get
For sho shoot with a gold glock boy I rode pac
Something that you won't see again
What the hell might as well be a friend
I can transform, I'm a transformer
No telling who I will have to be again

[Repeat hook]

-Gnarls Barkley