Oh, to be thirteen...

So. It's little sister's birthday party tonight, and quite honestly...it's a nuthouse. There are about 45 damp, screaming, pre-pubescent, hormone-riddled kids wandering around my house, garage, pool...everywhere. Naturally, I'm hiding out in the den, counting down the minutes until they leave and I can start with the imbibery (48).

I realize that I didn't do a Little 500 update, as I was essentially blacked out that entire weekend. So let me paste it together for you:

Cut to: Erin, Jill, Mike, sitting in the living. The clock reads 10.45. Erin and Jill are drinking beer, Mike is cooking breakfast and drinking.

Cut to: Erin and Jill, walking down the street. The time is 12.15. They wander into Hoosier Courts on Henderson, never to be heard from again. Or, at least for a while.

Cut to: Erin and Jill, at the beer pong table. Time has become irrelevant and quite ridiculous. Ice block drinks have been done, beer pong games have been won, and Kristopher Mauck has been chatted to. Also, hamburgers.

Cut to: Erin and Jill, in Steph's room. We called Jill into work, so she didn't have to go. :) Yay!

I know we floated two kegs, got into a feud with the neighbors, ate like, fifty time, and played so many games of beer pong that I can't even remember. Little 500 hundred just can't be put into words...Just so you know...on Playboy's List of Best College Weekends, Grand Prix at Purdue ranks number 9. Decent. A regular weekend at IU ranks 4th. Little 500 is, of course, number 1. As if you doubted.

From one alcoholic to another...for Hans

Hans has deemed me a poetry geek lately, and reading over the blog, I see he is right. So. This post shall have nothing to do with poetry. It's little 500 week!!!!!!!!!!!! For those of you unfortunate enough not to live in Indiana or attend Indiana University, let me give you a brief rundown...this is the week where our fuckin' university gets drunk off its ass. We go to classes in that weird state between drunk and hungover, and everyone is the kid that smells like whiskey. The only reason we shower is to get pretty for the party the next night. Drinking 'til you throw up/black out/take your clothes off/pee on the wall is considered polite. Anything less than that and you're stuck up. Also, there's a bike race...but if you want to know more about that part, may I suggest the movie Breaking Away? Should be paired with Hoosiers to maximize your viewing pleasure. So last Friday, I went to a party with Jill given by a Penn Station guy, David, who really is the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. Like, he should be an Abercrombie boy. And, he was so nice. Unbelievable, really. But anyways, this weird man (like, 26 or 27) was following me around all night...he told me his name was Michaelangelo and he wanted me to move to Carmel with him. But anyways...I got gouged in self-defense a couple weeks ago, so I was wearing a band-aid on my hand, and he asked about it, so I told him the story, and he ripped the band-aid off and kissed my hand. On the sore. Ewewewewewew. And way creepy. Like, he gets the most creepy points ever. So then we left, herded out the door by another Penn Station boy, Brenden, who lived a couple streets over. And we played beer pong there. And then Dean and Michael came and I passed out in their car...and I managed to sleep in my bed, and not on the floor, which is where I usually sleep in the event of passing out. I also got a little blitzy on Saturday, but not so much, cuz I only had like a bottle and a half of wine...which isn't really enough for me. And last night...also lots of drinking, and Mike was the funniest boy ever..."I, um, woke up with one of Pete's energy drinks in my pocket...and I totally don't remember buying that..." Turns out, he doesn't remember much of anything past 11.30, and he definitely drank for another 2 hours or so after that. Have a lovely pic of him passed out with his hand in the toaster. It rocks so hard. Funny drunk Mike, who took like...15 shots, I think. I played it safe with 7 or 8. Only a little fuzzy when I went to bed. And almost missed class this morning, because I like to sleep. That is all...homework to do.

A dream

There was a baby sitting in a chair in an emergency waiting room. He was round and bald and dressed in blue, peaceful. And I knew his last name was Williams. A man burst through the door and called to the baby, called him William. William Williams. A lady who was sitting next to the baby asked what his middle name was, and I said it was Carlos. She started weeping then, saying, "It's a poet, it's a poet."

One Mrs. Dash!!!!! Mrs. Dash, Mrs. Dash!

Heh. My morning was spectacular, what with driving Mike to the collision shop and then having pizza and Price is Right for breakfast. He also helped me study a little, which was much appreciated, as I had two tests today, both in my ridiculous classes that I wish I didn't have to take. Criminal Justice definitely went well, I feel very good about that one, but not so much about the S-linguistics one. This semester is killing me, seriously. It's my own fault, I'm sure, because I'm not putting into my classes nearly what I need to be. Which is part of the reason why I've avoided the whole job situation. But. By January of next year, my life should be calm again...and, okay, maybe that's a long time, but at least I can see the slow down. I'm hoping to just take a semester to kind of catch my breath when I get back from Ireland, like a poetry workshop, my last period class (woo!), another N & M class (honors, hopefully), and my honors seminar. Yeah, I know it's only 12 credit hours, but hopefully I'll be able to apply for another internship that semester, and finally finally be able to attend the Indiana Writer's Conference. On that note, though...I've been giving some serious thought to the whole poetry thing. And really, I just don't know that I'm good enough to do what I want to do. I feel sometimes like my professor and my peers are just patting me on the head, when really, I need to know if I've got what it takes. Because, seriously, I'm getting to the point where really, I do have to decide if this is what I want to (am able to?) go to grad school for. I need...god, I just feel like I need someone to tell me that I'm terrible, or that yeah, I do have potential, and here's what you do to make the most of it. I love Cecil to death, I really do, and I trust him as a writer, but he's just too damn nice as a critic, because he does love poetry, and he doesn't want to discourage any of us from writing. Which is really commendable. However, it doesn't help me. And I think the fact that I am doubting myself and not just staying comfortable with his uplifting comments does say something about me, and if I don't have the talent to be a writer, I at least have the drive. But it isn't the drive that gets me into grad school, or published. *sighs* That sounds like such a pipe dream when I write it down. I can't imagine ever seeing a book with my name on it, be it cheap and tawdry paperback, or a slim volume tucked on the shelves upstairs, the only copy of my first book that 17 people will read, but it would be poetry, damn it, and really, it would be more than enough for me.

Oh, fiddlesticks! That's right...fiddlesticks.

Not an overly exciting day, thus far. E-linguistics was predictably...eh. And self-defense rocked my socks off, as usual. Got my class list for Ireland yesterday...looks like I'll be taking Irish Poetry in the 20th century, Irish History, The Troubles of Northern Ireland, and The Art of Ireland from Neolithic to New Age, along with an internship. :) Could I be any happier???? The answer, of course, is no. Played computer games with Austin last night...just 'cause he likes it when I'm geeky...which is all the time, really, but you know what I mean. I need to get one of those "Learn Gaelic in 25 seconds" cd rom things for my computer. Because, I mean, even if I can't get the basic structure of the language down, I'd like to at least be able to puzzle through words with the right sounds, like knowing that Dubh is pronounced dove and Maeve is pronounced mab. So I know a very very tiny bit. But nothing overly helpful. It's Thursday...party and sleepover? Who knows. Who can tell. More later. When I have something real to say. Oh! Have talked to Matthew now, online. Not nearly to the extent of what I've done with Renita, but, honestly, I don't ever expect to find a ridiculously quick connection like that again for a long time. In any case, he's fun, if not so talkative online, which I can appreciate, and he's inundating me with video game recommendations. Which I also appreciate.

Girls, girls, girls

Talked to Renita for a long time last night...it seems to me that maybe an hour and a half is the right timeframe, but it could have been more than that. Or less. Time gets hazy for me at night. Especially when I'm writing. Which I was attempting to do, very terribly. I ended up using one of my other poems for today...it is a really great poem, though, at least, I really like it, and it isn't old, not really. I wrote it a couple weeks ago, and I wanted to workshop it then, it just didn't fit the assignment. But. Renita. It's honestly more than a little scary how well I hit it off with this girl, and how much we are really the same person. So. Am looking even more forward to her coming this weekend...3 full days left, and then it's Saturday. Also managed to disclose and discuss with her a particular aspect of who I am that made Austin more than a little uncomfortable. And I do understand where he's coming from, it's not like I'm being a jerk about it. I'm just...being stubborn about it, which is almost the same thing. *sighs* This is where LJs security would come in handy. As I have no idea who reads this, since I post my link several places. In any case, though I am talking around the issue, the people involved know what I mean. And really, it isn't so much being stubborn as...I don't know. Feeling as though I'm being denied something for no real reason. And there is reason, as I said, I do know where he's coming from, but. We're just very different on this issue, I suppose. And, as I told him, I don't want to force him into pretending he's okay with something when he really isn't. Oh. And. Apparently there are stupid sorority girls on DePauw's campus who feel the continuing need to be mean to another of Austin's friends. Fuck 'em, dude. It bugs me the way that girls are sometimes...because I do think there's truth in the idea that girls are more cruel than boys. It upsets me a little and embarrasses me a lot to know that I share anything with these sorts of females, even just biological make-up. Ugh. So. I'm sorry for them, and sorry for anyone that has to deal with this sort of girl. *jumps subjects* Reading Gulliver's Travels right now for my Lit class. Love Swift, he's so fabulous. Are we surprised, though, that Erin enjoys something Irish? I think not. :) In any case, I do like political metaphor writing in any sense, so this is such a fun piece for me. It makes me a little sad that Ireland is becoming more and more of an industrialized nation, because of where it takes their writing. There has always been something mystical about Ireland, and perhaps that mystical quality is waning. I, of course, refuse to believe such a thing. It will always be magical to me. I feel like my writing has suffered in 303 this semester. Perhaps I learned all I could from Cecil last semester and I should have done 403 with Manning, who is apparently fuckin' amazing, this semester. Ah well. I still have three semesters on campus, two with workshops, and I do want to do my English Honors Project (eee! I did get admitted to that last night!) with someone in the creative writing dept. So. We'll see what goes down. *re reads* Sorry, I guess this post isn't very interesting, but I do need to get ready for class and do some readings. So. I'll catch y'all later.

Twelve string guitars and all things Irish

Slowly but surely coming up with solutions to my monetary problems. My fingers are crossed the HHC comes through with at least a little money for me...also, if someone wanted to sublease my apt for the summer or my bedroom in the house first semester, that could greatly help me out. But IES, the program I'm going with, offers all kinds of scholarships, so I'm working on that too. And job getting tomorrow. Yes. This is a good plan. And I've budgeted my remaining money, and I should be able to get through the summer with what I have. So. Things aren't so bad as I thought they were. Am highly pumped for this weekend...I get to meet Matthew and Renita! Who are, in case you don't know (and why would you?) these are Austin's best friends in the whole world, and they're gonna come drink wine with us on Saturday. I've talked to Renita a few times now...I think I've mentioned that...and she's just gotten the link to my blog *waves*. And she seems way way cool. Very excited to meet her. Matthew...I've gotten bits and pieces from Austin and Renita, so no telling if he's anything like I have him put together in my head. We shall see. Spent a long time with Matt tonight, talking about high school, and who we are now, and why Christine doesn't talk to us anymore, and what he should do with his excess of friends. Lots of good introspective Matt and Erin time. I had fun. Someday. Someday I'll be a poet. I swear. It's really all I'm good at.

This one's for the boys

Sorry, guys! I really am. I've started posting several times since I last did, and have never had time to finish. So, I'm taking a Swift break to post. On to exciting things...
I AM GOING TO IRELAND!!!!!!! For sure. So long as I make money. And if not, well...student loan city. Gotta love that stuff. So, I shall be job hunting this week. Or rather, threatening Borders into hiring me. I really think I need to get a couple jobs...because I'll still have rent and bills and the like to pay over the summer, which is really a pain, but I do have my internship. It appears that maybe I'm trying to do too much at once (does this surprise anyone) but, as I told my mother, if there's an opportunity there, I'm going to seize it. And really, this first semester is the best time for me to go abroad, in an academic sense. In a finanical sense...definitely not. In a personal sense...well, let's just say that I have more doubts about that then I did a couple months ago. Done a lot of playing with Austin this week...got him ridiculously wasted, enough to drunk dial Jill. I tried to talk him into calling one of his girls, but he insisted that they wouldn't see the humor in the situation. I highly doubt that though. He was damn funny. Have also discovered the most fantastic show on the face of the planet: Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. Seriously, the name alone is great, and the premise of having a place for homeless imaginary friends to live is fabulous. Cartoon network. Watch it. I insist. Criminal justice class last Friday made me want to kill myself. She's so...painfully boring, and not really a very good instructor. She also works with my roommate, so. Whatever. I won't say anymore about that. My good friend over at masochrist.blogspot.com has been raising interesting points of late. I encourage anyone who, um, enjoys flamingly one-sided opinions to read his plan to fix the world. The scariest thing of all is...if someone was powerful enough and communist enough, I think it could work. He did forget, though, I think, to break the will of humanity sufficiently enough to implement this plan. But just a minor detail, and I'm sure he's got an idea for that as well. Oh. The Pope. Ugh. I'm sorry that he's dead, and I'm sure he was fabulous and everything, but I'd much prefer to watch Revenge of the Nerds than some crazy ass Italian cardinal tell me that the Pope's dead. When I already knew. I mean, seriously, if you've ever talked to me, you've heard me rant on how, for at least the past year, the Pope was an animatronic puppet. Nobody ever heard him say anything! He'd mumble and then that smarmy looking guy who followed his motorized wheelchair (battery charger??) would kindly interepret it (make it up) for the rest of us. Terry Schiavo. I won't go into this at length, just tell you that our Easter Sunday ended with my aunt calling me a murderer and leaving. So. Guess which side I was on. Saw Sin City with the boys on Friday. So so so so so good. And I almost had an orgasm right there in the theatre, because I saw the Hitchhiker's Guide trailer, the Devil's Rejects trailer and the Episode III trailer all in a row. Had poet night on Friday also, which was lots of fun...even thought Katie sort of stole one of the poems I need for workshop after flaming the writer. She decided it was too mean, and we couldn't give it to the author, so I'm hoping to steal a copy from a fellow poet who hasn't commented yet. Talked at length with Katie about English Honors Project, and am very excited about putting together a huge manuscript. Am also hoping that I'll be able to talk a poetry workshop whilst in Ireland next semester, so my criticism muscles don't get rusty, and also so I don't inflate myself into thinking that I'm better than I am. That will be my real problem, not having anyone to look at my stuff. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to have another English major along for the semester. That could be fun. And there's this fantastic Irish Writer's Conference in Dublin in Septemeber, so I'm already planning to knock around there. I'm going to take as few hours as possible, because I want to experience the country. I might not come home, guys, I might just get a job cleaning glasses in a tiny country pub, and spend my days wandering the country and writing poetry, and my evenings in the pub, listening to the old men talk and sing and tell stories. If I feel particularly ambitious later this evening, maybe I'l do some poetry posts for you. So you know what I've been up to this semester. It just makes me nervous posting it on a forum like this, especially without a copyright. I know personally that I often stumble across random blogs and livejournals, and while I wouldn't steal anything, I don't know for sure that someone else wouldn't rip my writing off. *shudders* That's the closest thing to mental rape I can imagine, I think, at least for me. So maybe no poetry for you.

Also. I am a geek. And it is apprently highly attractive. But I'm sure you already knew that.