OK, is anyone else freaked right the hell out by Latisse? Have you seen these ads? I was watching Hulu tonight, minding my own damn business, then out of the blue I get an ad for Latisse, the only FDA approved treatment for inadequate or not enough lashes. Now, first of all, if you need someone to define “inadequate” for you, then you are not old/smart enough to be making any decisions about applying prescription-strength glaucoma drugs to your lash line for cosmetic purposes. Seriously, folks, when did that become advanced vocabulary? WHEN? WHEN, I ASK YOU?

Now, moving on to the actual mechanics of this drug. Even a little bit of surface research will tell you that far from being a drug designed to remedy the imaginary problem of not having enough eyelashes, Latissa is a strong and fairly dangerous glaucoma drug that just HAPPENS to have the side effect of making your lashes thicker, as well as PERMANENTLY DYEING YOUR EYES. OH yes, you heard that right. Permanently. Dyeing. Your. Eyes.

Thanks, but no thanks, Brooke Shields.

Updates From My World

So. Things have changed in the last few weeks. I’ve gotten somewhat employed (yay!), I’ve found a place to live for the year (yay!) for a ridiculously reasonable rent (yay!), and I’ve gone on more intense medication for my migraines, which so far has resulted in my first span of five full days sans headache in about six weeks and surprisingly cold fingers and toes. This is a tradeoff I am more than willing to make. It is 11:41 pm and I am strangely hungry. Weird. Silly stomach, you’ve already had dinner! Wait for breakfast!

My current roommate and I have waged extensive war upon the ants that threaten to invade our apartment whenever we turn our backs, and for the time being, we appear to have been victorious. It was truly horrifying there for a while, though. I got up in the middle of the night, only to find our bathroom COMPLETELY overrun by them. Seriously, they were everywhere. I looked down, and suddenly it was all skittering legs EVERYWHERE. AGH. Anyhow, ant traps and some strategic swiffering seem to have stemmed the tide.

I’m moving into my new place, doing all sorts of grownup things like unpacking dishes and buying myself a bed. I’m pretty excited to have a full size mattress all to myself this year, even if I’m sleeping on it in a somewhat shared space. It’s like grownup lite!

I have mosquito bites. A lot of mosquito bites. I caught one today at work, in the process of biting me. I squeezed my skin and the bug blew up and left a smear of blood on my arm. 4 showered me with rose petals, pink ones, repeatedly, and then made up a new word to mean “volcano,” specifically of petals, which she repeated delightedly. I burned the roof of my mouth on my dinner. 6 asked me if I believe in Jesus. I said that was a very personal subject she should discuss with her parents, and not with me. I need a haircut. I need to go to bed.

Administrative Details

If you’re viewing the site from an iPhone or iPod Touch, you’ll notice that it looks pretty different these days, courtesy of WPTouch. Nifty, eh?


Briefly, just to complain on as many platforms as possible, I have now had three migraines in the last two weeks, and can I just say OW. Apparently my brain doesn’t like being unemployed? Or hot? Or living…with lucky bamboo? Something has made it very unhappy. Lucky for me, they just came out with a much MUCH cheaper generic version of my migraine meds, so I’m no longer blowing $11 up my nose every time I take it. Niiiice.

Of course, if I didn’t have health insurance, I’d be blowing $50 a pop, so thank you, Blue Cross Blue Shield of Arizona. Thank you very much.

Numbered, For Your Reading Ease, One Through Four

  1. I woke one recent morning in a flat panic that I’d killed someone I’m quite fond of accidentally through my own idiocy. Thank you, dreams! Thank you very much. So lovely. In this dream, I was living back on Stanford campus, riding a pink beach cruiser with a ridiculously high set of handlebars. Every time I reached up to try to steer with them, they pushed up higher, flying out of my hands. When I got back to Haus Mitt, where I apparently lived in this dream, I discovered firstly, that a huge gaggle of sorority girls were moving in and displacing me, and secondly, that I was going to need to do some late-night spackling, for no apparent reason at all. That’s when everything kind of collapsed in a blur, and suddenly I was messing everything up, and there was a collapse to the floor in grey sweaty badness, and I couldn’t get my fingers to dial 911, and it was terrible. It was one of those dreams that leaves you needing to call people, making sure it didn’t really happen. Urrrrgh.
  2. These last few weeks have felt like a blur, but not flown by in a blur. No, oh no, this is the dreaded slow blur–the kind that feels like it’s taking forever while it’s happening, and then leaves you feeling like you haven’t done NEARLY enough to possibly fill all those hours.
  3. I think I finally have my life sort of kind of figured out. At least I have enough of a plan that I’ve stopped having totally ridiculous anxiety dreams. In the last three weeks, besides my accidental homicide, I’ve also dreamed that I almost got married and then stood the dude up at the altar, causing him to collapse in distress and have to be carted off to the hospital by the paramedics, that I lost my car and never found it again, that I was on the run from renegade librarians, that I had a huge group interview in which I was publicly shamed for improperly checking out books from the library, and that my childhood bedroom literally fell off of the rest of my house with me still in it, like a gingerbread house that’s gotten too damp and started to sort of collapse slowly into itself of its own accord.
  4. All of my joints inexplicably ache. The internet, in combination with a few bug bites, have convinced me that I have Lyme disease. Stay tuned. Tomorrow, I will be shamefacedly waving it off as mosquitoes and sleep-stretching.

modern romance


Let me just say that there has GOT to be a reason why this woman is selling her engagement ring on facebook at such a serious discount, and that reason is one hell of a story.


I’m working at a summer camp here at Stanford for the summer, which is a surprisingly similar experience to GOING to summer camp. All of the relationships are seriously accelerated. By the end of the first week, people have grouped (or coupled) into their super-amazing-forever friend/loveinterest clumps. By the second week, they’re an old established couple, and by the third week, they’re all fighting over how they’re never going to see each other again. The counselors have kind of done the same thing, all clicking together right away. The only difference is that our last week is week six rather than week three. It’s a heady ride of 24 hours a day together mixed with smores and late nights, water fights and lots of sunscreen.

Last night, the whole cluster (the group of houses in this camp that are on the Row) had a dance, and oh my goodness was it teenagery. It was hilarious to see them “sneakily” pairing off, oblivious to the fact that we’re all watching them like hawks–not to keep them from doing things, but to keep up on the gossip train when they do. Every night, after we put them to bed, our whole counselor friend group meets in one house to hash over the drama of the day, and usually to watch a ridiculously campy (in every sense of the word) movie.

Since I have the tumblr for my little silly thoughts now, I always feel like I should say some thing Deep and Important here, but I really am out of Deep and Important Ideas.

One of the side effects of making the monthly playlists is that certain songs get really fiercely associated with times and places in my head. I was listening to my library on shuffle today when “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley came on, and all of a sudden, I could smell the inside of our favorite bar from the summer I spent in Italy, taste the weird snack mix they kept in grungy metal bowls, remember the stick of my feet to the floor and the spin of staring down the blocked off well in the side room. Listening to last July’s list is like being right back there, living in that strange little apartment in Berkeley, walking to see Wally, the water damage ripple in the floor of my room, hitting my head on the underside of the desk when I sat up in bed, the chug of the photo printer and chicken aioli sandwiches with cranberries.

I was going somewhere with this, but I’ve forgotten where. I added videos for all the songs on the July list, btw, so if you want to go listen to what it feels like to hit your head on the bottom of a desk, head on over.

books are like bacteria

You can tell that you are a person who reads herself to sleep when most of what you clean off of your bedside table is a stack of books tall enough that you have to take it down the ladder in two bunches.

That sentence has been sitting in my draft folder for two weeks, and have I removed the aforementioned stack of books? No. No I have not. They are just spreading back out across the top of the table (ie, my dresser). Once books have colonized your furniture, it can be hard to extract them. I have no idea what I am going to do with all of my library when I move three times this summer. It’s just so…heavy. So full of weighty tomes.

This is going to be a discombobulated post. I have been watching a lot of Planet Earth while I do work lately. Right now, we have on the deserts episode and a snake is burying itself in the sand to get away from the wind and sandstorm. Now they are explaining how dunes get piled up and shaped into those weird sharp spirals. What I SHOULD be doing, instead of writing you some strange babblings about sand, is working on my long poem for 292, my workshop this quarter. It’s at this awkward place where it’s officially Long, and getting too dense for its own narrative. I need to break it up somehow, but I’m not sure how I’m going to do that without making it lame in the process. I’ve been writing little pieces that can go into it, sort of as separate poems, to see if I can come up with some bits I really like to solve this problem.

Actually, I should really go back to that. Here’s hoping it doesn’t ruin what I’ve got already down. :-)

Playlist Ephemera

If you check out the playlist section in the sidebar, you’ll see that I’m up to date with the track listings from my monthly playlists. My notes and links are only done through say, September of 2007 or so, but I’m working to catch up on them. That’s the part that takes forever, so hold your horses, but go check out the lists if you’re interested. :-)

There’s also a new mixtape up, if you haven’t already checked that out.

these are a few of my…things

So, it’s been a turbulent couple of weeks around here. I’m not going to go into it, the internet being a public forum and all, but no worries, I’m finding my feet again. However, I’m still pretty much operating at minimum functional capacity. I’m getting the vital stuff done, but everything on the list below “maintain basic life and schoolwork” has fallen by the wayside in favor of…other stuff. This week, the goal is playing catchup on my errands and doing as much of the long-term work that’s waiting for me as possible, while cutting way back on my therapeutic TV watching and video game playing.

On the plus side, I’ve gotten really good at Mario Kart, and my smack-cabulary has improved dramatically. It’s hard to talk smack when you also suck, but once you have yourself some skills, LOOK OUT MOSES. (I do not know where that expression came from, it just sprang fully formed from my mind, not unlike the goddess Athena. OOOOH, CHECK MY CLASSICAL ALLUSIONS, SUCKERS! Nothing like a couple of years of Latin Via Ovid (affectionately known as “old orangey”) to really drill you on your mythology, so you can bust out Athena and her homies whenever you like.)

In other good news, after three weeks, my back pain is FINALLY going away. I’m down to a couple of sore hours in the morning and at night, with a nice long pain-free stretch in the middle, and I’ll take that happily. I’m riding the happy train in general, and we’re headed right out to….veryhappyland. That metaphor lost some steam after its initial inception.

You know what I love? Catching minor actors in their most minor roles–the post office clerk from one movie cast as the janitor in another, the awkward background friend moonlighting as somebody’s little sister. There’s a hide and seek pleasure to it. This paragraph has no relation to the others, don’t worry, you didn’t miss anything.

It annoys me when that woman from 30 Rock messes up the split screen in her “the more you know” ad on hulu, and you end up missing parts of her elbows as she crosses the invisible lines between frames.

I’m really into yellow these days.