| Late fall 2008. |
[Wednesday
November 26th, 2008 ] |
Apparently I last posted an entry 69 weeks ago, and longer still since I posted a public or friends-only entry. And lately I've been wanting to write about some things. So, I started a Blogger. I don't know why, I guess I just wanted to start keep a blog again and I wanted to do it somewhat anonymously. And then I realized that was kind of dumb. I have this journal, I've had it for probably 5 years now. That's a pretty long time.
So, here's my life right now:
I live in Santa Cruz, California. I go to the University of California at Santa Cruz. It's my second year but I'm only just now becoming a sophomore in terms of units because I left early last year. Dorm life isn't for everyone and it wasn't for me.
I'm majoring in history, tentatively. As in, I'm signed up for the classes to start but there's still time to change my mind. I don't think I will. I may also minor in literature.
I live with my boyfriend, Calvin. We have a 200 sq foot studio (tiny, in case you were wondering) with a sleeping loft. It's glorified camping, really, considering we don't have an oven or a stove or anything fancy like that. We like it though.
I just got a job at the UCSC library. I haven't started yet but I'm kind of excited about it. I'm tired of being broke. I have big plans for sweet-ass mopeds.
Weird encounter:
Yesterday I was riding the bus home from school, and I sat down next to a guy, like I typically do if I'm not standing since the buses are always packed. I wasn't really in the mood to talk, it'd been a long day and I wanted to get home. This guy, eventually, notices a pin on my backpack. It was a Lady of Guadalupe pin, pretty, bright colors. I bought it at a flea market in Oakland. He pointed at it and asked if it was Catholic. I said yes, but I'm not. Anymore. He said he was raised Baptist. I tried to shrug him off for awhile but he was persistent, so we had a conversation about various things until my stop. As I got up to get off the bus, he asked me my name. I said it was Sarah, he said his was James, we shook hands, I left. He looked a lot like Chris McCandless, aka Emile Hirsch's character in Into the Wild. But he looked like the real Chris. I told him that. He didn't know who Chris McCandless was. The weird part was, he was obviously under the influence of something. Scattered, slow speech, laughing a lot, putting his head in his hands and running his hands through is hair every so often. He was acting especially high.
This morning I got on the bus to go to class, like I do 5 days per week. It was only half-full, a rarity, but not unexpected for the day before Thanksgiving when most people have already taken off. James was on the bus. I'd never before seen him in my life to my knowledge, and here he was on the same bus, twice. I sat down next to him because I didn't want to be rude and act like I didn't know him, but the conversation was more forced this time. He told me was 26 years old, and working on getting his master's in molecular biology. He told me was on his way to present his research to a group of scientists. Again, strange, considering he was acting the extra same super-high way. I hope he was one of those people who could snap out of it when they need to. He was wearing the same shirt as the night before.
At this moment I'm:
In bed, at home in Nevada County. Calvin and I drove up tonight from Santa Cruz for Thanksgiving. I'm happy to be able to see my friends soon. And Parking Wars is on, and let me tell you, it's a good show.
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[Friday
June 29th, 2007 ] |
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mood |
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 tired |
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"For all intents and purposes."
I always thought the phrase was "for all intensive purposes."
I guess that makes me an idiot. All of my entries lately have been private, I guess because they're all super-dirty.
Anyway, I just finished rereading Harry Potter #6 (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, doi) after rereading Harry Potter #5 to refresh for the 7th book. Working at a bookstore makes me required to work the midnight release party which makes me required to dress up as a Harry Potter character (I will be Moaning Myrtle) which makes me required to get excited about all this Harry Potter business. Not that I wouldn't be anyway. I fully plan on wearing my costume to the midnight movie release, too.
But, in finishing H.P. #6, I'm at a distinct loss for reading material. Well, not exactly. I have a large stack of books I was "saving for the summer", you know, books I didn't really have time to read during the school year since I had books to read for A.P. English along with copious amounts of academic nonsense pertaining to other subjects of lesser importance. So, I've read the first page or two of selections from my pile. It went like this:
The History of Sexuality by Michel Foucault. (Definitely not.)
The Beautiful and the Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald. (No, sir. Not tonight.)
Rant by Chuck Palahniuk (...ugh.)
After half-heartedly giving up on those three, I also contemplated the spines of a Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut, Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs, Desolation Angels by Jack Kerouac, Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman, and Post Office by Charles Bukowski. All of these are sitting patiently on my bookshelf, just waiting for the time in which my curious fingers will tilt their rectangular forms away from their stable resting places and turn their shining, still-new faces towards me before cracking their bindings and getting comfortable for a few minutes, or maybe hours, of serious reading.
Oh, literature.
Anyway, I settled on A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers, purchased for $7.00 at a used bookstore. I've read about half of already, a long time ago, but had to give up due to time restrictions and now I'm just wondering if I should start at the beginning or pick up where I left off.
Hm.
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[Wednesday
April 11th, 2007 ] |
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music |
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Bills, Bills, Bills - Destiny's Child |
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So I'm making a mix. For Calvin.
It's a 90's mix.
Well, more appropriately, it's like a 1992-2000 mix.
So far, it's looking like this:
1. It Wasn't Me - Shaggy
2. Popular - Nada Surf
3. (What if God Was) One of Us - Joan Osbourne
4. Gangsta's Paradise - Coolio
5. Barbie Girl - Aqua
6. The Freshmen - the Verve Pipe
7. Gotham City - R. Kelly
8. Spice Up Your Life - the Spice Girls
9. One Headlight - the Wallflowers
10. Heartbreaker - Mariah Carey ft. Jay-Z
11. You Were Meant For Me - Jewel
12. Semi-Charmed Life - Third Eye Blind
13. Why Don't You Get a Job? - the Offspring
14. Say My Name - Destiny's Child
15. I Will Buy You a New Life - Everclear
16. Candy - Mandy Moore
17. The Boy Is Mine - Brandy & Monica
18. The Hardest Thing - 98 Degrees
19. Who Let the Dogs Out? - Baha Men
20. Lovefool - the Cardigans
So, obviously, this is not a Radiohead-Nirvana-Beck-Le Tigre-etc kind of 90's mix. This is a straight-up radio hits 90's mix, with very little artistic merit.
And I'd like some opinions. Where is it lacking? What could I use more of?
I can't use any BSB, Nsync, Will Smith, O-town, or TLC because he used a lot of them on the mix he made for me.
Anyway, I've gone 90's-mix-crazy and I've been working on this mix all night. It's important!
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[Thursday
March 29th, 2007 ] |
So UC Berkeley releases admissions decisions tonight.
I checked on my application this morning, just in case. It's "In Review."
Still. I have all day to wait.
Oh dear god.
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[Tuesday
January 16th, 2007 ] |
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I have to write an essay on an influential woman in this county, for AP English. There's only three of us in the class, and we're all girls, and our teacher is a raging feminist, so that's where that came from. I want to write it on my stepmom, who is a domestic violence attorney and also a beautiful person...but I know it'll really piss off my mom. Who is amazing in her own right, but not really an active member of the community. What to do. I could just not tell my mom, but it's for a motherfucking contest.
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[Sunday
October 29th, 2006 ] |
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music |
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Jens Lekman. Sunday morning music. |
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I'm pretty sure Chuck Klosterman came into the bookstore today.
He wanted a book on sexual addiction.
Too bad when I went to take the order, he told me his name was actually Kristopher. Well, not really. He spelled it out for me and I realized his name was Kristopher after I wrote down all the letters.
I hate it when people do that. Say the name first, goddammit.
So I guess it wasn't Chuck Klosterman.
But it looked almost exactly like him, as far as I could tell from his picture on the back cover of Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs anyway. Which I will probably never finish, as it was an I-have-hours-until-my-flight-and-I'm-all-alone-and-HEY-there's-a-Border's! airport impulse buy. I really enjoyed it at least for the hour or two that I read it though.
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[Saturday
October 21st, 2006 ] |
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music |
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This Joanna Newsom/hip-hop mash-up. Seriously. |
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Sarah Francis
21 Oct. 2006
English 4 Honors
Frazier
Title
My Antonia by Willa Cather
_________________________
I love starting essays.
Also, I lost my 48-hours-new phone. It was a sweet phone. A MOTOKRZR. That's a krazy new Razor.
RIP.
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[Sunday
September 17th, 2006 ] |
So I'm sitting here, trying to finish my essay on 1984...for whatever reason, I'm having a hard time with the intro. Anyway, Sean decided to help me, and this is what he came up with for my intro paragraph:
The West Bank is a really bad place to live for the following reasons:
1. The Lebanese are not that nice and sometimes you see them.
2. Skateboarding is not allowed in Jerusalem, which is in the West Bank.
3. They don’t sell Goldfish crackers and there are no Pizza Huts within 50 miles. Oh yes, and Quesadilla Cooking Tents are permanently illegal and there’s limited chill spots.
4. Four.
5. You can’t take your girlfriend or else she’d have to cover her face with crap and she would not like it.
6. It’s real hot.
7. There’s a 50/50 chance you’ll get blown up on a bus.
8. What I mean by 50/50 is, you do or you don’t.
9. Text messaging is in Arabic and… I don’t understand it.
10. My mommy’s not there.
11. There’s no good baseball games.
12.
The West Bank is a really good place to live for the following reasons:
1. Fabulous champagne.
2. Excellent sunbathing.
3. Fun at the dunes!
4. Arabic is a really pretty-looking language.
5. Koran-Torah-Bible-Extravaganza!
6. There are no Pizza Huts within 50 miles.
7. Less bombardment by Nick Lachey and TomKat and their stupid baby.
8. Sight-seeing!
Conclusion: Better just stay out of the West Bank.
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| Meet me by the vending machine |
[Wednesday
August 9th, 2006 ] |
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mood |
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... |
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music |
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Jens Lekman |
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So. I just went to school to get my schedule and locker. And my schedule was so atrocious that I sat/stood in a line for an hour and a half to change it, and only got in to see my counselor thanks to deceit and a lot of shifty maneuvers since an hour and a half by no means got me to the front of the line. But anyway. It's now as follows:
1st - Trig/Intro to Calculus
2nd - English 4 Honors
3rd - Physics Honors
4th - Lunch
5th - Intro to Photography (?!)
6th - Government/Economics
7th - Cross-curricular P.E. (this means I go to an elementary school and watch little kids play dodgeball. Basically.)
And I DID have Spanish 4 AP, but it fucked up my English and history classes beyond all recognition, so I dropped it for intro to photo...I don't really know why. I actually really don't know why. I should've taken drawing & painting, I could've just stenciled for the entire year. Why didn't I do THAT?
Senior year is supposed to be fun, yeah?
This doesn't look fun, at all.
I start school a week from today. And I haven't done any of my summer reading/writing. I've chosen to pass the time of my summer with smoking and laughing and eating Nutella. Being seventeen and not really trying to be much else...it's a nice feeling, sort of.
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[Tuesday
July 18th, 2006 ] |
I need to remind myself that debate boys suck. Debate boys that can talk you into anything, even if just for a day.
I haven't felt this shitty about myself in a long fucking time. I hate to be so cryptic, but I can't even begin to think about what a mess this all is.
I'm sitting in the hall, supposed to be researching and for the most part failing miserably. I was having fun here for awhile, but as far as I can tell, this last week will be hellish. Four days. I have to get out of this place.
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[Sunday
July 9th, 2006 ] |
Fucking debate camp. Fucking Spokane. Fucking Gonzaga University.
This shit is crazy. I don't know what I got myself in to, but I'm only a third done.
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[Friday
June 30th, 2006 ] |
So...right now I'm in Reno. We're in a hotel tonight, and I fly out tomorrow for Spokane, Washington. Three weeks of debating at Gonzaga University. I'm nervous. Really, really nervous.
And I hate casinos, thanks to a bad experience in one in the capital of Costa Rica, and we're staying in a hotel/casino right now because that's all there is in Reno, unless you want a motel with "color TV!" on the marquee. There is absolutely no room for people wearing shoes made out of rope, like myself. Dingy restaurants with 1983-remodels and nothing but meat, cigarette vending machines, gold flashing lights...god. And it's not like I can even use the vending machines because people watch them. WHAT is the point of THAT?
Tomorrow, I get thrown head-first into some sort of independence. Independence I pretty much have here, except here I have the comforts of friends and family and home.
But that's just negative.
I'm actually excited.
Kinda.
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[Saturday
June 24th, 2006 ] |
So...a week from today I leave for Spokane for three weeks. I'm trying to make my last few days count. Last night, Peter was in town so he, Mike and I hung out. We ended up at a cell phone tower, which is monstrous and overlooks...everything. Sacramento, Oroville, Roseville, Marysville, Grass Valley. It was, in short, kind of amazing. We climbed to the first platform, which is maybe...a hundred feet high, and there's just a thin ladder to get you there, with absolutely nothing but steel crosshatched bars to catch you if you fall (after you fall 80 feet independently). I'm not scared of heights, at all, and it was one of the scariest things I've ever done. Especially since I was doing so barefoot, as my rope sandals would've slipped too much. Now I have Jesus-like puncture wounds in my feet from doing so, since we didn't have lights and the platform was littered with random screws poking up. Ow. I probably have tetanus. Anyway, I imagine it was something like a hot air balloon is.
Anyway. Tonight my dad's out of town, and lately he's been enforcing this superfluous midnight curfew, basically just to show that at 17 years old and with financial dependence I have to abide by whatever he says. So, of course, I figured...nice. A night off from this ridiculous curfew. But no. He claims he's going to call, post-midnight, just to make sure I'm home.
Wonderful.
I guess I'll just have to have people come to me.
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[Sunday
June 11th, 2006 ] |
So last night was dramatic. Kinda. My dad was out of town so I invited people over, even though I knew my brother was there, sick. And so when I showed up with three people, Jess was with him so I figured it would be okay. We'd just stay on separate floors of the house. But I'd invited more people before I figured out my brother could hear everything from his room. So he was super-pissed, said I didn't respect him, etc. All of this through Jess of course. So Jess convinced him to go to her house, but not without a lot of harsh words towards me. So people came over, and it was alright, and we made vodka milk shakes, and I just got finished cleaning everything, and I would've slept later except as soon as I woke up I was out of my drunken stupor and realized what I'd done to my brother I became RACKED WITH GUILT and now I am awaiting his inevitable arrival.
I picked my friends and partying over my brother. I feel so Michael Alig. I feel like shit. He was sick and I made him leave and he will probably not forgive me for quite some time.
But THE best movies are on TV right now.
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[Saturday
June 3rd, 2006 ] |
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music |
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Ryan Phillipe's voice? |
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The SAT was today. The morning was kinda rough...I knew that I should probably not go out last night, probably not stay up when I had to get up at like 5:30, but did anyway. It was a dramatic night, but not for me...ah, when emo chicks fight, or at least threaten to fight, outside of hardcore shows...and the next day there are Myspace bulletins that read "OWNED, SLUT." Ha. I never really know my role in this situations...who am I allowed to be friends with?!
Anyway. Tonight WILL be celebratory. And tomorrow I'll deal with all the shit I have to do.
Also, I think I've mentioned this before, but I'd really like to own a cranberry bog in Massachusetts some day. For two reasons: 1) nothing ELSE is harvested that way, I don't think and 2) I live in California, it would be a very Martha Stewart vacation spot.
I only have to write the next Great American Novel first. Or at least, the next Da Vinci Code, complete with movie deals and diet books.
Also, I'm watching Cruel Intentions on TV, waiting to come to a decision about what to do tonight, and I think they might've cut out the two-girl makeout sesh. Which is strange, since that's the only reason anyone actually watches this movie. I just like the scene where they find her coke in the crucifix.
Wait. Doesn't he die in the end?
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| Oxbow Day |
[Sunday
May 28th, 2006 ] |
So Peter is at a boarding art school, the Oxbow School in Napa, for one semester right now. And at the end of the semester, they have a final show where they don't have any academic classes for a month, everyone just works on their own piece for this show every day, and lots of people come and see it. So Mike, Mike's friend Liberty and I all drove down to Napa yesterday to see it. The pieces were set up throughout the three studios, and each kid stood by their piece and answered questions. It was amazing.
( Pictures )
It was a deliriously fun day.
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[Thursday
May 11th, 2006 ] |
So Hunter calls me last night. He says, "So...Joanna Newsom's playing tonight, at the National." The National Hotel is about...a 5-minute walk, 68-second drive from my house. I turn to Jess, who is sitting next to me on the couch, and say "JOANNANEWSOMATTHNATIONALTONIGHTOHMYGODOHMYGODYOU'RECOMINGWITHME." And so we go. We get there at 9. Smog opens, but he doesn't start playing until 10. And it was boring as shit. I don't know how he tells his own songs apart. But eventually Joanna started to play.
And I can now die happy.
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[Wednesday
May 3rd, 2006 ] |
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( Woo )
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[Monday
May 1st, 2006 ] |
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So.
I've officially become one of the Those Girls.
The girls that make careless traffic mistakes because they're too busy on their phones. In this case, I was listening to a voicemail from my brother and accidentally turned left at an intersection, even though it was backed up, which blocked pretty much everyone from moving. Yeah.
BUT, if you ask me, it's justifiable.
I was in complete and utter shock because the message was from my brother, telling me that he got into UC Berkeley.
UC-fucking-Berkeley, the top public university in the NATION, and somewhere in the top 10 (maybe even top 5) of the WORLD. The school I probably won't get into.
I hate him like every other day, but god...congratulations to him.
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[Saturday
April 29th, 2006 ] |
OF COURSE I missed the June SAT sign-up deadline by one day. And OF COURSE this happened for the May test date too. FUCK I AM RETARDED. AND I NEED A LIFE COACH, OR A PERSONAL ASSISTANT, OR SOMETHING BESIDES A DISCOUNTED AND DOCTORED DAY PLANNER FEATURING THE ART OF SOME AMERICAN POST-DEPRESSION ARTIST THAT I DON'T EVEN LIKE THAT MUCH.
Yeah, what I really need is a life coach. Someone I can call when I'm having a problem, a real, serious problem, like whether or not I should eat breakfast or what to do if I'm running late for work or something like that.
There were, at one point, four other people in this house besides me. Now there's just me. I have absolutely no idea where they've gone. Actually, that's a lie, I know exactly where they are but I resent that no one thought telling me was worth the effort. I estimate that when they left I was just on the front porch, trying to decide on an M.I.A. ringtone.
My dad's getting me a credit card. Sean too. I don't really know why, he just said he was. No limit. I could buy a Porsche. Maybe I should. Except I like my car, because my car is a beast and it saved me that night a few weeks ago when I ran it into a ditch with people in the car and then the cops showed up and I had to lie to them about it and say they were in someone else's car but all it ended up costing was a AAA use (a huge tow truck had to come pull me out) which doesn't cost anything more than you already pay for the service and my car was totally and completely fine. I kissed the steering wheel. Unfortunately, my mother doesn't see this as all being really quite okay. She sees it as a perfect excuse for grounding me for the first time ever. What the fuck. I have like 12 days left.
Anyway, I think a Porsche probably would've gotten all fucked up. And I'd have to transfer my "I'd rather be reading Bukowski" bumper sticker.
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allie_caulfield's journal