Lsats, not so much

I don't want to be a lawyer. Now to find a way to fund life without law(school).
I leave you with some Mraz lyrics, b/c i like'em:

Gypsy MC
I'd like to give a shout out to all the g-y-ps and
Individualize because I am an MC. I can because I care
Cause my family's there cause I, cause I
Cause I appreciate the mentality of music
Saving all my sentences unless of course I'm smoothly spoken
Quiet type the kind to watch out for
No man of the clan perpetrating the scam
Sure I'm the boy with the fallopian voice
Straight from the sleeve of any wizard of choice
I got the reason to be roamin' out the coverage area
Send me the bill if all my lovin' is scarin' ya

Dare you to dream the way that I believe
Got the skill to go commando in any fatigues
I got the best damn band in the music scene
Oh I can even flow solo or just let it be
Because of the love
Oh the self-realization is the ifs ands & buts
Cause you gotta know your name before you play-a the game
Keep a level-headed check on your health and stay sane
Address the tack on the track put the needle on the record and
Prepare for playback
Sajak
Could I buy another vowel I need another clue
And I could also use a towel
And how goes the medium tempo
Slaying all the teachers like the class of '84
And down low you know that my fidelities low
And I would never hurt a fly with my flip-flops on
Got control
Even keep a clean toilet bowl
2000 flushes blue and it's still going strong
Do I do what I do for the sake of the song
Comin' through on the radio it's for you
This is proof my own story's a spoof
I'll always be a gypsy or forever be aloof
And if you never get to liking me it's okay too
Well you've made it this far so pay a toll at the booth
And move on
Yeah I got top score on Donkey Kong
Move on
Move on
Move-a-move-a-move-a-move-a move on

True or false? I can be a sensitive man
With sensible plans for the everyday woman
And I can keep you eating out the palm of my hand
Because the dope that we smoked was grown on my land
The words I burn they don't come from a can
The movie in my mind will be the winner at Cannes
So take your chance a plot of full or part-time romance
Clever as a bell don’t measure up to whatever
Cause it don't matter how tall, how fat, or how small
The equal opportunity is open to all
The casting call the line forms down the hall
All you need is ID that shows that you're legal
But people with egos well you better not go
Cause you know I don't need those
And if there is a problem that I really oughta read
Post it on the web care of R-K-O-P
It's easy like me but a bit less the sleazy
Go heavy on the melody and add a little cheese
And if you can't stand the kitchen, get the hell out the heat
To meet with the geek all you need is a
Heart beat beat beat beat beat beat beat

And remember that fame
Fame is nothing more than loving someone
And that fortune is nothing more than loving what you do
Is nothing more than loving you

[I’m here at a very big hole]

Well, I'm type A positive and just the way I like it
Right away I'm satisfied with my food before I try it
Can't deny it to save my life, I'm never lying
To brave this mic without the same thing twice
Is actually an act to staying up all night
With the mood just right
And the purchase of a flight from the west coast
To the northern lights
It's aurora borealis' company that I'm tight with
Despite all the things that you've heard
I'll admit that most is true and I'll be keeping my word
By doing double-duty on a search for new verbs
I report to work early to deliver the worm
With a back well covered by the buddies of ease
And no way in hell that I could ever catch a disease
And breaking all the codes on the latest machines
Well I'll even let you download me for free
I'm free
I'm free

Just remember that fame
Fame is nothing more than loving someone
And fortune is nothing more than loving what you do
And in the eyes of love
Love will overcome
Love will overcome
Well love
Will over
Over overcome
It's true
Cause look what you've done to me
To the gypsy

Magic shuffle - rounds 1&2

I like the first round.
I had to do 2 rounds just to prove to myself that I wasn't creating links in my mind in order to make this make sense.


How does the world see you?
Rocky Raccoon - Beatles
Suddenly Seymour - Little shop


Will I have a happy life?
Gypsy in My soul - margaret whiting
Look what you've done - jet


What do my friends really think of me?
Sonnet 29 - Rufus Wainwright
Wisemen - James Blunt

Do people secretly lust after me?
Her or me - Miss Saigon
Ugly Boy - Bat boy the musical


How can I make myself happy?
Sur le Pont D'avignon
No stopping us - jason mraz


What should I do with my life?
I can cook too - Wonderful Town
Everybody's got something to Hide...- beatles


Will I ever have children?
Say it Isn't so - Michael Feinstein
Blue jeans - marc broussard


What is some good advice for me?
A Little Bit In Love - Wonderful Town, Leonard Bernstein
Don't stand so close to me - police


How will I be remembered?
A Whole New World - Disney's Aladin
Honey Don't - beatles


What is my signature dancing song?
If I needed Someone - the beatles
Ripchord - rilo kiley


What do I think my current theme song is?
What's it Gonna Be - EnVogue
Somewhere that's green - little shop


What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
Don't Take Your Love From Me - Louis Prima and Keely Smith
can't buy me love - michael buble


What song will play at my funeral?
Getting Better - The Beatles
All I want for christmas is you - mariah


What type of men do you like?
Boys Remix - britney spears
I can't turn you loose - otis redding


What is my day going to be like?
Intuition - Jewel
octopus' garden - beatles

Vacation for a living (add LSATS)

So I'm taking the LSATS in June. June 12th to be exact. I'm excited to have a goal for myself that will be culminating shortly....I'm sure I can work in 2+ hours of study a day. even while I'm vacationing for a living.
I'd like to take off after the LSATS and move to DC and just swing dance until France (which I havn't heard about BTW), and maybe I can. Others have done this...bohemian hipster types. I could for a summer, espesh if mer is living in DC.
Ok, got to practice the guitar.
highlights:
-sylvia plath's diaries are suprisingly awesome and not at all depressing
-I beefed on the street while falling, and totally tore up the palm of my hand
-hung out w/ an old robinson boy, he was trashy, no suprises there (must find a way to meet not high school people...where are the upwardly mobile in this town? The ones who didn't all go to "Missouri State"???)
- Reading a moveable feast - its pretty good...interesting. Not particularly pulling at the strings of my heart, but I dig it.
-I'm working at testimo's now...it seems fun! I hope I can be a good salesperson.
-I also wish that i could work on a campaign here...I'll bug some more people about that sooon enough.

peace out.

Tales of guys who will hurt people for you

A+ to you fellas.

"Take care of me - I'm only a wounded pigeon on the cold, unfeeling streets of life. But if anyone looks at you the wrong way in a bar, I'll kick their ass."

Pretty funny blog, love the useless conspiracy theorizing almost as much as I love the quote.

Another quote from my main lady, Shirly MacLaine:
"MacLaine notes that Sinatra was protective of all of his friends, and particularly of her. "He was a happy man when he was able to come to my rescue. 'Oh, I just wish someone would try to hurt you so I could kill them for you,' he'd say when he was trying to express his feelings of friendship."

I'm noticing a theme.

More on guys beating people up, Johnny Knoxville:
"Knoxville apparently didn't appreciate the assault, "so I punched him a couple of times then I went for his friend," Knoxville said. "You know, I just wanted a drink."" Tittle Tattle

Trashy post, yes, but snaps to you, guys who will hurt people for me (I'm using "me" loosely, but you get what I mean).

Open up a dirty window

Let the sun illuminate the words that you cannot find.

I can find some words, though. That's not (never been) the problem.

"Some of us go full circle. Some of us blindly go nowhere. The circle doesn’t have to be very large to make a point, kick your ass and/or be entertaining. Remember that and stay light."
-jm

Fare thee well, employment. Hello cliche' existence.
But only for a little while, so no worries - its just a cusp, and finding the balance between not rushing into things blindly and shutting your eyes to the reality of everything is a little pitchy. I don't even know it that's the word for it - b/c I wanted to say pithy, but I know that's not the word. Feel free to mad lib in the correct adjective.

I was trying to get into James Blunt b/c he has dreamy blue eyes, and even bluer British blood (that sounds really creepy now that I've typed it) but he's depressing me. Its ok, Pandora has directed me to another whiny guy singing. Continuing on with my testimos.com writings would be important now.

I feel that I should mention that I poked an old elementary school buddy of mine on facebook the other day, just b/c I am just that daring. I'm proud to say that he poked me back, and this marks our first communication with each other since we were 11. Breaking news, this is. I'm rather afraid to actually talk to him - I'd rather just remember him for the awesome 11 year old he was, not the negligibly cool 23 year old he may (or may not be) be now. I mean, I was absent from his life for over a decade...do you think there was much a chance for him to better himself without me? tcha! Do I even have to say as if? But that's neither here nor there -- what's important is that it's important to act like a 13 year old at least once daily, and I did. Keeps you humble.

I had a dream of peace last night for a friend who stopped talking to me (probably due to snarkiness taken wrong - how do I do it). It was lovely, and, like most of my dreams, a lot like a nancy drew novel. I always thought friends were forever, and I'm very disapointed to find that maybe that's not true sometimes. I'll never believe it though - I much prefer to believe that friends are forever, b/c from where I stand, they are. I also got to spend some more time cavorting backstage somewhere with my penn buddies last night in my dreams. That was nice of my dreams to do that last night.

I'll interrupt this self reflection with some self-reflection. Employment, I feel the call to public service. We should all answer our call, right?
campaign? Senate aide?
law? International business?
I can't help but think I would be a very thoughtful EU expert at some big old company/think tank. Peggy curchack, grrr. (sidenote)
How to be a professional expert lucratively? Professor?
Ms. Shipmann from CURF, you rule. (sidenote) I really really want a fellowship at Cambridge. Is it ok for me to dream at 23 with such a lack of foundation? But I don't lack in foundation - I have a degree, and potential for income.
I want to make sure my motivations are pure (i.e. not tainted by the need for revenge, self-aggrandizement, etc...) but then again, I'm a human, not like, Jesus, so how can my motivations be pure? I'm just tryin' to be good.
In the fountainhead, the people who just try to be good do not get to be successful...its the one with the most integrity to their purpose who achieve their ends, lucratively and successfully.

Obviously - from the opacity of this blog, you may be able to tell that I'm really only using it to clear my mind so I can write about another pair of skull boots and to leave space for me to determine how to change the world by being alive. I'm sortof comforted by the lack of comments, b/c that means no one is reading this, and that this blog is mine. Blogs, what is your deal? You're a good place for me to misplace new vocabulary words, and sieve out my thoughts...but I should do that in my journal, its so much more elegant. Would Sylvia Plath have a blog?

Clearly, testimos (and my sudden compulsion to knit 24 hours a day : we're talking a sweater, 2 scarves, a dress(crochet, admittedly), and what will eventually be a baby blanket) is blocking the clear vision I would like to have to craft a brighter tomorrow for me.
Tomorrow I make a tape to try out for Hairspray the movie. Could be thrilling and embarrassing...like most quality things in life, right?

Writing this chapter of my life is proving interesting...but my wise friend Dr. D'Souza tells me to enjoy the journey b/c it is just as important as the end. He's right.

Light bulb or flash in the pan?

The plan begins to unfold....

International Business Policy, emphasis on management, ethics and technology
- minor in international relations/studies, foreign policy
- concentration on east/west, reconstruction, democracy, EU/USD
disseration:programs w/in complit depts to increase cultural awareness = political awareness -- look further into anadalusian music, poetry, history?
- take an international business/comparative politics/history?
- but I don't want my life in danger all the time
WHOA

= consulting w/ a big education

Prep:
- I need to get some teacher recs on file...allen, barnard, prince, dwyer, zuckermann, espey, hirshmann, love(?), Ty,
- internships
- live like a monk

"I don't want to think I may be doing something right. I'm too scared to admit the possibility of that. Because then game is over. Isn't it?"

Wise, sortof depressing words, Hugh - I dig it.

And on that note, I'm a puzzled girl!
But I guess none of us are blessed with the sort of clarity that everyone else seems to have.

Still.
One minute its consultant, the next political analyst, the next comedy writer/actress/emma thompson -- is it possible? Why did my interests diverge into such high/low careers?

Well, The Terminator is now governor of California. So I suppose there's hope. I'm gonna apply to the Second City summer camp - do writing/improv stuff. Should've done a long time ago...maybe my fantasy of being a british comedian/intellectual isn't so far off. I'm just gradually siphoning off the riff-raff.

How devastating are these 2 articles I found about hugh laurie? (while trying to find out what his favorite piano piece was -- ugh, I'm so internet crazy. ought to take to asking real people the things I ask google, i know it.)
Devastating artice 1


Pretty throrough devastation, hope, etc...



Insight into Hugh is a good glimpse of pathos in the face of constant support, encouragement and luck. So, this is sortof hateful. Whatever! Bewitching, no less.


They're just so devastating - in the way good looks can be devastating, rowr - what a fascinating guy. They made me feel a little bit better in a sort of stagnant way. I can relate to the guy, I really, strangely can (outside of the hubongo crush I have on him/his character/what he symbolizes -- snaps to Miss Blythe for putting to words all the crushes I've had in my life - its sortof a duh that she'd do that though) but come on -- I do allow myself to be proud SOMETIMES and not downplay it away - though I probably come off like old perpetually frustrated and unsatisfied Hugh anyway. That's ok, b/c its not how I think most of the time. Maybe someday I'll meet a dude like Hugh and I'll get how someone else, besids myself, could never be satisfied...maybe I have met one, two, a lot (@ Penn) and never had the chance to write an interview about them. But that's neither here nor there. I do now know what lugubrious means, though - penetrating articles good for more than self insight, also good for the vocab - which is pretty sweet, y'all.

On that note, Ii've tried to self-remove some old nail polish and i think I've taken some nail with it...hate when that happens.

I will share with you, oh blog, for the sake of my reading you at a later date when I'm looking back on my kooky post-college years (bless you if you're not me and you're reading this introspective molasses)...

My Books to read:
The Pythons (ginormo hardcover)
Art of Seduction (important for the knowledge arsenal - doubtful it'll supercede my usual hard-to-get manoeuvers)
My Life by Bill Clinton - (oh midwestern man with vision, lend me some)
A Moveable Feast - (favorite of Mom's -- she oogles over it when she goes into that overly human mode that sortof freaks me out b/c its like, you're mom not a person who falls in love with books! I may or not be spurned on to read it b/c Andy Reid likes it...bonus points to you if you know who I'm talking about)
Vanity Fair (conniving Becky may have some lessons to teach)

I'm hoping to finish these all by april or so. Tcha!

ok, this part's just for me. (sortof shows how work isn't really keeping the old bean busy enough - I love having a tired brain! havn't had one for months! how to remedy? hmmm.)

My to-do for to-day:
call about Guitar & Piano lessons
write fan letter to Emma Thompson
2nd city applications
get cool lip gloss at Sephora (lip-gloss addicion, guilty)
Find my old Prof. Dwyer papers/books
Buy Peter's Friends (done, thanks you amazon, $6!)
drink water
less distractions at work (oops)
-notably, i havn't gone to socialitelife.com, though i do wonder what kate moss is up to.

oh, a web-based life...it can't be the sign of my times! No more than to keep up with the way the world is going and whatnot. marc broussard has no interest in the internet - i found this out on the internet (answers.com, specifically)...sortof strange, huh?

Oh well, its nothing to worry about yet, though its getting rather close!

Speaking of freeing myself from the internet, I ought to get myself to the places I fantasize about soon - I need some reality. As much as I like harboring the dream, I don't like being naieve unless it's by choice.
I wish I could explain what I mean to you, but you know what I mean if you go somewhere expecting one thing and find only an outline of what you were hoping for.
I still believe in the outline, its just good to experience the reality that fills it...helps me to come back into myself instead of all my imaginary selves doing all these exciting things in my versions of various cities, careers, etc...

So - to go to: (I'll skip out on the careers to pursue)
Charleston, SC
London, Cambridge - UK
Italy (though studying italian culture ruined it enough to be sufficient)

San Francisco so far is the only city that's retained the dream...maybe Nice, France, too - but those are dream cities, famous for their escape-from-reality-like qualities...AND i visited them for a short-short-short time. It seems so dreary, going through life waiting to be kicked in the head with reality - that's not how I like to think, but it's an undercurrent, neanmoins.
I'm sure i'll be proved wrong about this whole disappointment crap, anyway - its only a matter of time until the post college malaise stops clouding my happy brain and some form of oceanic feeling sweeps on over!
I used to feel that at school, especially junior year - connected to everyone, my studies, living some sort of Dead Poets Society-esque life in pursuit of equal parts scholarly stuff, success and ballyhoo.
And so it will be again - just have to find the right stage for my proverbial show.

On that note, flights to paris are $292 for the month of march.
It could happen.

Oh enough introspection, I'm sqeezing it out - all I really want to do is go on a road trip.
Easy enough!

Side note: I got the 2005 Kiera Knightly (strange nose/lip area, that girl has) Pride&Prejudice and I thought that they didn't capture the Lizzie/Dad/don't marry a stupid wife b/c it will suuuuuck aspect of the book - and that whoever played Darcy made him more pathetic/shy than pompous was pretty ridiculous. Snaps to you Colin Firth, you did it better.
Pretty music though, and much prettier people (jane particularly) - making the whole courtship bits a lot less puzzling b/c the characters that are said to be "fair" or "handsome" or whatever, actually ARE - than the mini-series, which was much appreciated. For some reason I just can't stand that little Donnie Darko girl, though. my 2 cents, put in!

Off to be lost in my work (not answers.com).

L

Paradigm shifts and Medical Dramas on DVD

Oh what a time it's been.

I can't recall the last time I posted, and I'm not much for caring.

I've been dating different careers lately, it seems. Sure, I'd love to go steady with a good, reliable boyfriend of a job, but hey - i have barely played the field, and there have been no love at first sights in, well, sight. Heck, I don't even think I've been hanging out in the right bars lately even, to take a terrible metaphor even more painfully further.
Shall I continue?

So I sew my career oats! I make mistakes a'plenty. The odds are in my favor as long as I see them that way - mind over matter being one of the stronger forces when you're dealing with career discovery.

A wise lady once said :
"Life is to be lived. If you have to support yourself, you had bloody well better find some way that is going to be interesting. And you don't do that by sitting around wondering about yourself."
- Katharine Hepburn

I couldn't agree more - not that Kathy would know, acting sortof found her through the pathways of destiny that only some of us ride upon, and I'm thinking she didn't have to support herself so much either. Still, wise words!
So, I'm recently released from a rather destructive relationship with Penn (though it was more of a learning experience than anything, obvi) -- a very controlling and needy boyfriend, and one not altogether conducive to my sanity, focus, and ME-time. SO suddenly realeased, the blinders of stress come off, and what I was blind to before - opportunities, research, pathways of work/information, dormant passions, etc... - are suddenly popping up everywhere! Its cool, but its overwhelming. And it seems that penn was the station where all these trains would arrive, and oops, I was too busy in my own little mind to catch one.

But that doesn't mean they won't keep on schedule - all I need do is find a new station.

At least this is what I tell myself - again, mind over matter.
I wonder what my Managing People professor - Dr. Dwyer, who believed that the excuses we make to justify our own laziness are the bain of society's (and the individual's) existance - would say.
He gave me an A, so I shoud feel good about managing this person, and I do in a way.

Anyway, close that chapter - too much navel-gazing is bad for perspective.

But allow me to talk about myself some more.

I've recently become slightly-more-than-obsessed with House MD, a ridiculously amazing medical mystery show on FOX (yes Fox).

“Hugh Laurie… the British actor is the thinking woman’s sex symbol.” - Entertainment Weekly

Tcha, duh. He's pretty grouchy, but if you combine his character's grouchy, tortured and intolerable genius with his real life persona of this self-deprecating, piano-playing british comic, its like, nothing short of blowing my mind. For better (but usually worse) I love me some blue-eyed wierdos, mon amie pointed out. Perhaps I'd do better to go for the Patrician types, like Laurie. Do I have to point out that if - in another time, obvi - Hugh and I were go get married my name would be Lori Laurie?

Enough gushing.

So, I went to Target with the mom with the purpose of buying Prince's new album - b/c he was just relaly cool on SNL the week before. But it wasn't there, so Mom decide's that we should splurge and get the DVD of house.

Watching House was sortof a Eureka moment for me - and got me thinking about what I'm doing and if it's as satisfying as I'd want it to be. I've always had a fascination with the sort of team work mystery-solving that affects people directly that you see in shows like House, and read in books like Nancy Drew, and that I've been lucky to experience here and there and I'm like, why didn't I run with that? Again, clarity come a little late, but not too late (I ain't dead yet!), but it came nonetheless.

sidenote: my writing style is being peppered with some pretty annoying words - nonetheless being one of them -- and I think it's b/c Pride and Predjudice is on. I digress. (see, I did it again!)

Right now at my current post there's not teamwork, and not direct lives/reputations/etc hanging in the balance problem solving, no high pressue, no dynamism. Ugh! I know everything's about the bottom line, but there have to be professions where that's a footnote, not a headline.

I wanted to live a life like House, where you're frustrated, and busy and you're making things happen! Sure, its awesome to know the best club to go to, and where all the young professionals love to get mojitos, but I don't want to live the rest of my life like its one big popularity contest that changes with the season...I've always opted for respect over popularity (at least in intention) and though that won't (and didn't) make me much of a politician/social butterfly, it worked and will work for me. Hopefully it will eventually work for me at my place of work -- hey-o!

So paradigm shifts and medical dramas are what's new - farewell then, respectable and lovely magazine career, and hello something in consulting/international relations/fellowships/ and the like. Hello washington DC, i suppose - the most tolerable city on the Easter Seaboard for a missouri gal like me. I've been reading Bill Clinton's autobiography, and it's been helpful. I used to be (like 3rd grade) an avid consumer of the Robinson Elementary Schools bio/autobio section. I remember I repeated ly checked out the biography of Jackie Onassis (and no I'm not telling you this so you'll think I'm cool and classy - again, respect first, popularity will either come or it won't). I thought I was going to solve the assasination of JFK by reading about his wife 4 times over. Kooky, huh?

Anyway, I remember why I read biographies, and why its important to find one that's contextual. I tried to read Elizabeth the first's biography, at the reccomendation of a teacher of mine who I now realizes acts a WHOLE lot like Christopher Walken, hoping to absorb some of her leadership qualities here, her female prowess there -- but the fact remains that I was not born into a royal family, I didn't know how to dance the volta, and I didn't have any brooding lovers, or spanish assasin monks running after me - in view of how I use biographies as a resource and not for the sake of a good story (perhaps someday I'll be able to read about someone and not want to be as cool as them - though the chances for that are slim) -- so, the bio of the virgin queen was altogether inappropriate.

I have a lot to learn from Bill, a southern/midwesterner like me - who was a lot more determined than I, but whose drive I know I could share if only I could find the road.

As my new favorite artist, KT Tunstall writes, "Well, I can't reach for the sky until I like it on the ground."

Word up,my scottish sista - can't wait to see her at Blueberry Hill in March...she's pretty rockin', and even my mom - who's newly rediscovered that she likes music - totally digs KT. She's a cool mom - hormones get in the way often, but she's pretty rockin' most of the time.

On a brief footnote, b/c I am runnin out of steam : I went to mardi gras yesterday, and it was just like, being drunk with lots of people and the sun was out, and sometimes youd' get beads. Not all that aMAZing. Though i will admit I SUPER loved throwing beads to the hundreds of people from the stage I snuck onto...I do love stages...not sure how to incorporate that into the paradigm shift, but no worries. I also liked trying to get dance lessons from the 13 year olds that were just hanging out at the festivities...that's an original source of good dance moves! Needless to say, I was a comically terrible and enthusiastic student. I did get a, "girl, you're not so bad!" so I feel good.
I think soon thereafter I had a dance of with multiple unwilling contestants b/c during mardi gras, unitnentional eye contact means, "hey lori, I challenge you to a dance off."

Who am i kidding, and day of the year uninentional eye contact means, "Lori, I challenge you to a dance-off." Its just I was more apt to accept the challenge, given the kooky atmosphere.
We met mostly rude rude boys - b/c boys - more openly and unabashedly at mardi gras than at other places - only want one thing.
And girl, I did not show it...as usefull a currency as it is!!! (and my currency would've been valuable I'm sure....but how close do you have to come to be a prostitute? honestly!) But I'm so much more than one thing, and my humanity cannot take such obvious objectifying (as if anyone else's can.) OH, another day, another disection of misogynistic religious holidays. I wish there were some exclamation that embodied "oh, lets not talk of this annoying crap, b/c really its better to just ignore it and do other things!"

Pish posh? but that's neither here, nor there? but let us not talk of such unsavory things...that one's probs best, but again with the sounding like jane austen.

My froggy ancestors express this sort of eye-rolling malaise best with the phrase, "Bof."
So, bof.

Anyway, back to mardi gras and the understanding the boob question.
I suppose I'd freak out if there were some festival I could go to where boys would be flashing their financial promise, intellectual, endearing and self deprecating wit, capacity for love, and their sense of humor all over the place.
I would freak out! I'd probably even give them beads if they flashed it.

Ok so the parallell isn't so stable, but are you suprised?


Anyway, more blurbs to be written - check out Testimo Boutique for some of my snarky, fluffy product descriptions. If you do go there, tell me what you think, b/c I can't tell if they're lame or not -- though I'd like to say they're awesome, but I'm trying to develop my self-deprecating nature to overtake the over-exaggerated self-aggrandizement nature, the sort of personality that jumped the shark as soon as Chandler married Monica. Much unlike the neo-biker-goth tattoo art and skulls you'll find @Testimo's, self deprecation's a trend I hope won't be going away with the season.

On that note, I'm signing off - Iet me know if you'd like to be sent a dose of excedrin - that I have ready for addressing in pre-stamped envelopes -- in case my blog gave you an eye-crosser of a headache, as it is prone to do!
I take excedrin before i begin writing, but far be it for me to deny someone else a headache free blogspot experience just b/c i'm the only one who could see what's coming.

Peace,
~Lori

hm, this is weird

for some reason, my own computer doesnt' think I'm authorized to view my own blog.
In other news, I'm going tanning tomorrow, and I might just go to sears, too.

Sometimes words cannot describe

Meeee!!


Who am I kidding? They totally can.
Anyway, I'm happy to announce that my france thing hath been sent to the embassy (I hope to heavens I get it), and that I am going to start swing dancing again. The foot is healed, and its time for my right leg to come alive again! I will be happy to kiss the yuckiness that not being able to dance has brought to my life goodbye, yay!
In other news, I have to write 5 articles about fashion...don't ask.

At least not until I tell you I have good (employment) news.

But I won't be silly and go into details!

Happy Birthday Benjie!

One of my favorite professors (i'm discovering in hindsight, that I did in fact have them), who sortof reminds me of Captain Kangaroo because of the way his voice is always full of wonder (and is always scripted - the man wrote 1.5 hour movie-monologues-soliloquies of lilting prose) was interviewed for some TV show about Ben Franklin's relationship w/ John Penn (of the Pennsylvania Penn's).

John Penn "truly thought that he was better than Franklin. Penn was noble, and Franklin was common," Zuckerman said. "To have this guy, by an accident of birth, think that he was superior to Franklin was a kind of haughtiness that tore Franklin up. I think so much of his career is a vindication of the possibilities of commoners."

What would Ben say now?

Ben Franklin's birthday and all this Penn talk remind me of something my neighbor, Damian, - The Poet of Sweetbriar Lane - said to me:

"Penn, yeah! I know that one - founded by the Penn Brothers : William and Sean!"
"Damian, the founder was Ben Franklin!"
"Yeah, the Penn Brothers! Willie, Sean, and Ben!"

Genius.

The Penn Brothers

Why did I do that

In an attempt to find an exciting life for myself, I went on the Rhodes scholar website.
I don't feel inadequate at all, I just feel UNDER-advised.
How did these kids have any clue how to become concert cellists, olympic skiiers, AND 3rd-world development scholars who also volunteer at an orphanage in Bangladesh during the summers while formulating micro-funding matricies for the lending of small amounts of credit to disenfranchised women of the local village, all the while advising wayward teens at the local Y -- all at the same TIME??

I do not begrudge these turbo-people their achievements - clearly their efforts are going to be a good thing for the world, and some of them may be fun to corner in a rocking chair on a porch with some lemonade for some lovely chatting, but hey, I'd like to study at oxford, why didn't I know i COULD do all this crap, and why, where, and when did I get so dis-enabled, dudes?
Anyway, I shouldn't have done that web-site lookin'.

But the fact is I want to travel, and I dont' have the dough, so I've got to find my motivation and the dream somewhere so I can get a grant, or get the magical blessing from above that is supposed to be bestowed upon those who dream, etc...

This dead-end job business is just a ill-fitting pair of jeans on the legs of my life, and I'm ready to take them off.

I remembered reading jane eyre, and the one thing I just HATED about it was that she was so OBLIGATED to everyone but herself, and now I am Jane Eyre, and that is not cool. Still, I have no desire to be THAT girl on the blog, introspecting my life away while the years go by....yuck, the feeling sorry for yourself blogger - trite and tragic! And nothing like me, so I'm not concerned, but I'm listening to a lovely phone message from jason mraz to some website (yes, its a little creepy, but he makes it not seem so), and well, its helping me to feel a little peace in his exhuberance, and his having made his peace with God, and in the knowledge that the sort of completion he's found waits for everyone.

and it does!

WTF of the month

And ugly girls are great for a party!



That is, according to Curtis Sittenfiled, author of "Prep," visionary (albeit, they're ugly visions), and brunette and educated menace to attracive society.

"...I'd never dislike a beautiful woman on sight -- I always try to give her the benefit of the doubt and imagine that she has the personality of a nonbeautiful woman."

I just read an article in the April 2005 Allure (while i was searching for a "Got Milk" ad for our mag) wherein Curtis "Roman Nose" Sittenfeld, rather than getting over it, decides that because when she was 14, she was ugly , and hence way more awesome than those who were not beaten with the ugly/Count Chocula nose stick.

The thesis of the article is: if you were ever beautiful without having to suffer being ugly(especially when you were a teenager), I do not want to hang out with you.

Calling all once-ugly, now marginally pretty girls who have yet to get over your ugly past! We want you, and your neuroses, at our next party!

Who doesn't love a girl who's constantly haunted by the shadows of her former bad-skinned and tooth-braced self? I know I just loooove that girl.

Curtis talks about how she loooooves hanging around people who are constantly compensating for their ugly days, but essentially states and non-states that, "Converseley...conventionally beautiful girls and women are, as often as not, kind of bland.

Here's why: because they can be."

*As often as not. +1+(-1) = 0, by the way.*

Ok, fine.
I won't contest that hey, girls who have been pretty all their lives are probably going to be more boring because they are pretty, and don't have to get people - who would otherwise not want to be seen with them - to pay them some attention.

Nor will I contest that I, too, had a creepy mop-head, braces, and unplucked eyebrows moment in time - but only very breifly. As to the after affects of my brief stay inHotel Awkward? Life-defining and personality-enhancing it was NOT.

She makes some good points about teenage plastic surgery - duly noted, Curtis. I too watch Dr. 90210 and hate the girls who get tummy tucks so they can fit into the latest Juicy denim, and think, cello, what is that mother thinking.

All that being said, havn't we ladies seeme to have reached some point today where it's not OK - and not encouraged to such extent, even - to hate on the pretty ones?

Damn you Curtis, you smartie, woodsy girl!

Smart and woodsy are actually quite mutually exclusive. I can attest to this.
Put me in the woods with a Calculus proof.

Smart as I was/am, I didn't want to wear a patagonia jacket in middle school, and I do not want one now, and I would not wish that form-follows-function nightmare on my 13 year old cousin, save on a hike in the woods (when it would be useful).

Though I do wish her intelligence and wit, I would be lying if I did not say I also wish for her ability to creatively coordinate her purse and shoes and to throw together a mean party outfit.

Wearing heels in the woods = really dumb. (unless you're trying to pick up a rakish amateur astronomer a la Jennifer Love Hewitt in the great movie-that-should-be-a-musical, Heartbreakers)
But saying you can't wear heels elsewhere just because you're looking too cute for a 13 year old?
Shut up.
We all have the right to want to look cute.

Mind you, wanting heels are one thing, and wanting tube tops and nose jobs quite another.

Still, now I can't wear makeup, and can't wear heels - and if I do - especially if I like it - I must have no personality.
Thank you, Curtis! So many nights I've gazed lovingly into the mirror wondering why I just don't get Monty Python movies, or existentialism at that.

This sortof revenge of the nerds paradigm shifting is s-t-u-p-i-d.

I know, we'll just tell everyone to just wear fleece robes to everything - class, work, innagural balls - and then everyone will have a great personality.

A great personality is not born of ugliness, nor of the inevitable inferiority complexes that all of Curtis' compensating-in-personality-now-for-lack-of-hottness-then, nor even of going to University- even a really good, diverse and fashionable one.

Disney channel moment: It - your great personality - comes from you. It comes from the people you choose to be around. It's a choice, and I guarantee there are ugly girls who have chosen the rotten personality box.

So, if you happen to wear mascara - that should have no negative impact on your personality.

It will however, when used responsibly ( not to impress some guy, knowingly and willingly objectify yourself, poke your eye out, etc...), have an extremely positive impact on your eyelashes, making them powerfully thicker, longer and more luscious -- it may also prevent party poopers like Curtis Sittenfeld from talking to you.

And for that, THIS shameless mascara-wearer - who also happens to have one bangin' personality - is grateful.

Heavy, man

Suffering a little bit from a birthday hangover/head cold.
Not the best combo, but I'll survive.
The magazine went to press today, so there's nothing for me to do specifically - I'm trying to think of creative ways to weasel in, but am coming up a little short.

Hung out with some irish musicians last night at McGurks - they were super hard-core, headbanging types.

I didn't have the heart to tell them that they played the bagpipes.
And the banjo.

I guess in ireland, you can play the bagpipes and be hard core...and that's cool!

Did a proof test (my first ever) for The Onion yesterday. It was frickin' hard! They must've sent me the most terrible and incoherent article that has ever existed.
And it wasn't funny! I chewed it up, and spit it out. I think it was lovely.
I did notice that I had one misshap (period where there should've been a comma - damn) at the end. That will most likely do me in, so I guess I'll kiss my chances at the Onion goodbye...unless of course the internship gods look down on me, or even the employment gods cast some spells, throw some lightning bolts, etc...and I end up with a paid job.

Am setting up an interview with a newspaper in the middle of appalachia pretty much - but she didn't ask for clips (don't have much to offer there) and I'd be writing 5-10 stories a week and living in a little bitty town. It sounds sortof exciting to me - and its not like I'm going to stay there for my life.

I'd of course like to spend a larger part of my life in the southeast of this great country, but beggars cannot be choosers. When I settle down, I'll just make sure its on the right plot of real estate....my dream house is for sale right now in Charleston for a mere 850K.
A steal!

I wish I were independently wealthy or something and could just buy it, rennovate it and live there and look at the grasses blowing in the ocean breeze. But I'd probably get bored.
Anyway, I'm in no shape to write an engaging entry - so I won't take up any more time.
Peace out until later!

Peanut butter and crackers (here's the part where I sound like an ungrateful 14 year old)

When I was in High School, I really ate a lot of peanut butter and crackers. They were an antidote to the classes I was taking (or that were taking me, rather) - something to keep me awake, give me something to do besides chemistry, and if you've ever had them, you know they taste delicious. Old fashioned jiff and saltines. Writing lab reports seasoned with these delicious morseld from the George Washington carver gift shop, I'd think to myself, "When this is through Lori, you'll get in a good college, work hard, and then you can move on to healthier foods, like, lettuce...yogurt even! Plain yogurt!"

These peanut butter and crackers did give me the stamina and endurance to complete high school with honors and gain an Ivy League acceptance letter - the proverbial golden ticket. As worldly as I thought I was - I hung out in the City! - I was soon to have the cronyism and bigotry of the upper eschelon of America's educated youth shoved down my throat.
How 'bout them apples (peanut butter and crackers)?
Once I entered the hallowed halls of the fabled and ever-promising Ivy, it became quicly evident that peanut butter and crackers, especially in the abscence of caring teachers, administrators, parents, and the simple-though-labor-intensive pathways to success that high school had paved for me, would not be cutting it in the stamina and endurance department.

How many parents and high school seniors have bought into this golden ticket mentality? While I do not in any way deny the quality and quantity of my education - on many levels - while at University, I do deny its overall accessibiity. Once you're in the door - good luck and good night.

Perhaps it was the humidity of where I was brought up - Mississippi bayou summers don't necessarily make for the provebial thick skin so cultivated by the valored cutthroats of society, right? Anderson Cooper cries, and he's losing credibility -- did anyone know that he's from Tennessee? The Coop's skin is not as thick as our friend Jon, who even condescends to show us a hint of disappointment here and there - only he's allowed because his news is fake.

Freshman year of college and on at these top-tier universities are a roll call of all the demons that were supposed to have haunted the halls of every high school - only this time they're older, they're more finely tuned, and more razor sharp. There is no better breeding ground for the cliques and socio-economic ostentation than at a University. The calm and class of adulthood not has yet descended upon the 19 year old, but the understanding of power and manipulation has developed since high school.

I was surrounded by cliches.

No indivicual, good heart, or cynical midwesterner even has any hope of coming out unscathed. . Granted, there was light at the end of the tunnel, but once you've traveled far enough to see the light - it's too late for you to become the producer of that light.

And so, since I'm looking for something to talk about, I figure, why not be cathartic?
And if you happen to be a freshman - or a high school senior even - listen closely. No one should have to swallow 4 years of a scrambled education omlette because you put all your eggs into the admission basket and forgot what to do with them afterwards.

There's more work to be done than just get in the door, - and you sure as hell should not leave it to luck, nor should you depend on the kindness of strangers.
In the vacuum of university life, you have only yourself to look to.

Am I being hyperbolic? Nope.

"It doesn't matter if I care, karma cares!"

Ok, so I'm feeling better now.
I think karma is caring...it seemed to care this weekend, in mysterious ways.
...
Spent last friday night at Mississippi Nights.

My second time in 4 days - wasn't as good as Monday's, I didn't feel like I was on drugs. STill, how much of a band girl am I? I guess I always have been, especially in middle school when I had nothing better to do. You know how Matilda moved things with her eyes? I was like, trying to get really good CDs. This hobby, much like matilda's, faded a little after I was challenged more academically, but I still hang onto it anyway. In retrospect, I sortof wish I'd channeled that energy into concert piano, or even marathon running, perhaps even ballet, but for some reason that didn't happen (doesn't mean it won't, i'm only 23 and no longer academically challenged).

I wanted to take my 12 year old 2nd cousin, but I think she had what's known as a 7th grade mood swing brought on by too much homework, not enough sleep, and crazy cracked-out hormones. I wanted to take her away from herself for a night for some great rock music, but I think she just wanted to sleep...its sortof the same difference, though - and we have a raincheck, which I solidified with a CD of songs in french, including the entire french dubbing of The Little Mermaid. I have a feeling that her dad, my cousin, will want to get his hands on that, as he's taking french, too. Maybe I should tell him they should learn kiss the girl (embrasse-la) or Under the Sea (Sous l'ocean) and perform it for me...father-daughter bonding (always hard in middle school and on) and entertainment for me. Maybe I'll just make Dr. Scott perform Part of your world (partir la-bas) so me and Emily, his daughter, my 2nd cousin, can laugh it up.
Anyway, I ended up going to the concert not alone, which was pretty awesome, and then ended up with 3 friends and a friend's girlfriend (who's like a friend, b/c girlfriends must be included, its only right - and I've totally had some laughs with her)! Like whoa, I was expecting a solitary night of me and the music, which actually is pretty awesome, to tell the truth.
Anyway, we'll return to that later.
Ok GO was as amazing as I remember, though much more fashionable.

They once rapped to me in the street.
I do not lie.
They actually rapped to me and janna b/c we were fly ladies who were hanging out after the phantom planet concert that OK Go opened for. This concert was when phantom planet was still more popular than Maroon 5...like, throwback, y'all. Like, at the meet and greet I asked how they were doing, adn one guy said he'd give Jesse Carmicheal a hug for me...I was like, hm, not so great then. But look at'em now! I hope jesse gets some stardust, there's more to maroon 5 than Adam Levine, though he is a whole lotta delish. Anyway, OK go were tshirt and jeans kind-of-guys then. Now they like, sortof dress like Charles Dickens (which is suprisingly fetching...who am I kidding, its the opposite of suprising - I love ties, and I own a million, just about, and I would wear them like, everyday, but I feel weird dressing - every day - how I would want my boyfriend to dress - plus, I'm not K.d lang).

Their rap - which I do believe you can download off of something on the darker side of the internet - went a little like this:

Captain Kirk and Dr. Spock! WHat a lovely combination!
Boys and girls, what a lovely combination!
Diamonds and pearls, what a lovely combination!

and so on.

Janna and I swooned to their sweet sweet rhymes, and wondered, as so many girls often do - if the lead singer was gay. I think I have a bajilion things signed by them, now that I think of it, b/c it was just like, me, janna, Ok GO, and 20 14 year olds on the street that october night - the 17th, I believe...possibly the 11th...no it was Sept 10th! I remember b/c on the subway back some people were all freaking out b.c it was the anniversary of 9-11, and we were like, good concerts and life goes on.

Plus, I'd gotten to meet Max from Rushmore.

Anyway, at the post-Tale of Two Cities makeover show of OK Go, I think I literally bounced up and down for 3 hours straight.
Bitches be sore, y'all!

How can people not dance at concerts? What do they do instead?

I had a weekend of random conversation snippets with random people and it was qutie George Bailey-esque for me. One of these convos included me lamenting the lack of dancing...and I was saying that I could understand standing still with your arms crossed fpr hours in other situations, and that even I...but then i was like, hello! I never stand still with my arms crossed!
Like, I never do that. I'm too ebullient, I just am. My glee manifests itself in movement. WHy are people freaked out by that? I refuse to tone down my bubbliness -when I want to bubble, I bubble...b/c life's to serious as it is.
Back to begging the question, "why stand still at a concert?" - even at a party where I'm trying to act like I'm better than everyone else, I don't do it for longer than 3 minutes, which is under the length of even a song!
Not even at the airport....its the opposite of natural for me.
My friend agreed, and she's coming to mississippi nights with me over christmas break - I invited her mom, and I think she should come, too. Why should young people have all the fun, and get to do all the jumping?
I love that girl (her mom's cool, too), and she's so encouraging and hopeful for me, I hope I've done the same for her at some point in the 15+ years I've known her...its really only fair.
I was just thinking about how you have to be a sortof renegade if you want to be positive and do good in this world/my circle of friends/family/aquaintances, and this occured to me :
If I ever get another cat, I'm going to name it Renegade...or Captain Von Trapp. For some reason, Bubbles (my cat) just didn't seem to have the necessary countenatnce to be named Captain Von Trapp.

Anyway, found out this weekend that I turned a pal of mine onto Elvis Costello...same pal who told me a few weeks ago that I'd introduced him to Phantom Planet...may all just be a flash in the pan for that fella, but for me, i'm like, someone listened and liked it! Phantom planet, suuure, they're asy enough to love, but to continue to like elvis on a know-the-lyrics basis? I don't know, but the whole elvis thing -- a super heart-wrenching big deal. I just remember how grateful I was to have a little costello in my life - to know that I gave him to someone else, well its awesome, and I don't think what I'm saying ia a bit cheesy. I hope the albums found him at the perfect time, like they found me. It was like they were written for me the day before I listened to them, the tracks - especially from Costello's first 3 albums. I have one particularly charismatic high school teacher to thank for that.
Whatever, pat on the back for me for being awesome and not even knowing it.

I had weird dreams last night. I only remember 2/3.
Weirdest: I was like, supervising a sleepover of 9 year olds in the basement of the Kirkwood Crestwood youth theatre, and we were chatting it up about boys, make-up, etc...and there were all these guys (from my past, I think) showing up and like, oogling over my boobs, until finally one particularly rotten egg from the days of yore shows up. I end up really reading him the riot act, and then some, and he gets all mad and friend-breaks up with me b/c I was like, talking about how I liked him or something and how he was so annoying a million years ago and still is, etc... typical why are you a tool sort of girl v/s guy yelling. Anyway, I was all upset and this 9 year old made fun of me and I gave it right back to her. It was then that I realized I had no reason tobe upset, and that I'd lashed out against a 9 year old. Weird.
Weird-ish: I was at grad school at Columbia in NY, and I was trying to get to commencement. APparently, if you "turn left at the Indian" at any graduation ceremony ANYWHERE, you will get to commencement ceremonies and where you should sit. I ended up at an estrucian (an ancient people, much like mesopotamians) excavation site that used to be much more rustic (ti was in one of my other dreams, supposedly) but was now a museum of sorts. I remember remarking to I think my mom and dad, "my, how far the estrucian excavation site has come!" ANyway, it was next to this circus arena with a really pretty victorian theatre facade...i think in another dream I'd amost gotten in a fatal accident here with some circus equiptment. ANyway, it was much nicer now and there was a lot of hustle and bustle. Did I mention that Columbia univerisy was sortof located on the Greek Isles? Like, I think I saw some parthenon-esque structure on top of a hill, towards which I may've been trying to go. There were lots of roling green hills, cliffs and glistening blue seas - i know that much. I also know that I would not ask for directions, nor woud I call Liz, b/c I'd asked her for directions before and I was not about to ask again. I went to the indian a lot more times, and looking back, I think I turned right instead of left. I wasn't really worried though. And that was the end of that.

ANd I forgot the other one! But it was weird.
The break-up dream was super weird - the whole boob angle, not really getting that - but it was very emotionally weighty. Probably ties into my having been so boy-crazy this last couple of days.

I clearly need to just start exersizing again. I remember I used to be plagued by my own thoughts in New Hampshire, but then I started running 3miles every morning and it was like clarity had finally found me - all despite my wicked unrequited crush on a camp counselor with a heart of gold, I held out rather well! It felt very dramatic and romantic, trying to literally run from love that I knew wasn't chasing me.

Ok, I'm done turning phrases for the night - its been real!
~Lori

I hate weekends

You always say you're going to get something done during them, and that so seldom happens.
How did I seemingly get so much done in high school? Was it lists? Did I have a planner?
I think I need a day planner, that way, days will get planned!
Why do I worry so much about everything?

I'm beginning to hate this blog. This should explain why I'm seldom writing in it for those of you who happen to read it on the flip or the flop.

I'm sure it's only temporary - I'm pretty stressed out, as much as I don't like using that term. For not liking it, i sure use it a lot.
Anyway, a lot's been going on behind the curtains lately with job searching and overall life evaluating and other such things that we 20 something's seem to think we're entitled to do and lament over so often. I've also been really boy-crazy for the last 2 days, and I can think of one very probable reason why, but decorum prevents me from stating it here.

Hint: It starts with and H and rhymes sortof with Ramones, and I blame them for everything, and I think rightly so.

You know what? While I'm here I suppose I'll blog on about some things.
On second thought, I hate it when I think I can do that. I may as well go tell it to the hand.
Or my mom.
She always seems to agree with me, except when its about like, ok, well a lot of things.
Well, whatever. It'll all work out in the end.

My fingers hurt

I've been playing the guitar and piano a lot recently, and my fingers hurt. Perhaps its the pain that you're supposed to feel if you are a musician. I would be more inclined to think that the sort of pain musicians require is more along the lines of "oh my girl, she's gone" sort of pain, rather than, "ow, the tips of my fingers are frickin' bruised." I also had glass in my foot, and now it hurts! Damn! But none of this, of course, stopped me from going to see Marc Broussard. Might have to be equally as resolute to go see Ok Go, though I'm not as dedicated to the proposition that all their music will be life-altering as I was when it came down to a solo appearance for Marc.

Today I woke up late - too much chatting and looking at Google Earth with the buddies last night at chez Wamble. For some reason everyone was very self conscious that night- lots of "oh aren't we nerds to be discussing medival torture devices," etc... etc... this sortof sub-commentary really gets in the way of me learning that chastity belts had SPIKES on them! Ouch! Is that really necessary?
Seriously, is it? This is a terrifying side of human nature. Ugh, don't want to think about it.
Speaking of terrifying, I wore an Ann Taylor Loft outfit today, thinking I would be working there - but my shift got cut! It was rough.
I did look very professional for my internship, though. Not that it matters, as everyone seems to wear jeans. Oh you genre busting Generation Y and you're demands for flip flop appropriate dressing. Elegance is dying a slow and painful death, as my generation tightens its strangle-hold every day. Anyway, I do think I got to write 30 words about a Pink Floyd Tribute concert. Its a start. Even I'll admit that I don't have the practice to write features - yet. Though I wrote in like 3 languages everyday for 4 years, it doesn't really count for much other than being able to know your mind is well developed. And no, not over developed...those who'll tell others that their minds are overdeveloped by their snooty ivy league degrees (wharton doesn't count in this scenario, nor other business schools) are the sortof people who are making Stephen Colbert's job that much easier. I'm making unnecessarily complicated comparisons.
In light of attempting to move past 30 word nuggets of brilliance, i'm going to try to write more in this old not-a-journal piece of crap...no offence. I still can't stop hating blogs, though I just love reading my friends' and don't hate theirs at all.
Stranger things have happened.
After I came home from work my cousins and their kids came over.
Man, I just love that family.
I did my best to contribute to posterity by teaching my kindergarten cousin how to dance. He did a good job, even with the karate,break-dancing and gymnastics he would occasionally throw in. His eventual enthusiasm for dancing with me only served to reinforce my firm(er) belief that 6 year olds make the best boyfriends, like, EVER.
Anyway, it was joy, as we danced around my kitchen to, "Don't Change Horses."
Ok, I'm going to quit while I'm ahead here - my fingers hurt!

Marc Broussard - LEGIT

Hey y'all, its been a while!

I havn't been posting b/c my life got sortof mundane for a while there after I did NOT get to be the next kelly clarkson. Not yet at least. For now, its just strictly karaoke until I get (a LOT) better at guitar and piano - since none of my instrument-playing friends will ever let me sing for/with them, and for that I think, you know who you are, they are very lame - and then I'll blow some fish out of the water.

Until that day comes, I'll just go on singing Dear Diary, I'm not a Girl..., Tribute and other requests to my favorite non-instrumentalists.

Anyway, this is not what I want to talk about.

I went alone to a concert last night - something that I havn't really done since my swing dancing days (which aren't over, despite the whole foot-death thing - which is a whole 'nother story, as they say) and IT WAS AMAZING, and I don't think my life will ever be the same.

I got there late, b/c I had no money and was trying to find that AND someone to accompany me on my pilgrimage...luckily I found money, but I found no compatriots.
But no matter! I had on a really really cute outfit, the well wishes of my out of town homies, and had enough dough to park close so I wouldn't get attacked by creepy Mississippi River people.
And those who had a shot at greatness are sorry they missed out on 2 hours of joy...as well as for losing mega points with me.
Never turn down Mississippi Nights, hello!!!? Its always guaranteed to be ridiculously obscuretastic...and on a weeknight? Even better!

(I'm writing this at work, so if it sounds choppy, its b/c i have to keep on switching to Outlook so as not to blow my cover...but I'm not getting paid, so its a fine line between me not caring and not caring at all - still, its good to keep appearances)

Anyway, kids.
The opening band to the opening band i missed. I caught some poseur connecticutians, The Alternative Route, trying to be a nashville band - their slow songs were deliciously bluesy and verging on soulful, but something (i think it was the bass) was just missing. The drummer was also really stuck on using only one rhythm - so much you noticed, "hey, he's only using one rhythm." This is not good. The rest of the songs were like, blah blah, interesteing line, blah - even though the lead singer did have quite the voice and a pretty connecticut preppy face. I was like, hello, when can I dance to some sweet bayou music.
(FYI: To get to my dad's/my family's farm, you have to cross The Bayou, where there are totally trees swinging in the breeze and logs adrift, just like you'd imagine. Across from the Bayou is the Bennett's General store - only building for miles, where my dad's vagabond-with-a-heart-of-gold friend lives with his dad, whom everyone calls, "Brother." I might be mixing up some of this, but I want to paint a picture here of the small part of me that is really feelin' the bayou vibes.)
I danced with some old ladies on the last song of the Alternative Route, and it was joyful enough.

Then we're waiting for marc. He comes on and looks like my cousin trevor with sortof a jack black lookin' face. Interesting combo - duly noted.
Anyway, he starts playing and like, doesn't stop for 2 hours! Each song goes into the next, and he does these cool little seawalk-esque dances that I can just see him doing with his little buddies on the streets of Louisiana when he was 5.
Why did me and my friends play "mother may I" and wiffleball when we were 5??? WHYYYY!? We could've been studying blues guitar and doing some funky dancing on the streets together, yar!
Marc Broussard, for those of you that aren't as in the know as I, had a random free download on itunes, and yes, I downloaded it and loved it, but didn't bother to buy the cd, though the song kept on being so appropriate to all my playlists. My sister says it is a good song for walking down the street, & feelin' good.

About a school year later I saw this video on VH1 (I know, it was late at night - like really late) and i was like, oh man, that is so good, those people partying on the bayou -- and it was none other than marc broussard! So then I saw he was at mississippi nights and I had not moved to new york and it was fate. We were destined to meet on the Mississippi, as only two mississippi people can! Through some sweet soul music!

!

Did I mention that he wears hats?



Anyway, the music has all these cool breaks that are so well timed that you can't breathe during them and the basist and lead guitarist were blowing my mind. And no, I was not distracted by the drummer doing the same rhythm over and over again. The music and marc himself were like, al green meets maroon 5 meets gavin degraw meets james brown meets stevie wonder meets CCR meets the band that plays the theme song from the 80's tv show, Night Court.
Only like, a million times better.
I found myself in outbursts of screaming and stuff. It was wonderful!

Though my love for marc will not soon end, I'm going to finish this up in the interest of making something up for myself to do at my internship.

My reccomendation for you is to go pay your $17 and get Marc Broussard's album, Carenco (something along those lines) and get in touch with your inner bayou, b/c bayous will never not be cool.

What happened to Miss Independent?

In a week from now, I will have tried out for American Idol.

Is that ok?

Its making me a little kooky, and I'm none too excited about the line-waiting, and the sortof weight-iness of it all.

I'll sing a song, sleep in the car, have a road trip - these are all fun things and I'm at a point in my life where this is feasible, so ok - and it's not a big deal, and I'm going to stop visualizing someone stalking me or catching me doing something embarassing - I've decided that the worst thing I can do is fall. And that's really more funny than embarassing, and in the long run, American Idol is not about inner-ear strength, but rather singing and being cool. More singing though - I think.
Hell, I don't know.

I have just read way too many (try 5 in the past hour) celebrity magazines. Too much Lindsay Lohan gives me the heebie jeebies.

Heebie Jeebies - this is what followers of the cult of psychobabble might call "anxiety."

No offense though. I'm just trying to avoid the sort of narcissism that if provoked, self-diagnoses an array of clearly absent mental ilnesses. No, I'm not a scientologist, and I don't think bi-polar disorder can be cured with a brisk walk around the block, some enlightenment, and a V8. Just please don't try to diagnose me should you be prone to head-shrinker-esque behavior-- I'm from the Midwest, and I was born in Mississippi.

Everyone should understand what that means. (If you're reading this, you're probs my pal, so you already know. Forgive me the condecension. p.s. My writing style is weird tonight.)

But it's really just the heebie jeebies - I mean, that Lindsay Lohan girl is somethin' else, and by somethin' else I mean that she is just hateful. She's the girl that every mother dreads because she's the girl who is torturing her soulful and timid 7th grade daughter not merely explicitly, but simply by existing. Am I the only one who has noticed that Lindsay Lohan has turned into a plastic? (and that Rachel McAdams is like, the most adorable celeb since Jennifer Love Hewitt?) I saw too many pictures of ol' Linds, and too much unmerited praise of her. Hollywood is no meritocracy (SAT word!) Someone must have a really persuasive PR rep. That woman/man should be hired by the Democratic National Committee. Him/her and the guy who does the Target Ads.
Anyway...

She's a disney girl gone wrong and it makes me sad.

Walt Disney - from Missouri. Need I say more...?
Ok, Brad Pitt is also from Missouri, but he's a lame Sigma Chi frat boy from Mizzou - no one was really expecting eloquence from this fella. No one with a clue, that is. Yes, we all saw "A River Runs Through It" ...listen to his commentary on fight club -- our friend Eddie Norton was scoring way higher on the eloquence-o-meter. Ok, so he scored well as on the pretentious-o-meter, but he's a smartie and well all know smart movies and actor pretention go as hand in hand as Jude and Sienna do, post affair - how she doesn't dump him, I dont' know.

Don't tell me that he's Jude Law and he's so sizzlin' hot that only a fool would dump him.
Hello.
Paul Newman attractiveness was volcanic when he was Jude's age, and he still managed not to make a fool of himself and his wife, the lovely Joanne Woodward. Looks like there will never actually be a "next Paul Newman" - b/c last time I checked, the magazines were bestowing such an honor upon Matthew McCaughnehey and yep, Jude Law.
No dice, People (and US Weekly, etc..etc...).

Ok, 1,2,3, eyes on me.
Maybe its just weird to see all these people who are my age looking at me funny from the pages of a magazine.

Whatever! The fact is, it was a pretty day today, it will probably be pretty tomorrow, eventually I will find a place to lay my head long-term in NYC and the dough to pay for it, but for now - I'm going to clean my room.

First things first,
~Lori