June 21st!

June 21st is a big day for Project Z - we're having a big party in a creepy (but fixed up) barn for a showing of our first three films!

(We will not be doing this, and no one knows all the steps to Thriller except me)

Our makeup lady decided we should serve Zombies -- the cocktails -- and I love her for that idea. We're going to project the movies onto one of the walls, and we (or at least, I) are telling everyone we invite to bring whoever they want. We want it to be big.

So if you're reading this, you probably already know me and how to get into contact with me. Let me know if you need directions or have questions or whatever. No lame excuses -- I'll break your legs if you don't come.





Sidenote (really kind of a footnote, as it is at the foot of the text): In my spare time, I have been crushing on a very, very cute, funny, creative boy. So, rather than being productive and writing scripts, I've begun this. I have ever-so-cleverly disguised his name :)

Heaven in Aviators - an essay question.

Answered by Leia, who was cheating off my paper.

"HIA: Heaven In Aviators. Discuss.

After much research and scientific study, the brilliant minds of Wolf & Phoenix have joined together to share their findings with the world.

As Heaven In Aviators are well known, we do not need to discuss exactly what defines them. It should be known that though some believe that they can only be males, we have recently found proof that there is a female variety as well. Though for today’s discussion we shall stick to the topic we known far more about, the male sector of HIA.

Common Side Effects:

• Goosebumps
  It is very common for one to get goosebumps not only when they see but think about HIA.
  
• Loss of Speech
  Though some do not feel or have overcome this side effect, it is still a very common occurance so it must be listed.
  
• Loss of Clothing
  One of the most common side effects when one encounters a HIA.
  Often occurring to the subject but also includes the HIA on occasion.
  
• Random Fantasies
  These fantasies can occur at work or at any other time of the day.
  Do not be alarmed. They are normal and not dangerous.
  Though if they continue and begin to distract you from every day life it is suggested that one fulfills their fantasies with the HIA of their choice.
  

Sadly HIAs are not sold in stores and must be found. It often takes years to find a true HIA but once found, it is suggested that one immediately grab them fast as they are a rare and valuable commodity."

Accomplishment!

Project Z just finished our first movie! We haven't done any editing or anything yet, but it looks fantastic as is.

The premier is on the 30th (Friday), assumed to be at Jarret's apartment. Everyone should come and see how awesome we are. More details and links to come.

It's been a while, shoot me. No, really.

So for those of you that still occasionally check out my poor, neglected blog, I figured I'd give you a bit of an update to what I've been doing lately.

For those of you that talk to me often, I've been clamoring to get the hell out of this state, so when Jarret got accepted to NIU, I figured I'd move on out to Illinois, too - at least I'd know someone, right? So I threw my resume up on Craigslist, applied to several jobs, and looked up countless apartments. So far, I've been offered two separate jobs, one of which sounds like a really good fit for me, at least for a while.

And then, yesterday, I changed my mind. No, I'm not moving. Yet. Instead, I'm going to Quinsig for an associate's in Nursing Education, so I can be an RN. Yeah, from psychologist to cop to administrative assistant for the rest of my life to RN. After that, I'm hoping to get a position down in Nashville (the rents down there are like $400 a month, no lie). My grammy lives down there, too :)

On top of the RN thing, I still have that pesky life-long dream of being a writer. So today, I submitted this little number to Gore and Shock Provoked, or G.A.S.P., magazine. Here's crossing my fingers.

Okay, one last thing: Jill, my favorite person in the world, decided to make her own blog. It's called From the Land of Jill, and is on my Tasty Links bar over there. Go visit, say hi. She's great!

Alright, that's all. See you in another month or two.

Dear idiots...

Okay, I'd like to start with some personal outrage: How do you not believe in evolution?! You can't just decide not to see all the evidence in the world all around you! Selective sight doesn't give you the right to discredit the theory of evolution, and hope anyone who thinks so will accidentally put both hands into a meat grinder.

So, I just read about this movie called Expelled. It was originally supposed to be called "Crossroads," because it was intended to explore the "intersection of science and religion," and even had the consent of Dr. Dawkins. Apparently, though, the title and production company changed, and the people that were interviewed were not informed of this.

To me, this is kind of like when I walk outside of a bar or restaurant and get a faceful of smoke, I think, People still smoke? This time, it's just getting an eyeful of things like this:



And I have to wonder, People are still arguing about this stuff?

For God's sake (pun quite intended), take a damn biology class.

I think the worst thing is the movie. I haven't seen it, but I've watch both the trailer and extended trailer. This movie isn't about the difference between Intelligent Design and Darwinism; no, it's about how society attacks and discriminates against anyone that believes in Intelligent Design. Look:



Ben Stein warns you in the extended trailer that by watching this movie you may lose your friends or your job. I wouldn't be against it if it was an actual intelligent film that explores two different views, but it isn't. It's fine that the ID people want to have their say, but it isn't fine that they make everyone else out to be bad guys. "Oh, you believe in evolution? You'll probably discriminate against me because I don't."

Maybe it's true. Okay, fine. Then why aren't you advertising a movie that talks about the hardships of ID believers in society? Why are you claiming to discuss the similarities and differences of two different theories?

I <3 Hardcore

So last night, a friend reminded me that I had made plans to go to a hardcore show - Firestorm Fest 2008 at the Palladium in Worcester - with him. When he told me, I was still at work, trying to pretend I didn't have a throbbing headache and occasional waves of dizziness. I ended up leaving early, and all I wanted to do was go home and go to sleep. Then again, this was a friend I had neglected to see for quite a while for no good reason, and besides, I wanted to see Shai Hulud live!

So he picked me up, paid for parking, and found a place far from the mosh pit so I wouldn't get hurt. We showed up about 2 hours after the show had actually started (we missed On Broken Wings, Randomshots, Rick Whispers, Since the Flood, and Unholy), and walked in right as one band finished. We stood through Down to Nothing and Recon, which weren't bad but I had never heard of them, and instead of watching the performances, I was entranced by the pit. The hardcore dancers weren't being assholes and beating the shit out of each other as I had expected -- they were doing it right and just dancing. As the bands went through their sets, I got antsy. I wanted to be down there.

So I expressed my feelings, but we hesitated, because we had a good vantage point where we were. When Shai Hulud came on, though, things changed. We hurried around the crowd to the edge of the people ringing the pit, then Jarret said he'd be right back and disappeared. I stood, surrounded by bodies and staring at the pit, until I felt someone tap my arm. Looking forward, I was greeted with a vision of my guide, holding out a hand to me from a spot close to the stage, with a bright white stage light shining in my face over his head. It was almost a holy moment. The next thing I knew, we were pressed up against the barricade, center stage, no more than five feet from where Matt Mazzali was standing, thrusting his mic into the crowd. Someone caught a picture -- it's like a Where's Waldo, can you find us?:



After Shai Hulud came Sworn Enemy, and the crowd got a bit rowdier. I loved it. We were crushed up against the barricade and had to always look around to make sure no fists or feet were coming our way, but I was right in front of an incredibly jacked, 6'5" bouncer, so I was all set (then again, later in the show, that was the same huge guy who got knocked forward and nearly cracked my skull with his forehead. Unfortunately, no battle scar remains.) If anyone crawled over the crowd, and I didn't push them over fast enough, the bouncer reached over my head and did it before they could get close enough to cause injury. I decided then that I like being the only chick near the pit at a hardcore show. Anyway, the band was fun, and though Matt had only stood on the barricade to our right, Sal Lococo was more than happy to move to other areas, including right in front of us, where I got a faceful of his crotch as people piled up, trying to get their chance to scream lyrics into the microphone.

Their set was good, but it was nothing compared to the show Terror put on. I swear that Scott Vogel was trying to kill me, because he kept telling everyone to move up and climb over everybody. I bet the bouncers didn't like it when he urged the crowd to climb right over the baricades; a few guys tried, and got tossed back like rag dolls. I also got a faceful of his crotch (I look thrilled right before my sight was filled with his camo shorts) and ended up at the bottom at yet another pile-up.

Finally, the reason everyone was there (well, I was really there to see Shai Hulud) showed up, after taking a freakin' half hour to set up. Earth Crisis was, by far, the best recieved band, which is cool, considering their stance on most issues. I find that I don't really like their music -- though live they're amazing -- but I do support their messages. I was pretty excited that I got multiple facefuls of Karl Beuchner's crotch, but there was a moment that scared the hell out of me -- one of the stage divers accidentally caught Karl and knocked him off the barricade. He was fine, but the bouncers kept their hands on his back to hold him up after that. Still, they were awesome, and I loved every song live even if I'm not a fan of the recorded versions.

I'm told that I have some bragging rights over the fact that, at the end of ECs last and biggest song, Firestorm, we were the base of the massive pile-up. You're jealous, I know you are.

And you should be.

So, I'm a writer.

Well, actually I just like to write. I can't really claim the title of 'Writer' because A. I don't live in L.A. or Hollywood, and B. I can never seem to finish anything. Ever.

Sure, sure, every once in a while, I'll manage to force myself to the end of a short story. Once, I even won third place in a short story contest for this one. Sometimes I churn out complete thoughts, usually inspired by songs (for example, Sanctuary by Utada Hikaru produced this, and Lacuna Coil's Comalies brought about one of my longer stories).

Still most of my ideas dissolve before I finish the first page. I could absolutely force myself to continue writing, but I've always thought (and was thrilled to find Stephen King felt the same) that forced writing is the kind that produces wooden characters and dull plots. If it isn't itching at the tips of your fingers, there's little reason to put it on paper.

It's pretty frustrating. I love writing, creating characters and worlds, sometimes making them feel as real as the people I see everyday. And why couldn't they? You don't know anything about the people you pass in traffic, or that guy sitting in front of you on the bus. How do you know it's not his or her or their story you're telling?

You don't. And maybe that's the draw of writing. Still, a writer doesn't really have control over their characters. I know most of you probably don't believe that, but it's true. The characters, in a way, are unique entities -- everything that happens in a story happens because of them, not the writer. The writer is just a channel.

Ask Mr. King.

Either way, I don't know why I can't follow through with anything (and I wish it was only my writing aspect of my life that that applied to), but it drives me nuts and sometimes I want to tear my hair out and put mustard in my eyes. Yes, mustard.

My latest half-work is this little bugger. I love this one. No exaggeration. I think, finished, it'll be an amazing novel. I'm generally modest, but I have never doubted my writing ability, and I don't think there's anything wrong with that. If I could actually sit down with no distractions and just write, I think I could have a cushy life in store. Unfortunately, though, I can't, and that, so I'm stuck working full time in an office that's forty minutes away. Do you know how much I spend on gas each week?

I guess, in conclusion, I really recommend that you do what you really want to, and do it well, or else you won't do it at all ("What is she even saying?").

In my fear and flaws

I let myself down again

All because

I run

'Til the silence splits me open

I run

'Til it puts me underground

'Til I have no breath

And no roads left but one

I miss my brother.

Is that a Corona, Matthew?

Those of you who have been around for a while will remember my post a few months ago. Well, for some reason, tonight has been particularly hard. It's just so unfair. At his wake, they said something about him being in heaven now, that God had decided to take him back. You would think this all-mighty "God" figure would've had the foresight to realize that I need Matt much more than He does. What does a deity need with a 24-year-old kid? Maybe He knows my brother was the coolest, funniest, and most intelligent 24-year-old there ever was. Well, maybe He should stop being so damned selfish and give him back -- there are an awful lot of people down here that miss him and need him and would give anything just to see him one more time. Maybe people should just stop telling me that things happen for a reason -- what reason could this have happened for? Nothing good has come out of this; I dare anyone to tell me otherwise.

Yeah, I know what's coming. "Oh, you'll get through it, and you'll be stronger, and you'll appreciate life more-" and blah blah blah bullshit. That's hardly worth anything, even if it's true. I wouldn't care if I was the weakest, most unappreciative little bitch in existance -- at least I would have my big brother to take care of me when I lost it, and love me even when I was being stupid. It was unconditional, you know. Sure, sure, lots of people say they love unconditionally, but that's rarely true outside of parent-child relationships (and even then, there are cases where you wonder; would someone be neglectful of or abusive to a child they loved?). But my brother always loved me, even on the rare occasions when I got on his nerves, even that one time in the woods behind the house when he punched me in the arm (I think he was about ten at the time).

It's really frustrating to know that there's nothing I can do. "But you could volunteer or donate money in his name, or-" Blow me. That's not what I mean. I don't want to just remember him ("Remember him for the good things, not-" Jesus Christ, fuck off), I want him back. Memory isn't good enough. It's my fault that we didn't see each other more over the last few months he was alive -- I never put it out there, I just let him come visit me at work, or suggest that we do this or that. Okay, so I took him out once. Okay, so I invited him out once or twice, but he had to work or was already otherwise engaged. We didn't know that we didn't have all the time in the world, did we? Does anyone?

I guess, if anything, I can take solace in the fact that I seem to have progressed through another stage of the Kubler-Ross model, i.e. the five stages of grief. I think I got them mixed up, though. They're supposed to go like this:

1. Denial: The initial stage: "It can't be happening."
2. Anger: "Why me? It's not fair."
3. Bargaining: "Just let me live to see my children graduate."
4. Depression: "I'm so sad, why bother with anything?"
5. Acceptance: "It's going to be OK."

Personally, instead of going 1-2-3-4-5, I think I started in 4, moved to 1, and have now evolved into 2, with one foot still over the line in 1. I'm definitely angry, but I was whispering to myself about how he can't be dead just a little while ago.

I almost want to say sorry for the emotional post... but then I remember that it's MY blog, and anyone who doesn't like it can eat me.

Where the shit did everyone go?

When Bob's site used to be on Blogger, like mine, he had a following (and I piggybacked off of it). Now he's got a new site that looks a hundred times better and is 200% more awesome, and everyone suddenly disappears? What the shit!

I know some of you are still looking at the site -- christ, he's getting 200+ hits a day. So fucking comment! Look, look:

He's got all kinds of stories, like
Grammy Pictures (you jerks all love the Grammys, don't lie)
Kim Kardashian and her sextape (I know you all love porn, too)
Gemma Atkinson's tits (she's not that pretty, but her body's fantastic)

Plus an assload of other stuff -- you've seen it, you ought to know.

All I'm saying is trolls/lurkers are homos. So stop being a homo and start commenting. 'Cause seriously, no one likes to be a homo.




Edit: JP, nice work on the commenting. You are not a homo.

Weekday mornings (suck)

All I have to say is getting up early is the worst thing ever. Way worse than the clothes.

Blog Review: What Would Tyler Durden Do?

If you don't know who Tyler Durden is, then you're a flamer and you need to see Fight Club, because it's fucking Brad Pitt -- what else do you want? Then again, I don't really know what he has to do with this blog, other than being in the title.

What Would Tyler Durden Do? is, to quote the writer, "a blog focused on bringing you the latest gossip and news about rich and famous celebrities. And then making fun of them. Why? Because fuck them, that's why." Very similar to Life Misled in some ways, but a bit on the gentler side -- in other words, you're less likely to cringe after reading an article. Still funny, though.

WWTDD is written by Brendon Donnelly, a guy who certainly looks like he doesn't take any shit. Apparently, he also used to write for IDon'tLikeYouInThatWay and was head writer for The Superficial.

Anyway, I've been meaning to review this site for a long time, because I've been following it for months. It's funny and well-written, and what could be bad about anyone who writes something like, "For the first time, I'm on Britney’s side. That tubby bitch can acquire food, I assure you. She's like a polar bear. You could put a cake under 2 feet of ice and Britney would stick her nose to the ground and find it. When asked for a comment, Britney said, "food goes in my tummy". I'm not technically a doctor, bet she's right on that one."

In conclusion: read it... or Brendon will kick your ass.

Conflict of Interest

Please do not ask what's going on in this picture -- I don't think I'd want to explain even if I could.

Okay, so by now, I think it's pretty obvious that I'm a bit of a tomboy. I'll certainly admit it without hesitation.

To the left is a picture of me from this past December, at a party Bob threw for his brother. I am holding the Christmas pig, whose wing was later broken. It was a tragedy.

Anyway, the point of my rambling is to point out how I am dressed here. Jeans and a long-sleeved tee shirt (which was not actually mine, hence why it was a little over-sized for me). You can be sure I was wearing sneakers underneath it all, too.

Skipping along...





Here's a picture of me from two summers ago. Note the Volcom hat, ONeil boardshorts, and Vans sneakers (please do not note the black bra -- I don't know what possessed me to do that). This is the style I ultimately prefer. I know it's not the most figure-flattering, attractive outfit, but I'm not aiming to look good; I just want to wear what I like.




So for my new job, I'm supposed to wear "smart casual." I cringed when I heard the phrase. I like doing cross-sections and comparisons, so here we go:


What I like.........................What they want

One more, just for fun, and because this amuses me, if no one else:

Good.........................................................Bad

You see my conundrum, don't you? Dressing nice is lame. Why go out and spend hundreds of dollars on nice clothes, when you can get something comfortable for like $50? I guess I'll just never understand fashion. Or people.

Oh well. You do what you gotta.