Happy Fucking Halloween!

I know it's tomorrow, but having a holiday on a Monday seems so incredibly wrong. It's like having macaroni with melted cheese on top. Technically, it's macaroni and cheese, but it's not really macaroni and cheese, you know? So all of the Halloween festivities went down Friday and yesterday.

Friday night: rave. Of course, could you expect any less from me?

I expected shittiness, because the last rave I went to was a waste of money, had like 30 people and no drugs, and was just terrible. This rave was a very pleasant surprise. There were TONS of people, TONS of drugs going around (insert happy Jew face here), and TONS of really sick djs.

I went dressed like this:



I was a belly dancer, get it? (sorry for the shittiness of the camera..)

I was very jingley. My costume jingled every time I moved, which at first I was worried would get annoying, but turned out to be a hit at the rave.

I can actually belly dance too, which also turned out to be hit. I mean real belly dancing, too, not just shaking my ass in a seductive Arabian manner. But it's kind of hard to belly dance to techno, so I combined belly dance moves with my usual gogo-esque style of dancing, plus some brazilian booty-shake shenanigans (because that sort of thing was quite impressive when my ass jingled) and I had the perfect jam time technique going.

I went to the rave with a huge group of friends, and we all ended up at the front of the crowd, right up against the railing that separated the crowd from the stage area. There wasn't actually a raised stage, it was more like some space for gogos, then a foot-tall platform with a table on it for all the dj equipment. So, essentially, all of the performers were or the same level as the crowd.

We were all dancing and having a lovely time, and then at some point, one of the photographers pulled me through an opening in the railing and onto the dj platform thing. I posed and smiled at him, because I thought he wanted a picture, but he was like "DANCE!!"
So I did.

My friends went nuts and I rocked out until the music hit a bass drop, then I went back to the other side of the railing. That was kind of fun. Basically, the highlight of my night :)

I spent the rest of night dancing like none other, surrounded by good buddies, rolling with the best of them. I was right in front of the dj, which is my favorite place to be, because I feel connected with them and with their music. Plus, the last 2 djs of the night threw down ridiculously hard.

During the last set, the final dj just went nuts. All of the gogos came out, a few people started getting past the railing, and it just turned into a huge party. It was fantastic, we all danced harder than ever and the energy in the room sky-rocketed. I didn't want it to end.

That's the way raves are supposed to be: a huge party driven by the music. I haven't been to a rave like that in over a month; at least not one with vibes as good as that. Basically, satisfactory night. I'm rather excited to see the photos from the night once all the photographers put them up.

In short, we threw down.

Happy Halloween y'all!
Julia

PS: Still might go trick-or-treating tomorrow night..

I Wish Facebook Had A Mute Button

Today, I woke up to 9 inches of snow on the ground and it was still coming down hard. Did my school district give us a snow day? Nah, they save those for when there's only 3 inches on the ground and the roads are fine. Because that's logical.

Anyway, I'm driving to school, through this blizzard, and I hit a patch of ice on the highway going 50mph. I fishtailed and skidded across 2 lanes of traffic and into a snow drift. Did I call my daddy to come rescue me? Hell no. I shakily climbed out, dug the front of my car out of the snow with my hands, and continued on my merry way.

Then I get to school to find that the power has gone out. You'd think at this point that they'd send us home, but do they? Nope. The administration has us stay in our freezing classrooms and do nothing (with the power out, it was really difficult to do anything, because test-taking is hard when you can't read your paper) for 8 hours.

The had to serve cold sandwiches for lunch because there was no power in the kitchens. Why did we not get sent home? Why did they decide to have us spend a full day being wholly unproductive and uncomfortable? Because they are idiots, every one.

Sorry, rant over. Point is, during this day of rampant stupidity, I spent a lot of time perusing Facebook on my phone because 3G was the only thing that was keeping me from going insane. Whilst exploring the magical realm of social networking, I discovered that there are 6 types of Facebook statuses which I absolutely despise.

Here they are:

1) Words of Wisdom Status -- I vastly dislike these statuses because more often than not, they were stolen from shitty pictures on Tumblr or from even shittier Myspace icons. It saddens me that the people who post them genuinely feel like they are doing the rest of the world a favor by posting. These 'words of wisdom' are not as clever as you think, so kindly shut up. Worst of all, they usually contain misplaced commas, which drive me nuts. I know I'm sometimes a culprit, but not that blatantly!!

2) Ghetto Fabulous Status -- if uR statUs iz wr1tt3n lyke dis <333, then you need to do us all a favor and shoot yourself in the face. Holy God. Scrolling down my news feed and having to decode this foreign language of horribly misspelled words and random capitalization just gives me a headache. You are not cool. You are not cutting edge, fab, sexii, or whatever the fuck you just said. Learn to spell.

3) Repost This Status -- I don't care how touching or tragic a story it is. I don't care what it spreads awareness for. I don't want to rate your sex appeal on a scale of 1-10. I don't care if it says that your crush will text you tonight, your mother will die horribly within the next 12 hours, or your true love will kiss you on Friday. I don't care if at the very end, it dares me to repost. I will not repost. These are like those bad chain emails from back in the day. I refuse to spread this retardation any further.

4) Like This Status -- I swear to God, if I see another one of these, I am unfriending whoever posts it. All this 'like for a to-be-honest' and 'like for a rating' and 'like to suck my dick' just GAHHHH STOP IT. So obnoxious. I will not press that like button, you attention whore with no social life you.

5) Meant For Only 1 Person Status -- This was why messaging is a feature on Facebook. Even writing on someone's wall. Shit, you can tag people for anything now. These are usually romantic in nature and the never include a name, but always 'you'. God these are annoying. "I'm so done with you." "My heart is not your dick, stop playing with it" "if you have shit with me, say it to my face! you know who you are" Good Lord people. There is no need to write your bitter/heartbroken message to whoever was smart enough to dump you for all the world to see.

6) Lunch Status -- I do not care what you are eating right now. Really, I don't.

Rawrrrr. The saddest part is that I spent soooo much time on Facebook today because I literally had nothing else to do at school. Why is my life like this??
Why?

Julia

You, Me, Everybody

There's no rehearsal today... I'm home early and I don't know what to do with myself.
I even drove to the Boulder library to drop off books, past the high school I'm thinking of switching to at the semester break, and took the long way home. I'm still lost without rehearsal.

On the bright side, my nails are a lovely shade of plum and there should be a new episode of House coming out soon.

This week is going to be very low-key, and basically the only day that will matter is Friday. Friday night, there is a massive Halloween rave going down, and I'm going in a huge group. I have an adorable belly dancer costume that I'll be rocking (pics later) and we're all going to be rolling our balls off.

For me, it'll be the first time really rolling since the Alice in Wonderland rave, so I'm rather stoked.

In other news, at 'work' I've been promoted to Cadet 2nd Lieutenant, which is kinda of a big deal. Now that I'm a cadet officer, I'll be eligible for tons of national activities and scholarships.

It's funny to think that on the one hand, I'm this upstanding moral kid, and on the other, there's a line of molly ready to be railed.

I've realized just how good I am being several people at once. I remember Fsb once remarked that I am so many different things to so many different people, and I guess he was right. I'm not that hard to figure out, but there's a lot to dig through t get to who I really am.

There's school Julia, who works hard, takes AP, has A's in everything but Precalc (it's always math..), is a lead in the school musical, is known as a sharp kiddo by all of her teachers, and who competes pretty religiously in speech and debate.

There's 'work' Julia, who is a military-minded, disciplined leader who has a surprising amount of expertise when it comes to space and airplanes.

There's party Julia, who is loud, does drugs and drinks, has casual sex, raves, and who is very experienced in the ways of the partier.

There's family-time Julia, who on the rare occasions that she makes an appearance, is religiously devout and tries really hard to be nice and loving to those whom she is related to.

An then there's all-alone Julia, who is quietly vicious, randomly artistic, obsessed with make up, but mostly lost because she is so used to maintaining a facade that she's not quite sure how to act when she's not around anyone else.

When little bits of me bleed into each other, like when someone wants to know what a drug is at school, I sometimes run into the issue of people wondering how I know what I know. A lot of people have put their trust in me, and I don't know how they'd react if they knew there were entire sections of my life that I keep hidden away (which I'm not ashamed of at all, by the way)

I'm perfectly content with keeping the different aspects of my life separated. I'd rather be the straight A student who parties on the side than the party kid who no one expects to do well in school.

I guess my whole guiding light philosophy is that I like to have my cake and eat it too. I like to be able to do everything without having to sacrifice anything. For the most part, this usually works out, and I can keep my grades up, promote at work, and still have fun on the weekends. Sometimes, things become too close for comfort (like when I ended up taking the PSAT drunk)

I don't care. I like the way I choose to live. Putting on the appropriate mask for the moment is just what I do. It's not fake, because my feelings regarding each situation are always genuine, it's more like selectiveness. I'm not a different person in school and out of school, I just showcase different sides of my personality.

I'm still one person, but depending on the situation, you may or may not see the whole person.

Is that wrong?
Jules

Swag-Jacked!! The Mix Tape Of My Life

Ok, so I've actually been thinking of doing a post like this for a while now, but Christopher and Antony and a few other people have already done posts that are along the same lines.

Sorry to jack your swag, boys, but I had to. The idea is just too delicious to pass up.

Here are 19 songs that have connected to my soul:

19. Beverly Hills -- Weezer
So Weezer has always been close to my heart, mainly because their songs always seem to describe my life in the just the right way. This song in particular, despite being tremendously overplayed after its debut, struck my soul in a dry, sarcastic way. It's a song about embracing your own unclassy-ness and keeping that thought of what it would be like to live with more money constantly in the back of your head. I love it. That's my life.

18. Soul Meets Body -- Death Cab for Cutie
There's something about the story that this song tells and the way that chorus begins that just calms my soul. I first heard this song during a dance class a few years ago, and ever since it's struck a tranquil chord with me. The song just makes me feel placid, which is a nice feeling when you're an AP student.

17. Hi -- Psapp
I love the quirky instrumentation of this song. It makes me feel reminiscent of my days as a pro dancer. The lyrics are witty and I love it. It's hard to explain my relationship with this song. Just listen to it.

16. Stairway to Heaven -- Led Zeppelin
Aside from being a beautiful song from a great band, this song brings me back. I lost my virginity under a poster with the lyrics to this song, so it's always going to have a special place in my thoughts ;)

15. Hide and Seek -- Imogen Heap
If you haven't heard this song before (before it got raped by Jason Derülo) then you need to stop what you are doing and listen to it right now. The layering of voices and the offset harmonies rocked my shit when I first heard them. This is a song that always inspires me to get existential and look at things in a new light. Dig?

14. Mr. Blue Sky -- Electric Light Orchestra
Despite being used in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Martian Child, and one of the best episodes of Doctor Who ever, this song was my favorite first. I love it. I love it. I love it. It's one of those make-you-smile-whether-you're-happy-or-not songs.

13. Gold Dust -- Flux Pavilion
The one dubstep song that has actually made a lasting impression on me, this song is to me the quintessential dub song. It's got nasty bass and a catchy hook. I dig it. It's also hella fun to jam to.

12. The Unforgiven -- Apocalyptica
If you're a hardcore Metallica fan, please don't shoot me for preferring this version of the song. This arrangement rocked my soul and continues to be one of my favorite songs ever. The four cellos are just so beautiful and so intensely wrenching all at the same time. I love it.

11. You Only Live Once -- The Strokes
I am a diehard Strokes fan, but this is by far my favorite song from them. Basically, it is the main reason why I wish I was British.

10. Juicy -- Better Than Ezra
You know when you're all dolled up and looking hot, and when you strut your cute lil self down the street, you know that you're getting lingering stares from everyone you pass because you just look that fabulous? I love that feeling. Whenever I get that feeling, I get this song going through my head, because in the soundtrack to my life, I feel like this is the song that should accompany me while I walk around feeling good about myself.

9. Anarchy in the UK -- The Sex Pistols
Although Stevo from SLC Punk would shank me, I love this song. I looooove the Sex Pistols anyway, but I feel like this is the anthem that they contributed to the punk movement when it was just getting started. I'll always be a punk-rock chick at heart, and this song reminds me of that fact every time I start to lose my grip on myself.

8. Wonderwall -- Oasis
Cheesy, I know. I love this song. It makes me think of summer romances that were never going to work out anyway and the way that my dad harmonizes awkwardly to it whenever I play it and he happens to be in the car with me. It also reminds me of the song sessions we used to have a Jew camp. I miss those... I feel like this is a fairly universally known song, and I feel like it ties my soul to those around me.

7. Crazy Bitch -- Buckcherry
LOVE. I discovered this song when one of my friends told me that it should be my theme song. She was right.

6. 17 -- Sky Ferriera
Although Sky Ferriera is a little pop-ish for my taste, this song describes my life right now. Partying, lying to everyone, and being surrounded by people way older than me. Yep.

5. Barton Hollow -- The Civil Wars
The first time I heard this song, my jaw dropped to the floor. I adore it. The lyrics are a little depressing, but the way the two singers sing it is fantastic, what with their overbearing harmonies and heart-beat like guitar accompaniment. I sang this a capella for my Lang teacher once.

4. At The Bottom Of Everything -- Bright Eyes
Wsb used to play guitar and sing this for me.

3. The Garden -- Mirah
This song helps me center my chakras (pffffft) whenever I'm feeling a little angry or crazy. The drums make sense in the most simple way. I don't know. There's just something crazy and quirky about this song that I adore.

2. My Immortal -- Evanescence
The completely acoustic version is the best. I know Evanescence is washed-up and very emo, but I used to be obsessed witht hem when I was a lot younger. Over the years, this is one of their songs that has stuck with me because it's just so beautiful. It's a good song to help me get emotional when I'm about to perform something dramatic and depressing.

1. When the Day Met the Night -- Panic! At The Disco
I've always loved Panic! and I always will, no matter how much they've become mainstreamified. I've seen them in concert twice and I know every word to every song they've ever released. This song is off of their second album, Pretty. Odd., which no one really liked too much, but this song is by far the best one they've ever done. In my opinion, at least. It has been the theme song to many a summer and never ceases to make me smile.


Yep.
Jules

Little Victories

You'd think that when your morning begins by getting to school on time for the first time all week, then having tea and scones in European history, and then watching The Dead Poet's Society in Language, and figuring out that the actor who played Heroin Bob in SLC Punk was in it, and having your mind blown, you'd think think that that would be a start to a good day.

And today was oddly very nice in some ways, but absolutely dreadful in others. I'm glad that so many things seemed to go right today, but there have been a few moments that just shattered my soul. I don't want to bitch about the shitty things when over all I really can't complain.

But oh well, this one's been bothering me all day:
So today was picture day for choir, when a photographer takes a group picture of us all in our dresses and the men in their tuxes. I'm in the top choir at school (but sadly not the one with the cute red dresses this year, that's the other top choir) and the uniform for that choir is a long black dress that most people got when they were in choir in the 9th grade. Except, I wasn't in choir in the 9th grade. I only started last year, and I went straight to the choir with the red dresses, so I never owned a black dress.

When I walked in early to choir and asked the director if I could borrow one of the spare dresses that she keeps in her office for the picture, she glared at me. "My God, Julia, why are you always such a train wreck every day?"
Ow.
I looked at her in disbelief and stammered "I.. I never got a 9th dress.."
Her eyes widened as she realized her mistake and she handed me a dress and apologized profusely, but the damage was done. I took the dress and walked out of her office, and then the oddest thing happened; my eyes welled up.

I didn't cry or anything, but my own choir director, whom I thought that I was in good standing with, had just let me know her full opinion of me. I'm a good student, who's usually on top of my shit, and I never start trouble in her class because I genuinely respect her. I suppose the feeling is far from mutual.

I smiled big for the picture, but the entire time I was thinking "Am I really a train wreck?"

Aside from that, school went swimmingly. I only had an hour of homework tonight, too, which is nice.

With all that free time I decided to go to Boulder. In all honesty, I just needed to go to my happy place, which is, for those of you who don't know, Pearl Street in downtown. I walked aimlessly and contemplated my life, smoking and getting cat-called by various hobos.

I love walking around Boulder, especially at night. Whenever I'm upset, I just need to be around strangers. Being surrounded by people who are generally happy and doing their own things helps me put my own life into perspective and usually helps me to stop bitching about stupid stuff and be grateful for what I have.

I ran into a buddy of mine who graduated last year, and I gave him a big hug. That made me smile. Also, one hobo approached me and said "I'm sorry to bother you miss, but I've just found out that Santa Claus is gay and all the elves are illegitimate children. Could you possibly help my out by sparing a few cents?" I didn't have any cash on me, but if I had, I would have given him a quarter for creativity.

I walked for 3 hours around the streets of Boulder. I walked until my feet bled, and then I walked some more. I was in a half-buzzed, self-pitying stupor for most of it, but I was still able to appreciate the beauty of the city even through my haze of vague, unfounded depression.

I really do need to just lighten up and be grateful. I may be bored as Hell and starved for sex, but I really shouldn't be complaining. School is actually manageable for the time being, I have a car, I got to see an old friend, and I had scones this morning. It's the little victories that count right?

I may feel like I'm being suffocated by small-town life and that I am extremely unwanted and unnecessary, but I should quit wallowing in self-pity and buck up. I have things to do and people to impress. I can save all the self-identity shit for later. I can't expect too much anyway, it's October in Hicktown. Life is going to be uneventful whether I like it or not.

I know this entire post sounds incredibly pessimistic and compliment-fishy, sorry guys. It's just been one of those days. I'm in a funk. I'll get over myself in a day or two.

Julia

Holy shit 300 posts... I feel as if this deserves some sort of party or something.

A Wonderment

I was having myself a lovely little snooze this afternoon, and by that I mean I had crashed as soon as I got home from school after a long day that was preceded by only a few hours of sleep, and I had the oddest dream. I usually have these incredibly vivid, life-like dreams, but this particular one was terribly peculiar.

It was weird to the point where I feel compelled to share it.
Here's what happened in my head:

I was standing at the arrivals gate at Denver International Airport looking very expectantly at the huge frosted glass doors separating the gate from the actual arrivals terminal. A red light goes on above the doors and people begin to come out of them, walking past the area where I and many others are standing, holding signs so that the people we're meant to pick up can find us.

A few people walk past and look very confused by my sign. I ignore them and look past them to the doors, which open every few seconds to allow more people out. It's all very sporadic. I feel a deep-seeded expectancy towards the doors, but I don't know who will come out of them for me.

Eventually, as the flow of arrivals begins to slow, a 20-something year old blonde man in a business suit exits the doors and looks around curiously. He catches a glimpse of my sign and grins, beginning to walk pointedly towards me. I suppose this is whom I was waiting for.

I flip over the sign that I was holding and discover what it says: "Is man one of God's blunders? Or is God one of man's blunders?"

It is my favorite quote from Friedrich Nietzsche.

As I realize this, I wake up.


I'm not one to be like "what does it mean?!" because I'm sure it, like all other dreams, is simply a manifestation of my underlying fears, desires, and long-lost memories. This oddly vivid dream did raise a few questions for me though:
-Why was it set in my favorite airport? At an area I've only ever been in once?
-Who was the man in the suit?
-Why was I waiting for him specifically, and why had I never met him before?
-What's with the Nietzsche quote? Seriously, no one else love Nietzsche the way I love Nietzsche, let alone would be able to recognize his work from a single quote.

What a weird dream... I'm not quite sure what to make of my subconscious right now.

Julia

PURGE.

Sweet Jesus, I feel liberated.

After a drama-filled weekend, I have decided to delete my last two posts. Even by my standards, it was just too much drama for one blog to contain.

Incase you missed the last two posts, here's the important stuff:
-Fsb's ex kind of not almost idfk girlfriend person is named Qv
-There was party, and she confronted me about sleeping with Fsb, but she, in turn, slept with Wsb so I think we're even.
-I accidentally made Fsb flip the fuck out
-The dynamic of the Fsb/Qv relationship was brought to light, and it's very sick and twisted
-I took the PSAT still drunk from the party and marveled over the word "banana"
-I went to a rave the next night in order to center my chi, and that helped a lot.
And I'm not getting into any more detail than that. Gahh.

Most of you read all the shit already, but I just couldn't let it remain. My thoughts are in flux, the situations are calming, and I don't want documentation of such an excessive amount of stupid shit on my blog. I'll be honest, I was talking some mad shit and I don't need my in-the-moment, rage-filled rantiness to be seen by anyone who hasn't seen it already.

Usually, I don't care what others think of my opinions, but I feel as if I crossed a line, and I was bringing bad vibes upon myself. My bad, y'all.

So I purged the bad juju!!

I'm just starting this week fresh, because I don't have the time to focus on speculating or being angry about things beyond my reach. I'm simply going to have to be zen.

I feel like a half-eaten strawberry.
Julia

Crash And Burn

Dear All-State Choir,

You prestigious son of a bitch, you've been looming ominously over my head for far too long.

I've been preparing to audition for you for the past month. I've taught myself intervals, chromatic, harmonic, and melodic minor scales, triads of all sorts, and one incredibly obnoxious soprano solo in Italian.

I drove half-way across the state for you. I dressed up, wore modest clothing, and even wore tasteful shoes for you.

I gave you an entire 2 hours of my life tonight.

And what have I gotten in return?

CRASHED AND BURNED.

Oh God, worst audition of my life. So horrific I can hardly handle it. I know you win some, you lose some, but this wasn't just loss. This was cringe-worthy, flinchtastic, and all around terrible. The worst part is, while all of my friends are off having a lovely time singing with the best of the best, I'll be chilling at school flashing back to this awful night, wishing that I had a time machine; or at least some vodka.

Sweet Jesus, I tried.
I'll see you next year, All-State, my boy. This isn't over.
Julia

PS: This is one of those nights where I've gotten to the point where I don't care, I just need to get my mind off of what a shitty job i've done. So, I'm off to go have a gratuitous amount of sex and then I'm going to go get very inebriated. Very, very inebriated. Perhaps my night can be saved yet..

The Latest Theory

I keep dyeing my friends' hair and not wearing gloves, and then my hands are always stained and I always spend the next few days looking at my stained skin and thinking "why the fuck did I not simply wear gloves and avoid this?" But then the next week of two rolls around and I do it again. Why do I continually do this to myself even when I know of the consequences?

Because I, my dearest friends, cannot be bothered.

Except, now my hands are the color of an Ethiopian child.
I think this might have been the final straw, though. My hands look permanently dirty, which is off-putting to the genenral public, and having to explain my stupidity to repeatedly to my confused friends and aquaintances is becoming rather annoying... So, perhaps, gloves next time...

Also, latest theory on why I never cry:

I think I'm a sociopath. A high-funtioning, nonviolent, extremely well-integrated sociopath. Like, not Dexter Morgan-style, more like Gil Grissom-style.

Yeah, more on that one later.

Anyway. I'm off to procrastinate, take a few pages of Euro note and then write a rhetorical analysis of a shitty essay for Lang. School is suffocating me, but it might be about to get very, very interesting here in Hicktown.

More on that later too.

For now, I am stuck doing the work I that I must in order to maintain survival, and half-heartedly looking for a job that actually pays (This whole paramilitary organization thing just ain't paying for my drug habit and monthly condom supply. Sorry Uncle Sam, a girl's gotta live), and keeping my stomach from ulcerating itself again.

I hate this town.



Aw, poor Julia, life is so tough for you, what with children starving in third-world countries, people denying the Holocaust, our country going down the shitter, puppies being euthanized, and gays still not being allowed to marry.

You know what?

I've had a bad day, someone tell me I'm pretty.
Julia

Highway Driving

First and foremost, Christopher, if you must know, Lionboy is extremely gay. I'm talking paid actor who smokes only American Spirits and always has a Lady Gaga cd in his car gay. I adore him.

And Ant, my iPod loves you. Just thought you should know.

Anyway.

I love driving on the highway. I used to be terrified of it, but now I find it one of the most relaxing things in the world.
I've been doing a lot of driving this weekend, and I've discovered that certain genres and songs are better for certain settings. I have this weird thing with driving where I have to be listening to music at all times because it makes my life feel like a movie. Is that weird?

I'm burning through way too much gas though. If it didn't cost so much to fill up the tank, it'd wouldn't be an issue; but since the US has decided to be a dick to all the oil-supplying countries of the middle east, I have to unload my entire wallet into my gas tank every time I fill up. It's great.

On a completely random note, I've really been digging the song The Man Who Sold The World by Nirvana lately. I listened to it like 3 times in a row while driving home from my buddy's house tonight. I love the guitar in it, plus Kurt Cobain has the voice of a grunge rock heroine-addicted angel. Oh how I love him.

This has been a very odd few days for me. Aside form grappling with my lack of faith in a religion which I am openly proud of and having to talk a buddy down from suicide multiple times in the past few days (yeah, that's a fun story for another day), I'm dealing with several guys who have all decided that I am suddenly worth their while. It's throwing me off to be suddenly in-demand again.

It's always like this, either I am practically invisible to the male persuasion, or I have a pack of boys all vying for my attention at the same time. Never in between, never just one guy. It's always a ton or none. What's really making me smile is this constant pattern of guys showing interest when I am physically and emotionally preoccupied and then falling off the grid when I have the time and energy for anything more than just casual sex (which I'm beginning to get bored of, one night stands can only ever be so exciting..)

My love life is so ironic.

Actually, my entire life has been fairly ironic lately. It's like, dramatic irony, though, so I never know that something's up, but everyone else sees what's going to happen, then it does and they laugh and move on and I'm stuck wondering why no one was nice enough to tell me that shit was going to hit the fan or whatever.

Gah.
Julia

The Gates Of Repentance: A Mixed Up Religious Journey

Hour 26
I am this close to just breaking down and getting those ho-hos out of my car.

You see, it's Yom Kippur and I've been praying, fasting, and contemplating my own existence all day. This whole process has been made slightly harder by the fact that I happen to know that there is bag of Hostess nom noms chilling on the back seat of my car.

Hour 1
Surrounded by the congregation, I stand beside my JBF (Jewish Best Friend) and listen to the saddest, most beautiful song I will ever hear. I hear it every year at the start of this holiday, and every year it still makes my eyes well up (but I don't actually cry. I never cry, it's weird). The song is called Kol Nidre, it means 'our vows' in Hebrew. It's like a contract with God. As if God would actually sign it...

Because Yom Kippur is a somber affair, we fast (don't eat or drink ANYTHING) until the end of the last service tomorrow night.

Shit I have to practice the Torah portion I have to read tomorrow.

Hour 14
I am seriously stressing about this Torah portion. I have been practicing it all week, and because the Torah is written without vowels, you have to memorize what you are going to read before you read it. I've been freaking out and staying up late trying to learn this block of convoluted biblical verses.

Hour 17
Break between services. Yes!!

Hours 3-13 spent getting home and sleeping

Hour 20
I am having serious issues embracing the idea of God, even after all this. Throughout the prayer book, there are all these lists of sins that we as humans universally commit; but for half of them, I know I'm guilty but I don't if what I did was actually so wrong. I'm getting existential about what I've done; I mean, who's right is it to decide what is really right or wrong?

Hour 15
Well, I went up to read my Torah portion out of the Torah, and the rabbi couldn't find my starting place, so she told me to read it off of my practice copy (which had the vowels included). Everyone is impressed that I can handle reading large amounts of Hebrew, but I'm raging on the inside.

All that stressing and practicing like crazy was for nothing, and to add insult to injury, I didn't even get to read out of the actual Torah.

Hour 2
Shit, I'm already hungry.

Hour 27
The rabbi keeps talking about gates. The gates of Heaven, the gates of God's love, and the gates of repentance. Mostly, it's the gates of repentance. I mean, the idea of the whole holiday of Yom Kippur is to stand before God, open up your soul, admit everything you've knowingly done wrong in the past year, and repent like there's no tomorrow.

The idea is that once you acknowledge your sin before God, he will accept your not-so-humble apologies, but then you are supposed to actually fix the sin. See, I know my sins, but I don't see any reason to stop committing them. My sins don't hurt anyone, cause turmoil, or wreck families.

The rabbi says the gates of repentance are beginning to close and that we must all let God know one last time that we are truly sorry.

Hour 19
My low-blood-sugar-addled mind has seen that my JBF and her mother are from a Spanish heritage, but converted to Judaism. I have deemed them "Reverso Conversos", a term which is only funny if you've had a European history class.

Hour 23
I don't know if I can change, or if I even want to. Is God even paying attention to my suffering today? Or am I destined to just be my usual bitchy, rebellious, catalystic self and die young?

Hour 21
WANT. FOOD. WANT. FOOD. SO. MUCH. LONGER. TILL. FOOD. THAN. I. THOUGHT.

FRUIT NINJA IS NOT HELPING.

Hour 28
After 28 hours of not eating, drinking, or smoking, I am about ready to shoot a baby. But the rabbi makes Havdalah and finally declares the holiday over and I eat half a bagel. Best half a bagel of my entire life.

Yom Kippur- finito bro.
------------------------------------------------

I can't seem to find my faith, I know I lost it years ago, but now that I want to find it again, I feel like it's gone completely.



On the bright side, The Boy Who Juggles Fire is back in the picture for the moment. He'll mostly likely bow out after next weekend, but all you need to know is that after I had gotten home from the final service for Yom Kippur, he and I fogged up the windows of my car pretty good.

insert winky face here.


Julia

A Series Of Semi-Optimistic Thoughts.

It's fun to glance at the clock exactly at 4:20. Especially when it's in the a.m. during/after a night of partying.

Salt and vinegar chips make the world go round.

My iPod is a lovely, lovely thing. I've even put princess and cow stickers on it.

Torah parshot are frikkin hard! GAAAAAHHH.

Productivity is bullshit.

Duct tape can fix anything.

Boys are so incredibly stupid.

I've taken to yelling "fag me, fag me!!" at Em whenever I want a cigarette.

My hair is prettier when it's light, but I look prettier when it's dark.

My father's ability to stay up late is getting in the way of my sneaking out to go watch movies with my friends.

Stoners are uninteresting idiots.

I am going to get raped by the PSAT next week.

Wouldn't it be nice to be famous?

I've taken a liking to college boys; this could prove interesting.

Insomnia is so solitary.

I'd rather look at constellations than watch clouds.

Molly can be a devious little bitch.

The color lilac makes me think of old people.

I love my bootcamp survivor bracelet, and still haven't taken it off.

Why are pants plural if they are only one article of clothing?

Cream cheese can save lives.

I love it when Lionboy braids my hair.

Driving is therapeutic.

Finger tutting is fun to do when bored in precalc; not like I'm learning anything anyway.

Fsb deleted my phone number.

I honestly love pink, frilly shit, but I'd never say that out loud.

I have rug-burn on my elbow.

Mint ice cream shouldn't be green.

I painted the tips of my nails periwinkle, and now they look awkward.

I despise duvets.

The smells of shoe polish, the grass after it rains, and burnt coffee are all oddly comforting.

Sometimes, I feel like my life is a joke that everyone's laughing at.



Julia

On Columbine (And A Bit About Debate)

Yes, the massacre.
It hits home for me because I live about 45 minutes away from the actual Columbine High School and have met and talked to survivors of the incident. I've been inside the school, there was a debate tournament there last year. It was very clean and new-looking, really big too, but walking through the halls, cafeteria, and atrium where the library once stood was still haunting as fuck.

As y'all know, I'm a debate kid. I'm on my school's team (which is an NFL team, not Festival, for those who know/care) and one of the events I compete in aside from actual debate is called Dramatic Interpretation. Basically, it's a single-person event where you present a 10-minute dramatic piece and then get scored based on how good or bad you are at acting. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm kind of beastly at it.

The better pieces you see in Dramatic Interpretation are usually depressing, intense, and/or emotionally hard-hitting. Last year, my piece was about Christopher Spry, a British kid who was severely abused my his insane foster mother, just to give you an idea of the usual subject matter. The way I presented it was pretty graphic, but I always did really well.

Anyway, this year, my piece is a little less in-your-face and a little more emotionally layered. I'm doing a cutting from an essay written by the mother of Dylan Klebold, one of the Columbine killers, about the actions taken by her son and his best friend on that horrific Tuesday morning.

You can read that here

In preparing for the new debate season, which starts in about a month, I've begun blocking and memorizing my piece. Also, for the first time ever, I decided to do a little research into the back round of my piece.

See, I already know more about the Columbine Shooting than most people do simply because of my proximity to 'ground zero', but after a few hours of watching pirated documentaries, unreleased tapes, reading original journal entries, and looking at really gruesome shit on Google Images, I've got a newly informed perspective on what I'm going to be talking about all year.

In all honesty, I think that the attack was a monstrosity of epic proportions. It is my opinion that Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris were severely fucked up kids, however, they could have been easily stopped. Although my drama piece for this year is basically justifying the inaction of the parents, I really think that if they had understood their children better, they would have been able to get their kids some help, or at least have them institutionalized.

What's really scary are those mental lists that you can't help but instantly make of the people that you personally know that could possibly be capable of doing something like that again. The social hierarchies are so fucked up at my school, I could definitely see something like Columbine playing out at some point before I graduate.

The problem is that people my age are so unrelentingly judgmental and cruel simply because they can be. I know I'm guilty; I'm not generally a nice person anyway, but put my next to someone I actually dislike and I'll show you a new meaning of the word 'venom'. I can make people break easily and without remorse, and I don't know why I do it, sometimes it just happens. And everyone does that sometimes; makes that one cutting remark that they know they shouldn't but do anyway just to see the reaction.

I suppose it's human nature to enjoy seeing other things in pain, but it's also human nature to know that causing that sort of pain is wrong. When your own pain or insanity overrides that part of your humanity, you lose that sense of 'wrong' and can no longer contain yourself. I'm not at that point, and am resilient enough to never get there, but I definitely know people who could be inches away from that point, or, for all I know, already there.

It's jarring to look at the documentation of a massacre and realize how easily it could happen again. I mean, it has, but never to the extent of what Columbine was.

After all of this, I'm going to go into every Interpretation round with an intricately-layered emotional base that will be completely genuine. Yes, all of this research and thinking was initially to build a character, but now I've built a little more on myself.

I don't know if, when performing and competing, I'll be able to keep the emotions of my character and my own emotions separate. I feel like even now, they're beginning to bleed into each other.

It's going to be an interesting season.
Julia

Uh. Yeah.. So, That Happened...

Oh hey original, God-given, genetically accurate hair color... I'd almost forgotten what you looked like.

Julia


PS: Excuse the lack of make up. Don't judge.

Let Sleeping Boys Snore

I write this from my cell phone, at almost 5 am, at the house of a currently very innebriated buddy.

It's been an fairly typical Saturday night. We had a chill evening drinking at my friend's house, but now everyone is passed out except me. Joy. So I get sit here in the dark, wondering what the fuck I'm going to do for the next few hours since apparently I did not drink a sufficient enough amount and am umable to pass out.

There's a very cute boy lying on the ground in front of me; he's been macking on Ember all night. To my right, Lionboy is cuddled up with a large stuffed dog and our buddy Mads. Immediately to my right is the kid whose house we are at. He kissed me earlier, but it was a drunken convenience; nothing to think on.

He just took off on his bike at one point, was gone for 20 minutes, and came back with deep roadrash on his palms. He was dazed and trashed and wouldn't tell me where he was trying to go. I sat him down and cleaned up his hands, and kissed them better.

But like 15 minutes later he passed out.

The cute boy is beginning to snore.
Julia