11 August 2001

I'm officially starting to get sick. I think. Does phlegm, a sore throat, and stuffed sinuses count as a cold, or just allergies acting up? I haven't had my monthly dose of hay fever since May; I guess it's about due.

I wanted to post about the conversation I had with Katie last night, because it's the kind of conversation I don't get to have anymore with very many people, especially up at Roma, and especially since I've been thinking about where I'm going to be in my life, literally, where, Vegas or otherwise. Friends of mine lately have been talking about moving to this place or that with boyfriends or girlfriends, and they've made the definite tentative plans that they know they're going to follow through with. They know exactly what the next 3-4 years holds for them.

At first, they talk about these things, and I panic. I don't really have a plan, so where does that leave me? Am I going to be sitting there in the cafe in 3-4 years, still trying to slog away, or will I be somewhere else, doing something more productive for myself? I'm going to be stuck here in Vegas, no matter how much I love it here, writing about a scene that will never get off the ground.

But then I talk to musicians who are trying to do something with the scene, and how some of them have great potential and have plans to make it, and how I have this great opportunity to meet contacts-- and, really, just to make friends. When I was talking to Jorge last night, he said that he's in a band for making music and for the fringe benefits and all that, but he's also in it just to meet new people, and get young people involved with the scene, making being in a band an interactive experience; and I totally agree with him on that. I mean, it was a big part of why I loved being in a band. You just meet all these cool, interesting people.

Being a writer helps with that too, because everybody's got a story to tell, and I love to sit down and just let people tell their story. That's how I made a lot of the friends I did in high school-- a few were military brats who had moved all over the place and nobody really wanted to hear their stories, and I was one of the few who sat down with them and listened. Nobody really does that anymore because they want everything so instantaneously.

I just like meeting people. That's why I miss being on the trip because I was running into interesting people left and right, and just hearing all these stories, seeing all these places, even if they were familiar and I was seeing them in a new way. It's all stuff I can use for stories. Life is research.

Katie's in the same boat as I am, pretty much. We're both restless. I see that as a negative thing. But she said, "Being restless is good. That means you want to do something else. You're ready for something new. You want to do something with yourself instead of just letting things turn to crap." And I thought about it, and she was totally right. Restless people are more apt to take action to change out of being restless, which means that it's time to get moving.

I just found a really cool Blog. One that's intelligent and funny. How 'bout that.

Back to the regularly scheduled musing.

It's time to get moving, which means I should be doing work right now, working on stories, but I'm such a journal whore that it's hard to get things done. But I will get them done. I know I will. There are people waiting to see my stories somewhere. I don't say that to be egotistical-- I literally have friends who want to see my work, and I won't just give them stories. The ideas are sitting down and having coffee in my head right now, talking about places they want to go-- or can go-- and soon they'll get so wired that they'll have to jump up and down on my frontal lobe and tell me to get on it, you lazy bum.

I have the stories. I just have to write them. Go team, go.

.the girl who is not very 12:30 PM [+].

So I'm really really tired right now, and I'll just post this little bit before bed.

Hung out with the crew for a bit-- the Notfromhere posse (with Russian Cyborgs) was represented for the first half, then Jorge from Pull and I started talking about the scene until he had to get home so he could get to bed early for work, then the last half was spent having one of those rare, cool conversations about living and art.

So Katie, if you're reading this, I'm not really all that cool. Really. I'm just a chick who has a lot of time on her hands, and wants to do something she really likes with it.

And I'm lucky and blessed as fuck. And don't ever think you can't be, because once you start telling yourself you're no good, you'll start believing it. Like the immortal Chuck D from Public Enemy said, "Don't believe the hype."

And like a man who I can't stop talking about once said, "Trust your heart, and trust your story."

.the girl who is not very 2:03 AM [+].

I took the camera down to Roma tonight, took a couple of pics. (You have to click on them to get the full effect.)








The one on the left is Mikey. The one on the right is Katie and Mikey. I'll get these up and then post for the evening.

.the girl who is not very 1:46 AM [+].

---

10 August 2001

I'm thoroughly creeped out now.

A black cat just came to sit in the cool dirt outside my window. Cats like to sit underneath my window in the dirt, where some bushes are, and just nap there when the sun sets. Just this morning, I was watching Neil read "The Price," a story about a celestial-being battle between a white and black cat outside Neil's house.








I think Jung invented the word synchronicity just for me, just to scare the fuck out of me.

.the girl who is not very 7:00 PM [+].

Um. So I went out and got a new toy today. This is so not good.








I tried taking a self-portrait already, just for shits and giggles, and it was terrible. I'll just have someone else take it, maybe actually get some good pictures up somewhere where everybody can see them.

More online scrapbooks. Like I need any more as it is.

.the girl who is not very 6:14 PM [+].

Oh, I almost forgot about this. My Live at the Aladdin tape came in today, so I had my morning two hours of Neil this morning, with a cup of tea and some leftover Chicken Fortunato. Very nice.

Please go buy this video from the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund. There are people being arrested for obsenity in this country, because they make comics instead of write novels that are bestsellers, and despite their First Amendment rights, are arrested and charged. Stop reading this right now, and go over there and buy something. Now. You'll feel better. Trust me.

.the girl who is not very 2:52 PM [+].

Now it's my turn. David Garza's sent off, so that's good.

Um. I really don't have anything to write about, really, other than the fact that I should be off writing right now.

I think I'll do that. Um.

.the girl who is not very 2:48 PM [+].

And this isn't mine either. It's Dov's. And if you're offended by necrophiliabeastialsodomogopy-- that would be having anal sex with dead animals in the name of God-- you'd be best advised to move on.

Brandon wants to make this into a song. I think it'd be delightful as a polka tune, or death metal, whichever.

Oh, and just for clarification, the Neil in this poem is not this Neil but the artist known as Jack Mack over at Faded Online. He used to host the poetry reading aptly titled Shut the Fuck Up over at Copioh in the months before it, um, blew up and burnt down. And this piece was a staple once a month over there.

Necrophiliabeastialsodomogopy
Dov

I am Sam. Sam I am.
Do you like necrophiliabeastialsodomogopy?

Would you could you do a dead cat?
Would you could you bang it till it's flat?
Would you could you pork a dead pig?
Would you could you pork it small or big?

No, I would not could not do a dead cat.
No, I would not could not bang it till it's flat.
No, I would not could not pork a dead pig.
No, I would not could not pork it small or big.

I do not like necrophiliabeastialsodomogopy.

Would you could you do a dead llama?
Would you could you it till it cried mama?
Would you could you pound an aardvark?
Would you could you pound it till dark?

No, I would not could not do a dead llama.
No, I would not could not till it cried mama.
No, I would not could not pound an aardvark.
No, I would not could not pound it till dark.

I do not like necrophiliabeastialsodomogopy.

Would you could you ream a buffalo?
Would you could you ream it high or low?
Would you could you ass fuck a duck?
Would you could you ass fuck it in a truck?

No, I would not could not ream a buffalo.
No, I would not could not ream it high or low.
No, I would not could not ass fuck a duck.
No, I would not could not ass fuck it in a truck.

I do not like necrophiliabeastialsodomogopy.

Would you could you rear mount an elephant?
Would you could you while Neil read a rant?
Would you could you fudge pack a ferret?
Would you could you if you could dare it?

No, I would not could not rear mount an elephant.
No, I would not could not while Neil read a rant.
No, I would not could not fudge pack a ferret.
No, I would not could not if I could dare it.

I do not like necrophiliabeastialsodomogopy.

Would you could you get a goose loose?
Would you could you with a noose?
Would you could you bang a duck-billed platypus?
Would you could you if it made a fuss?

No, I would not could not get a goose loose.
No, I would not could not with a noose.
No, I would not could not bang a duck-billed platyus.
No, I would not could not if it made a fuss.

I do not like necrophiliabeastialsodomogopy.

Please stop bothering me Sam I am.
I do not like necrophiliabeastialsodomogopy.

But you could, but you might.
Don't you know rigor mortis makes it tight?

Fine I will try it, if you leave me be.
I will try it, you shall see.

Hey, ooh, ohh, wow, oh my what a gas!
It is nice in a dead animal's ass.

I do like it! I do like it Sam I am!
I do like necrophiliabeastialsodomogopy!!!

.the girl who is not very 2:38 PM [+].

So I told Kim I'd type this up. Just to clarify, this isn't mine, it's hers. Sometimes I wish I'd written it, and sometimes I don't. I especially wish I had when I read it on poetry night.

Ode To My Hangover
Kim Vodopich

So I had 1 shot of Everclear, and I think that's when things took a turn for the worst... Funny how when you start to get buzzed you ponder really deep questions about life... Like just what is true love? How much is too much to drink? Why is it easier to climax by myself than with the stud down the hall? And why did I choose to wear my tight jeans 'cause now I can't breathe and my brain needs oxygen to process all the alcohol I just consumed? See, questions like that. And what's worse than thinking about those questions, is discussing them out loud. With the people on the couch, the crush you've been fawning over, and the total strangers who randomly showed up and would just love to hear how your ex-boyfriend took you to a different level by making you "meow" during sex. Yes these are the things that make you the life of the party and the annoying one who just needs to throw up and pass out already. Oh and then you do puke. Pray to the Porcelain God, eat seat, worship at the ceramic altar, whatever... Never thought I could get so excited over puking before. So excited I felt the need to do it twice. Then hop back into bed with my ex-boyfriend and his best friend... whoa... wait I don't remember that. No wait, now I do. Yep, sure do... er... Back to the deep questions... why is it easier to come when I'm... ya know, nevermind about that. So I'm in bed after heaving and then things go black. And I mean black, abyss-like almost. Amazing though that would of been the best sleep of my life if I wouldn't of woken up with the migraine from hell at 6am knowing I have to be at work by 9. Wondering who the hell took off my socks and shoes and watch? What other clothing is missing? And who the hell is the 55 year old man lying next to me on the phone laughing? Oh god I'll never live this down... time to go home, pray to God no one remembers, and field millions of phone calls that start with, "You'll never believe what you did last night..."

Time to move to Cali...

.the girl who is not very 2:16 PM [+].

Okay, this is weird. Um. I was looking at a promo pack that came with a couple of punk records that I got today from my editor, and was pleasantly surprised to find I'm in a promo pack for AVD Records, whom I've done reviews of 2 records for already.

They like me, they really like me.

I still have yet to see Blueline's press pack that they sent out to major labels, which apparently my review is in as well. I mean, not that I need proof of that or anything.

.the girl who is not very 12:05 AM [+].

---

09 August 2001

This just in from the IM collective...

Godspeed to the Ground
Kim Vodopich

So you wanna be a rock superstar and live large,
then learn to sing and dump your fiancee at the bar
Show up to a practice on time,
ditch your best friend to get laid on a dime
Could you sit up straight when you play that bass..
show some eye contact, do something to save face
Is it just me or is your ego as big as the room.
I see a foreboding shadow of doom..
That friendships will die, and the dream will end..
And all of this seems to be right around the bend?
Could we communicate once in awhile, talk about problems and such..
Can you live the dream and play the game,
are you willing to do even that much
So you lie back and watch as the dreamers work hard. 
Put their ass on the line only to be marred
By ingrates and egotistical rock star wannabe's ..
over websites that call you Osiris and compare you to Flea
You don't even deserve the stardom fate.
Destined to be no one's surrounded with hate. 
Hating the fact that your no talent ass,
couldn't get up the nerve to admit defeat.  
Instead blame it on others, point fingers and scream.
You had a dream, you thought would come true. 
Didn't realize that silver platters are not meant foryou.  
You have to work hard, together, or not at all. 
United you would have stood, now you must fall.
Fall back to the ground that you started from. 
Head high in the clouds or rock stardom.
Couldn't even reach Rock n' Roll heaven your tale is so Lame. 
Disgrace to the idea of playing this game.
So a band you once were and friends you will no longer be.
Now that egos are scarred and pride has ended this spree.
So drop one more bass line, and sing out that A.
For this is the last time the world will hear you play
 end

.the girl who is not very 6:40 PM [+].

Me: I was cleaning out my closet and found a bunch of stuff in there
Kim: oh dear god.. any bodies??
Me: and my old poem notebooks... man I've come a long way
Me: let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the floor...
Kim: what you don't like teen angst anymore???
Me: erm, no, bodies... yet
Kim: funny
Me: I have angst-- now it's just angst AT teens, not because I was one at some point

.the girl who is not very 6:14 PM [+].

Here and there. I've found that I have to do David Garza's Overdub for next week as well. I've already given it a couple of spins, so it shouldn't take me very long. In fact, while I'm doing this...

... ah yes, and through the wonders of ellipses, we can listen to the album while I'm on here. Oh, and write the review while I'm at it. Might as well get it all done and in before the week's over.

Just to let you know, kids, the music scene here in Vegas frankly sucks right now, so that might be part of my restlessness. There's absolutely nothing going on at all. Everybody's bored, bands are breaking up left and right, venues are closing down, and the same bands are playing the same venues, playing the same shit.

Which would explain why I've been doing just as many national acts as locals lately. For a city with potential, we have such a long way to go. We'll get there. Despite the jadedness, we'll get there.

.the girl who is not very 6:08 PM [+].

Home from one job to another. Come home to have lunch, check email, send off a review, and head to the alt-weekly to pick up more stuff to review.

And I actually got to sleep at a decent time last night, after getting a couple of chapters of King Rat in.

Um. Yeah. Off again.

.the girl who is not very 3:05 PM [+].

---

08 August 2001

Okay, I need to get off this thing. It's thunderstorming outside, something I don't get to see that often anymore.

.the girl who is not very 11:48 PM [+].

I figured since I was thinking about my nephews today, their parents would bring them over, right when I'm about to head out for the evening. I hate it when I know things are going to happen, plan things as if the opposite, and then get angry. Then I get irate at the fact that I'm irate. Angst, the freshmaker.

113: Deftones\My Own Summer. Oh that reminds me, I have some stuff to put on this laptop.

You know, I was thinking on making an bio page again. I'd started one when I was overseas, but I didn't get very far. I used to have it sitting in a folder when I was over at Geocities (I was at that address for 5 years, can you believe that?), and then I nixed it because I'd read it and realized it was silly. And besides, if you're really that curious, email me. Maybe I'll put little tidbits here and there if so desired.

.the girl who is not very 11:16 PM [+].

Have you ever re-arranged things, only to feel like they're just as messy at the end than they were at the beginning? That's how I'm feeling about my closet right now.

I took all the books out, left the fiction in my bedroom proper, and put everything else (ie psychology stuff, books I bought in college and have no real use for but for asthetic/academic reasons, some reference books, a bunch of books on Paganism, and the Michael Chichton collection that stopped growing in high school) back on the closet shelves. What I might do tomorrow, since my fingers are all ripped up again, is just take winter clothes that I'm not wearing now and put them in the back where the empty shelf space is. The fiction is stacked up in front of some of the CD shelves, where I'm leaving them until the real bookshelves get here next week. Goddess my life is boring.

And I realized just how many vampire books I have. More than I really care to admit. I was obsessed in high school, what can I say.

Laundry's almost done. And I haven't eaten today. Again. Shit. Cleaning just makes you forget these things. And I really need a shower. Phew.

Yeah.

.the girl who is not very 6:40 PM [+].

The insomnia continues. Tried to go to bed at 1:30, ended up sitting there in the dark, turned on the TV, watched Tom Hanks go nuts in Cast Away, watched the morning headlines, and then between 5:30 and 6 this morning, I drifted off to sleep.

I don't know why I can't sleep, at this point I'm really not all that worried about things. I'll just sit there, in the dark, a million things running through my head, and even though I'm tired my brain won't shut down.

I'm gonna blame it on Tolkien, since I finished Fellowship last night. Hopefully now I'll be able to rest without thinking about writing a story about a psychologically damaged Galadriel, and about her issues of living in Lothlorien and being absolutely worshipped, and, pretty much feared. Ack, stop it, brain.

Laundry must be finished today, because then I can start with the task of putting books in order, today's fun clean-thing, before the shelves get here. Mmmm, shelves. Empty. To be filled with books. Homer drool.

This too:

And Then

things drift apart
like hands
from the heart
losing touch
like you'd lost a dog.
foggy memories
of lying in bed
staring at the ceiling fan
going 'round
in a lazy daze,
and your skin
is smooth
from being kissed,
hours missed
in thoughts of one person
on top of you
his face as big as the world
all yours to know
and nobody else
will ever see it like that.
and then
spending time
leaves you in debt
regret raking over you
through the memories
and objects left behind
like a cold bed
and hastily taken photos
don't you want to go back?
when you didn't know him
and you were a mystery novel
read chapter by chapter
the laughter
leaving echoes somewhere?
not here.
not
here.
it's all my own voice now,
echoing
like it's always been.
just me
seeing another part
of something
like a picture
just beginning to develop.

.the girl who is not very 2:12 PM [+].

Oh, and just as a parting thing before I go to bed, courtesy of Phil Booth who's in for the regular guy...

The planets promise a positive outcome as long as you don't let down the side and become exasperated. You know how to manipulate the material world and do your juggling. What an expert you are! You've got 6 arms and 12 balls juggling away so fast that it all seems a blur. "Ladies and Gentlemen....the hand is quicker than the eye." You're ruled by the quickest planet in the solar system. Mercury stole Apollo's cows and led them backwards into a cave. Why am I telling you this? It's just to let you know who taught you your special skills.

.the girl who is not very 12:33 AM [+].

After some Chez Del Taco for dinner, catching up with Lisa and lending her Neverwhere, and getting in that second load of laundry (with two left to go) I can finally sit down with some Tolkien and commit suicide now.

Thangyaverymuch.

.the girl who is not very 12:26 AM [+].

---

07 August 2001

I'm headed out to L.A. on the 19th for Lisa's IMPACT graduation-- Multiple assailants, which is going to be more intense than the other graduations I've been to. But the thing I love about IMPACT graduations is that I always feel like I can kick everybody's ass who tries to fuck with me. I mean, not that I'm not a bitch already.

Just talking to Walker about coming out there and visiting. He makes me laugh.

Lisa should be on her way over to borrow my illegal tapes of Neverwhere. Oh yeah, and play some Tony Hawk. That shit is crack, I'm telling you.

I need more friends with web pages. Erg.

.the girl who is not very 8:51 PM [+].

And I almost forgot this part. I was at the store, and I did mail off my letter, and... as I was looking at the magazine section looking for this week's Entertainment Weekly which has a little article about, yes, Blogging and a very bad picture of Neil underneath Andy Dick, um, I turned around to see. Um. School suppplies. And I gawked. And I quietly mumbled no to myself as I stared.

I ended up buying the EW and a 12-pack of Sprite. I am such a dork.

.the girl who is not very 8:31 PM [+].

So I re-shelved my CDs today, putting together the last couple of shelves I had sitting around waiting to be put together. There's four and a fifth (or something thereabouts) shevles filled-- I think there's 130-40 for each shelf. And yeah, that's a lot. More than average, of course. But it'll keep growing. I mean, not that I mind. It was better than the 20 minutes I spent today heading down to the post office to send off that letter to the judge out in CA-- it's thisclose to 120 degrees outside, which means that your car, even with the air blowing like the Arctic, is still an oven. I think I came out medium well today.

235: Jude\Gay Cowboy Song. Um.

Did a little bit of cleaning, which was nice, but I still feel like I have more stuff than I should. At the home stretch of the shelving today, Dad comes home to inform me that he went out and looked for bookshelves for me, and happened to get a huge one-- 4 feet wide by 7 feet high by whatever feet deep enough for books. It's supposed to get here next week, already assembled. Damn. I was just expecting to go down to Wal-Mart, picking up one of those little bookshelf thingies, and putting it together myself. Apparently, my father had other plans.

I don't know if this happens to everyone, but I always feel tired and way more dirty that I really am after I clean. My hands are all kinds of ripped up right now. My back hurts like a bitch. And a headache is starting to creep in.

I still have laundry to do, too. Bugger. It's definitely a stay-home-finish-cleaning-and-then-sit-in-bed-and-slog-through-the-rest-of-Tolkien night. Oh, and add a bath in there, too. That's number 2 priority, after the first load of laundry is thrown in the washer.

.the girl who is not very 7:44 PM [+].

Ever just open up your blog and just blank? You thought you had something in your head, but it's just not there?

How you doin'.

Oh yes, Fear Factory was great on Sunday. I forgot that the post that I was going to put up about it got lost in the ether. Brandon and I hung out, even though he couldn't really afford it goddess bless that guy, and we saw old band members who tried to act like deep friendships had never fallen apart and their fiancees who couldn't make an effort to be civil.

And yes, making an affort to be civil is a two-way street-- I could say something nice myself, you know. But I'm not going to be civil if all I'm going to say is hi-how-are-you, and the person on the other end is guaranteed to talk shit after I walk away. It's just not worth the effort. I have enough karma stacked up for awhile, thank you very much.

So things are quiet for now. There's Boy Hits Car and Downer on the 12th. I haven't seen BHC since the SnoCore tour-- with Fear Factory as the headliner, ironically enough-- and I thought they had an energetic set, despite the fact that nobody knew who they were and didn't even get mentions in any reviews of the show. But you gotta love the name.

Oh, and my friend's band Notfromhere is opening up. I really liked them, not just 'cause they're my friends. Their sound kicks ass.

Then the 15th brings a hometown show for The Crystal Method with Uberzone and another group I can't remember now, which should be a good show. And I'm still debating on Reverend Horton Heat next month, but we'll see about that. I just want to go see them play "Nurture My Pig."

I have to go to the store today and mail off that letter about my ticket. That baby's going Priority. And I know I'm going to end up in the store's back-to-school section. Chaz always said that his favorite holiday wasn't his birthday or Christmas, but back-to-school. He and I could just spend hours in office supply stores looking at pens and notebooks and paper and folders. It's like crack, I'm telling you. Maybe it's just a writer thing.

And I just bought some pens, so I don't need anymore of those, and I have a journal that I scribble in, so it's not like I'm going to need any of that for awhile, especially since I have another journal all ready to be defaced afterwards.

Then it's clean-up day. My next big project is going to be bookshelves. We'll see how that goes.

.the girl who is not very 12:37 PM [+].

I was just reading an article in Macworld on validating web pages, and by the end of the article, I get the distinct feeling that someone's trying to make me feel like an idiot for not being cutting edge and using HTML 4.01. I'm thinking, hey now, all my shit works on all kinds of browsers, and I haven't had anyone complain about how the layout sucks or that they can't read the text or whatEVER. Sod off.

88: CIV\Can't Wait One Minute More. No wonder I'm so aggro right now.

My pages work just fine, thanks. I have style sheets, and people are able to read them, so what? I can read them, the people who want to read them read them, and people who visit the sites can read them. That's all that matters. If I find the time and inclination to read and learn all about HTML 4.0whatever, I'll go do that. For now I keep it real and simple. Keep it real simple. Um. Yeah.

So Nat and I are sitting up at Del Taco today eating dinner, and we're talking about China and Europe and being American and trying to explain to them what's going on in your country, being an ambassador for your country. And this guy, older, with a few books next to him, sitting across the way from us says, "not to intrude, but you two seem like politically-minded people, what do you think of the current administration?"

At the end of it all, the three of us had sat there for about 3 hours talking about politics, being foreign, careers, cafes, marriage, school, drugs, and being role models. It was pretty cool, actually. Every once in awhile, even for a little bit, it's nice to just sit down with someone who has a head on their shoulders and doesn't berate us because we're young, or think that just because we have an opinion that it's less valid because of our age. He was a cool guy. And his name was Curt. Hi Curt.

Was there something else? Oh, I find it very strange that I will download new Tori tracks but I won't go looking for Neil's stories on the songs. There's something about seeing those out of context that just doesn't make me want to read them yet. Or maybe it's the fact that I just had an overload a month or so ago of American Gods and Neil himself, and I haven't heard any new Tori in about 2 years.

I'm having one of those years. Three years ago I saw Neil and Tori in the same year, the same year that my mother had passed. Both of those events had a serious impact on me as a person and as an artist. This time around I'm a little more experienced, a little older, a little more serious of an artist. I met Neil this year, something I didn't ever think I'd do. I don't expect to meet Tori, though I wonder what she's like in person. I still have the thought in my head that I don't want to right now, since all I'd say is thank you. That phrase doesn't seem to do it all justice.

But you never know. Stranger things have been known to happen in my life, like making Neil smile like a monkey.

Rozzie got her package today. Hope you like the jumping Gremlin.

I realized I like putting packages together. I don't really get to do that that often.

Okay. It's two in the morning now. I need to get back to regular sleep patterns. Somewhat regular, anyway.

.the girl who is not very 2:14 AM [+].

---

06 August 2001

In my manic-ness, I decided to try out a new look. Muy bonita, no?

.the girl who is not very 2:48 PM [+].

Okay, so we're making some progress on this speeding ticket. It's been over a month since I received it, and today I finally talked to a real person about it. She stated that I have to write a letter to the judge stating my situation.

6 August, 2001


To whom it may concern:

My name is Kari Eileen O'Connor. I recieved a speeding ticket on June 23, 2001, citation number ***.
I recieved a coutesy notice stating that I must appear in court. I have also followed up with a phone call to the automated system which also stated I have to appear in court as well. I have talked to a clerk who informed me that if I cannot appear to write a letter explaining my situation.
I live out of state in Las Vegas, Nevada, and my work schedule leaves me no time to be able to come to California and appear for my citation. I am not contesting the ticket, and would like to pay the full amount of bail, if possible.
If there are any questions, I can be reached at ***, or at the address above. Thank you.

Sincerely,
Kari Eileen O'Connor

I'd like to thank my parents for this award. And of course Walker and Neil for getting me involved so that I got the ticket in the first place.

(Okay so I just like to blame other people. I'm the one paying for this thing, anyway.)

.the girl who is not very 1:26 PM [+].

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05 August 2001

So I was thinking about this the other day. Actually, I'm thinking about it now, which is why I'm writing about it.

I was at dinner with Nat and Jon and their dad Skip, and Jon and I started talking about an old friend of ours who kept bragging about how she was on an e-mail correspondence with Trent Reznor and how she was friends with him, all that. And then our conversation turned to Tori fans, and how some of them spend so much money following her around on tours and how crazy that is, and how some of them showed up on the trip and just saw Neil so they could get information out of him about Tori and her new album.

And then Skip said, "Well, you followed him around California for five days, didn't you? Isn't that a little obsessive?"

And I nodded. "I suppose it is. But Neil's fans are the nicest, most gracious people I've ever met." And it's true, because Neil is like that, so it follows almost logically. And there are people who did much more than I did to go see him-- some people even flew out from other countries just to say hello. Me driving 1100 some odd miles is actually in a way normal. And it's not very often he's around these parts, especially now that he's not doing Guardian Angel tours for the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund anymore. And especially now that he's gaining in popularity, you'd better get it all in now before you're at the end of a thousand-people line.

And it's like I said before, there are people who are much better stalkers than I am. Really, there are. And they're really nice people. Some of them even have Neil's e-mail address, and they correspond with him all the time. But I'm not going to ask because, in all honesty, it's none of my business. And they don't really let the whole world know these things.

Me, I just want to write. I just want to have the opportunity to write for as long as I can sit down with a pen. To keep having inspiration that gives me that push to write. Okay, end sappy.

Plus I was invited. So there.

Okay, so I'm justifying things in my head. Who cares, really.

Damn. That turned into a longish post. The next one will probably be complaining about how I can't hear after the Fear Factory show tonight.

.the girl who is not very 3:00 PM [+].

Um.

Why am I even writing on this thing? I should be in bed. I shouldn't have even gone out. I ended up watching a conversation about gun and knife laws, and while it was very informative, I'm not very versed in it all, so I just sat there, and nodded as if I really understood what they were all talking about when they were explaining Glocks and Barettas.

But the legal length of a blade in Nevada is 3.75 inches, which I never really knew before, so that was good.

I'm a journal whore, I know.

There was something I was going to write about... oh yes.

So. I guess I could be labelled now. I mean, single. Or with myself or whatever Oprah phrase you'd like to use. I haven't talked to M on the phone in about a week and a half, or seen him online in about a week. It feels weird. Things are just... over. Like that. And it's like nothing ever happened.

My last two relationships were pretty similar in that regard. Last year, the relationship I was in just sputtered out and eventually we just stopped talking to each other. I came home from college and just kind of left him behind in California because there really wasn't much else I could do other than drive back and forth and I just wasn't up to that. I was coming back to start a new life here. As mean as it sounds I didn't want him in that life. He would remind me of where I was just coming from. If that sounds bad, then sue me.

This one though, we had a little row. Well, it wasn't really much of a row as just a State of the Disunion discussion a month into our relationship. The biggest sore spot for him was the trip and the fact that I was with a bunch of people he didn't know and had no idea what they were like. Not that he really knew any of my friends here, either. We'd all hung out every once in awhile, but he was quiet and didn't really interact all that often. And even when M had the chance to meet the people I was going to be on the trip with he refused because he didn't want to invade on it. That just made me not want to involve him in anything else.

I mean, let's be serious here. My friends are more important to me than I regard myself. And I'm starting to actually get used to the idea of starting to like who I am. And fuck off if you don't want to get involved because you're so scared of people. Friends are family to me. They might as well just be blood, for chrissakes. Even people that I've barely met are important in my life because they see a side of me that other people don't see. I have different aspects for different people. That's just who I am. And this trip was very important to me because I was meeting someone who's had a very big influence on me for most of my writing history. And I come home and am told that the one I'm calling boyfriend doesn't trust me. How is that supposed to make me feel, when he doesn't feel comfortable with the fact that I have a lot of male friends? Your self-esteem, dear, is not my problem. If you're not liking who I hang with, you're not liking me. Jesus, I sound like a Spice Girls song.

He couldn't trust me. I couldn't handle the fact that he had to have constant updates like the Weather Channel. It was bound to fall apart at some point, and you're probably wondering what I was doing there in the first place.

He made me laugh. He got me into comics again. In fact, I still have his Watchmen. He made me think about how I live my life, and how I approach writing. Most of all he made me realize what I'm looking for in a relationship. It just wasn't what we'd had. Honestly, I think if we were going to meet in another 10 years it'd be okay. Right now it's just disaster.

And he was the first person to ever bring up the trust thing. Usually I'm the one worrying about it, at least in my head. My fear is that there's always going to be someone better than me out there. And maybe there is, but there's only one me, and that's the comforting part.

Things are being spoggly again. I'll post and rant more tomorrow. Maybe. There's Fear Factory tomorrow night.

.the girl who is not very 1:21 AM [+].

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