Unemployed in Greenland

dreaming again.

2005-05-31T21:49:00.000+02:00

a rich man funded my trip. it was important i do this, important to him. he stood to make a good deal of money. perhaps a great deal of closure. perhaps his severe, black-haired wife had something to do with it. she had the look of someone rich in everything she did. rich and intelligent, not a common combination. she watched over the whole operation jealously and from behind painted eyes. i could taste my desperation. it was like heaving and continuing a conversation. every morning. i was beginning to feel as though i'd already died, with something small and alive inside, fighting.

we built the trap. we built the chariot. it was a dull, colorless process, in a dead world.

did i mention i'm vietnamese?

we prowled our trap, outside the volcano. me in my floating chariot and they from their rich apartments. they ate duck with mahogany chopsticks, the lava a glittering lamp in the distance. i sweated on colorless pumice. it cut my feet and in the darkness the blood made no stain.

i found the shark, i saw it snaking through the waters. angry. in a small pen, and going mad. it made no noise, and i found i'd underestimated it's size. i couldn't size it up properly in the steam. the sweat dripped into my eyes, i threw the harpoon, i missed. i threw the harpoon, it sunk into the tough shark flesh. i retreated into the furthest recesses of my chariot and lost consciousness.

they were a lot more careful with me the second time. this time, i ate with the man in their apartment. i'd eaten in such fine apartments before, but he wouldn't know that. it was comforting and i was grateful that he didn't talk much. with my third eye, i watched the apartment when i left and entered the elevator. the man left the room, entered another, and re-emerged with his wife's head. well, something that looked like it, well-painted to look just like her. a container. the top was rubber and he reached inside, pulled out a handful of hair. her head was attached, the real one this time. it had been dead for some time. he pulled it up to his face and kissed it.

the chariot sped behind the shark, this place more colorless than the last. i saw his rows of yellow teeth and beady eyes. i crawled as far into the recesses of the chariot as i could. a plastic crib slid into view. i screamed.

angry man in car

children in dirt

dead head

keys

school

drinking champagne

fireplace

it was terrifying, believe me.

on the move...

2005-04-22T20:46:00.000+02:00

it's that packing time. it's that registration time. it's that cleaning time, the carefully tucking things together and sitting on suitcases time. how much stuff does one really need to stay in another country for five months? it's a long time. so much could happen in five months...

i know you're all sitting on the edges of your seats, wondering exactly which classes i've signed up for. well, i'll spread the love and spill the beans:

global environmental change
dublin, ireland: a brief literary history (lady gregory, yeats, synge, o'casey, beckett and joyce)
adv. modern dance

i haven't signed up for the dance class yet... gotta wait until i'm in the country first. the literature class should be very cool, since it's in dublin and we get to go to theater performances and the like... it's also not going to happen for a few months. i hate waiting.

and now the big decision: what books do i bring along? oh dear oh dear oh dear! life of pi? theory of relativity? tropic of cancer? man's search for meaning? searching for god knows what? atonement?

oh boy. i've shelves-full of books asking to be read and re-read. movies to be watched. how will i be able to boil it all down? does anyone have any packing tips? i'm pretty good at packing clothes effeciently, but suggestions are always welcome...

music: return to tunguska (alan parsons project)

2005-04-18T16:05:00.000+02:00

2005-04-09T18:40:00.000+02:00

camera found! It's a Polaroid Land Camera Supercolor 1000, and it's absolutely beautiful. although, i'm having to take antonio's word for it, as it was his first communion present and it hasn't yet changed hands. antonio is ten ninjas. now all i need is to find out what i can do for film... hmmm. ebay? i hope jacob likes the way it looks. he's going to be looking at it a lot, i'm afraid.

so guess what i'm up to? thaaat's right. red wine and C++, but the kinks haven't come on yet. nope, we're still in the j's. that means joy division. then we have to get through K.C. and the sunshine band.

yeah, so jake jake jake. oh, and jake? jake! yep, jake. you've got it. what's his name? jake. which is your favorite jake? jake. jake jake? jake...

there was no water today. and i was pretty smelly. i had to go to the gym, and they had no towels. of course, i still managed my usual mystique and glamour through extensive use of ... um, soap. though. anyway, nevermind.

italy is golden today, it's warm and summer is here. even with my camera and stereo stolen, enforcing loss of memories and lack of music over daily long-distance commutes, i am getting along. admirably, i'd say. i've replaced the digital camera with a polaroid, and i'm going to put an ancient tape-player where the mp3 CD player was. the upside is that a polaroid takes rad pictures and the tape-player lets me use my ipod in the VW van. whoop whoop! stylin' stylin' free stylin'! for free!

i stole this from poonannypie:

i expected a MUCH lower score... much much. i definitely never clicked any of the "ubergeek" buttons...

music: transmission (joy division)

countdown.

2004-12-09T22:57:00.000+01:00

starting to feel myself a bit back to normal. one week until the final exam and they day after -- scotland! och.

2004-12-05T04:16:00.000+01:00

tonight i cried.

because he has zero motivation.

because worse things have come out of his mouth.

because i'm going through the same thing.

why can't we talk about this? why can't we talk about things that are important? why does life stretch on and on with no end, and no happy ending? i hate i hate i hate i hate living. and i'm sure i'll laugh at this tomorrow, but right now it sure seems real.

cassini

2004-12-04T02:41:00.000+01:00

and out with it! maybe you've all been wondering. wanting to know. is she? is he? are they? and now i'm here to tell you. i've found him, and his name is horizon. i searched for him, and his name is void. i chased him, and his name is remorse. i caught him, and his name is safety. he slipped away, and his name is sattelite. softly and fleeting, a kiss sitting on my tongue, shimmering, i lost him in the night sky. i tried to see him with another, failed, and saw him in my mind's eye, breaking free of the stars and crashing to earth again. "did you feel the earth shake?" he asked. naturally i did! the kiss slides down my throat, i'm swallowing. a sattelite? nay, mars has fastened itself glimmering, onto me, it has lost itself in my familiar terrain. i need a map to find my way through these early hours, alone. my head is not my own, and it's reclamation is in order. i'll put it off until tomorrow. leave uncharted territory cold and virgin. when i wake tomorrow the snow will have fallen and it will be new and foreign again anyway.

skateboards, one-liners and popularity

2004-12-02T10:47:00.000+01:00

the italian library lady who reads cat in the hat in italian to american kids giggled herself silly over my homemade shirt.

i picked up "the house of scorpion" by Nancy Farmer to add to my reading list. i am currently reading:

"the fabric of the cosmos" Brian Greene
"merlin" Stephen Lawhead
"the hostile hospital" Lemony Snicket
"harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban" J K Rowling
"the universe and the teacup: the mathematics of truth and beauty" K C Cole
"C++ data structures" Dale and Teague
"JavaScript" O'Reilley

why can't i stick to one at a time? heck if i know. i've finished a lot of books in the last few weeks, though. "taliesen" (stephen lawhead), "the secret life of bees" (bea carlton) and several others i can't remember. i love these times, though. and i love the feeling of reading the last page of a book. it's almost as lovely as that first opening, the smell of the book, the way it's covers bend or crack or give in your hands. and then that feeling of closure when you introduce the covers with no bent pages or bookmarks between... that closure that is such a mystery to me in everyday life now present at the very end. i wonder if death will feel the same way... someone will take out all of my bookmarks, and i'll realize that my book is closed. i hope i don't have one of those garish red leather covers with the gold embossing.

jake sent me a one-line email today that embarassed me and got me all excited and flustery. he always manages to do that... so now i'm walking a few inches off the pavement again and plotting my reply.

i wished today (again) that i could skateboard. it would make things so much faster! the idea has crossed my mind a hundred times... and it makes so much sense. i'd drive less, i'm sure. although the idea of me jumping on and riding down to baiano is so scary i giggle every time... i know jake rode halfway down with john on the same board, but i know i'd hit the cartoloria and have to be peeled off with a spatula. maybe one day, though. for transportation.

and now i have been bestowed with the honor above all honors... my 15-year-old sister, who is and always has been cooler than i, has invited me to sit with her at lunch in the high school. the idea is approched with no less than serious trepidation, as high school was not exactly a jolly time for me, but the thought of two-dollar pasta is an exciting one. plus, i've got an automatic in, as my cello-playing, hoodie-wearing, uber-smart sister will be along.

music: NONE, i'm in the library. so, babies crying, keyboards and the sound of people furiously reading...

2004-11-28T20:16:00.000+01:00

i can't wait to move out of this house.

some of the things are worth staying for... the fireplace, the neverending supply of coffee, the laughter and good food. but there are also bits of my tongue i have to bite off, my teeth are receeding back into my gums with the force of my keeping them clamped, and my stomach roils. my right eye twitches. little signs that show i'm roasting inside. i have personally the two most stubborn, unforgiving and unapologetic people in the world here locally.

chip. chip. chip.

in thinking that other people are very selfish, i feel myself to be selfish. it's a horrible cycle, and it makes me feel guilty. pile it on. someday, with all this guilt, i will be a perfect ghoul.

three days, no word. i wish i had a magic wrench to fix my insides.

music: i will be there when you die (godspeed you black emperor)

2004-11-27T23:27:00.000+01:00

wohin geht er, wenn er verschwindet ist? tage lang, warte ich auf eine antwort. es ist leer. ich hasse warten... eigentlich könnte ich diese ausgabe auch unten unter 'Paranoia' einsortieren, aber sowas einfach ist nie einfach einsortiert. es ist die leerstelle, die man nicht löschen kann. höllisch. gah.

heut' hab' ich keine Wörter, auf englisch oder auf deutsch. ich, sprachlos! tsk.

musik: when the curious girl realizes she is under glass (bright eyes)

2004-11-26T17:50:00.000+01:00

i'm tired of feeling guilty about things that matter.

world hunger, world peace. and that's just the beginning. i'm getting an ipod for christmas, and i'm torn between the convenience and fun of an ipod and the fact that if i were to take the money, i could buy a new jackets for missionaries. i could give food to people living on the street.

the Ukrainian family saw California, and they were never the same. they're willing to leave their home, their possesions, their university jobs and rich family, they'll lie and take advantage of people who are already unemployed, just for that dream of an SUV and a pool in the backyard. it's an evil ambition, and something that i am enough a part of that i understand it and am mystified by it at the same time. once, i thought that protesting against the government would save me from that. but it's not bush, and kerry is self-centered enough to spend his time leisurely often as not. it's not democrat or republican. it's every man and every woman who lives for convenience, each person who drops a child off at daycare to make it to a dayjob for that extra cushion, every sale of a designer shoe or every pill of prozac popped. every time mcdonalds passes another hamburger out the window, america is cheapened. real, authentic relationships are becoming a dying breed, and we selfishly cut our skin for that added proof that we are alive, we have beating hearts, we all breathe and bleed. if only being an animal were enough! we can't all be on the top of the human food chain. we can't all be bill gates.

don't get me wrong, i love nice things. i'm a snob, actually. a snob with hundreds of books and several computers. i have wireless internet and an ipod in the mail. i have a wardrobe stuffed with warm clothes, warm jackets, and a crate of shoes. i own CDs i've never listened to and books that i've never read. i take out trash every week of leftover bits. i scrape food off into the trashcan and buy drinks i'm not thirsty for.

and it makes me sick. people make me sick. human nature is vomit-inducing. we cloud our skies, we look down on each other for arbitrary reasons, we look our entire lives for the one relationship that will make us whole, make us feel real and worthy and alive. silly people... don't you know that you can't provide that for someone else, much less squeeze someone else into that puzzle piece?

damn hollywood.

and i repeat! get off of my soapbox!

2004-11-23T22:51:00.000+01:00

if anyone in the world loves me, they will bring me a hot beverage. and by anyone, i mean those who are only a few floors away and not nailed to the green recliner by a cat and a laptop.

the only thing that stands between me and a quality game of starcraft with the grooviest guy ever to sit behind a powerbook is calculus. i KNEW that calculus was going to cause me trouble someday...

if only so many small lovely things happened to me everyday. all i need is a hot beverage, and it would be perfect. but They're all withholding it from me. haven't i been a good sister to you? i NEVER ask for anything. PLUS i sent you clever trevor.

in case the above plea doesn't work, here is an observation: i hate this blog theme. i hate all blogger themes. why? because they're so ... blogger. they ooze pseudo-intellectualism. i need to dive into CSS. or maybe send justin some candy.

music: now it's done (straylight run)

the girl in stasis awaits transformation.

2004-11-22T17:32:00.000+01:00

i hate waiting.

it's all in stasis right now, see. there is a month until everything will break. at least i have it to look forward to. the thought of school makes me want to vomit... too much pressure, too many proofs past-due, too many books that are still hanging in limbo (aka the mail). but who am i kidding? i love the pressure. i love the suspense. i love the sense that something unexpected is waiting. just so long as that something isn't a big fat drop in my GPA.

there is also the frustration that comes from desperately wanting something free... i own four computers. how's that for being a lush? well, alright... 2 are the product of practical dumpster-diving, and another is several years old (a lifetime in computer terms... it will never see a another upgrade). i decided to experiment on one pulled from the computer graveyard, and have subsequently ended up pulling out a worrisome number of hairs. if i am bald, i will blame it entirely on bill gates. the bastard. i was entirely unable to even clean this poor computer (nicknamed Hansol, 'cause he's so hot right now... and it's printed on the monitor) of his evil influence. Hansol held onto his native language like a computer should never do. in the end, he refused to boot from a CD at all, and as i do not own a floppy drive, he shall remain window-ed until the end of days. or until i shell out for a USB floppy drive. i weep for his soul.

on a lighter note (and a less tech-y one), i went shopping for lighting for my room. i have a desk lamp that does well and one by my bed, but it was difficult to see all the nooks and crannies, and the spines of my books were lost to the darkness. if you would like to hear how i achieved magazine-worthy twinkling for $2, read on! enter the thrift store. it's a one-room store, and filled with broken things. they were having a sale, though. on all christmas items. christmas lights, a dollar a set! oh, and they look so pretty. they're white and twinkly and soft and i feel special. they're enough to read by, enough to work by, and my room feels positively cuddly. as i am not a cuddly person, this is comforting.

i can feel christmas coming. this is my favorite time of year. not because of christmas, per se, but because of the cold, and the way that people are forced to huddle together and bundle up to stay warm. this is the time of year when mom's closet becomes a topic of much neuron activity and starts to draw my eyes with each passing, and the fattened winter cats seek our laps with conviction. i can wear my half-gloves and embarass my sisters with my scarves. the winter brings out the best in me... the cleanest, most organized, part. the part that takes Q-tips and dust-off to my hardware and verifies and repairs passwords, vacuums neglected crannies and dusts (dusts!).

on that note, it's nearly 4am and i'm going to spend some quality time with my pillow and the yellow cat (who is already waiting).

"Life is a Yo-Yo, and Mankind ties knots in the string."

2004-11-22T17:11:00.000+01:00

the fire is roaring, and the wind outside is mashing our house with vim and vigour. (oh, maybe i just wanted to use the word 'vim'.) mom is out of town and so dad took his girls out for the evening. we lounged in a box at the opera house, in high heels and mascara (well, not dad). the opera house was red and padded with red velvet and mirrored walls, dripping glass chandeliers and with shiny marble floors of the kind that are ideal for sock-skating. the music was beyond breathtaking. i turned around in a burst of cello madness, and found my two cellist companions behind me with eyes closed, rapt faces soaking in the notes with perfect attention. after the fourth encore, we hunted down the performers, down into the very bowels of teatro san carlo, and found them not at all. dejected and told to do something that didn't sound nice by a man with a broom, we made our ways outside, drooping, into the rain (the rain!). our friends saw a familiar face, an old man, a bus driver. he couldn't contain the news from the children he drove to high school. "Io porto Yo Yo Ma!" he said, thumbs under his lapels, eyes disappeared under smiling wrinkles. finally the Man Himself came exploding through a side door, followed by his pianoforte accompianist and brandishing sharpies, taking down programs rapidly as they dashed in cut-time through the crowd. we all gave him an ovation as he beamed at us through the window of the bus and drove off. excellent.

hands red from clapping, and noses red from sniffing, the two cellist admitted to having slept through most of the concert. rapt indeed. more pictures to come. the camera flew to germany tonight and will be back on wednesday.

music: Symphony No. 2 in D, Op.36 [NDR Sinfonieorchester] (Ludwig van Beethoven)

the magic word.

2004-10-12T15:45:00.000+02:00

"dude. we're going to amalfi. wanna come?"

a bodiless muffled grunt escaped from the darkened room and the door closed with a bang.

"he's coming," and dan shot off again, flip-flops patting time against the pavement. the wind is gathering strength as the warm summer breezes slam the winter gales, so we bundled ourselves up, filled our tanks up with hot, bitter espresso, and padded down the spine to brave the Audi. the little black automobile had been lying dormant for a good month and gave us a good deal of lip in starting. it jumped and sneezed and spluttered and hiccuped to life, jolting us down the road to pick up our third party. brian looked distinctly unlike the dark sliver of grunting must i'd previously been led to believe represented him. i would have called him murphy. tomato hair, pasty cheeks with constellations of brown freckles spelled irish.

afternoon found us lost somewhere south of Naples with a half tank of gas, Modest Mouse tinkling from the tinny speakers, and a profound lack of conversation between our triad as we surveyed the scenery. we barely managed to squeeze our way between the cars and the cliffs, narrowly circumventing death to avoid the swarms of vespas.

"dude."

the magic word. both men stood transfixed, eyes moving up and down the harbor as if it were amsterdam's red light district, settling finally on the mecca of the "Boat Rental" hut. it was a mad dash, and i was whisked onto a rubber boat with a giant engine and propelled with reckless abandon across the bay, looking back briefly at the shore as it shrunk from view, taking with it the fishermen and the rowboats, the ladies in white linen dresses and the red sunning-chairs. i didn't have long to enjoy the view though. the elated wails of my comrades warned me that nothing wholesome was about to happen. warp 5 took us out, bouncing through the waves, doing wheelies and turns that frightened me into tucking every extremity into the provided loops and handles.

salty and laughing and considerably less energetic, we pulled our shoes on and sopped back into our old friend, the Audi. i should have heard the silent warning of the wharf as we slid out of view around a cliff. i should have felt the danger. i should have known better than to trust two very {feckless, daring, madcap, harebrained, daredevil} young demons with my life, limbs and particularly back. today i am an invalid (or quite nearly). i'm paying dearly to be able to remember every detail of that lovely afternoon. my today is full of a yesterday and my tomorrow will be full of a hospital.

was it worth it?

dude.

discrete math and ducttape.

2004-09-22T02:28:00.000+02:00

i am taping bark back onto the tree that discrete math and i carved our initials into. and that i later chopped down. tonight, i have hoisted it back up onto the stump, and we're working things out. with lots of duct tape.

in fact, i'd go so far as to say that i've never been happier than in my own comfy room, with candles, Chopin, my computers, and discrete math. it's the little things in life that matter. it's the highlighters that don't bleed through, the teapot that heats water in a nanosecond, the fact that jake will be online soon, and that i'm the only one awake in my village. i'm also going to be the smartest one in my village if i ever pass these classes.

rather than finding my niche in college, i am finding myself constantly tickled by increasing difficulties in understanding the subject matter. tickled in that makes-you-wanna-pee kind of tickle. the unpleasant sort. but at the same time, whenever i get my mind around another of demorgan's laws or another network protocol, another piece of C++, i get that lightbulb-in-the-stomach feeling. i look at people brightly, and the look back, frightened. ha! someday i will outshine you all, minions!

...tomorrow, the world! say the procrastinators.

and for now, all i can wish for is a clean self, a clean room, and most of all, 3000 fewer miles between jake and i.

i'll start with a shower.

music: dido and aeneas (purcell)

2004-09-09T13:50:00.000+02:00

christmas is coming, the tabby's getting fat...
please put some euros in my MIT ballcap!

we're already giving and recieving christmas presents in september. this year, i am giving rika one of the most famous prehistoric passage tombs in all of Europe... Newgrange! for the low, low price of 30 euro, Newgrange is prime Irish real estate! the price includes one (1) cruciform chamber, three (3) recesses, and is topped by a magnificent corbelled roof reaching to a height of 6m (20ft) above the floor. for no additional cost are also three (3) massive stone basins which presumably had some ritual use. perhaps they can be filled with pillows and used a cat-sleeps.

i hear the living room gets excellent light, even in the dead of winter!

merry christmas, rika.

plagues and thrifty me...

2004-09-09T01:29:00.000+02:00

being sick has it's advantages. like, tea with brandy. like, a guiltless day spent basking in the green glow of my computer with no pushups inbetween exercises to keep me feeling unlazy. like, the allowance of a book a fiction, a real treat in these days of four-inch textbooks with unhighlighted pages shrieking for attention and slashdot articles popping up every few minutes to keep me from turning paper pages. besides, this book is brainless and embarassing in a very inspiring and hearwarming sort of way.

i found a thrift store, though! oh, and it has completed the hole left in my life. nevermore will i enter a retail store again! yesterday, i picked up the following items:

'Hacking Linux Exposed' 25c
'slackware linux' 25c
a tie with lightbulbs on it 50c
a tie with lobsters on it 50c
a 'Less Than Jake' t-shirt 50c
a hat from MIT 25c
sublime's 'robbin' the hood' 50c
the strokes 50c
a snowglobe with a cow inside and 13 stars glued to the bottom (for rika)

i'm sure that i've gotten all the best bits, but i might go back. i'd still like a coffee pot for my room (tea! always!).

and speaking of tea, my sainted jake has charged me with drinking more now. and like a good monkey, i go.

if any of my old mindsay friends are reading this, i do miss you all.

music: low (cracker)

spam poetry!

2004-09-03T01:52:00.000+02:00

hello cry!
attention to the head.
enjoy the lifestyle you desire:
start an affair with a local woman.
Is healing your pain hurting your budget?
real mom's picked up the street and offered them a ride!!!
On the captain's face, generally so impassive, was an expression of unaccountable astonishment!!
...auf einem Löffel.
Any expensive table walks
the time that mine hairy shining sport shoes smiles.
His brothers noisy bra walks.
Our children red fancy balloon snores.
The silver shining while
buckled boots snores however,
our shining printer
sleeps at the place that whose white stupid green mouse stands-still.
His expensive ram walks
perhaps her daughters white beautiful wine is thinking
however, his smart recycle bin adheres
and still her odd shaped ram adheres
however, mine bluish green bed is thinking.
Our round kitchen is angry.
Any hairy pensil falls or any shining mouse is on fire.
Any slopy baby run.
Our children fancy book calculates.
Our golden table smiles.

freedom and footware!

2004-09-01T14:13:00.000+02:00

a priest was busted outside a public library for stealing signal, apparently now a federally punishible offense. way to stick it to the man, AKMA!

and here i've been feeling guilty for jaywalking. i'll never sleep again.

well, it's been a week. and my week will be over on thursday -- tomorrow, 11pm i start a new life for myself. i'm preparing tonight, wriggling into clean jeans, lacing up glow-in-the-dark sauconys. new shoes, a new start. i'll pull the paper bits out and close the shoebox behind. my feet will feel the unfamilar territory under and be happy.

for my more frequently updated blog, please see http://ifothelawon.mindsay.com.

2004-08-25T22:05:00.000+02:00

ooo! oooooo! i am feeling extrordinarily goofy! i want to put on my boots and eyeliner and sit on top of the roof. i want it to be very cold so i can wear my ugly irish clover scarf and my half-fingered gloves and cuddle up to heaters [like jake].

it's a nice change. for those of you who didn't know, i've had a grody week. yesterday was particularly stupid. i've even been exhausted all day today.

now i want a mosh pit. jumping up and down, loud noise, people being stupid and silly and running around in circles. cafe bla. intellectuals talking in boots and occasionally doing something very amusing like dancing on a table or yelling a south american revolutionary battle cry. singing 'que sera sera'. sigh. what nerds.

i am now resigned to an evening of peppermint tea. but don't think i'm not laying out my boots for tomorrow...

music: money, that's what i want (the flying lizards)