Beware the Ides of November

I've been at Hard Times for a couple hours.
I woke up at Augsburg, and divvied out my bus fare for a cup of coffee and one refill. Sufficiently caffeinated, and tumbled out, I now blog.

Yesterday, I came to Augsburg and went to the Feminist Collective meeting. Erin runs it and it's fun to see the new faces and new view points, but it was also weird because I've been out of academia SO LONG... kinda... And when I used to go to Feminist Collective meetings, I would be pretty quiet, shy, reserved, hyper aware of my ignorance... but now, with a bunch of first years I feel like an overgrown snob.

After the meeting, Erin and I went to Kfai. Mayda was performing, and everyone was really excited. I worked on the blog, facebook, and made a tumblr. I really hope to become established with the social media thing.

Next week, The Sunny Era is playing, and I'm really excited to fan-girl out.

Today, knowing that my apartment will only bring sleep and dismay, I have stayed in Cedar Riverside.  

I read a letter yesterday. A letter offering free fare for three weeks of the Arizona Renaissance Festival. I'd let that dream fizzle after the North Carolina blunder, but suddenly, with my current state of affairs, the prospect again seems promising.

I don't want to be dependent on anyone though, and I thought, "Hell, if I go for three weeks, why not go for the whole thing?" So I emailed John Coiner Pottery where my dad worked many years ago. I know pottery, I know Ren Fairs, February and March suck... sooo...

But the mere THOUGHT of North Carolina lost me my place in my band, and I worry that two months away might hurt my position with the Cocktails, and I love them. 

If I went, I'd somehow pay for December rent, and then move home for a couple months. It couldn't be that bad... right? ... Again, I go through all that I know that I MUST do to stay healthy at home, and know that I'd get fat on the red chair watching Netflix.

And college loans.
Wtf.

I'm considering trying to busk Christmas songs, but I'm scared of panhandling politics. And trumpets are loud. Yesterday, I read an article about a Carlton student who juggled to pay rent, and now she's all professional. I want to build my own Hurdy Gurdy.

Fred and Daley showed up. I'm going to go read by them.       

Domestic Blog

I'm on a blogroll.

I don't think I actually know what a blogroll really is, but it's not being underlined in red, so it must be real.

Yeah... so it is what I thought it was... a roll of blogs... but anyway.

I'm on a roll. I woke up this morning with a Walking Dead/Breaking Bad influenced zombie vampire animorph queer romance fan-fic dream in my head. When I sat down to write the one bit, a whole plot developed, and it's actually quite cool. Though it weirded me out when I transitioned to teenage girl handwriting when I did it. Hm.

Then I wrote my first Live From Studio Five blog. Check it out!

THEN I wrote on my Tumblr.

Now, I write in my quiet, domestic blog.

Because, Ah! As much as I would have loved to go to Farm Party, Erin couldn't, and now I get a whole day to recharge, not blast my liver, and prepare for coming adventures. I can read Moby Dick, The Ethical Slut, or my beloved, "Social Civics." I can nap unbounded, stay up watching Arrested Development, or go to bed early.

Then, tomorrow, I will be totally charged for my long awaited video game date. Well rested, and not hazed with other lovers and hang overs. So that maybe I will actually enjoy my video game experience. Granted they do actually share, and don't get bored after 20 minutes of Mario Kart because they are actually into video games, and would rather play some intricate role play for one person while I sit on the sidelines trying fretfully to follow the plot for some kind of entertainment as I simultaneously try not to gauge my eyes out with the assortment of writing utensils I can now carry freely in my new back pack...

I look forward to today.

The Illustrious Rise of Fannie Blough the Fifth

Haha, real jobs. Silly couple of weeks ago Lily.

Soon, I will be the official blogstress for the Liquid Music Blogosphere, and maybe even for KFAI's Live From Studio Five. I know I would be good at it, and this kind of exercise will be good for my writing skills. Though, I'm a bit slow to sign on my commitment, because I barely ever blog here, and when I do, it's not very exciting. But with these sites, I suppose I better know my audience...

I wish I would have Augsburg Blogged better...

Anyway. I can keep trying. The ongoing Auggie Saga.

I've been reeling over the Renaissance Festival, particularly this last weekend. It's all in a manic, whirlwind, intoxicant hazed blur, and now here I am.

After summer semester in the University of Life, I think I got a 2.5 in choices, a 3.5 in drinking, 4.0 in relationships (stumbled a little at first, but I got my shit together in the end for an excellent final project), and a 4.0 in Fun.

There's more that could be said, but I write today because with Fest over, I lament the good times and the good people I had only just had the chance to know, and then, days later, realize that it doesn't have to end.

You see,
At this moment, you are speaking to Fannie Blough. That's right, THE Fannie Blough the Fifth of Cocktail fame.

Story goes like this:
I'm sittin' on the Morris Knoll, nibblin', flirtin', and shmoozin' when a woman says, "You play trumpet?"
"Yeeah."
"Do you want to play in a rockin' girl band with boy dancers?"
"Hell yeah, I do!"
"Um. Are you ok with wearing a corset?"
"Hell yeah, I am!"
"Great! We're called, "The COCKtails."
"Hell yeah."

***

Today, I had my first practice.
The Cocktails consist of four women, all interconnected and incestuous amongst the local FOLK community. I get to play bawdy, traditional and fun dance music, dress up, plot the notorious tree of Family Blough, and hang out with some of the coolest people I have had the chance to meet in my short time here (the World).

My first Cocktail cocktail had chocolate ice-cream in it.

!!!

Lastly, a prayer:

Dear Universe,
As I hunker into my couch to stay up all night watching Sherlock Season Two, I want to say thank you for your generosity. After many years of questioning my identity, that of being jugglersexual, I finally decided to come out to the world, and openly pursue my true feelings. I said to you, "Oh Universe, please, help me find a juggler to call my own." And universe, you delivered... Not saying he, or any juggler should be, "mine" necessarily, but Universe, you gave me the strength and the opportunities to thrust myself into the juggler community. And I did. And it's fun.
Amen

Verve

Quick blog to get my juices flowing as my coffee kicks in.

I need to power write two cover letters. They are both casual, so I need to be spunky and show my true self. All my spunk and verve. Because I truly am a rockstar.

I was productive yesterday too, I'm getting all my shit in order because I'm going to have a real job soon. I do hope it is soon. As soon as something sticks. Ah!

Happy Childhood

I had a very happy childhood.

I feel that I can look back with few regrets, and I wasn't terribly scarred.

Unfortunately, I do think much of what made my early youth so pleasurable, is now responsible for much of my young adult suffering. Mainly, the fact that I don't know how to cook for myself, or work a vacuum cleaner.

Yes, both of these examples are exaggerations, but today especially feels like a wake up call. I quit my job. I have some regrets, but I am really glad that I don't have to go back there. I need a job that doesn't lend itself so easily to whiskey breakfasts and a deep seeded loathing for humanity. "The sides are listed right where it says 'Signature Combos,' right there, which you must have seen because that's what you fucking ordered."

I also wanted my freedom.
How starry eyed of me.
I'm not going to starve. I just need to lay off my delicious food habit. Learn to cook. That's step one.
Step two is the bigger question of housing.
This apartment is NASTY.
It smells and no one cleans. It's dark. The shortage of windows make for little air flow. There is no microwave, blender, or supply of wash rags.

All taken for granted.

I've been distracted from this post.

I wish I could play trumpet at night

My room feels like a vacuum of creative energy.
That's not true, in the past couple weeks, this room has fostered the creation of THREE acrylic paintings (none of them finished yet, unfortunately) and at least a few hours of solid trumpet practicing... yet, when it has come to writing lately, I've been a void.

So today, I went to Merlin's Rest, where I sang sea shanties with Will, Alexa, and the rest of the shape note crew, or at least the ones that I know. It was fun (the first song they sang when I got there was General Taylor, which I know from my favorite Great Big Sea album). It's a slippery slope indeed, and the next thing I'll know, I'll be singing shapes on Tuesdays. They are all so nice, so open with hugs and acceptance, and the beauty, history and culture that the songs hold hits me in my core with every closing harmony.

I just saw a giant bug crawl by. Erin saw a bug this week, and said, "Ew, I hate ear wigs." I didn't think ear wigs existed up here, and the thought of them is terrifying. Ew. I hate ear wigs.

After singing I stayed at Merlin's, read a little bit from one of the zines I bought at Boneshaker, and then wrote  a letter for the first time in a while over a tall glass of Pimms. Mmmm, Pimms, a summer drink made with Gin, oranges, strawberries, apples, mint and cucumbers.

From there, my writing energies still bubbled, but I knew that if I came back here, they'd allude me yet again, so I went to the C.C. Club for the first time. Pretty cool. Lots of bikes outside. Tattoos. Cake on the jukebox. I wrote another letter, and then became absorbed in a zine called, "The Last Words of a Fucking Asshole." Now, the cadence of the author's candid narrative still courses through my head.

Because it's so personal, and HAND WRITTEN, I feel the urge, a need even, to write back. Letters come easy to me, and I want to zine back and say, "I love the sound my bike makes when it doesn't shift right too, and I know what it feels like to be swept away by those fits of mania, can we get together and talk about seratonin some time?"

And this after only tonight expressing in letter one that I didn't like how my experience of zines thus far has mostly been people with creative illusions that think their lives are amusing... while at the same time struggling with the idea that my very own core philosophy rests on the necessity to share our stories, no matter how trivial.

My zine will have pictures.

I have a big day tomorrow, what with work and wooing, but I don't want to sleep. I'll find something to do. South Park, for example.

Uptown girl... buh duh duh duhduh duhduh Uptown World

I've been a resident of Uptown for almost two weeks now, and where am I?

Hard Times.

The internet at my new place continues to be unsuccessful, and today, I met Erin for brunch at Seward Cafe. I'm feeling very post-grad, mobile, and existential.

I'm still reeling from the last couple weeks: My last paper (I had my first post-college anxiety dream, in which I woke up ((In the dream)) thinking, "OH NO! I DIDN'T ACTUALLY TURN IN THAT PAPER!!!")
My 22nd Birthday (Being 20 was so long ago! Will I be as cool as 25 year olds when I'm 25?)
Graduation (Still not really done... radio internship and all, but I don't want to pay for it).
Grandparents (They've been ridiculously old since I first met them in their 60s...)

AH! I LIVE IN AN APARTMENT, AND I HAVE ENOUGH LOANS TO SUPPORT A FAMILY OF 5 FOR AT LEAST 3 YEARS, AND I WANT TO RUN AWAY, BUT MAYBE I MISSED THE MANIA, AND WILL END UP STAYING IN MINNEAPOLIS YET ANOTHER WINTER.

When I got back from Grandparents', I went to a concert at the Nomad. Second Hand Ska Kings, Matt Wixon's flying Circus, STOP DROP, and ROCK STEADY BREAK FAST.

Lolololol.

I hope this doesn't come up if you google those bands... hm.

In that case, and in all seriousness, the whole show rocked. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, especially after I escaped the weird headspace that plagued me for the first hour.

You see... there's this particular woman... girl, really, who I've been loathing for about a month now. Blah blah blah, non-monogamy, ethics...

For a while, she haunted this whole neighborhood, and then, when I moved to Uptown, I'd see a blonde coming around the next block and brace myself to pounce. Eventually, I got sick of the anger, but wasn't able to really resolve it.

Until... Right before the show, I came to pregame on Coffee at Hard Times, and the blonde around the corner actually was her... and I hid.

But then, I emerged, was civil, and later told her that I am still really upset about the situation, but I don't want things to be bad... and now, while I may never see her again ever, I feel better. !

Life Starts on Tuesday. If a job equals a life... and if that job is fast food, if it really counts as anything...

Haha, actually, my fast food job is going to rock, and I'm really excited. I've been biking around more the last few days, so the 12 mile commute won't kick my butt. That won't really pick up for a while, and even when it does, the shifts are bearable... I wish I only needed the one job. :(

I hope to find another job serving somewhere so I can have funds to sit on in the fall, but I also want to get the most out of this free summer as possible.

Kfai internship. I will email Doug NOW.

Bicycles.

Metamorphosis

I sit in the comfort of my Aunts' house, sipping my hard earned flex point bulk Pepsi with PRIDE, I don't care how much everyone judges me. On the Rocks.

My metamorphosis into an independent being is about to reach another phase today, for I shall leave the safe havens of family and plunge into a basement apartment with craigslist strangers.

Good thing they turned out to only be craigslist strangers by coincidence, and friends of a friend in actuality. I'm really excited, and I'll even have my dear Kathy with whom to share a bed. (Last night Nathan taught me the difference between who and whom. I think I got it right. I want to bring it back, because it's dramatic).

Yesterday was marvelous, and in spite of my initial qualms upon finding Uptownians to be too CLEAN, I think I will have a place there. Though it will be practically impossible not to spend all of my money. I rode my bike all around, stopping first at my new apartment to grab my backpack, then to an art store where I got myself a great present:

A new sketchbook.
3 new pencils, HB, 2H and 5H, Yum.
A gummy eraser
A sharpener
A Prismacolor marker pen for out lining

I then tried them out on a wildlife encyclopedia at the Uptown Library.

Then it was back to the Aunts' to regather. I thought of a FANTASTIC date, and then waited anxiously for Nathan to arrive.

We hastened to Lake Calhoun, and boarded the sailboat we at first thought we missed. There were fun people and a flamenco guitar. From there, it was tasty domestic brews at Williams Peanut Bar, and then romantic wine at Barbette.

As soon as I leave here, it will be a hustle and bustle... I suppose I'll be expected to socialize... and once Ani leaves, I should un pack, lest I live out of boxes until July like last year. How did Janelle handle it?

Then, Saturday morning, my mom and I go to missouri again.

Every New Beginning is another new beginning's End

I end as I began... In the Honor's Suite, eating Cheez-its.



I am drawing out the completion of this paper, for once I hit send, I'm done.

For good. 

It will be interesting to see what end I end up actually missing... Will I really miss cheez-its and coke that much? 

Will I miss my classmates?

What about the squirrels, the practice rooms, the quad? 

I'll miss the cotton wood trees.

My professors. 

The outlets for academic discussion...

None of it's really leaving... Except me...

Huh.

Ok. I'll have another blog before the real end I'm sure, but ... here I go.
 

 

Almost huit in the Honor's Suite

Quick Post.

(Excuse my poor, franglish attempt at a NoFx reference)

At the Honors Banquet, we all got nostalgic.

Here I sit Monday evening in the Honors Suite, and I am one of 8 honorable, lap top absorbed students.

Typey typey type.

There really is a magic in it.

Also, let me just say it's almost 7, and the sun is still in my eyes as I sit in the west facing window. SUN. At SEVEN. A couple months ago, it would be dark after JAZZ BAND.

Summer! I love you!

"All Nighter"

The sky turns purple as I write.

It wasn't a real all nighter. I came here to the Honor's Suite at 9, Kathleen, Ingrid and Katie joined me at 11, and I fell asleep at two. I slept on the couch, dreaming of postmodernism and paper structures until five, and then Kathleen left. 

Now I'm left alone, with an unwritten paper and warm mcdonald's coke.

Luckily, I DID do research, it's just a matter of turning it into a paper now, which over the years, I HAVE grown pretty good at. 

Thus begins the next three days of self abuse, with the hope and dream that come Thursday, everything will be done, and I can wake up on the morning of the anniversary of my birth, and greet my 23rd year with an unburdened mind. 

This is the end, my friends.

 

College Bucket List

Recently, there have been a few significant accomplishments in my college career.

As stated in my last post, two of my goals were to present at a conference, and get into the student juried art show.

I DID speak at the conference, and I at least entered the art show. I didn't get in, even though my painting was awesome, but making the step to enter was a pretty big deal. So, check.

Another goal I didn't know I had until tonight, but it has always loomed in my mind as, "I wish I was cool enough to be part of that tradition."

As long as I've known Colin, I've known about the annual Echo Joke issue and what that entails; all of Augsburg's most satirical minds coming together to stay up LATE in the Echo office putting together an issue of utter nonsense.

Well, my friends, I was there. I stayed up past my bedtime drawing AWESOME pictures, that are actually too obscene to discuss here. Please, pick up a copy of the, "Augsburg Libido" this Friday, and let me stress that the terribly offensive art work submitted by, "Whorance Night'n'tail" and "Poonsan B. Anthorny" has no connection to yours truly.

That said, I rock.

(.)(.)

In other news.
I've been stressing about the future. That future being the next 23 days until I GRADUATE FROM COLLEGE, and the weeks soon after. I didn't have a job, a place to live, or even an internship to complete my Women's Studies Major.

WELL.
1) Job. I texted Alysia from Dino's to see if I could get a job at their Edina store, and she gave a resounding, "Of Course!" Then, when I talked to her today, she said that she couldn't wait. It makes me feel good to have such a positive environment to work in. Sure, my grandma said a bit condescendingly, with an air of disappointment in her voice that she, "Understands that after so many years of rigorous study, I'd want to go to something easier day to day." Ha. Fast food is pretty straight forward, but I think it can benefit from hard work. I like it. My bosses are great, my co-workers are fun ( I wonder what they'll be like in Edina!) and I get FED. EVERY DAY.

2) Domicile. A while ago, I found a guy on craigslist looking for a roommate. He seemed desirable because he knew what he wanted, and was cool. Well. Turns out he knew what he wanted a bit too specifically... and sucks to be me, he doesn't have a set move out date so... he's gonna look for the perfect place. So, I took initiative and accepted that I'd be paying a lot for a studio, but then I found a sublet from May to September in Uptown for a reasonable price. I hope it works out. This means all summer I get to ride my bike around the lakes to and from work, eat gyros and live in UPTOWN! Who knows what September will bring.

3) Internship. I finally listened to my mother's prodding and emailed Doug the Thug from KFAI's Live from Studio Five, who I met at a Sunny Era/Brass Messengers concert two Octobers ago. He's all about me interning 10 hours a week, and Jacqui agreed to make it count for Women's Studies. I will be learning about radio tech, and be at the heart of the musical hipster scene in Minneapolis. I'll also have opportunities to write things, and maybe even learn more about broadcasting! I'll have an official title!

Things are working out.

... Now... If I can just pass Art class.

On a Friday Night...

Was what I was going to title my blog yesterday, after I returned from the ACTC Women's Studies Conference, and then set about doing all my homework.

Which I didn't. I found Cameron in a tree in the park, and then watched How I Met Your Mother until I fell asleep... after a particular roommate hurt my feelings in relation to my sex life. "Why are you a dick?" I asked. "That's just who I am." I seriously wonder how they can find fulfillment if their, "Who they are" consistently puts people down.

Then I realized, that by calling them, "a dick" I am feeding into the gendered oppression that I hate. How is it that I can feel ok calling someone a dick, while getting mad about words like bitch, or cunt? I look forward to leaving the safe bubble of college, and seeing what color my world will take.

So I went to bed feeling bad about myself.
And woke up feeling bad about myself.
Nathan and I were going to go on an adventure today, but because it was cloudy and cold, and I had my mom mad at me about sending grandma some sheet music, and I hadn't done any work the night before... I was not in a comfortable head space. Nathan, being the gloriously understanding human he is, told me to take care of myself, and then brought me a sandwich.

Unfortunately, I did not conquer the world after eating that sandwich... instead, I fell asleep for four hours... which I want to justify as, "Well, I must have needed it..." but... argh.

Anyway. The Women's Studies conference yesterday was amazing. I presented my Occupy Wall Street research, and met some really cool people.

My other goal this week was to get into the student juried art show... but I didn't see my painting left in the gallery... soooo... maybe entering is enough to check that off my list.

Ok. Now I am going to try to write about philosophy.

Kathleen Watson

This is a tale of love, and of scorn, that began many years ago.

Many said years ago, I became acquainted with an intriguing honors classmate, Kathleen. Kathleen was in theater; she was extroverted and had the coolest friends. I became her friend, and we'd sit in Crockett's class talking shit about our fellows.

One of them talked too much, so we'd time her.
Kathy was intense, so we mocked her.
Andrew was hot, so we made eyes at him.

As our friendship grew, we did everything together. No clothes basket mountain, or car ride through Seward went unconquered. It served to reason that two fine girls as ourselves would make a fantastic home together.

And we did.

"Isn't it great that we're not dating, so we can never break up?"

And then we broke up. A whole summer of silent resentment, lead to a fall of discontent. Finally, that winter, I fled into the welcoming arms of Erica Malloy and my life took a whole new turn.

Kathleen and I weren't bitter... the relationship just had to end, wounds healed, but I never expected to really get back to the way things were.

And now, years later, we sit together on a porch, singing along to the mix tapes we made each other. We've both changed a lot. I know that I have grown more secure in myself to be comfortable being on my own, which are traits that if lacking, a shy kid fresh from the woods could easily find herself caught up in someone else's world. Kathleen also, I feel has come more strongly into herself, ready to approach life with confidence.

So this is a story of hope and assurance. Time can really change things. Especially time spent in such formative years.

Here's to a friendship renewed!

She thought of them as a 4-H Project

Proclaims a magnate that my Mom's best friend gave her.

It features a picture of a woman looking clever, with two men on horses in the background.

Lately I've been wondering if I consider my boys to be Primary Sources from the early 21st Century.

Is it ok if I too, am a primary source?

Small Town Minneapolis

My current Facebook status expresses, "Because college teaches you more than academics."

I post that in answer to my own question of, "Why shouldn't I feel bad about exercising my social energies, going out, networking and meeting people that could some day help provide remarkable opportunities."

Minneapolis is a small town.
I've seen it happen to Visser, when bit by bit the edges of your network expand to envelop more and more circles, until finally, you know everyone.

For example on Wednesday I met a girl named Cate. "Augsburg? Do you know Magdalen?"

"Of course! She's going to let my snake eat her mouse!"

Then, it's always mind blowing when you go on facebook to add your new friends, only to discover you already have 5 friends in common. One guy also on Wednesday got dropped off at Seven Corners. Cameron knows people at Seven Corners, so I said I know people there, and then, upon friend request, I find that Cameron already knows this guy because he's roommates with his friends. AND he knows Kathy, because he met her at a show once.

Thursday, after going to Tracy's with my Philosophy class, I met a successful man at the Acadia. We talked about economics, identity and the world. He gave us a ride in his convertible, and before he left, he said he could hook me up with a job at Sawatdee. That is a good connection to have, especially as I start trying to figure out how to live this summer.

My social energies are running on fumes. I wasn't going to be extroverted yesterday... but...

NOBEL PEACE PRIZE FORUM.

One can't simply hide quietly in her bed while a million socially minded college kids from the Mid-West have gathered in the living room. Ah.

It was good.

I talked to Jacqui yesterday. I said I wasn't worried about my research paper, she laughed at me. ... So today, after I Skype with Colin, I'm going to hit the books with vengeance. ... because College is about academics too.

Ear Plugs

Before practice yesterday, I stopped by target and bought a tooth brush, a four pack of Red Bull, and a 12 pack of ear plugs (with convenient travel case!).

I was excited to use my new ear plugs and consequently NOT lose all of my hearing... but it just so happens, that when you put ear plugs in, you lose all of your hearing.

I took them out half way through the first song... but I really should have just played louder to hear myself.

My rock and roll life style continues, with only a little bit of identity crisis.

On Tuesday, Rocksteady had a band meeting, where they talked about their feelings, and plans for the future. From what I was able to pick up on yesterday, their plans for the future are pretty big, as they become more and more a significant act in the Minneapolis/St. Paul Ska scene. There will be travel. There will be beer festivals. ... and it seems like I will be a part of it.

I hope.

It's still hard to tell.

There will be a follow up blog one of these days where I discuss the feminist implications of playing in a punk band.

I'll get good, and I'll learn how to tear up solos, and they will have no reason not to need me.

~~~

I'm hanging out with Axel and Petie again. House sitting over Christmas is easy, because I show up here, and never leave. This time I have school, and social obligations, so I've been run, run, running.

Yesterday for example, I slept through my first class (didn't do the reading :( ), ate lunch, and biked the 5 miles to Uptown. The dogs did their thing, and then I rode the 5 miles back. THEN, at 5pm, I rode to Lake Street for practice, practiced, and then rode from there back here. I haven't ridden my bike in weeks, and I am surprised I am not more sore than I am.

Because this weekend will contain so much physical activity-which is something my life lacks- I'm going to try to use it to kick off a spring health regimen. ... also because there is food here... a whole bowl of fruit, and a fridge full of eggs and cheese... and ice cream. So, besides the ice cream, I can be replenishing my bicycle weary body with good, substantial nutrements.

Then, by spring time for real, when I'll be playing shows in sleeveless shirts, I'll be rocking what Beth called, "Michelle Obama arms." Yes. I must also cover them in tattoos.

Maybe.

I've been thinking tattoos again, with mixed feelings. I never actually have to see my Hare if I don't want to, so I wonder what it would be like to have something on my arm, where I'd see it all the time.

What do you think though? Out line of a wall eye, on my right arm, positioned just so the pale white of forearm's underside makes the pale white of the fish's belly. His face would be right by my wrist, so even in sleeves, an angry wall eye face could peek through.

Then again, last week, without knowing of any tattoo plans, my dad said, "If anyone ever asks if you can draw a wall eye, just say no." Maybe that's a sign.

Another idea is an outline of a trumpet on the back of my left arm. This would be more balanced with the Hare, and could be symbolic of my entering the trumpet world... but I also don't want it to be pretentious. Who am I to call myself a trumpet player?

Anyway, this blog got long. I think lots of it is me not wanting to enter the cold, outside world. I need to be at school by nine for improv, which I didn't practice for. PRIORITIES!

How do you support your Rock and Roll Life Style?

Ok... well. I guess it has been a while.

There are just so many things going on that I can never decide what to blog about... so I never do.

For example:

History Major's Senior Seminar on the year 1968 with Jacqui deVries that is the only thing standing between me and my History Degree... and the work for which I should be doing RIGHT NOW!!! I've already been slacking, and this class is important. Soon, I will start researching for my THIRTY PAGE PAPER. I plan on doing it on something relating to youth organizing, perhaps even in the Twin Cities (So I can use the History Center's archives!) and then of course adding a twist of sexual politics and gender roles. Woot!

An amazing winter break, spent at home in Ogilvie, dog sitting near Cedar Lake, and many nights in Anderson bonding with my rockin' Environmental House.

Speaking of Rocking... I've also been playing a band.
The Brass Messenger rehearsals went well, but I had not yet grown the balls necessary to rip up a solo at that point, and since giving their music back, they haven't said anything. Maybe, if nothing else, I'll be on their sub list, which is better than nothing.

Because of the Brass Messengers and my fan-dom, I got connected with a trombone player from another local band, which is also pretty great called Rocksteady Breakfast. I've rehearsed with them twice, and after practicing almost every day for two weeks, I spontaneously joined in at a show on Friday. "Playing shows is like drugs," Francis said, and after playing a couple songs that I actually knew, to a crowd of screaming fans... I'm hooked.

So yeah.
I'm a rock star.

Now I need to figure out how to keep rocking, AND get homework done.