I had another recommendation for a blog title. Dave siad something along the lines of Gayness called: It wants its blog back. I will tell of the story in a moment, but first I wanted to say that my plans of dedication and changing of the title has changed. I was going to name my blog this (Gayness called...) in dedication to Dave until my permenant title came to me, but I think I'm going to keep "It's just my face." It's growing on me. I figured I should embrace the face. Also, it's a little less offensive--not that I generally care about offended people, but I would rather not make it a world-wide sort of thing.
The story behind "Gayness Called..."
Maria and Jackie were picking on some random chick in the pizza place. We were in the pizza place because our beyond-drunk asses (at least mine) were hungry. Now, Maria and Jackie, if I remember correctly, were kind of starting a fight, but not like a let's brawl, I'mma kick your ass, kinda fight. Just petty girl shit. I, however, felt left out... I'm guessing. I looked over at some random dude and yelled/said, "Gayness called, they want there GUY back." Yes, I am ashamed of my actions. BUT, I laugh everytime I recall this. Maria said she wished she didn't know me at that point. Well, I've decided to embrace/exploit my stupidity. I use the "gayness called" with EVERYTHING now. For example, if I think a commercial is stupid, I'll say, "Gayness called; It wants its commercial back." Or, if I drop something, say a head of lettuce, I'll remark, "Gayness called; they want their lettuce back." Let me tell you, it's an all day thing now. Even my housemates are using it. I think it goes right up there with the amount of times I say, "JC is gay."
Now (I just went outside to close my moon roof because it's raining, and can't remember what else I wanted to type.) Eh, maybe it'll come to me later and I can edit this post. Until then...
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
New Title III
Still procrastinating about thinking about the title of my blog. I just wanted to mention, as talked over with Ray, that the blog title generator mentioned in my previous blog is not awesome.
As for now, my title is dedicated to Ray. Here is why:
As far back as I can remember, people have always told me that I need to smile. I constantly have people asking me why I am mad, sad, upset, in a murderous rage, etc. However, I am none of these things, most of the time. If you take a look at my drivers license, you'll see what looks like a prison mug shot for someone about to enter a maximum facility institution because she has just committed an awful crime and is a little smug about it. I was actually in a good mood at the time of the picture. To continue, I can't stress enough how much this happens to me (all the "hey, what's wrongs" and "I always thought you were a bitch before I met you because you always looked pissed at the worlds"). Now, I'm not going to go so far as to say I'm not a cynical, jaded, pessimistic person, but more often than not, my facial expressions don't demonstrate what I am thinking or feeling. To make a long, redundant story shorter...Ray, one day about a year ago, commented on this "look" that seems to make everyone inquisitive about my state of mind. In reply I said, "It's just my face." The rest is history. We have a good chuckle about it sometimes, and I don't think I'll ever forget it, seeing as though people will continue to ask me if I'm about to (trying to think of something that isn't "homicidal rampage" because I don't want to be insensitive to what just happened at VT, but I can't think on 2 hours of sleep.) I think you get it, I'm not going to finish that sentence.
I feel fake going around smiling all of the time. Who does that anyway? People go around with a solomn expression on their faces all of the time, yet don't get others going out of their ways to walk on the other side of the street because they think you're going to punch them in the face for no apparent reason other than my face says I'm going to. Why is it that my lack of a smile connotes something other than John Doe's lack of a smile? I'm going to go with... it's just my face.
As for now, my title is dedicated to Ray. Here is why:
As far back as I can remember, people have always told me that I need to smile. I constantly have people asking me why I am mad, sad, upset, in a murderous rage, etc. However, I am none of these things, most of the time. If you take a look at my drivers license, you'll see what looks like a prison mug shot for someone about to enter a maximum facility institution because she has just committed an awful crime and is a little smug about it. I was actually in a good mood at the time of the picture. To continue, I can't stress enough how much this happens to me (all the "hey, what's wrongs" and "I always thought you were a bitch before I met you because you always looked pissed at the worlds"). Now, I'm not going to go so far as to say I'm not a cynical, jaded, pessimistic person, but more often than not, my facial expressions don't demonstrate what I am thinking or feeling. To make a long, redundant story shorter...Ray, one day about a year ago, commented on this "look" that seems to make everyone inquisitive about my state of mind. In reply I said, "It's just my face." The rest is history. We have a good chuckle about it sometimes, and I don't think I'll ever forget it, seeing as though people will continue to ask me if I'm about to (trying to think of something that isn't "homicidal rampage" because I don't want to be insensitive to what just happened at VT, but I can't think on 2 hours of sleep.) I think you get it, I'm not going to finish that sentence.
I feel fake going around smiling all of the time. Who does that anyway? People go around with a solomn expression on their faces all of the time, yet don't get others going out of their ways to walk on the other side of the street because they think you're going to punch them in the face for no apparent reason other than my face says I'm going to. Why is it that my lack of a smile connotes something other than John Doe's lack of a smile? I'm going to go with... it's just my face.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
New Title II
First of all, I'd like to thank Ray for the suggestion. ::cough:: Jerk ::cough, cough::
Second of all, I would like to tell you a little about my quest to find the perfect title. I found a site for a blog generator. It's a blog title generator. I have yet to come across one that I like, but it is cool to see what it comes up with, for example, Unstructured Reflections of a Self-Confessed Dreamer. Cute, right? Not for me, of course. And, they seem more theme-ish, if you will. As you can see, my blog is not really following a theme. I write about so many different things, and I don't have one sort of style. Also, I don't stick to one kind of writing. I have opinions, self-reflections, creative writing, ect.
Oh well.... still searching, wondering, thinking.
Second of all, I would like to tell you a little about my quest to find the perfect title. I found a site for a blog generator. It's a blog title generator. I have yet to come across one that I like, but it is cool to see what it comes up with, for example, Unstructured Reflections of a Self-Confessed Dreamer. Cute, right? Not for me, of course. And, they seem more theme-ish, if you will. As you can see, my blog is not really following a theme. I write about so many different things, and I don't have one sort of style. Also, I don't stick to one kind of writing. I have opinions, self-reflections, creative writing, ect.
Oh well.... still searching, wondering, thinking.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
New Title
It was brought to my attention a couple of weeks ago, that someone else has the same title for her blog as I do. Now, I'm sure many people use this for their titles, or whatever. It's almost cliche, but I've been obsessed with this quoatation for a long time. It's even going to be tattooed on my body.
However, I have decided to change the title of the blog. I've had this title for two and a half years. I guess I can part with it. Now all I have to do is find something to replace it with....sorry....with which to replace it (I guess I should start to try to write better seeing as though I am an English major).
Any suggestions? I have none as of right now. I just know that I wasn't going to change it, but now, everytime I blog, I think about it. It needs to be done.
However, I have decided to change the title of the blog. I've had this title for two and a half years. I guess I can part with it. Now all I have to do is find something to replace it with....sorry....with which to replace it (I guess I should start to try to write better seeing as though I am an English major).
Any suggestions? I have none as of right now. I just know that I wasn't going to change it, but now, everytime I blog, I think about it. It needs to be done.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Remembering Dermaphoria
Yesterday, or the day before (I have a bad memory and can't keep things like that straight), I finished Dermaphoria--Craig Clevenger's sophomore novel. (His other novel is The Contortionist's Handbook, which I've also read.) It's been compared to a cross between the film Requiem for a Dream and a novel by Cormac McCarthy. Side note: McCarthy just won the 2007 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction for his book The Road. I think it's a pretty good comparison.
At first, while reading, I just kept asking myself, "What the Hell is going on here?" I couldn't get a grasp on anything the author was writing. For example, the first paragraph reads, "I panicked and swallowed a handful of fireflies and black widows the inferno had not. Shiny glass teardrops shattered between my teeth while the fireflies popped like Christmas bulbs until I coughed up blood and blue sparks, starting another fire three inches behind my eyes and burning a hole through the floor of memory. A lifetime of days, years, minutes and months, gone, but for a lone scrap, scorched and snagged on a frayed nerve ending and snapping in the breeze:” After reading the book, I get it, but not at first. And even after reading the book, I have to go back to realize that I know now what he was talking about. I could have simply said that the beginning of the book was confusing, but going back, I realized how it all fits together.
I really enjoyed this book, more than his first one, which is also good. I couldn't wait to read more because I HAD to know what was going to happen, but, at the same time, I didn't want to read more because the pages until the end were disappearing. That would mean that there would be no more story to read. I wanted to know, but I didn't want it to end. However, after finishing with the novel, I was strangely satisfied with the story as a whole, even before going back to see all of the things that I missed.
I can't express enough how confusing some of this book was, but it really does fit together. And after a couple of chapters (they're short) I was totally engrossed in the story. It took me a while to actually pick the book up. I had only bought it because I liked his other novel, and I wasn't too interested in reading this story. I don't even remember why I finally decided to read it. It's a very quick read, and the reread, or skimming back over, makes the novel so much better. You’re just like, Oh yeah, I forgot about that, but now I get it. Unless, of course, you have a better memory than I do and get it right away because you never forgot to begin with.
The book is littered with characters such as Jack, the Beanstalk, Manhattan White, Otto, Desiree, The Token Man, and the Glass Stripper. Not to mention the “cockroaches” and “talking” Moose head at the diner.
“The cockroaches tell you that? You shouldn’t listen to them. They’re pissed because I’m a neat freak. I moved into that shit-hole room and swept up the crack pipes and bread crumbs. I killed one of them, so the whole colony’s got it in for me.”
Anyway, the main character, Eric is genuinely smart, but you want to smack him during his drug trips. The clear story line, when he’s sober, is refreshing, but the other parts are fun. One more quotation that I enjoyed, and that I'll leave you with, is:
Everything in the universe is everything else. A man is a killer is a saint is a monkey is a cockroach is a goldfish is a whale, and the Devil is just the angel who asked for More.
Doomed but destined to forever want the closest thing beyond our grasp, we fled the trees, stood on our hind legs and reached with our new hands. We learned to sharpen sticks, then rocks, to scream, then grunt, then speak. We were hardwired for desire, and our wanting drove us to evolve, so we evolved wanting. More food, more fire and more offspring. More gods. Gods for harvest, fire and fertility. One day, one god said No more. No more other gods, no more of More. A million years of More were flushed away, cesspooling nine circles below the earth, a million ears too late. Man’s nature has been set to be unsatisfied.
At first, while reading, I just kept asking myself, "What the Hell is going on here?" I couldn't get a grasp on anything the author was writing. For example, the first paragraph reads, "I panicked and swallowed a handful of fireflies and black widows the inferno had not. Shiny glass teardrops shattered between my teeth while the fireflies popped like Christmas bulbs until I coughed up blood and blue sparks, starting another fire three inches behind my eyes and burning a hole through the floor of memory. A lifetime of days, years, minutes and months, gone, but for a lone scrap, scorched and snagged on a frayed nerve ending and snapping in the breeze:” After reading the book, I get it, but not at first. And even after reading the book, I have to go back to realize that I know now what he was talking about. I could have simply said that the beginning of the book was confusing, but going back, I realized how it all fits together.
I really enjoyed this book, more than his first one, which is also good. I couldn't wait to read more because I HAD to know what was going to happen, but, at the same time, I didn't want to read more because the pages until the end were disappearing. That would mean that there would be no more story to read. I wanted to know, but I didn't want it to end. However, after finishing with the novel, I was strangely satisfied with the story as a whole, even before going back to see all of the things that I missed.
I can't express enough how confusing some of this book was, but it really does fit together. And after a couple of chapters (they're short) I was totally engrossed in the story. It took me a while to actually pick the book up. I had only bought it because I liked his other novel, and I wasn't too interested in reading this story. I don't even remember why I finally decided to read it. It's a very quick read, and the reread, or skimming back over, makes the novel so much better. You’re just like, Oh yeah, I forgot about that, but now I get it. Unless, of course, you have a better memory than I do and get it right away because you never forgot to begin with.
The book is littered with characters such as Jack, the Beanstalk, Manhattan White, Otto, Desiree, The Token Man, and the Glass Stripper. Not to mention the “cockroaches” and “talking” Moose head at the diner.
“The cockroaches tell you that? You shouldn’t listen to them. They’re pissed because I’m a neat freak. I moved into that shit-hole room and swept up the crack pipes and bread crumbs. I killed one of them, so the whole colony’s got it in for me.”
Anyway, the main character, Eric is genuinely smart, but you want to smack him during his drug trips. The clear story line, when he’s sober, is refreshing, but the other parts are fun. One more quotation that I enjoyed, and that I'll leave you with, is:
Everything in the universe is everything else. A man is a killer is a saint is a monkey is a cockroach is a goldfish is a whale, and the Devil is just the angel who asked for More.
Doomed but destined to forever want the closest thing beyond our grasp, we fled the trees, stood on our hind legs and reached with our new hands. We learned to sharpen sticks, then rocks, to scream, then grunt, then speak. We were hardwired for desire, and our wanting drove us to evolve, so we evolved wanting. More food, more fire and more offspring. More gods. Gods for harvest, fire and fertility. One day, one god said No more. No more other gods, no more of More. A million years of More were flushed away, cesspooling nine circles below the earth, a million ears too late. Man’s nature has been set to be unsatisfied.
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