The Strip was already beginning to grow thick with traffic and tourists shielding their eyes from the noon sun, pointing out good spots to each other to set up camp for the New Year's festivities. With hands defensively clenching the steering wheel, I was trying to convince my persistently optimistic cousin that, yes, the entire world is beginning to hate America. In my persistently pessimistic frame of mind, I was beginning to envision all the sorts of horrible ways that something could go wrong here in Vegas tomorrow night, and for some reason, trying to convince others as well.

"No... I know a lot of foreign exchange students who like America. Germans, Germans like us. And so do the Norwegians and Swedes." My cousin smiled at her retort.

"The Swedish like everyone," I said, glaring ahead of me at two very lost-looking tourists ignoring the "Don't Walk" sign.

Maybe after all of that I should have just pointed her to articles like this.

But as much as I cradle and reinforce my own penchant for doom, I really, really, really hoped that I won't be right.
...even if the tourists piss me off....

My dreams are unrelenting.

They are snapshots of my un-self:
All the things I could have been
All the people I've never known
All the songs I never sing
All the chances I never took.
Like a lottery winner dangling his ticket above your head,

and then ripping it in half... laughing.

My dreams are serious
But they won't look me in the eye
They cut me in half without so much as a blink

And every morning I wake up, I'm a little bit less of myself.
And pieces of that ticket are still fluttering to the ground.

You know...

I have often wondered to myself what on earth could make a person become a conservative. Were they reprimanded for bullying poor kids in grade school? Did images of the crying Indian in the anti-litter commercials haunt their sleeping ten year-old minds? Or was it simply that they were raised by heartless, self-absorbed oil barons and logging tycoons and are only looking to make Daddy proud? We may never know. But whether or not we ever discover the reasons behind the conservatives' madness, it seems that they can't understand the liberal mindset, either. What a crazy mixed-up world, huh kids?

Hear the conservatives cry out, "Liberals don't want to believe in human evil!"

It's almost as if they actually believe they have it all wrapped up. Well boys, before you start patting each other on the back and lighting up the oversized guitars for solving the liberal jigsaw puzzle, let's think about this one for a minute. The left and the right, by definition, disagree on nearly every basic issue that can even elicit dissent. So just why would we agree on what constitutes evil? I, for one, think George W. Bush is evil. [Sound of secret service knocking on the door... "Uh, I mean, I love our president! Look, I have a flag in the window!" ...Sound of placated secret service waddling off to harass anti-war protesters... "Whew."] The idea that one man, elected not by the people but by a select few ancients in black robes, has the power to force us to war whether we want it or not - that's evil. The systematic dismantling of decades of progressive environmental reform, a president with close ties to the nation's largest disreputably-managed companies, agencies specifically designed to impose Orwellian intrusions upon privacy with complete disregard to the fundamental rights bestowed by our Constitution - that's evil.

Conservatives, don't go crying that liberals don't believe in human evil... Because we do.
Just look at yourselves.

So I've decided I'm not taking down our Christmas decorations until after New Year's.
It's just something I have to do.

Days start evaporating one by one until you barely see the mist of what used to be...
And damnit, if I can hold onto Christmas just a little longer, I'm going to.

The road hummed beneath, sliding by like water, and the dark danced with the lights of the freeway. From the passenger seat I watched it, this waltz, as the 10:00 p.m. shadows swirled around the sprinkling of orange streetlight. The radio was singing another ambitious tune, as if crying out for the attention it had decided to deserve. But I ignored it, instead watching the back of my hand pulsate with this exchange of photons and color. Tony lifted his hand from the steering wheel and extended a pinky, knowing I'd return his unsaid swear. I waited for a moment, wondering if characters in movies ever know they're being watched, and then extended my own pinky to curl around his... in the orange and the black... with the radio still crying out for love...

During my last-minute shopping fiasco this morning, I spotted a woman that looked like a crack-addled Carrot Top. Truly. I did a double-take right there in line with the he/she a mere ten feet away. She caught me staring at her trying to discern whether or not I was indeed looking at a drugged-out comedian, and quickly averting my gaze, I reassured myself that, no, no, that was just a hideous, angry-looking woman.

Still...
I feel wholly unsettled...
...as if somewhere out there...
Carrot Top is storming through back alleys, looking for a fix and waiting for me to haplessly stumble upon him....

{shudder}

Christmas thoughts, Jenny... Christmas thoughts....
Ahhhhh.......

Okay, I'm better now.

You are a persistent little bugger, aren't you? My silence over this past week hasn't deterred you in the least. Kudos to you, my friend.

On the other hand, it just goes to show that you have far too much time on your hands. Don't ya think? Maybe you should get out of the house more often. Maybe you should volunteer to help orphans cross streets or save old ladies from burning buildings... or however that goes.

Personally, Christmas means action! And I am ActionGirl. One second, I'm over here buying Christmas presents. The next second, I'm graduating college (Yes, it's true - I'm finally free! And no, I didn't fall off the stage.) And in a few more seconds I'm zipping off to cuddle loved ones. Aren't I exciting?

Well, in case my streak of action (and anti-computer mindset) continues until after Christmas, have fun, open presents, and get out of the house more, ya lazy bums...

:)

Sometimes I feel unnaturally pressed between this and that, trying to be something I'm not to appear to be just like myself.

If that makes any sense...

No, I didn't think it did. But someday you may know what I mean. And when you do, let me know.
Maybe we can figure it out.

Read this impressive and wholly depressing article on the state of our nation's future. [Courtesy of Applekid]
We truly do live in the final days of our empire before the fall.

I think I'm going to start looking into Canadian real estate...

My philosophy of life can probably be summed up best by one simple phrase:
Expect the worse, and things can only end up looking good.

It works. Try it. For instance, I expect the radio to play crap every hour, on the hour, and during the hour. So when they play something good, my unceasing amazement and surprise make the crap all worthwhile.

The genius that is Porter from T.J. Monkey's has a similar strategy.
Kinda.

Well, if you don't expect anything from it, it may come out sounding similar. Trust me.

2 minutes and 10 seconds into "Powdered Milk Man!" by The Aquabats, and all I can say is God bless The Aquabats.

What would this world be without campy ska? I don't even want to imagine it.

The Devil's Dozen:
"It is said ... If 13 people sit down to dinner together, all will die within the year. The Turks so disliked the number 13 that it was practically expunged from their vocabulary (Brewer, 1894). Many cities do not have a 13th Street or a 13th Avenue. Many buildings don't have a 13th floor. If you have 13 letters in your name, you will have the devil's luck (Jack the Ripper, Charles Manson, Jeffrey Dahmer, Theodore Bundy and Albert De Salvo all have 13 letters in their names)."

{Jenny counts the letters in her full name... DAMN. I'm doomed.}

That's right. It's Friday the 13th people.

Time to lock up the cats, wrap tape around those sharp edges, curl up in a nice foam blanket, and hope for the best.

I stopped reading Rolling Stone when N*Sync hit the cover. I just abandoned all hope and moved on.
So I'm never surprised when they throw some half-naked, dime-a-dozen pop slut on the cover and call her a rock star.

But I have to say, calling Britney Spears one of the women of rock was lower than I thought even RS could go.
Maya of Mother Goddess puts powerful words into play about this embarassment in her open letter to Rolling Stone.
Read it.

Now playing: Adiemus - Amate Adea

So here's a paradox. Organized religion and anything involving the often close-mindedness of mispracticed Christianity disturbs and irritates me to no end. But I can't help but feeling an incredible sense of well-being in the auditory presence of hymnal music. Hymns in Latin are particularly comforting (most likely for the fact that I can't understand any of their self-righteous babbling) but English hymns aren't too bad either.

Why?
I just don't get it.

Okay, so maybe I do.

I remember being five, with my sun-colored curls, dressed in an ice cream sundae of a dress: whipped cream ruffles and cream lace splashed with strawberry topping ribbons. I even had glossy little white shoes with quarter inch heels. And I remember that big Catholic church that just felt so powerful and embracing and the way the sun came twinkling through the colors of the stained glass windows. The silenced coughs and quiet steps as I passed with my grandparents by that little bowl of holy water that I could never reach. Every time I went I felt in awe. And I remember the music most of all. The unified chants of a hundred plus people holding books and lifting up songs...

And now, even though I know better than to trust a religion that honors hypocrisy above all else, I can't help but feel like an inspired five year old whenever I hear this music.

I have several excuses for why I haven't imparted more grand wisdom lately. Really. See?

1 - I'm in my last week of college, and thus, I'm both fried and sick of writing, so you can just take your need for updates and shove it. ...Um. Sorry about that. Just a little frustrated. You understand.

2 - Tripod and their goddamn pop-up ads: more annoying than watching TRL with nothing to plug into your ears. I know this, and if there were a way for me to wrench my domain back from the bastards who took it, I would.

3 - Did I mention that I'm sick of writing at this point? 16 pages of research papers in one week. That's how much I've been forced to churn out and gussy up. And it pisses me off.

4 - My cat's eating a piece of Post-it paper. {I know that's not an excuse; it's just really distracting....}

Okay, that's it. No more for you for now.

[As a sidenote, if anyone is able to provide me with mp3s or shns of the December 5th Zwan show in Vegas, I'd be more than willing to hike up that update frequency.]

Thursday, Thursday, Thursday....

It couldn't be any sooner?
2.5 papers to go.
And on Thursday, I'll be able to breathe again.

When you haven't read seriously for some time, words fall out of your head.
I'm realizing that now as I attempt to finish the last 16 pages of my college education and find myself searching for synonyms that a sixth grader could easily supply.

This is going to be a long night.

Does it ever cross anyone else's mind that with the sheer number of politically dissatisfied bloggers, not to mention the thousands unheard, that.... well... Um. Isn't an estranged and unrepresented populace the first ingredient in a revolution? Really. And given the fact that the internet is the single most powerful communication tool, don't we already have a stable infrastructure from which we can come together?

{Jenny quiets down quickly, looks around, and remembers that free speech like that is akin to treason now.}

Not that I'm saying anyone should begin organizing the hoardes of angry citizens yearning to be heard. No, not at all. Nor would I ever insinuate that this fine government of ours needs ousting. I'm perfectly content with fine war-fightin', god-fearin', hate-spreading job our president is doing. Yes, perfectly content.

{coughrevoltcough}

Oh excuse me.

Though the pessimist in me says that none of us can stop the current American government from forcing its ideologies and atrocities on the rest of the world, there may still be a slight hope somewhere in the back of my brain that this country is still of the people and for the people. That's why it's so confusing to me to see the media telling us that everyone is just rolling over for Bush's big war. "We all know it's inevitable, so let's talk about our exciting new weapons," say CNN, Tom Brokaw, and the NY Times in unison.

As the U.S. steadily loses global allies and more and more citizens of the world begin to see us as violent, war-hungry bullies, we have to keep in mind that (at least in theory) this government depends upon its people. Obviously, if theoretical democracy worked the way it should, I doubt things would have gone this far. We'd probably even have a president who could read right now. But there's that tiny part of me that says we have to believe in democracy for it to even exist.

On December 10, International Human Rights Day, we all have a chance to give voice to that hope by protesting the war on Iraq. United For Peace, a national campaign to stop the war, wants everyone to realize that every action is important. Organize candlelight vigils. Protest in small groups before your city halls. Distribute flyers and educate the public.

Maybe we do still live in a democracy. There's only one way to tell. Speak up.

Two days into the last real week of my college education: time for a snapshot of my head.

No, I don't know what I'm going to do with my degree.
Yes, I'm still procrastinating on doing this week's Chaucer paper.
I can fully recite the first 18 lines of The Canterbury Tales but don't think I want to - hopefully I can sacrifice some grade points.
Do I iron my graduation gown or not? It's been so long since my high school graduation that I can't remember...
Damn, it's been so long since my high school graduation.
Age: 22
Feels: 17
Looks: That's another story entirely
And no, I don't get as much sleep as I should.
It's the nightmares mostly...
Well, the nightmares I used to have. They've been (almost sadly) absent lately.
I really do hate ceremonies... Formality is my arch rival.
God... what am I going to do with my degree?

Traffic School 101:

The left lane of the freeway is what is known as the fast lane. If you're travelling in the fast lane and a car is approaching you from behind travelling at a faster speed, merge right. Travelling 65 mph in the left lane only shows that you lack this basic knowledge, and remaining there with a notably faster car stuck behind you shows that you're an asshole.

To reiterate (for the simple minds in the group):
Left lane = fast lane
Faster car behind you = Move over

-End Rant-

Limbo. I suppose that's how I'd put it.

I feel like I've been stuck in some interdimensional waiting room for a week without any kind of reading material. At this point my psyche would even settle for a decade-old Sports Illustrated. In one basket I've got this domain name problem, and in another is my looming graduation. I'm surrounded by yet more, filled with all sorts of other troubling goodies.

I guess I feel like if I wait things out everything will turn out well in the end. That's always been my strategy. Leave it all up to some unseen force vaguely named Fate and hope for the best. So far, it hasn't treated me too badly. That is, up until this week.

And so here I am, sitting in the vestibule of action, waiting for the present to resume course and begging for a hand-out from the powers that be.

It's actually pretty pathetic.