"Nothing gives a fearful man more courage than another's fear."
~ Umberto Eco

You ever feel like you were plopped down on Earth for a tediously specific reason?  That you're really supposed to be doing Something, but have no idea what that might be or where to begin?  Like the quote (yeah, another) that one should "live the life you were born to."  And you're kind of paranoid about messing your destiny up, even if it IS destiny and will happen regardless.  (Some ways are just less painful than others.  Take Oedipus, for example.  Boy, did HE screw up his 'Destine Path.')  And then feel really presumptious to even suppose that your purpose is any grander than another person's?  But still feel caught between your passions and what you feel pulled to do, yet not knowing which is which or even what?

And then type a really long-winded MySpace Blog paragraph about it?

I thought so.  That makes two of us, at any rate.

(Four days.  Shh, it's a secret. )

So this Phusebox has been a little neglected lately.... Mea culpa, mea culpa.  Or as the French would say (I think -- they never taught us manners in that language class.  Hmmmmmmmm.  Maybe that's why American's are despised overseas.  The news at 9:00!) -- Ma faute, ma faute.

I'd write about my dazzling life, only.... My life isn't very dazzling.
-- School.
-- School.  (Exams tomorrow and Wednesday!  Fun!  Not.)
-- Work.
-- Unwritten college applications
-- Confusion
-- A costume that needs to be made by January.  A costume that involves an outer layer of 6 yards of fabric.  *Slam*  For an event that I don't even technically have permission to go on yet.

That "burgeoning social life" as Mother once referred to it, has suddenly vaporised.  I think a certain workforce is largely to blame.

OH!!  Guess who is a legal, voting, lottery-ticket-buying member of 'adult society' in all of SEVEN days??!  (According to our ever-enlightened government, one is suddenly granted Advanced Reasoning Capacity and Intelligence upon reaching this age.  I'm still waiting for some people to get their share.)  Yes, that's right.  Me.  Moi.  Yours truly.  The object of your idolatry -- errrrrrrr, amiability..... Anywho.  I'm just a little excited.  Just a little.  *Grins*  And I turn eighteen ON election day, no less.  Naturally, there are no elections.  *Sniffle*

"Git 'er done!" -- Mother.
"I'm revoking your country license for life." -- Me.

*Later*  "Git 'er done!" -- Mother.  *Weeps*
"GAHH!  YOUR COUNTRY LICENSE HAS BEEN REVOKED!!"  -- One guess....

For the record, I think every one of you is an amazing human being who deserve to know a person much better than myself.  *Hugs!*

??!

What time is it, really???!!!

Daylight savings time has never been so perplexing.  "I'm awake.  It's 7:00 in the morning.  I should not be up for at least three more hours.  So.... Why the crap am I not tired and grouchy??!"  Tired and grouchy, yes.  Morning is by far my worst time of day.  The coffee helps matters, though.  I'm not addicted.  Just don't remove the I.V.

The clocks say one thing.  WKRN says another.  I am sooooo buying an atomic clock.

YESSSSSSSSSSS.  I have found an "official U.S. time" website.
-- Server error??!

.....

I should have expected as much.  *Snirkle*

YESSSSSSSSSSS.  Thank you, U.S. Naval Observatory.
*Relief*

You have no idea how much this was bugging me.

I'm out.

You ever tried to be really open-minded about close-minded issues, because you've been close-minded in your world of open-minded issues??

And if the above even made sense to you (heck, I'm having trouble understanding it).... Isn't it all relative anyway????

Woohoo, Kelly needs to stop thinking so much.
That, or she needs to start thinking more.

Relativity, relativity.... Gahh.

That summer philosophy class isn't helping one bit, either.  In fact, it stirs up some rather unwanted confusion.  "What if we're BOTH??"  "We could just be brains in vats!"  "It's like the Matrix!"  "But Kant would still disagree with you."  "But it's the lesser of two evils!"  "But Kant would still disagree with you!"  "Gahhhh!!"  ((Personally, I think Kant is a moron, if I'm remembering philosophers correctly.  What a crock that some people are remembered eternally because they sat around and thought.  We should all be so lucky.))

/.Edit./  Yeah, okay, so I love my friends dearly.  Yup, each and every one in millions of intangible ways.  So when someone starts spreading rumours about them, you can bet that I'm going to be Furious.  Livid.  Rabid.  Like Lady Macbeth on crack and heroin all at once.  So to whomever is doing this, watch out.  I'm looking for you.  And I can guarantee you won't see me first.  /.End edit./

*Laughs hysterically*  How's this for hilarious??  I walk into my parents room (where the lovely computer is) tricked out in Elizabethan underpinnings (a corset, extra-large hoopskirts, and oh-so-period tank top)  (I was testing something, it wasn't just for fun and excitement), and the three kittens in there take one look at me and RUN under the bed like their lives depended on it.

Hehehehehehehe.

That's all.  Really.  It amused me, anyway.

Oh fine.

::Edit::  Oh god.... I just hiccuped in this thing.  Ouchies.  That was a first.  ::/Edit::

So why, pray tell, do a bunch of thick-headed high school freshmen think they can catcall me?  How would they feel if a herd of skeezy guys did that to their little sisters, or their moms??  What makes them think that girls actually enjoy or respond to it???  I mean really, most people of the female persuasion think it's vile, offensive, and that the guys who do it are mentally-challenged pictures of desperation.  And to top it all off....

If there's one thing I despise, it's being relegated to a traditional role.
Especially if it's as though there were no question about it.
It makes me angry, caustic, and not very fun to be around.
Merde.  I guess today was female degredation day, or something.

Now all those unpleasantries are out of my system.... ^_^

Costume shindig tonight.  Most exciting.  Participation in a faire as one certain non-human creature (i.e. Elf) makes preparations very easy.  I only have one pointed ear, though, so it looks like I'm going as the Van Gogh Elf.  Fun, eh?  "Sauron!  Frodo!  Angst!  *Slice*"  Heh.

::EDIT:: Just when I think all is for naught.... :-)  ::/EDIT::

Oh heck yes, totally made the Greenbox Quote entry!  I feel so honoured. XD

In twenty-three days, I will no longer be able to commit felonies.
Well, I will, but I'll be tried as an adult.  That's not so much fun, from what I hear tell.
So much delinquency to squeeze in, so little time....

Pretty sure I hit "off" instead of "snooze" on my alarm today, resulting in an abrupt awakening at 10:30, the time I was supposed to be on the opposite end of town at the revered Bel Air Baptist Church.  I quite obviously did not bother coming in late (due largely to the fact that I have to cross three time zones), instead groggily breakfasting on a healthy array of fried chicken and biscuits that were brought home.  Arteries, are you clogged yet??

So everyone remembers To Kill a Mockingbird from Freshman year, right??  *Silence*  I though so.  Regardless, in the beginning Scout and her brother are rolling around in a tire, am I right?  Somehow, Caroline and Tori managed to come across this weird, tire-tube-like object.  So we spent over an hour rolling each other around the yard in it, Scout-style.  (With exception of the creepy recluse neighbours.  The fact that fields separate the two has nothing to do with anything.)  This resulted in no small amount of bruises, twists, and grass stains.  I managed to roll into a tree, a house, a youngest sister, and almost a cat who jumped into the nearest tree with large yellow eyes and a threatening bottlebrush tail.  I highly recommend the sport to anyone else who randomly comes upon weird, tire-tube-like objects, because it happens so frequently.  It works especially well if you have a hill on which to begin.  "Are you ready yet?"  "Hang on, I've just got to g-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"  Good times, oh yes, good times.  Then we scrapped the whole weird, tire-tube-like object concept and dogpiled each other.  This resulted in grass cramming both mouth and yoga pants, results of unsportsmanlike behaviour on behalf of the younger two.  :\  They believe they've escaped without restitution for their crimes, but they left their beds unprotected while they go off on a merry trailride.  Short-sheeting?  Why yes, don't mind if I do.... :D

Off to commit evil deeds.

So I got here, right?  All ready to cruise around Phusebox and see what's going on in everyone's life.  Yeah, it's gonna be fine.

Then a completely different site loaded and I about fell out of my chair.
In the good way, though.
Rock on, Nathan, it is awesomeness.  Better than dropping acid.  Not that I've ever dropped acid, but from what I hear it gets pretty interesting.

Hah, so Vegan and I went up to the Frist Centre to be all artsy and cultured.  I'm absolutely sick of landscapes with pink skies.  The French impressionists were pretty spiffy, though.  There was also what we referred to as "Fascist Big Brother Surveillance Art" involving weird jelly fish-like-lamps with cameras in them.  Those were everywhere.  Even near the French impressionists.  Gahh.  We got there well enough (no MapQuest to send us into a scrapyard -- hah!).  Then there was the getting out, and the looking for Ru-San's Sushi (on the opposite side of Nashville), and the circling Nashville five times, and encountering the Tarantula Tequila billboard TWICE IN FIVE MINUTES (I have a notorious fear of spiders) right in front of the light that WOULDN'T BLOODY TURN.  Finally we yelled out the window that we were giving up and going to Murfreesboro.  So we did, and got sushi there, with bigger green tea glasses.  Hah.  And I survived my second independent drive to Nashville.  It was significantly better than the first [no sobbing-on-the-top-level-of-a-parking-garage-convinced-I'm-going-to-die for me!!  :)]

I think my colour scheme on this post is worthy of at least one seizure.  :]

HEY YOU GUYS!!

I COOKED!!

....AND NOTHING WENT WRONG!!!!

(Naturally, I'm dropping the fudge face-down first thing tomorrow morning.)

Granted, it was just melting down two types of chocolate and some peanut butter (crunchy, blech), but STILL. It's MINE. And it's PERFECT. And it better sell out tomorrow if the student body collective value any limbs. No wait, this stuff is good. Don't buy any. It's mine. All mine. And it even looks artsy, what with the cool semi sweet chocolate swirly stuff going on. (I'll be derned if there was a melted Hershey bar in sight. "Derned," do you hear me??!) Fudge is awesome. It will become my college staple, along with Ramen noodles, really cheap sushi, and soy milk. All they require is some assembly and tinkering. No stovetops unless you're melting. No nothing unless you're melting and boiling, things I do in overabundance.

Except I think I'm sick from all the pre-assembly liquid fudginess.
Such a trial, right? *Wink*

Paganini: The Saga Begins
Subsequent attempts to teach myself the violin over the past hour have thus far yielded:

• Six stiff fingers
  
• Partial deafness in my left ear
  
• A crick in my neck
  
• A very vague inkling as to how the first few notes of "All I Ask of You" might go
  
• And (I kid you not), all four kittens lined up outside my bedroom door looking very perplexed.
  

I will soldier on. Just as soon as I wrap up these monologues for my English project.... Did Mrs. Wolff specify a length or perhaps level of detail? *Shrugs* Oooooh well!! Bwahaha. I have PUMPKIN PANTS (courtesy of Leland -- thank you Leland!!).

As far as the Mystical Corset of Bodily Compression: Part II goes.... The bobbin ran out on me. I have yet to locate the case of extra bobbins, although I suspect they are in my car. I was so close. All the pattern pieces actually matched each other. And then "I was like a moth, crushed on the wheel of...." to quote Chicago.

Anywho, I need a reason to claim the computer a little longer. School work!! Score.

You know, every terrorist out there must be laughing his or herself silly right now after the New York threats. Why are they going to bomb us? They don't need to do anything to incite fear. We do it ourselves. We make our enemies larger than life, phantoms who sift among us whispering emptily of slipping bombs into baby carriages when in reality they're just scared, hopeless, shrivelled little men and women with nothing to live for and everything to die about. I mean really, a bomb in a pram? Then suspicious baggage is reported right, left, and centre, and an entire section of the Pen Station is shut down because of "bubbling green liquid" in a soda. We make our enemies. We see them everywhere. We move in fear. The far-reaching Al Quaida don't have to do a thing. We are our own terrorists. Let the witch-hunt begin.

"First my blood pressure dropped, and I didn't want to read whatever was in the message. As my eyes scanned over the words, a slow grin spread across my face. Soon I was laughing uncontrollably, giggling with heart-stopping determination. It was all too good to be true. I wasn't worried about that, though. I wasn't worried about anything. Why ruin the moment with what might never happen?"

Teehee. *Grin-wink-blush*

....*Heart*

I'm feeling very silly and teenage-girlish right now. That hasn't happened in over a year. -ish.

But I won't tell you why I'm feeling very silly and teenage-girlish right now. That would ruin the surprise. If there is one. What?

I had Sun Drop, that ambrosial drink of pure caffeeeeeiiiiiiiine.

So last night was the "Hemophilia Extravaganza," -slash-benefit, as Jess put it. It was quite a lot of fun. Sam and I forgot how to dress ourselves, and I had to try to put shoes on in a corset. "I CAN'T REACH MY FEET!!" and "I have birthing hips?!" being notorious quotes (they were able to balance a glass on my skirt pleats). We got to the hotel and a woman takes one look at us, and without even asking just says, "Tenth floor, then take a left." Amusing. We danced. They fed us. Three-course meal with coffee afterward. Heaven. Plus a Shakespeare game. A man offered to pay Matt for his answers -- and Matt took him up on it. Hilarious. Afterward we all just kind of crashed at Leland's (literally -- bodies were strewn across the floor) and played HALO. Fakes taught me to salsa; it was awesome. (Meanwhile, Chops and Gene compete for rocket launchers.) I think I've been more traumatised during the Friday/Saturday part of this weekend than an entire run of faire.

Sigh... I have crap to do. Blogging has lost some of its charm recently. I just feel like none of this is really interesting to anyone. After all, they're just a rendition of an individual's memories.

Did I mention a kitten got stuck in the fridge? ....Yeah. Took us about two or three minutes to figure out where the disembodied mewling was coming from.

You are a
Social Liberal
(73% permissive)

and an...
Economic Liberal
(28% permissive)

You are best described as a:

Democrat



Link: The Politics Test on OkCupid Free Online Dating
Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

Those gods I've mentioned in the past two posts must be manic-depressive.

Most of the crap from yesterday has pretty much healed itself.

That, and I'm a homecoming court nominee.
Woot. *Grins*

Sometimes the gods beam down upon you benevolently, point a single long, merciful finger, and say....

"SMITE!!"

At which point you realise that "single, longer, merciful finger" was the middle one.

Today was one of those days. They didn't even wait for me to get to school. We're no longer on speaking terms, to say the least.

The very least.

Awww, the kitten's chirping at me!! *Melt*

Sign #1: Sends housewares (i.e. the neighbourhood Linens 'n' Things) to systematically assassinate us or get us thrown out of the store by falling off shelves.

Sign #2: Sends chief nocturnal agent (i.e. skunk) to provoke our dog into attack and justify midnight spray, the cloud of which we are preordained to walk through.

Sign #3: Makes popcorn kernels explode in bowl of already popped popcorn, thereby sending explosions of fluffy white air-popped popcorn everywhere.

Sign #2.5: When measuring popcorn kernels into airpopper, container upends. Kernels go everywhere (much to the kittens' amusement), most notably into a visiting aunt's birthday cake.

Sign #4: When asking if we're on Sign #3, the necessary and proper reply is, "You mean Sign #3,000?"

Sign #2.25: Family threatens our life when we draw near. (This, shortly after the skunk incident. We proceeded to dig out a can of air freshener and spray each other down, bug-spray-camp style.)

All this happened within an hour. An hour.

And these are not all our adventures, oh no. The Universe is too ironic for that. Two days in a row have we walked around Murfreesboro, stopping outside the Republican Headquarters to be thoroughly amused by car-marker graffiti ("Whatevah! Pimpin' ain't easy!"), finding the one pigeon Murfreesboro had lying dead in a ditch, discovering the doors to a now-abandoned coffee-shop swinging open (the second time was damn scary -- it sounded like someone was walking up the front porch to enter! ), a seedy Kwik Mart with iron bars across the door (someone just haaad to have her Icee, and I found Necco wafers. Score!) Hanging out in the one new age store and the one head shoppe. Sitting on the decorative-boulder-edging of a fountain and talking. And finally playing a moldy piano abandoned outside BluesBoro, trying to write a song about the past two days.

It was awesome. Minus the whole skunk-and-popcorn fiascos.

"How do we get ourselves into these things?! More importantly, how do we get ourselves out?!!"

"See, if you sit on this side of the empty lot, you can almost pretend we're in a city."

"Listen, hear that?" "Hear what?" "Exactly. This town is dead."

"....A tumbleweed?!"

"FIND A BACK DOOR!!"

OH MY GOD!!!!

Current mood: Ecstatic.

How can something so far-fetched happen??

So, wow.... It's been a whole week.

I'm now down to working two days a week. Good for grades/sanity/life, bad for noble costume/Florida Keys weekend.

I have a gash on both hand and foot from where a mirror insisted on breaking on me. Literally on me. At 1:00 am. This is due to the fact that people senselessly relocate stuff in my room, which irritates me above and beyond the fact that my privacy has been violated. (When it comes to personal dwellings, I am a very private person. Don't mess with mine and I won't mess with yours. So you can see how exponentially annoying this turn of events is.) The fact that personal injury has resulted from someone's lack of neurons prompts me to consider war. Oh, if only I had a military....

Thank you for tolerating my ranting. It's nothing, I promise...

So we had a shindig for Ryan/Leonardo last night, seeing as he decided to visit us from Yon Balmy Florida. Brenda brought a video of the Hack and Slash audition before he got there, and I swear that guy is the luckiest man in the world. He has an amazing act involving pirates and phenomenal swordplay and incredibly quick humour. And he gets paid to do this. I am infinitely jealous, for that is what I could easily do the rest of my life. Except I'm thinking gypsies, or some other Renaissance subculture equally as mysterious and with the means to randomly hack at people without much societal retribution. Who's with me?? Let's scrap all plans for comfortable living and hit the road with this thing. I'll find a bread truck we can furnish, considering someone else bought my awesome beet-coloured 60's-bus.

Apparently I'm going to Coldplay. Anyone else going to Coldplay? Aside from half the knowne worlde, that is.

[Vegan: I still have two of your CD's from last week. We need to find each other (a la "Party Monster") so I can give them back to you. Although they're quite good. Hmmm. You might not get them back after all. Mwahahahaaaa.]