Friday, April 29, 2005

you don't know the power that you have

the song i'm listening to now says, what are you, and what i am is a little pleasantly tired and at the law library, with the smell of electricity all around me and the hum of machines. four in a row, to be exact. i'm a little weary of love (but just this kind) and ready to move move move away, though just today. or just right now. the morning afternoon time, at least, how's that. it's going to rain, soon, and i as usual have no jacket but i can't really complain about that. seems symbolic but it's not.

justice harlan couldn't see, so justice black had to tell him what was happening.

i have two puzzles of the crossword kind, usa today and new york times, right in front of me with my blue pen, so what am i thinking about other things for? i have clues to worry about and not anything else, like Common Father's Day gift (three letters) and Schoenberg opera "Moses und ___" (four letters) to worry about. i think that one is Aron and yes without the other a but maybe maybe not. can't afford to make hasty decisions when you're using a papermate flexgrip ultra med blue.

i paid for my coffee in nickels today.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

hey hey heeeeeeeeeey, yeh

you know that part in cat power's he war, right when it starts and you have this completely awesome snare-rolling rhythm going on, and then when she sings he war hewar he will kill for you, and it kicks in with this buhumbum buhumbum on the floor tom? that makes me want to start running just to see how fast i can go. every time robot plays it (and that's a lot of times, robot knows what i like), i like to pretend i'm really playing my own lovely drums, and the floor tom (which you may or may not know might just be my favorite) gets a lot of love. look, try it yourself. put on the song and wait, and then when the floor tom starts up, throw down your right hand--buhumbum! buhumbum! it's incredibly satisfying. and if you want to really have some fun, right after the second one, cross your right hand over to the left side and smash on the crash cymbal--crrrrhhhrisssssh!

i would not, however, recommend doing this while you're driving, which i've had too much first-hand experience with. this is reason number 3, actually, that i am a poor operator of motor vehicles. can you guess 1 and 2?

(and hey katie, remember the song we were going to write called 'floor tom?' let's really do that sometime)

today something AWESOME happened to me. i got an award! from the law school! another one! actually, it's not from the law school, it's from something called the American Society of Matrimonial Lawyers! who the fuck are those people? i don't care! i love them! what the heck! i get a plaque! with my name on it! not just a blank one! haha! AND I GET A THOUSAND DOLLARS!

okay, i'm sorry. i found out in a situation where i had to be subdued, so i left to go out in the parking lot to jump around and things. you know. but hey! i'm dying to tell all of you. all.

and, what else? too much. but listen, God is so good. for awards, okay, but for answering prayer. and making my heart ready. and giving me you, fifteen minutes away and continents away. i love you. let me celebrate and feel this to the full measure with you.

today i feel the kind of strong i haven't felt in a long long time. like the full name is appropriate today. catherine loya, kaZAM!


Wednesday, April 27, 2005

here's a hand to lay on your open palm

lyndsey teeter nee johnson has given this journal top billing on her list. she's very kind. and extremely funny. please remember to check her out, every two weeks, right here. you won't regret it. and you should probably check it a lot more than that. make sure you check out the gold pants, in particular. check check checkitout.

so. today is sort of a slow and grey day. goodbyes are hard. i have two or three more times with the devastator left, and then that will be all spoken of in past tense. i can't remember if i've ever said goodbye to someone forever before. maybe my grandmother, my nanny, when she was very old and very sick--but that's a little different, isn't it? and maybe my mother and father, more recently, but only to what i remembered them being and wished they would be again--so that's different too. steve is gone for two years, okay, but he comes home and comes back. so. this saying goodbye is really sad and hard, the full extent of which is maybe difficult to understand without any long-term counseling experience of your own. which, naturally, i recommend, if you've ever thought about it. it's pretty easy, especially if you go to a university. and free, too!

but, right, as i was saying. goodbye forever. what do you say? how do you end it with a little bit of peace or any peace at all? is there some sort of procedure to follow, you know, where you can follow steps from a little manual: say these words, smile this way, cry this kind of crying, hug this kind of hug. and then turn on your heels and go. don't look back or you'll turn into a pillar of salt. too much crying, silly, that's where it comes from.

i kidnapped francis bear last night.

and i've been thinking about drugs. painkillers, mostly.

today there is the rest of the corporations exam outline, and a visit to the potential gala-space (which will probably be deposited for), and some nice dinner to be had, and probably some playing of a well-worn, very-good video game called final fantasy vii. times when things are very real and very sad, it's nice to have a familiar and well-worn and enjoyed thing to take comfort from. with everybody's favorite villian and almost everybody's favorite hero, an evil corporation bent on the destruction of the world through pollution (no, really), and, well. think of it like an old and good book, like spending a little time with old friends in a nice place, once lived and now remembered.

okay, okay.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

maybe tomorrow

maybe today isn't the day to drink coffee, to leave the house (funny how house isn't a physical thing sometimes), to eat any sugar, to think very thoroughly about anything instead of just touching on things momentarily, to go to ethics and lose my temper just at the beginning over something so small, to say "i have an anger problem" with a laugh and get some more, to hear "i can't imagine you getting angry over anything, or maybe with a half-smile" and just because it's true and i wish myself i could get that half-smile off my face, to pick up some money, to get a birthday present and give it on time, to go see my professor to help clean up her office a little bit off the clock, to study for my corporations exam, to update this online journal, to see the devastator and all that goes with it, to rent or maybe watch movies, to order a pizza and eat it but only after i've calmed down, to stay calm and relax and not freak out now don't freak out, to talk about this any longer.

Monday, April 25, 2005

sliding down your back and into the sea

do you think it's possible to starve off feeling lonely and afraid? i think it is, though the problem with doing it is that those things, and really any sort of feeling you desperately want to avoid, never quite go away until you feel them all out, and even sometimes get a lot worse. even sometimes, huh. who am i kidding, right? ha.

it's funny how situations can bring back ghosts, and with such force. you want specifics? be careful what you ask for, now. the devastator is leaving, someone who takes care of me sometimes--who i feel i've let take care of me sometimes, and now soon she'll be gone--and now that care sometimes will be gone along with her. it brings back the realizations of losing the constancy of my mother and father to a nasty disease. but don't say disease, huh? how about addiction? maybe that's a better word. accuracy is an important skill. speak precisely, and gain the respect of your peers in your profession.

you know what else is nice (and how do i mean nice here, i wonder, i honestly can't say i know)? how i'm allowed to threaten and maybe in fact come apart undisturbed. we all let each other alone when it counts, isn't that so? we are all afraid of one another. and maybe we should be, and maybe that's safer. each of us have our own trouble enough, so let it be at that.

that all feels so terribly wrong.

and remember, too, that doubts are a lot easier to feed than trust. almost without exception. and what's worse, sometimes stronger than any other part of you. or you, or you even, or You. but that can't be, now can it? no.

my professor's dying father told her, "we know how we feel about each other, we don't need to say." and half of me says, that's nice, that's nice to talk and not say--and the other half of me says, no no no, there shouldn't still be so much fear still, when things are ending, there should be those things said that have been too much to say all at once rather than all this talk. but, of course, not everyone is possessed of such a lovely mixture of self-doubt and self-importance, true true. words have so many different weights depending on their speaker and their writer, and even between the two they change. so.

that's enough.

Friday, April 22, 2005

it may be pure illusion, but it's beautiful while it's here

so monsterbeard has a blog. it's a nice one, you should go over and take a look. seriously. you can learn some things, like what my handle is (courtesy of the monsterbeard himself, long ago, during a particularly bloody session of a game called 'perfect dark,' and involving the unloading of two fully-loaded pistols into the body of an already-deceased evil secret agent: if i don't make it, kill the baby).

maybe you had to be there.

the thing that makes coffee from angel falls so incredibly bad is that when i drink it and look into the cup at the same time, on the edges of the tipped liquid i can see where the water and the coffee separate, and it's a big gap, relatively speaking. why does everyone go there? come to think of it, why do i go there? because it's across the street. because it's really nice on the inside and you can sit in the windows (though it's not nearly as nice as sitting in the window at coffee on main). because i got a real half-dollar in change yesterday.

i just realized that i can finally type so as to not ever be looking at my fingers. geez. i even sometimes get the numbers right if i'm not thinking about it. i hope i don't lose this skill. when i was little, i used to love watching my mom type on a typewriter, any typewriter (and she had a few), because i thought she had the prettiest hands in the world and i loved how fast she was, and i was totally blown away that she didn't even have to look at what she was doing. sometimes i would say, close your eyes! close your eyes! and she would, and wow.

my mom is still my hero sometimes.

tonight i am going to dinner with some cantonis, at the inn at turner's mill! of course! i am going to predict the night: getting there early and some being a little late (someone, most likely, brushing his teeth. yes, again); the start of the yelling; drinks being drunk and burgers (and one chicken something, guess who gets that); yossarian and autobot and overkill, where autobot wins and wins and is therefore dubbed a jerk; more yelling; an enjoyable, tension-filled, manipulative, alliance-make-and-break settling of catan, which may or may not end in a fistfight (again); one or more of the dogs pooping somewhere in the house and/or the cat throwing up; lots and lots of yelling; and and and thank you, God, for this. for making me be a little part of something i lost my natural right to a long time ago. for having that stay with me, now when i am about to need it the most, and for the screwball life i have lived so far. may it be so on and so on.

soon is coming the big framed piece of paper and the jobby job and the moving and the newstate driver's license and the bar and five years of my life with very little if anything known, and i always have such trouble with the goodbye (aimee mann) and i never ever go back but maybe this time and but until then.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

maybe after a few minutes

yesterday, my day was filled with phone calls and visitors. it was nice and not too overwhelming, and dear katie: i am still laughing about "margarita. party." that's going to come in handy later tonight. thank you a thousand times, love cat. ps there is still the opening in the parliament of douchetania. just let me know.

(it's moments like this i think, how funny this life is and how the paradox theory of God (again, hi kate) seems to be right or at least present and operable, and feeling that working in your heart is.....and here is where i wish for a writer to find the word instead of my own dictionary.com-fueled selections....where all the human in me says, no no no no no and the little bit of God i have begged to be in me says, Yes)

let's talk about colorado for a moment, shall we? in 1996, colorado citizens voted to amend their state constitution to include an amendment crippling the government's ability to take any action prohibiting discrimination against homosexuals. this amendment was so broad that if the police chief of denver issued an order to his officers to stop brutality against gays and lesbians, he would be breaking the law. that's right, breaking the law. the rationale? anything that prohibits discrimination against homosexuals encourages immorality, and the people of colorado are nothing but moral.

never fear. the supreme court got its shit together and actually struck down this law while applying minimal scrutiny (which, as it has been very simply and accurately stated, is "shit from the court"). so it doesn't exist right now. this has led me to the following conclusion: the pround people of colorado are shitbrick fucksticks, and i am a poet and didn't know it. dicks.

the positive thing to take from this, however, is that the supreme court can actually do something with minimal scrutiny. maybe. sort of. in like, four cases, fine. but still! hope springs eternal from the head of ruth bader ginsburg, justice and former head of the aclu. and maybe sandra day o'connor's, but only after a few old fashioneds and a ride around the ranch on General Ambrose, her favorite mustang stallion. right? right? Jesus?

and don't even get me started on laws that discriminate against children born out of wedlock. don't.

soon i will be on my way to cleveland hopkins airport to pick up one mr robert j. cantoni, newly arrived from the western lands. this means i will be unable to attain my long-worked for legendary status tonight (or maybe for a whole ten days)(!), but i suppose i won't hold it against him. too much.

right away, anyhow.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

you know i'm such a fool

there's something about going to work that makes me feel good. effective, somehow. having someone asking me to do a particular thing and understanding what it is and being able to do it, that's nice. very unlike just cramming my head with things like ABA Formal Opinion 95-397 and being able to pick the best possible answer about it, or reading endless cases about de facto mergers and shitbricks to all that! so it was nice to walk mr h though the complaint process today, and nice to be trusted with something particularly speedy and important later.

and of course, it was nice to hear, "i put a little more coffee in this morning because i know you like it strong." it's nice to be thought of and remembered.

and hey, remember the cranberries? i did. how you said you would never leave me alone.

justin is coming over, soon to be proud papa of two instead of one, in order to complete his quota of demos at work. he apparently needs to show me a fancy new machine that cleans. it's two thousand dollars. i will not be buying this machine, but that's okay. he's secretly coming for some resume help, but shhhhh, they don't know that.

i started the human stain last night. it's.....i don't know yet. quick to start, and i don't know if i like that. i like a little rising action, yeh? no such thing, says mr roth. no such thing.

slowmo joe, the toxic gift plant from the fourth floor neighbor, is now sunning himself on my balcony. he got to spend all night out there last night too, since it's warmed up rather nicely, though i've made him stay in the back corner so as not to tip over and spill his guts to market. i think spiders live inside him, but he seems pretty cool with it. i am too, as long as the spiders honor the treaty we've made that i won't kill them if they don't leave the plant house. once they venture outside, their safety is not guaranteed. i am a cold-blooded murderer with no remorse. don't call the police, little ones. i am the police in these here parts. no one will find your bodies. no one will hear your screams.

i found a stubborn ring in a box of things here, that sometimes appears on my hand and sometimes doesn't. rings can be hard, but i'm down one since steve left and i figured, might as well go back to old hat (old hat, again? isn't once enough?).

justin is here.

Monday, April 18, 2005

start sponsible

ladies and gentlemen, i have been irresponsible. evidence of this is as follows: i have not been getting nearly enough sleep. i have found very little motivation to care anything for my corporations and ethics classes. and today, i realized i forgot my hairbrush at my parents' house.

rock. star.

anyway, my main problem is not getting enough sleep. so that's going to change. today. right now. i didn't even drink any coffee on purpose in order to ensure i stay this dead tired all day and all night until it's time to go to bed. i'm grounded, ladies and gentlemen. do you hear me? grounded.

and no jumping on the bed!

Sunday, April 17, 2005

don't worry so much, silly

whooo boy, that was a weekend. lots of worries. lots of feelings talks. good ones. and nice to see God working working working, all the time, like a busy bee (it occurs to me at this moment that christopher guest has forever marked that phrase for me now, busy bee. thank you, parker posey, also. you are amazing. yes, still. yes, i know you haven't made a movie in what seems like an age, but you are forever the queen of indie film foreverandeveramen). so thanks, God, for always being there, even when i'm convinced you're not. and wringing my hands. i think i've filled my bravery quota for the week. but, you know, whatever you think is best. i trust you, this millisecond.

also it's hard to type and wring at the same time. but i'm an expert. an old hat(?)(remember cliches?).

i've felt tired and lazy all day all day. i haven't done a single iota of work, and i'm justfiying it by telling myself this is the last weekend i get to do that for the next three weeks. exams, y'all. throw your hands up and show me some clubbin power!

speaking of clubbin power, it must be "ladies" night at angelina's across the street. and by ladies i mean men dressed up as ladies. with falsetto voices calling: "santeena, i know you girl! i know you! santie! girrrrrl!" and the click clack click of scary heels i will never be able to wear, nor be moved to, across five lanes of market. later, santeena will be very loud, and probably either pissed off about being known when she entered and forgotten when she left, or too sleepy to care. i will have a working stereo circa 1985 once again, a belly full of organic enchiladas and black beans, and thinking about how nice my bed is, since i just changed the sheets.

in other news, i tried to rent fight club again today but it was out. i know. listen, i know. i'm trying to fix the "i haven't seen fight club" situation. i'm even taking affirmative measures. really. it just wasn't there this time.

so i got the human stain instead. on my clothes. and i also seriously thought about pulling into swenson's for a cheeseburger with actual redmeatmadcowbeef, and those potato teasers (come on, you know those things) and maybe a milkshake, but then i remembered about how i know their secret (brown sugar in the meat). so i didn't go.

and......the end.

Saturday, April 16, 2005

sure, why not

it finally appears to me, the meaninglessness of argument. there are two sides, and two opinions, and even if one will not move towards the other, then how can there exist any end to the process at all? none, it seems. no end at all. though perhaps that's just right this moment, that feeling. no end, i mean. the next thought that enters my head is: what difference does it make? and that's when alarms start going off.

because the answer to "what difference does it make?" can only be, "no difference at all." and that's when trouble starts to be greater than the thing it seeks to overcome. so leave it, that's what i think. leave it at that. what difference does it make, no difference at all. but as of late, there have been so many things trying to tell me (you and you, specifically, and maybe that includes You? i don't know) that there is a difference to be made, one that includes a definitive, less vague answer--an answer that can encompass more than just a feeling, that can make that feeling be put into words--but i don't know how much of that will be gone when my counseling is over and how much of it, if any, will remain. of that answer, i mean. that there is a difference.

you're confused, that's okay. so am i.

i would still like that hug, too. unfortunately, that hasn't gone away yet. maybe that never goes away. though it would be nice if it did, yeh? along with the old free will. scrap that and that, and you have no troubles left, yeh? or stay the way you were before, cat. with plenty enough of the trouble but at least the justification for the bitter part of it.

ha, how's that for the same and the same and the same? i won't delete this, just so i can remember.

Friday, April 15, 2005

yessirs and ma'ams

okay cat, get it together.

this morning i was in the shower, following my usual routine (shave shampoo soap), when i encountered a problem with step 3: my.....wait a minute. my what? my....loofa(h)? i really hate typing that. saying it. reading it. how is that even spelled?

okay holy shit. i just looked it up on dictionary.com, my steady boyfriend, and it doesn't even mean what you would think. or maybe, it does and i'm just totally oblivious to current trends (true) and/or unable to keep up with what all the cool kids know (also true). dudes, it means "any of several Old World tropical vines of the genus Luffa, having cylindrical fruit with a fibrous, spongelike interior." which i can totally deal with, because okay, that's obviously its origin. but the second definition is worse! "the dried fibrous part of the loofa fruit, used as a washing sponge or as a filter (here comes the worst part!). also called dishcloth gourd, vegetable sponge." oh God! oh God! "dishcloth gourd?!" "vegetable sponge!?" arrrrrggghhhhh! oh no. no no no. nononono.

let's get back to the point and stop thinking about that. where were we? yes. shower. soap. i was using my....uh....sick loofahhhhhh and it began to unravel! there was nothing i could do to stop it. it just unfurled itself like a streamer on the fourth of july, and all i could do was laugh and laugh and try desperately to gather all the material in my hands and finish showering. it was a nice way of waking up, is all i'm saying. though now i'm out an.....yickyickyick oompa-loofah. it was bright orange. it's now in the garbage.

dishcloth gourd?

there are some things i could say here about coffee, and getting burned on the way into the law school as the result of poor lid execution on my cafe au lait (which the guy always asks if i "want it creamy," which, yes please, but i wish that wasn't the first thing i heard almost every morning), and congratulating myself on not dropping the cup as i was washing the burn with cool water in the bathroom, but i think that's well enough as it is.

my research professor says: "cat! you found the needle in the haystack! you are amazing!"

well, alright. i'll tell you what is amazing: the fact that sex discrimination still does not receive the highest level of scrutiny by the supreme court of the united states. instead, they made up a whole new tier. intermediate, they say. pretty close to strict scrutiny, they say.

shitbricks to that, i say.




Monday, April 11, 2005

because it's like you're here instead of there

i have so much to say right now it's overwhelming. let's start with location. set the scene, then describe the players, then get to the bloody point. and boy, is it bloody.

not really.

at present, i am outside of the law school, in the shade, in a rough half-circle facing one of my most favorite professors, who is holding about four very large textbooks in her lap and lecturing over the din of some workmen beyond a little hill over there, who appear to be chiseling something around which is wrapped a lot of dark plastic. i wonder what's inside? maybe it's a present for the president of the university, who gets to unwrap it by taking hold of one end and running counterclockwise around it until all the plastic is gone and the present is unveiled!

or maybe it's a lamppost.

being outside like this makes me want to lie down in the grass and listen to some music, or maybe just the parts of some music that i like the most. there are some examples of this, but i'll get to that in a moment. first i want to say before i forget that a lovely friend, who when she calls always says: "hi. this is michele knapp. from law school?" even after two years now, has been quite insistent (with an E, with an E, got it) about buying me dinner tonight (really, secretly, i'm the one who should be paying, but i have no money to pull the old switcheroo and accomplish this tonight, but maybe another time). michele knapp from law school is a sweetheart. being her friend is something you could put on your resume for life (Resume for Life: The Worn Places On the Soul Revisited). so that's nice.

suddenly, it smells like cheerios out here.

oh yes, my examples! stop holding your breath. here's what i'm going to tell you. if i could go over there on the little hill and lay down in the sun and listen to some music, here's what i would listen to, maybe in no particular order but definitely starting with those kings of convenience and their I Don't Know What I Can Save You From in order to hear the cello solo part with the guitar underneath, that falls into just the guitar bit and then the harmony--and then maybe some rh and Scatterbrain, probably for all of it but especially towards the end when he says somewhere, i'm not....scatterbrain and lightning fuse powercut scatterbrain, because that part makes his voice so lovely against the nice clean electric guitar. and speaking of, the beginning of Let Down would be nice too, followed up with that perfect time changing drum part on the toms, and reaching that heartbreaking part in the last chorus when he sings one day real long over himself and dissolving into the end, with that last clean chord. but you know, that's a little too much with those two right in a row, so maybe it'd be good to end with zero 7's Look Up or The Space Between, both of which are wholly good on their own, and will go nicely with Float On and the modest mouse, to be in the right proper mood to get up, brush off my pants, and go back inside to sit in that hot room with no breeze in west hall for three hours, learning something about nothing i wish i was.

and i've thought about you. and you. and you. all day.

Sunday, April 10, 2005

happy national library week, nerds

wow. ladies and gentlemen, who knows the thoughts of God? nobody. i sure as hell don't. ha. sure as hell.

you know what's nice? being someone people think of when they have big news to tell and figure out and wonder how. there is another way to put that, isn't there? but i don't know what it is right now, so you'll have to settle for that. that's nice. albeit a little stressful, but an even trade.

let me tell you about my friend jamie russell. she has the most unfailing, incredible ability to talk to anyone, no matter class station race age attitude, comfortably and honestly. she loves modest mouse and can make the best marinara sauce you've ever tasted. she's fun to drink with and even more fun to work with. i would bet on her in a fight. and, she will be a good mom, yeh? very good.

alright, that's settled. whew.

in other, less important and weighty news, i'm making a pizza at the moment. except i'm not really, i'm just heating the oven and will get around to actually putting something in it eventually, which chances are will be a pizza. but who knows, really. maybe i'll just shut it off. i guess you'll just have to standby on that one.

i had one of the longest, most enjoyable and pleasant phone conversations i've ever had this afternoon. and outside, on top of it. i went all the way to the law school and decided, no, i'm not going in there today. so i got myself nicely situated on a sunny park bench instead and talked over a rambling philosophical theory of economics and not-so-very ridiculous dreams and.....well, maybe we better leave that part out for now. that one's a little hard to explain. i'm not even sure what the best way to do that would be?

but i do know the best way to pass a sunday night, and that's by eating pizza and drinking a little beer with the balcony door open, reading a nice little book to celebrate this national week holiday. but not before you finish your corporations homework. nope. not before.

Saturday, April 09, 2005

where get-tough girls turn into goldmines

okay.

i went back to the blockbuster tonight. i returned the silly movies i got last night, and got one more silly one and one i'm sort of excited and scared about, all about my mother. i've heard such good things about pedro, and i really liked talk to her, so we'll see how it goes. i hear it's about families and love and grief, however, which is the source of the being afraid. a really good movie can sometimes say the things i can't. for other examples, see: 21 Grams; Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter....and Spring; Magnolia; Garden State; and The Ice Storm, among others.

geez, that was a noun and verb nightmare.

anyway, the point is that i think this blockbuster employs people specifically to ask me personally if i'm still doing okay. this time there was no "ma'am," but there was a "are you having any trouble?" which.....no. i'm pretty used to the process at this point. thanks. and thanks for not calling me ma'am. and....what? oh. no, no i don't want to buy any used dvds. uh...yeh, i understand that they're two for one and i ju.....huh? no. no, that's okay. no really, it's really oka......alright. thanks. yes, i'm still okay. okay. right. tha.....listen i......yes. shit, no i meant no. i don't want to sign up for free movies all the time for the flat fee. well, i just don't have ti.......it's just i'm really bus....with what? i don't think you're allowed to ask me that. what? no, i'm not getting defen......are we dating? because i feel like we are, and it's just not working for me anymore. i know. sorry. see you around.

thanks, God, for making me a large body of water, perfectly ionized to attract the lightning storm that is the screwballs of the world. i appreciate it. makes for interesting days.

so! blockbuster. and something else i was going to say, which.....oh yes. two things:

1) i received an invitation to sign up for gmail today. what do i do? i've had my current email address for something like five years now. wow. should i change over? and if i do, am i a poser? i mean, all the cool kids have gmail, don't they? and if i do, then what should my address be? this is too stressful.

2) my birthday is coming up, and we're going to the zoo! because i love the zoo. i came to this conclusion while sitting at a red light on the way home (not the love for the zoo, that's always been there), and it's a little expensive (nine bucks), but that's what's going down. and there's the rainforest. and i haven't been since.....1998. wow. so that's the deal. the zoo and some food (but not zoo food), and no presents or cards necessary but certainly appreciated. no pressure. i'm excited. okay, that's it.

robot and i are hanging out with aimee mann at the moment, thanks to mr lynch, and we're having a good time. i'm a sucker for anybody with some nice little piano in the background and an actual melody. these things are important. we can't always be chilling it out with cigarettes and atonal guitars, now can we? no way.

also what's weird is that she sang "voices carry," which......wasn't that cyndi lauper? i guess not. and she doesn't sound anything like that any longer. huh. cheers, though. carry on.

okay. it's time for some leftover dos amigos and some "summer peach iced tea," which can be a little overwhelming at first but pretty delicious on the whole. and so instant!

ZAM!

something else

you know what i say? i say there should be two of these. one for you and one for me. how's that sound? sounds pretty logical from this end. will there ever be a point where this ceases to be typing and starts being real live talking? in color, and not from your internet tv set? i don't know. that sounds nice, doesn't it? maybe just nice to me. that's what i'm afraid of, just nice to me.

i've heard that it's easiest to feel connected with someone when they're just bare bones honest with you. is that true, do you think? is that really the way it is? if the answer to that is yes, then why doesn't this happen? or maybe it does, i'm not just privy to it. the ugliest parts of myself all being glaring true. keeping me from the truth. figure that one out, i'll give you fifty bucks.

will i get this time back, i wonder? tonight my blood caught up with me. and how can you beat your blood? you can't. you kill a ghost with ectoplasm, but the trick is there is no ectoplasm, only in the movies. so the real answer is: you can't. and here you say, with man this is impossible. but not with God (and that's my favorite part, did you know?). with God, all things are possible. all things. everything. you can beat a ghost--not even outrun it, but look it in the face and beat it--with God. that's what you say here.

and ignore the rest of it.

Friday, April 08, 2005

everyone loves you, why should they not?

hello, and welcome to The Five People You Meet in Heaven, All of Whom You Cursed Silently While at the Video Store. that'll be fun.

it really did happen. there's a funny story in here somewhere involving going to blockbuster, playing far too much money for two dvds, none of which will turn out to be very good, and being asked several, several, unbelievably several times by the same employee: "ma'am? are you still doing okay?"

yes. i am still doing okay. and stop calling me ma'am, strawberry shortcake. just because i'm holding a copy of Love and Death does not make me fifty, it makes me a dork. clear? thanks. see you in three minutes.

i don't even want to finish that story.

lessee. oh yeh, and i'm making a delicious meal tonight. if you'd like to come over, you can. i'm trying out a new original special involving yellow peppers. bring your own heartburn medication.

dear katie: you are not ridiculous. see my email for further details. do you still want to write that bar review study guide? i say two weeks, tops. love cat.

while i research i get to listen to music with the help of my ipod, who i have named "robot." robot is fun to hang out with. we listened to "her majesty, the decemberists" and "good news for people who love bad news." here's what we have to say about them: the decemberists are a good band. that album takes some getting used to. the album? the jury, it is hung. modest mouse continues to become more and more like the new kid at school everyone has a crush on, but walks me home from school via american beauty: i sure hope he doesn't shoot my dad, but i'll run away with him in the end anyhow. good effort. i may even like this better than "the moon and antarctica."

antarctica is impossible to spell. but not moon. that one was easy.

Thursday, April 07, 2005

old days, don't come to find me

somebody's extra grouchy today. want to guess who it is?

reasons for this include: it's raining out, which i am usually quite fond of, but i wanted to walk down to highland square and have some delicious enchiladas and a margarita from two amigos (voted best! mexican food! ever!) tonight with some friends, but it is looking like i can't. glasses and the rain, people. it just doesn't work out.

i'm still going. i just hate driving across the street. take an umbrella! not so much fun. take something to wipe those glasses off with! nah. take the glasses off and put them back on when you get to the place! i'll get hit by a truck. you really can't see at all? no. no i can't. wow! yeh, wow. my internal monologue is starting to irritate me.

another reason is: my ethics class is boring today. i really love this professor a lot, i truly do. and i don't mind the subject so much. it's just that the only things the lecture is making me think about is: 1) a slight thrill and intense fear centered around the fact that it is soon time to apply for a job job and 2) i want to go up in the library and put headphones in my ears, thereby preventing any noise. it's not the talking that's bothering me, it's the sound of talking. make sense? good. today it would be about time for someone to invent the reality IM machine, where out of your mouth comes a textbox instead of a......you know what? don't invent that. that's really scary and i would hate that.

and still another reason is: nonprofits. nonprofits, nonprofits. have they just become magic words we think will satisfy our service? like building sandcastles next to the surf.

or how about: lawyers doing business, and we are all here because we all want jobs, right? we all want jobs. but remember, hey katie, wanting to come to school before we found out what it was really like? and without the second-guessing we might both be doing and the we should'ves and wished we hads. did you think it would enable us to help (and maybe as a bonus point, get a job a little easier too?) better? i did. i thought maybe it would be like putting on some armor and coming up with a little strategy instead of just running out in the middle of no man's land without any idea of how to help someone or make some sort of difference. i thought so. do you think it's there still, just maybe different than we thought it would look like? though maybe it's different there in old washington state.

so now i have to go. it's a quarter after past time. today i teach justification, battered women's syndrome, and self defense theory. but only for an hour and bit more. so.

okay.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

with ectoplasm, is how. duh.

greetings from the university of akron mcdowell school of law, where the men are frat boys and the women aren't. where the professors distill their own brand of the Crazy and everybody loves it. where the temperature is just like goldylocks (goldielocks?) (holy shit, how the hell do you even spell that?): too hot or too cold, and never, ever just right, but the bears come and eat you anyway.

my criminal process professor has just informed us that she has reserved a room at a swanky bar downtown for our last class. she is paying 1/3 of whatever tab we run up, no matter what. she? is incredibly generous. also? she's wearing a scarf that has a serengeti scene on it. "see the giraffes?!" she asks. "yes, " i say. "and they're lovely."

they really are.

a friend of mine is running for vice-president of the law school's branch of "SBA" which means "student bar association," which really means, after a few beers, "shitbrick assholes" or sometimes "shiteating bastard assrags," depending on the drink specials.

hey, i never said i was nice.

my friend will do an awesome job, because she is neither a shitbrick asshole nor a shiteating bastard assrag. she is a wonderful person and loyal friend who will be, in most cases, an extremely efficient and fiercely competitive attorney. i for one am quite glad she is pursuing a specialization i will have nothing to do with, and will therefore never have to face her in court.

i've been thinking about this prosecution racket and you know what? maybe i don't want to do that. maybe i want to work for child protective services. maybe i want to work for legal aid. or maybe i want to be a gravedigger. remember that period of my life? a friend of mine from college and i were going to do that one summer. "john steinbeck did it," i said. i'm not sure why this is enough, but it is.

the panic is back. but a little less gnawing than before. how do you kill a ghost?

later tonight i'm doing the following: finally walking with ms paschen and going from a hero to a legend. i know very little of you care, but i'm quickly adding substantially to my gaming cred these days and proving that my handle is more than perfect. i know, i know. hold the applause. if only you could type and clap at the same time.

here's my current apartment problem: in my naive zeal to live a minimalist existence as much as possible, it has been necessary to make certain cuts. one of these cuts has become a frustrating obstacle: i have no microwave. when i have leftovers, what do i do? i don't want to be wasteful, either, in addition to being minimalist, which is (i hope!) an honest effort on my part to live simply rather than taking the ideal to the extreme. suggestions?

in other news: i love my new shoes. my new kicks. the bright light blue stripe across the sides is looking better and better, and so are my feet. i miss the black ones--the various flecks and drips of paint, the worn places on the sole (The Worn Places on the Soul: A Personal Journey, by Catherine M. Loya) of each shoe, the ripped lining of the insides, the faded and newly-tied-last-in-march-2004 shoelaces--but it was time to retire them. now they hang out with the airwalks that got caught in the rain while i napped on the porch.

what do you say to someone who tells you life is bullshit and has no meaning?

three forty-two. it's time for the crossword.




Tuesday, April 05, 2005

sleepy sheep

listen. i'm updating this now because i'm starting to feel exhausted, and i don't know if i'm ever going. to make it. back. home. please. i'm going on a walk tonight with ms paschen for my aching back. they say it helps you. i guess. but what if you have aching knees?

maybe i should drive. real slowly, alongside. i could roll down the window and we could talk.

here's something: i prayed to God this morning and asked that all my appointments this morning go easy. and guess what? they did. you're the man, G. er, the Man. God and Man? Together. God With Us.

ooookay. allllllllllright.

something else: has anyone noticed that radio stations seem to have made some deal with the forces of darkness and have promised to serve the devil forever by always, without failure, playing certain songs all the time? i'm not talking the same songs every hour, i'm talking these certain songs that just keep coming up. i distinctly remember these gems coming on the radio when they were brand new, and that was definitely ten years ago at least. every time these things come on, i always say, often aloud: "we meet again, fucker."

i'm going to have to stop doing this when i have kids.

anyway, here's a list i have complied so far in my brain. feel free to add or subtract:

---------
3AM (matchbox 20)

that song by 3 doors down where if he goes crazy, well, will you still call him superman?

everything you want by vertical horizon. oh Laws, no.

smooth by "santana," which really means "rob thomas," which really means "it's 3AM i must be lonely"

hootie and the blowfish eternally telling me to let her cry, dammit, if it eases all her pain--or, in the alternative, that he and i come from different worlds. i like to laugh at him when he looks at other girls. something about the miami dolphins making him cry. that's fine. i'll let him cry, if the tears fall down like rain.

---------
here's the part where you stop me by saying "but Cat, why don't you just use your ipod? you can hook it up to the radio with that thingy on the top and then you wouI KNOW THAT OKAY? IT MAKES ME NERVOUS SOMETIMES TO CARRY IT AROUND LEAVE ME ALONE.

alright. listen, i don't know what happened with the font situation here. it just started suddenly or something i don't know. so i'm leaving.

i just have to make it forty more minutes. i have to start getting more sleep.

Monday, April 04, 2005

have the lambs stopped screaming?

okay, a couple things. let's harken (harken? hark? go?) back to the early, rough like rocks days of doesnotapply.com, where we wore bikinis for the first time and saw the white squirrel and the breaking of the other phone. we're harkening on back because i've got a hankering (like that? huh? "harkening" and "hankering?" i thought so) to present a list. remember lists?

1) today in criminal procedure, the till-now silent phone on the wall began to ring, ring ring ring, probably about five minutes in. ring ring. naturally, we all stopped our crosswords, our IMs, and our note? taking? in order to give the professor ring ring-a-ling some time to ring-ding-diiing answer the phone. but there was no answering of the riiiiinnnggggg-nnnggg phone, because this professor was just that rrrrrring-ng-g! dedicated. it rang on.

and on.

it gave rise to some thoughts, this endlessly ringing phone, thoughts like "is it for me? maybe it's for me. and everybody knows it's for me, somehow, and i'm just not answering it because i don't know. should i get up? who is it, i wonder? is it just that pressing?"

this concluded, somehow, after about forty straight minutes of ringing telephone, in the following thought: "my apartment is burning down, and my possessions have been engulfed in flames."

2) i arrived two hours early for school because i thought we had a make-up class. unfortunately, no make-up class. instead, i got a lot of work done, and you know what? i'm going to abandon this item altogether because it is just boring.

3) currently, i am having a mild panic attack. it's not really a panic attack in the traditional sense, if there is such a thing, but it's an rather unpleasant trip down memory lane for me. there are certain things that can come together in a way--like the weather, with just the right amount of humidity, just the particular strength of a cold front, just the precise angle the wind comes in, and you have yourself some phenomenon--that can create this gnawing sort of panic that sits in my guts. now prepare yourself, i'm going to try and be specific. i know. don't be disappointed.

what i mean is, there are two things that work with each other and one against: a deep fear of every ugly thing i've ever thought about myself being glaringly true along with a deep fear of being abandoned completely, with both of them pushing hard against the truth to crack it apart. and the truth is....i don't really know. but it's not those fears. it's someplace in the middle, just like everything else.

regardless, these things are working in me all the time, the problem is that sometimes things trigger their intensity enough so i notice, and thus the panic cranks up and sits in my guts--and sometimes makes its way to my stomach, and my chest, and then my throat. but right now it's keeping itself busy chewing it over down there, so.

that's specific enough.

4) in better news, i finished my book last night and will make a trip to the bookstore tonight in order to get another. and then i get to go home. and sleeeeeepsleepsleep. my secretary (ha! her words, not mine) emailed me this morning to say i have a full day of appointments tomorrow at work. my secretary also calls me "precious." not precious like buffalo bill. yick.

Sunday, April 03, 2005

rodger dodger

i should be preparing a nice little handout for my little kiddos on general defenses to crime. or reading some ethics. or making my lunch for tomorrow. or going to sleep because i feel like somebody beat me up and made me run home. but guess what? i'm not doing any of it. so there.

i had a nice little conversation about living alone with someone tonight. i've realized this time it's different than the last, whether it's because the place or the circumstances have changed i couldn't say, but it's nice to be somewhere quiet. i can hear the noise that's coming tomorrow already, very faintly. and if i unplug my ears, i can even hear the roar that's coming a month from now, and three months from now. but tonight, i'm too tired to listen. so plugged ears it is.

i also have a promise to keep. less of a promise, and more of an offer i just couldn't seem to swing. today though. so there's that.

dudes, i went to the grocery today? i know, ill-advised for a number of reasons, mainly because it's sunday and the portal to the parallel annoying women and the men who love them universe opens then so they can all go do their food shopping. which, let's be honest for a minute: i have nothing against annoying women and the men who love them in general. i think they're nice. cheers. carry on. but man, throw some women and the men who love them in a grocery store and it's a mess. there are cart issues. such cart issues. it doesn't matter if you prefer to wheel your cart all over the store or park it in an out of the way place (say, in front of the tiny housewares section. all those people are at target) like i do, but there are some stumbling blocks that need to be overcome.

might i suggest this pregame peptalk: there are a lot of people in this grocery. they are all here, with me. many people will be in the exact aisle i wish to be in, all at the same time. i must remember not to leave my cart in the middle of the cereal aisle, with my tripe innards stinking up the cinnamon life while i retrieve some more of those yummy canned mushrooms. i must remember that others may wish to view--nay, purchase!--the yogurt, and i should not stand idly in front of the entire yoplait section, facing the opposite direction so i can get a good look at the doughnuts, for someone may need to reach in and snag some delicious cups filled with healthy, tasty strawberries 'n cream....er, creme? it is not important to know how to spell cream/creme as it applies to french dairy products. it is, on the other hand, extremely important that i do not choose to talk to the person i'm with face to face in a line perpendicular to the aisle, so as to essentially create a human blockade across the row. and when my children are running around the organic section screaming "ewww gross" and taking things out of other people's carts, i will take them by the shoulders and place them in the frozen food section for a couple minutes, the little brats.

i can't believe it's three past midnight. geez. where has the time gone? down the proverbial blogger toilet, that's where. and i will have no lunch for tomorrow.

oh crap. and an extra class too. shitters.

but here's the good news: i am sufficiently tired tonight to maybe fall asleep easy, with maybe no dreams or waking up with a start. yes?

quite so

i finished my thesis. it's true. and in doing so i keep the barista only five minutes over--but really, there is always clean-up to be done, yes? and there was a gallery opening at the same time. i concluded without really concluding. that's alright, i think. as long as there is enough to be said.

someone has told me they think i should keep the things i write down here to my own private journal. i think you are right sometimes, but only sometimes. it's difficult, i think, to realize the amount it takes to get me to this point, where i get to share these things with you. definitely a difficult realization. not that it's better or worse than yours.

friend, should i say "friend," here?

did you know that enough is enough? the problem i think i keep having is that there is a lot of struggle that goes unrealized, or a lot of energy that seems wasted because there is derision (i know! made up, too!) from many places. these places, perhaps, are enough to be warranted. derision. that's even the phoenetic spelling, in my head. but, as i was so clumsily saying, these places are perhaps enough to be warranted. enough veiled and vague talk, enough cowardice, enough understandably real avoidance of confrontation that there can be nothing for me to do but agree. you know, i wonder: could you tell me that this time, this is the sign that there is more than enough consumed? or, maybe, this time, there is enough to be said? or is it much easier to discuss in discourse: "did you? oh yes, i did. yikes. enough is enough."

it's even worse when, if ever, you realize that i agree with you. enough is enough.

Saturday, April 02, 2005

yeh, i know.

i realized. i came to understand. whatever. since when.

the thing about feeling stupid about something i've done or said is that it's mostly a lie. the impact it has on other people is much less than i imagine it to be, and i'm really the only one it's biting at. most of the time it's because i'm too sensitive. haven't we discussed that bit before? that's what i thought. so leave it.

and the thing about feeling lost is that sometimes, nothing comes through. which, you know. i suppose that has to happen in order to know the difference, to know what it feels like to have something come through. you know, whatever it happens to be. and you know, the thing that's funny about when nothing comes through is that it always happens when i have nothing to blame it on. no alcohol, no big disaster, no emotion-infused mind-altering drugs. too bad for that, right? that's easier to take.

some people blame this on the devil. when the devil has a bit of a foothold, they say, he climbs right up and makes himself at home. and then you're really in trouble. then you're playing cards with judas all of a sudden and smoking foreign cigarettes with him, and of course you're winning. because even you aren't as bad as all that, huh? even when you do wake your father up every time you stay at the house. he needs his sleep, don't you know.

Friday, April 01, 2005

it's time

alright. listen. i am perfectly aware that this is my second update for the first of april, and guess what? i'll probably update again later tonight. you want to know why? it's because i can't shut up. you want to know why else? because i just couldn't get out of the house today to finish my bloody thesis, so now i'm just gripped by a mild, yet disinterested sort of panic and trying to make up for it by doing my corporations homework for monday. maybe i'll leave later. maybe. if i feel like it.

but that's not the point. the blasted point of this one is that, quite frankly, i have had enough of something. and it's time to air my frustrations out, here, in the open and to the public. ladies and gentlemen, i give you:

AN OPEN LETTER TO ANNE GEDDES.

Dear Ms Geddes.

Hello. You most certainly do not know me, yet. My name is Catherine Loya. You can call me Cat, if you'd like, if I can call you Al. Ha! Just kidding Ms Geddes. How about just Anne, then?

I am a law student, among other things. One of the things I am is the president of a very small, rather demented production company. In my coming up to four year stint at the helm of this lunatic asylum, I have had the opportunity to observe, advise, and yes, even produce some pretty....how shall I say....advant garde pieces. Pieces that no one in their right mind would be willing to pay money to see, nevermind actually interact with the people who put them on. All in all, we've come out with some excellent work, but whew! There have certainly been some struggles along the way. It's nice that as a result of all this, I've come to appreciate many different kinds of artistic expression, artistic vision, artistic philosophy. The reason I'm telling you this, Anne, is because you and I have to have a talk. Okay? Woman to woman. Art lover to art....er, artist.

Look. The babies? The babies. How to put this. The first time? I mean, you know, whatever picture you took of a sleeping baby and the light went on in your brain that flashed "now THIS is it! this is my picture!" that's nice. It's wonderful that you've managed to find your medium, and your ideal vehicle for expression--photography is an awesome way to express your feelings. Unfortunately, your feelings seem to be.....what, exacly? You see babies. Everywhere. In...er....insect costumes? That's cool. Maybe not exactly what I want to see manifested in twenty billion different ways, but whatever. I can get past that, as a concept. I can accept this about you, and about the many people--enough to put you on the mostly worthless New York Times Bestseller List--who really love your work.

But see, this was before someone sent me an article about your latest pieces. I have never really delved too deeply into your portfolio to experience all sleeping babies in flower hats had to offer. I really just passed you on the way to the free samples, down the greeting card aisle, in the grocery. Once I had a rather unpleasant experience in the toy section of a target, when I stumbled upon a stuffed baby dressed as a ladybug, but I was willing to let that one go. This article, however, has managed to send me over the breaking point. Let's just go over a few of the problems I'd like to address:

First of all, this baby is pissed. Not that I blame her, because she's probably really cold and nobody even bothered to brush her hair for this lovely photo op. She's obviously given up on fighting back, just sitting there all "Dude. If you don't put me down right this instant, I am going to poop." This isn't so much a "cute" picture as it is....sort of meaningless? It just leaves you wanting to help the kid out. Give her a bottle. Help her put on a warm little onesie. Maybe even place her on a level surface. You know, whatever.

Secondly, sunflowers. There seems to be a lot more going on here than you've hopefully realized. to begin with, the baby on the far right is looking at you like "Yo. Anne. you seriously need to stop it with the camera and come over here. there are all kinds of nasty going on over there. are you listening to me?" Baby in the middle is also attempting in vain to get your attention, even going so far as to point out where the source of the nasty is coming from. With careful deduction, even the simplest viewer of this piece can tell that the nasty is most definitely residing in flower pot number three, on the far left. Even the baby is like "Get me the hell out of this pot, you crazy bitch. I told you to leave my diaper on. This is what you get."

One of my all-time favorites has to be a piece from your "dark period," which I think was loosely titled "Help Me, The Teddybears Have Taken Over My House And Stolen My Baby And Oh God, Why?" The sleeping, peaceful, blissfully unaware baby being loosely cradled by the biggest teddybear I have ever seen is a powerful image, especially when the viewer recognizes its demented, manical smile as one from his or her own childhood.

Also, what the fuck is wrong with you?

I especially found striking what appears to be an unprecedented homage to one of the best television shows on nickelodeon, David the Gnome (I refer you here, as well, though I have to warn you that upon clicking the link your heart will yearn for kinder, simpler times, and give you an intense thirst for a juicebox). Except you, you clever maven of crazy, entitled it "Dwarves." What does this mean? Is it an attempt to bridge the ever-widening gap between Gnomes and Dwarves? Is it a loose reference to the weird obsession of America with The Lord of the Rings Trilogy--but only the movie versions--that may or may not be one of the signs of the End Times? Or did you simply get your ancient creatures mixed up after one too many hits of the ol' developing fluid? I could understand that. The same thing happens to me with pixies and sprites.

This one though, is the worst. I can't even begin to tell you how I feel when I look at this one. I don't even know what parts are the most terrible. Is it the baby in the bottom right corner, clearly frightened of you and your "light machine," trying to cling to the side of a tin bucket? Is it the baby in the middle left, who has clearly lost its shit and is ready, for the love of God, for its mom to pick it up, hold it, anything but this? Or, and probably most likely, is it the baby in the middle top, whose only thought is "The horror, the horror?"

I would appreciate a response as soon as possible. It may seem I've been overly critical, but I say to you, nay! At least you're not the lady with the kids all dressed up in people clothes kissing each other. Look on the bright side.

Yours very sincerely,
Catherine M. Loya

i think it's burning

i should be reading the last twenty pages of my corporations homework. but guess what? i'm not going to. well, just not right now. my plan was to read it while i was waiting for my amy's enchilada meal (which is really quite delicious) to cook, and then when it was done to come back to the computer and catch up on some television without pity, and eat, and maybe have a beer.

speaking of, i wound up watching the whole of Ran. it was really really good. and kristin came over instead of meeting me at the bar. nice.

speaking of bars, i don't think i've been to one in a long time. that's alright.

i've been thinking about how my break is ending soon, and that i will have to go back to classes and research and tutoring and work. and how exams are coming up like a sickness, or a war. i have to prepare something for the criminal law kiddos. and i have to write five and half more pages of this silly paper. which will then be turned in, promptly. and then something else. oh yes, research. research research research. i owe you six hours now, professor. i promise i will do it.

but as for exams...i guess i only have three more times of that. a nice thought. and only one more year, almost. and then two months. and the biggest exam in my life. and then a job. ha. a jobby job. with a paycheck, hopefully, and maybe a new driver's license. to match my address. whew. the permanency of my life only lasts another year, and afterwards there is so much unknown. which is....what?

april fool's day today. i schedule for next fall. i drink myself a nice, big latte. i go back to smelling like coffee and sitting in the window of coffee on main for four or five hours. okay.