EP Girl postponed dinner till Monday, so my day actually went as follows: Lunch with Lizzie at Bombay Gaylord, where she imparted information about endocrine systems and we also had nostalgic conversations about friends over delicious Indian food. Also I was introduced to a new thrift store, right near the downtown Silver Spring area! I really need to get more in touch with my hometown.

Favorite moment of conversation...

Me: Hey Lizzie, do you still have that awesome cat purse that you bought a few years ago?
Lizzie: Which one? I have a bunch of cat purses.

Afterwards Kat came over to my house, and we took a walk in the park and stared at a few deer on the trail. I know it's silly of me because the deer are everywhere now, but I never fail to become excited when I see one. Little narrow face and big ears! The trembling suspicion of the young bucks wondering if they should charge me or peacefully go on their way! DOE EYES! The sheer awesomeness of a wild animal taking a moment to pay attention to you, somewhat like what I imagine darsan feels like...

And there were silly jokes about fantasy stereotypes, all that good stuff. Oh, and my favorite moment from dinner, while discussing ways to make money...

Richard Hell: I can't sell my sperm because I have a history of mental instability.
Me: Also because you're SHORT. Nobody wants your short babies!
Richard Hell: *stares at me with mute rage while my dad bursts out laughing*

Oh yeah, but the main thing I wanted to write about is this: I finally got around to getting some of Patrick Wolf's wonderful music. And when I woke up this morning I just felt tired, and inclined to doubting all of my endeavors, as in "Why do I even bother trying to chase women when I feel too apathetic to connect with anyone? And why do I keep talking about this silly idea of volunteering abroad when I know deep down that it's foolish and unfeasible? And why is it that I only really feel normal and at ease when I'm in a crowd of strangers flailing into each other while listening to grating music (seriously, at no other time)? Any why do I keep trying to convince people on LJ with these posts that I'm interesting when it all comes out as either melodramatic masturbation or the flightiest inanity possible?" And then I started listening to PW's Lycanthropy album and that magically went away. So instead of deleting my LJ I'm just gonna keep writing these self-indulgent little rants, and damn the imaginary judgement that I'm so convinced I receive!

Thanks, Patrick Wolf!

Signing out now.

( Wandering around Foggy Bottom with Whitney followed by lesbian Jello wrestling at Phase One )

Oh and here's a list of concerts I've been to recently that I feel guilty for not having posted exhaustively long accounts of. A huge recap entry coming soon, I hope!

May 29th Scumbag Nation show
Tallest Man On Earth/John Vanderslice
The Hold Steady
Jaguar Love/Patrick Wolf
Punk collective at the Ottobar featuring Teenage Bottle Rocket
Voyage in Coma and some interesting Irish bands
Spoke Ensemble/Cream Center show

And I need to go prepare to meet up with Lizzie and then have dinner with the Ellen Page girl who may or may not be named Talia, so signing out now!

Last time I saw Whitney was Wednesday. There was dinner at an Asian fusion restaurant, dancing at Cafe Citron, lounging + talking in a hookah bar, and at the end of the evening a stroll around the lake behind her house. One of the things that sticks in my mind:

(during a discussion of various disorders which were studied during an undergrad Psychology course)

Her: But there's no textbook that could explain me.
Me: Psssh, maybe I just haven't written it yet.
Her: *smiles and delivers a short tinkling laugh*

It really gets me, this arrogance that comes from liking someone and forming a tenuous connection with them. It drives me to say such obnoxious things, to have pretenses of omnipotence, and it drives her to be charmed by my ridiculous mannerisms instead of scorning them. That's probably more obscene than anything else we could do with one another.

Still, despite my constant self-observations and critiques, I'm pleased to be in this situation. Perhaps I'll even write about it in a more in-depth fashion.

( I wrote months ago about how much I wanted to see Mairead, and how initially devastated I was when she ended up canceling our dinner plans in January (allegedly the plans were only delayed but there was never any talk of trying to meet up again). I still feel a slight ache as a result of having spent the last half year vainly making attempts to reach her via text and voicemail. It's not something that crushes me, there's just a mild yearning to see her one more time before she moves away with her soon-to-be husband. It makes me want to keep trying to call her to beg for a meeting, and say, 'This isn't that important, actually. Ignoring me all summer is a perfectly viable option because this ache will go away once you've moved and the prospect of seeing you is no longer even hypothetically reasonable. I'm not asking you to save me from a heavy blow to my heart or even my ego. Even so, I'm still begging you to save me, please save me from vague disillusionment and momentary distress!' )

And of course it's evident even to me that my life is very fortunate if that is all I have to fret about. Silly me.

Quote of the Day, by Frans while mumbling to Claire: "You're just like, the worst person ever to sleep next to. Your feet are like these two renegade guinea pigs who keep burrowing against each other. They haven't realized that they can be friends and keep each other warm so all of the blankets end up getting kicked down around your ankles."

!!!

I haven't spent Senior Week in quite the same way that I'd intended, but it has been good. Last night I finally got around to sleeping outside. I took my blanket and settled down in the tall grass by the edge of the pond near my house. It felt so peaceful and therapeutic to fall asleep listening to the noisy cries of the mating bullfrogs, and even more of a joy to wake up early due to the rising sun and one particularly territorial red-winged blackbird who kept flying a few feet over my head while emitting piercing chirps every few minutes. I couldn't be resentful of it though, because I love the red-winged blackbirds for being so dapper and beautiful with their shiny black bodies and sprightly stripes of red and sometimes a tinge of yellow on their wings. I sat up and delightedly gazed at the pink, orange, yellow, white and purple flowers blooming around me and the birds fluttering around the pond. The red-winged blackbirds are so cute, and I am always endeared when I witness their ability to carefully perch at the top of a single stem of the swaying grass which grows out of the pond.

I really want to sleep outdoors more often. If I did, my Circadian rhythm wouldn't be messed up because it's so easy to wake up early and gradually as the light slowly pours in as opposed to being wrenched from sleep by some blaring jangly noise. One of the nicest things about my semester abroad last fall was that I couldn't figure out how to get the alarm clock purchased in Carrefour (Thailand's version of Walmart) to work and instead ended up just putting my bed by the window and leaving the shades up so that the sun would wake me up in time to take a shower and have breakfast before class every day. And this was even better.

Signing out now.

( Further adventures of Fun Club on April 30th. 200+ words )

Okay, off to run naked through campus while wearing a cheerful springtime-themed strap-on and possibly get arrested!

( Pilgrimage to Gettysburg )

Signing out now. MAY YOUR SUDS BRING YOU JOY.

( Philosophy presentations and mud wrestling should be combined more often )

I will be taking a road trip to see Marc Beard in a few hours! I can't wait!

Signing out now.

I walked out to the graveyard after class let out yesterday and spent a while walking around in a slightly depressed daze. A beautiful moment arose as I walked past the hill which faces the river and thought, I could... roll. It seemed silly, but eventually I gave into the impulse and sent myself hurtling downwards. I picked up speed at a much faster rate than I anticipated, and was gasping for breath when I slammed to an abrupt halt where the ground levels out right before reaching the water. My vision continued to roll wildly for several seconds after the stop, and I had a brief period of peacefully not thinking at all. I just lay sprawled out on my belly, panting and peeking up that the sky around the blades of grass obscuring my vision and idly studying the tiny insects crawling on the blades in front of my eyes. This moment of thoughtless authenticity came to a crashing halt as I started thinking about how to write about the experience, and I angrily exclaimed, "Fuck you Livejournal! You've poisoned the way that I experience life!"

I spent a while walking around that general area, and then retreated to the small nearby chapel to take cover from the rain. I think I spent about an hour sitting by myself, simply staring at my surroundings and occasionally paging through the prayerbook. At some point while waiting for the rain to end, I started listening to "Lord, I'm Discouraged" on my iPod and tears started rolling down my cheeks. I felt curiously disconnected from my emotions just then, and my main thought was simply, "Yeah I'm listening to this song while sitting in a church and weeping. I am the absolute cliche of a Hold Steady fan!"

Talking to Patrick on the balcony of the Campus Center helped me a great deal in getting over my concerns about the events of Sunday morning. I'd already talked about the issue quite a bit at that point, but I mainly got irritated by everyone who kept trying to use their personal positive opinion of me as evidence of my lack of culpability. Every time someone tried to reassure me I just ended up wanting to scream, "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?" Patrick didn't really deny the possibility of culpability, but was so coolly confident in the opinion that my actions were still fairly reasonable and not damning that I felt this peace settle over me. Perhaps the timing also had something to do with it, since I might have required a day to approach my thoughts in a more rational manner. There was one moment when he said that the sheer amount of time I'd spent angsting over the situation was good evidence for supporting the fact that I'm not a malicious or thoughtless person, and right then I stopped breathing and felt like I might burst into tears again. I looked down and he grew quiet, and then I exhaled and the moment passed.

I ended up staying up all night in W.C. 37, with some time devoted to reading and analyzing Sartre and Camus and a larger amount of time having beautiful honest conversations with everyone in the common room. What a poignant yet joyous atmosphere that was. I think that when I reminisce about college later on in life, last night will stand out as a particularly amazing highlight.

I have so much work to do this week, and I want to ebulliently respond by shouting, fuck you, life! I WILL prepare a presentation for Professor Schroeder and another presentation for Professor Taber and write a paper for Professor Norlock AND make some decent headway on the massive process of editing my senior thesis, AND still have time to drive to Pennsylvania this weekend to visit Marc Beard. I'm so filled with resolve, I'm like this glorious shining creature.

May your suds bring you joy.

( My magnificent day, let me tell you about it )

All in all, a lovely day. Signing out now. And of course, may your suds continue to bring you joy.

First draft of my senior thesis is DONE.

During the process of writing it, sometimes I would start to feel really overwhelmed and unhappy. When that happened, I would try to break the project down into very small segments and reassure myself about how do-able it was. Then I would add, "Totally do-able. Like your mom!" Usually there wasn't anyone else present for me to insult their mother, but I would still laugh like mad and feel better.

Hypothetical "Your Mom" jokes: The key to my preserved sanity.

Some might argue otherwise.

( Scavenging for coupon pennies, music swapping, and fist fights! )

Signing out now.

( Click here if you think you can handle the awesomeness )

Signing out now.

( My account of the incredible Mountain Goats concert I went to on Saturday. Warning, this entry is over 4500 words. Which is like ten pages, single spaced, in a Word Document. If only I could apply this sort of devotion to my studies. )

Signing out now.

( A few things from the past few weeks which stick out in my memory )

( An evening spent with Claire, Frans, and Richard Hell: In which I attempt to record every song played and every last gesture of affection )

Today after I wake up, I will try to get some work done early in the day and then see Patrick and attend a party at his old high school with him. Afterwards we will meet up with some other friends and go out for an early dinner in Chinatown, possibly at an Irish pub that I found a good review of online. AND THEN WE WILL GO SEE THE MOUNTAIN GOATS PERFORM AT THE 6TH AND I SYNAGOGUE AND IT WILL BE AMAZING AND LIFE-AFFIRMING AND ALL AROUND GLORIOUS. I really am so excited. John Darnielle, in addition to being one of the most soulful lyricists whose work I’ve ever become acquainted with, is also one of the most endearing performers I’ve ever seen live. Expect an exhaustively lengthy review of the show in the next few days.

May your suds bring you joy!

First of all, I would like to congratulate myself on being not crazy, just sick. After having spent a large portion of Monday and Sunday crying into my pillow, I thought I might have been certifiable, but it just turns out that I have a fever of 102 and an upper respiratory infection. Not having eaten probably didn't help the mood either, since all I've been able to down in the past few days is a little bit of soup. Oh, and a single slice of bread last night!

Speaking of being not crazy, just sick, fevers can do very funny things to you even when you're aware of having one. When I was curled up in my bed half-passed out earlier today, I started to imagine that there were two other people in bed with me. I of course knew very well that there was no such thing, but I still managed to conduct a long conversation with them, which mostly consisted of them repeatedly imploring me (in beautiful gender-neutral voices) to take a walk with them, and me gently negating their request because I could not get out of bed. I didn't mind their persistence though, because their voices were so pleasant that I didn't mind being asked the same impossible thing over and over, and their imagined presence in my bed felt warming and made me stop thinking about the aches in my body.

I kind of wish they would come back, but for some reason doubt this. Oh well, Noel will be coming to visit me later with more flavored vitamin water, and that will be EVEN BETTER than the gender-neutral angels!

Once more, for emphasis (come on, everybody in the crowd knows this by now): Not. Crazy. Just. Sick.

Miriam, look at yourself.
Don't you deserve better? Find them now on eHarmony.

Of all the special targeted ads that Facebook has seen fit to throw my way, I believe that this is by far the most potent. By commanding me to look at myself, it forces me to really examine my life in depth and come to the depressing conclusion that I am wasting away and completely bereft of all things that make existence worthwhile. Following this up by raising the question of whether I deserve better is even more devastating, because it illustrates with a great degree of clarity that a much more sublime state of being is possible, but somehow still out of my grasp. As Morpheus explained after he descended into Hell, what use would all of the tortures of the infernal realm be if the damned souls did not have a dream of Heaven with which to despair over the ideal of? Finally, an immediate solution for this anguished existential dilemma is offered: eHarmony!

But wait, I was rejected from eHarmony a few years ago, when the verdict of their free online personality quiz was that I did not fit within the parameters of any of their defined personality profiles and therefore they did not feel equipped to predict with any accuracy who I would be happy with. Oh woe, my one chance of salvation has been cruelly denied!

Way to hit me where it hurts, Facebook.

( The evening of February 13th through the 14th: A Pirates and Vikings Party, epic bouts of beer pong, innumerable heartwarming moments, a few awkward moments, and also some excessive rambling about my long talk with Kyle Clothier )

I’m going out to Blue Wind with Kat and Richard Hell in a few hours and I’d like to get some work done, so signing out now!

Oh, and I really am enjoying the formation of my funny friendship with Allison.

(taken from Facebook chat logs)

Miriam: Wow, it's almost scary how much we have in common

Miriam: Let's see, we're both bisexual, we both went through a period of acting out after beginning to drink, we both went through a period of shunning relationships after breaking up with a girlfriend, we both don't masturbate, we both have a very strange gender identity, we both love Mary Prankster, we both slept with Rowan! Amazing

Allison: haha! the connections are endless. i wonder what else we will find that we have in common

Miriam: I don't know, but I'm excited by the prospect

Allison: me too!

"Tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things. Most of the time I guess I felt alright."

( Waking up, going for a walk with YangYi, and menacing Richard Hell for no reason other than to amuse myself. Oh, and why I hated the movie 'He's Just Not That Into You.' )

Yesterday I also spent a while perusing some of the profiles on a gay online dating site, and came to the disappointing conclusion that most lesbians have bad taste in music. Come on people, Tegan and Sara do not represent the epitome of gay culture.

I need to finish up a paper before I go out tonight, so signing out now.

I just got out of my Ethical Theories class, where T.R. Reid came to visit and spent two hours hosting a debate about the ethics of universal health care. I kind of wanted to choke Aaron Siegal for the ignorant views he expressed about adoption, but it was on the whole a great class. Afterwards I walked up to thank T. R. Reid for coming in to talk to us and he clapped me on the back and exclaimed, "I LOVE your purple hair!"

YES! I have achieved validation! T. R. Reid is a prestigious Washington Post correspondent, a frequent guest on NPR, and one of the world's foremost experts on health care. The excerpts I've read from his work-in-progress 10th book We're Number 37! about the failings of the American health care system are pretty brilliant. He was wearing a pair of adorable little T.R.R. monogrammed cuff links. And he likes my hair. My mom will flip when she hears this, since she's a huge fan.

On that note, having Kt dye my hair nine days ago was incredibly fun. It felt wonderful to spend two hours in a state of excited anticipation and mystery. Sitting outside on the lawn while gazing at the setting sun and smoking a cigarette as she sat behind me applying dye and giggling to herself was a beautiful thing. It also felt nice to be able to indulge in such trust, which I feel was well placed. Her original plan was to do a tribute to Barney the Dinosaur, with green on the sides and purple on top, but the green dye was too old and washed out so I just got purple all over. I love the sheer irreverence that went into that plan of action though. Only Kt would deem it a good idea to make one of her friends look like Barney. Perhaps only I would be delighted to be informed later that this was the inspiration for my new look.

Also, the event inspired some priceless dialogue. It was a little awkward when I had to wash the dye out because I couldn't open my eyes and spoil the surprise by witnessing the excess color pouring off my head. I ended up leaning headfirst into the shower with all of my clothes on and my eyes closed while Kt stood behind me and supervised the rinsing out process. Afterwards she held out a towel to dry my hair and said, "Okay, now close your eyes and bend over and I'll be rough with you!" I wish she said such things to me every day.

Signing out now!