This is Urbana on a windy day.
This is Urbana on a calm day.
the start of my paper on why I (sometimes) like nonfiction
March 30, 2006 at 8:16 pm (ghosts, memories)
When I was growing up, my brother and I went through the entire collection of nonfiction ghost stories at the Boulder Public Library. We tried a few fiction collections but were not impressed. It was the reality and immediacy of the stories (at least in their narrative) that got us going. We were so effectively freaked out that it was common for my brother to find me sleeping on the floor of his room in the morning (or vice versa) because we didn’t want our parents to know we couldn’t sleep alone after reading these stories.
What a bonding experience. Who know that my brother and I would carry this fascination well into our adulthoods? Whenever we hear the slightest snippet of a story, we call each other.
bloody brill and too goddamned loud m@$&erF@*#ers
March 30, 2006 at 6:02 pm (TV, inadequately endowed, vehicles, why I hate noise)
“love isn’t something you feel; it’s something you do. If the person you’re with doesn’t want it, you know, do yourself a favor and save it for someone who does.” In the wise words of Nate Fisher. I think this needs to be my new mantra. So take that, I and B.
I’ve had it with these fucking bikers. Why the fuck do they need to modify their goddamn tailpipes and mufflers so their motorcycles achieve the decibel level of a 747? And why do they ride around in GROUPS? It’s completely messed up and it’s a serious detriment to anyone who has to listen to it or drive around it. And of course, we all know how I feel about boom boys. I have fantasies about doing VERY violent things to them. Anyone who will spend $4,000 and up on stereo equipment just to terrorize entire towns and cities is fucked in the head.
Sorry, but it’s really, really, really loud. Society is becoming increasingly unlivable. I say that when those little shits get collapsed lungs, we shouldn’t fix them. When you have to hear these noises over and over and over, you get a little deranged. It’s been scientifically proven that excessive noise is detrimental to anyone’s health. It is a well-documented fact that loud music is used as a “low-grade” torture device and was used so by American troops on Iraqis (things readily available on the Internet are Alan Dershowitz’s paper on “The Torture Warrant” from New York Law School Law Review–although it poses a varying view on torture, it admits to noise being used as a device– and an open letter from the Society for the Study of Peace, Conflict, and Violence, Division 48 of the American Psychological Association. Others require subscription but it’s not too hard to find).
Someday, enough people will be fed up, because it just becomes exponentially worse every year.
An excellent quote from Noise Pollution Clearinghouse:
Some individuals and businesses feel that they have a right or the freedom to use a common resource in any way they see fit. Perhaps these people are mistakenly extending their own private property rights to that which is publicly owned or cared for and not exclusively their own. Perhaps they do not realize what most of us learned on the school yard years ago: “that my right to swing my fist ends at your nose.” Or, perhaps they do not recognize the soundness of our parallel claim “that my right to create noise ends at your ear.” In any case, these people are acting as bullies, claiming rights and freedoms that are not theirs while degrading resources that are ours.
yes, I want one of these, too
March 29, 2006 at 7:10 pm (music, novelty)
It’s not too easy to just find one and buy one, though. And it probably wouldn’t fit in my apartment. But they sound SO COOL!
owwwww
March 29, 2006 at 5:16 pm (health)
not. out. of. the. woods. yet. Especially with all the performances I have in the next week, I think I need to see acupuncturist again. ow, ow, ow.
My condition. Only acupuncture has ever helped me.
jobby poo where are you?
March 29, 2006 at 12:29 pm (jobs, marooned)
I have now officially applied for 33 library jobs. Real jobs. Each with a different cover letter.
I had to quit acupuncture and as soon as I called the acupuncturist to tell him so, I started having tummy pain again. I hope it’s psychosomatic. But the bills for that wind up being about 200 a month and I can’t afford it anymore–now that I’m out of the woods, I hope to stay there for awhile without having to pay that.
I am now looking for on-campus jobs, since I was so screwed this semester otherwise. I’m making half the money I’ve made the whole time I’ve been here. I got screwed out of about four on-campus hourlies this semester, owing to the fact that I’m graduating, I assume.
So here’s some bitter revenge: one place interviewed me right before Christmas, and the head of the place emailed me the next day to tell me how much he liked me. Then he asked if I’d be willing to come in and work during break. He had to keep accepting applications until the end of January and I think really wanted to hire me. In any case, I worked there for a few weeks, in the office and some from home. They gave me a couple of tasks that I needed to do off-site. Then they stopped responding to me. They wouldn’t call me back or email me back. I tried to contact three different people there in every way and I never heard from them again. It was pretty unbelievable. I was qualified for that job on several different levels. Who else on this campus has professional press-release writing experience in New York City (for outfits like The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Lincoln Center)? Who else on this campus has experience as an editor at Oxford University Press? Not too many.
So here’s my revenge on them: if someone does a Google search for them, they will get a negative review here. The Academy for Entrepreneurial Leadership at the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana. They are extraordinarily unprofessional and rude and disorganized above all. Damn. It doesn’t work. Where is A.M. and his Google Bomb?
Anyway. They did ideally want someone to stay on after May, but they could have given me a formal rejection letter as is the right thing to do.
Graduating in May is a real pain in the butt in terms of getting a part-time job around here, or a temporary one. I wish I could wait tables, but I already did and got fired from that because I sucked so bad. Sigh. Maybe I should look into my weirder connections and become a dominatrix.
a messed-up ball
March 29, 2006 at 8:19 am (music, performance, rehearsal)
of stress.
Last night we had the most horrendous rehearsal for Balkan. I’ve been frustrated for a long time, and I discovered after rehearsal that I’m not the only one who’s been affected in this way. I joined the group hoping to learn a weird instrument or at least work on oud, since I used to play the lute. I was told that I couldn’t play the instruments I wanted to play because they were already spoken for or people who had been in the group before wanted to play them (or new people who she already knew wanted to play them). So I pretty much was put solely on singing.
Since I am a singer, I then hoped I could get some solos out of it. Not so. She assigned all the solos, small and large, to her two favorites. She said at the beginning of the school year that there would be lots of solo opportunities for everyone. On one piece in particular, she tried different people for awhile and assigned me to a part. Then she changed her mind and put only her two favorites on it, but she said it was only going to be for the December concert. I reminded her of this after December and she said I was crazy and that that song was pretty much set in stone.
Then she asked me and her two favorites which solos we wanted to sing. There was one I’d been eyeing for awhile and she told me to look at it but then she gave it to one of the favorites (who I don’t think really cared about that one in particular). Then she told me I could *understudy* for it and she’s been mad at me when I show up to the coaching sessions and haven’t worked on it. Um. What’s the point? None of the other big solos have understudies. We finally decided on a solo that could be all my own and she gave me the words only last week. I’ve been working on it, but of course, I’m not going to sing it at the concert.
The final insult: now we have to stand in the background when the two favorites are singing solos and we have to step up to do the backup vocals and then step back again. Methinks perhaps I won’t invite my friends to come see me as a backup singer. It’s too embarrassing.
thanks, Molly!
March 27, 2006 at 12:46 pm (novelty)
your research provided me with the following sign:
my first post here
March 27, 2006 at 9:05 am (flix, music)
And musings in my head at the moment.
My very favorite episode of ER is on right now and I think I’m going to cry. “Be Still My Heart.” I saw it when it first aired in February 2000–I was living in Brooklyn and we had bunny ears. I’d never really gotten into ER before. It started when I was a sophomore in college and everyone in my house my senior year would watch it and then watch Beavis and Butthead. I would watch sometimes but I really just wanted to see Beavis and Butthead. But “Be Still My Heart” is so well done and so brilliantly written, that it made a fan out of me. It’s the one where the ER has a Valentine’s party and Carter goes into a side room and gets stabbed, falls to the ground, and sees Lucy, stabbed, on the floor across from him. The music is so loud that no one would be able to hear them if they could scream. It’s also an episode where these two kids lose both their parents in a car accident.
Naturally, I watch all this while I index this fucking book. It is SO time-consuming, I can’t believe it. I had thought maybe I would turn it into a freelancing gig (like proofreading) but I don’t think I can deal. Damme.
Went out with K et al on Saturday for her bachelorette party. We went to C Street. I’d never been there before, and I think it’s the lamest gay club I’ve ever been to. Of course, I’ve always lived in more gay areas than here, so naturally the clubs are probably better. What I did like about C Street, however, was how accepting everyone is. They didn’t mind that straight people were there, at least outwardly, and we were allowed in. In New York, you sure can’t get into many gay clubs if you seem straight.
Yesterday morning I was rudely awakened by one of the foulest odors ever. Ah, the joys of living in a building with international students. Sometimes people cook the darnedest things. You can’t hear a lot of things, which is good, but you can smell EVERYTHING. Whatever this was, my apartment reeked of it and if you went into the hallway, your eyes would water and you would come close to throwing up. It smelled like a combination of barnyard animals, horrendous sea creature, and cheese. I couldn’t tell which apartment it came from, but I wanted to go knocking on doors and find out who it was and ask whoever it was to PLEASE put a sheet or towel or something over the crack under the door so that it might help at least a little bit.
Finally, I have decided I am obsessed with William Holden. As I get older, my tastes naturally change, and I seem to continually go for guys like this these days. It’s amazing how much Bill (Mr. Cosmic Love from last summer) looked like him. I think he was a very underrated actor. My first knowledge of his existence was when I read a Grace Kelly biography in eighth grade. I thought he looked boring and old. I think I was first hooked on him when I finally saw Born Yesterday. Yum, yum. And I saw Sunset Boulevard for the first time last year, which is of course one of the most brilliant movies ever. Apparently, he seriously lobbied for that role, which is impressive. He bought a lot of wildlife land in Africa when he was older and essentially made it into a preserve and felt strongly about the environment. I ought to see Stalag 17–it’s one of my dad’s favorites and another Billy Wilder film. I adore Billy Wilder–except for The Apartment.
sad and dreamy
March 25, 2006 at 1:35 am (flix, music)
How awesome is this poster?
Another song that I just can’t stop listening to. OK, the lyrics are positively ridiculous (go Lorenz Hart!) but you’ve just got to hear the song. Oh, and of course, it’s sung by Maurice Chevalier. It’s been a bit of a standard since it was a hit in the ’30s:
Mimi, you funny little good-for-nothing Mimi,
Am I the guy?
Mimi, you sunny little honey of a Mimi,
I’m aiming high!
Mimi, you’ve got me sad and dreamy,
You could free me, if you’d see me,
Mimi, you know I’d like to have a little son
Of a Mimi by and by.
