Grades

I got all As this semester...one was an A-, but still, booyah.

I Never Feel Proud

Ash is an INTP, I am an INFP:

I always wonder about this, because out of the "fictional" famous INFPs, I find some of my favorite characters:

Calvin (Calvin and Hobbes)
Bastian (The Neverending Story)
E.T.: the ExtraTerrestrial
Doug Funny, Doug cartoons
Tommy, Rug Rats cartoons
Rocko, Rocko's Modern Life cartoons

If any of the following doesn't sound like me, you must not know me very well:


INFPs never seem to lose their sense of wonder. One might say they see life through rose-colored glasses. It's as though they live at the edge of a looking-glass world where mundane objects come to life, where flora and fauna take on near-human qualities.

INFP children often exhibit this in a 'Calvin and Hobbes' fashion, switching from reality to fantasy and back again. With few exceptions, it is the NF child who readily develops imaginary playmates (as with Anne of Green Gables's "bookcase girlfriend"--her own reflection) and whose stuffed animals come to life like the Velveteen Rabbit and the Skin Horse.

INFPs have the ability to see good in almost anyone or anything. Even for the most unlovable the INFP is wont to have pity.

Their extreme depth of feeling is often hidden, even from themselves, until circumstances evoke an impassioned response.

Of course, not all of life is rosy, and INFPs are not exempt from the same disappointments and frustrations common to humanity. As INTPs tend to have a sense of failed competence, INFPs struggle with the issue of their own ethical perfection, e.g., perfo rmance of duty for the greater cause. An INFP friend describes the inner conflict as not good versus bad, but on a grand scale, Good vs. Evil.

Stranger Dazier

I am sitting at a window. A girl who looks like Chelsea is outside playing with her daughter and husband. The small orange trees outside the window move slightly because of the wind, and the flowers move even more. I'm hot. Espresso hits me like a flaming brick, and I just had two shots in a very quick drink. I catch a draft every so often from someone opening a door behind me, and I think that I'm feeling what the trees feel. I've decided that I like the sound of wind through pine trees. It is a nonviolent brushing noise that is like a very large man walking heavily. Intimidating for no reason at all. The steam wand makes a good attempt at impression, and I have to wonder about the serendipity of things. I look at friends often and think, "How can they still not know who I am?" It occurs to me that Leslie does, which is odd. We don't see each other, and I always feel like I'm sort of bothering her at least a little bit, or like she has so many fun friends and I'm always too serious. At the same time though, I really do tell her things. Not that all of my friends have betrayed me (most have not), but I really believe her when she says that she won't tell anyone. Maybe it's because we don't have any overlapping circles; rays pointed in different directions. She is moving to Tucson. I am sad about this for no reason. I don't see her now, even though we live within ten or fifteen miles of each other. I hope that she does well where she's going. Maybe I like that she does what I feel like I cannot do. She moves through her world with blinders on. She is just running straight forward towards nothing at all, not letting heavy people slow her down. She is living largely for her own purposes, which she isn't even sure of. She goes to California. I feel like I'm tied down. Like if I leave, people will die. I am in the crowd on which she is being carried, maybe. If I am rooted in the ground, blowing straight up with all of my breath, she is the person that I'm keeping aloft. The roots are what worry me. They aren't my body. They are the invasive tendrils of beautiful dying things. Little orange trees stand up against gentle winds, but they are in the pots that I put them in. I'm constantly nailing metal hoops around wooden pots. I need to make metal pots for more trees.

Strange Daze

I always wonder if no one is as perceptive as me. When I am acting obviously not myself, no one ever seems to realize that and ask me what's up. They float on by like so many idiot butterflies. I generally recognize the distress in other people, and if they haven't already told me (most people can't wait to tell you about the stress or problems in their life), I will ask what is wrong. I try not to pry. If they say something about not wanting to talk about it, or that they are fine and just drop it, I let it go. The point though is that I ask. Now, when I am not myself, and I am responding to things in ways that I would never normally respond, I wonder why no one asks me what is wrong. They claim after the fact that if I had only told them that I was having a bad day, they would have understood. But that's not the point. I struggle with isolation and invisibility. I want to know that someone sees me, despite my best attempts at hiding. I feel like I see a lot of people like me , and they usually become my friends, which must mean that they also wanted secretly to be found. But still no one asks. They let me snap at them. They let me respond without sympathy to sympathetic situations. They let me say nothing at all, which is against my nature. I don't care if I've insulted you in this way. If you were a friend, you'd know that it wasn't my normal response, and you should be worried. If a person suddenly falls to the floor and convulses, the thought process is "Oh what the hell? This isn't normal. Is this a joke? I think it's serious. What's the problem? How can I help?" unless you're an asshole, in which case the thought process is "Oh what the hell? This isn't normal. I'm getting weirded out. I'm out of here." So why when I'm verbally and emotionally convulsing, everyone seems to just get the fuck out of here? What a strange week.

Liquid Days by Philip Glass

This is one of those songs that blows me away EVERY time I hear it, but somehow I always forget about it. It's one of the greatest compositions I've ever heard. Definitely one of the most important songs of my life. Should have made the previous list, but didn't. Another song addendum coming up.


IN LIQUID DAYS

Oh Round Desire
Oh Red Delight
The River is Blood
The Time is Spent

Love likes me
Love takes it shoes off and sits on the couch
Love has an answer for everything
Love smiles gently...and crosses its legs
well here we are well here we are

Sleep
Sleep

Sleep...Being in Air
Sleep...Turning to speak
Sleep...Losing our Way
Sleep...Pour it all Out

We are old Friends
I offer Love a Beer
Love watches Television
Love needs a bath
Love could use a shave
Love rolls out of the chair and wiggles
on the floor
Jumps Up
I'm Laughing at Love

Drink Me
Drink Me
Drink Me
Drink Me

Drive...Why do You Ask?
Breaths...Still is the Night
Drive...It is much Further
Sleep...Than We Thought

In Liquid Days
Land Travel(s) Hard
Fly Home Daughter
Cover Your Ears

To Ashbaby

You can mostly move in on Thursday, which is when I plan on like offish signing the lease and doing a walk through (you may come to this if you like)/getting the keys. So if you be wantin' to, you can bring a small load with you on Thursday to drop off when we do a walk-through. Or a large load. Whatevzies. I'm going to start moving non-essentials this weekend. Stuff like clothes that I don't need or whevr. Call me.

No textie

Just so you know, I'm like super over on my text (hundreds of dollars over), so stop texting me for the time being.

Met with Allan (alan? allen? alin? al inn? aladdin?) and picked up the lease, which looks fine, but we ARE going to be liable for the whole security deposit + rent for this first month, which is going to be insano expensive/I will be living completely on credit card for the little while.

Think that I'm going to work at the bikeshop. It'll give me about $9 an hour and hopefully 32.5+ hours a week. It will also be a good reason to become more bike-dependent again aka commute by bike. I previewed my planned route from the house to the shop, and it is beautiful, so I'm totes stokes.

Much love.

Laird of the Hunterbear

Sexy Pics

The master's biff



Wood fliz!


TIZ ON THE WIZ!


Sexy kitchen with brand new e'erthang!



Tasty log-infused great room:

New House

The landlord called me this morning to let me know that they are accepting our application. I am heading over to the place tomorrow (11am) to get the lease from him. I am thinking that hopefully our move in date will be April 15th or so. Move in is going to be expensive ($2500), which sucks. Oh well, I love the house, so I am okay with it. Woot, more update later on. Byeee.

Regarding Getting A New House

So I faxed the application for the new house in yesterday morning at work. Actually, let's redo this. Here was my day:

6am - wake up
630 - work
900 - fax application for carpet free house
930 - leave work, eat excellent breakfast burrito
1030 - shower
1130 - arrive at church
1200 - mass
130 - leave church, head to paul's dad's house for reception remembrance thing
200 - get call saying that grandmother may be dying, should go see her in hospital
245 - arrive at hospital
330 - leave hospital
345 - call landlord, tell him that I faxed the application...he says he'll look tomorrow for it
350 - get awesome soy mocha from Lux
425 - pick up vegan BLT from mandala...super delicious
500 - get back to church
600 - mass
745 - finally leave church
845 - rockband
1000 - talk to erin on the phone. She says that the landlord already called her (around 5ish) because I had listed her as a reference on the application. She said he was sort of weird, but that he was impressed by my plans to go to medical school and stuff. She said it went pretty well.
That's all. He should be calling me today, I think. I'll update as I know.