Friday, January 30, 2009
Only a person without a soul would pass this crap along. Naturally, I've tagged as many people as possible. Think of this, o dear "friends", more as being "stabbed".
What does your music library say about you?
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1. Put Your iTunes on Shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write down the name of the song no matter how silly it sounds!
4. Put any comments in brackets after the song name.
5. Tag at least 10 friends
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What do your friends think of you?
Zeichen der Venus
[Probably not so much.]
If someone says, “Is this okay?” You say?
Etwas Geld
[I am a mooch.]
How would you describe yourself?
The Small House of Uncle Thomas
[I am emancipated.]
What do you like in a guy/girl?
Shadowboxer
How do you feel today?
Breathtaker
What is your life’s purpose?
Sentimental Journey
What is your motto?
I've Got You Under My Skin
What do you think about very often?
Die durch die Hölle gehen
[Das Leben ist mir die Hölle.]
What is 2 + 2?
Liebe Mich Leben
What do you think of your best friend?
The Letter
What do you think of the person you like?
It's Only A Paper Moon
What is your life story?
Bock Bier Polka
What do you want to be when you grow up?
Vdol' pa ulitse (A Snowstorm Blows)
What do you think of when you see the person you like?
We're Off To See The Wizard (Duo)
What will you dance to at your wedding?
Wie Tief
What will they play at your funeral?
Let The Planets Burn
What is your hobby/interest?
Fikk Dich Mit Fire
What is your biggest fear?
Stress Pill
What is your biggest secret?
War
What do you think of your friends?
Im Inneren Der Stadt
What will you post this as?
Die Verschwörung
This is representative of the music I work out to: German metal and Ella Fitzgerald, with other stuff sprinkled in. If you had my metabolism, you'd be moody all the time, too.
Labels: Facebook, friends, German, iTunes, list, songs
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:07 PM]
Ten Traumatizations
Monday, January 26, 2009
Since my goals are worthless, I decided to put a twist on this tagging-of-one's-friends trend: I am only tagging people I have ostensibly Facebook befriended, but whom I actually despise. I hold my friends close, but my enemies closer. And rather than life goals or fun facts, I am posting a much-abridged list of the things that account for the more bizarre aspects of my personality development. If you've been tagged (think of it more as "jabbed"), you have to come up with your own list of sorrows, traumatizations, and unhappy memories.
1. When I was five or six, I wrote on some bureaucratic form or other, under "Race:", that I was "apricot" (this being the only crayon in the box that appoximated any part of my flesh). The teacher told me that was wrong, and that I am "white".
2. At some point in elementary school, I was told that the British spelling of any English word is incorrect. So I make it a point to write "flavour", "colour", and "storey" in all formal compositions.
3. I cannot rollerblade, because when we were little, my mother wouldn't let my siblings or me own rollerblades. We could have fallen and cracked our skulls open. The same reason accounts for why I have never attempted to skateboard, shoot a gun, climb trees, scuba dive, or have sex. I'd fall and crack my skull open.
4. One morning in junior high, I refused to attend church anymore. My dad threatened to beat me if I didn't go, so I locked myself in the master bathroom until it was safe to emerge. Now, whenever someone suggests taking me to a religious function, my heart rate increases, and I feel the need to urinate.
5. I never used to talk to people, because I could not come up with anything to discuss that wasn't vain. Now I simply proffer the most shallow of matters at the beginning of all conversations, to be rid of that anxiety. Sometimes the problem arises therefrom, of people trying to fill my vacuous mind with their bullshit. No matter. It all leaks out my ears eventually.
6. I spend so much time discussing all the things I would like to do that I wind up doing nothing but complaining about not getting to do all of the things I seem not to have time to do.
7. I did not ride off merrily down the street the very first time someone (my grandma) tried teaching me how to ride a bicycle (my older sister and a couple of cousins were there taunting me), so I quit trying, not teaching myself until I was about ten. Since my parents didn't let me cross the street until I was fifteen, I rarely rode a bike until college. Even after the regular use of a bicycle for about three years, I still feel nervous riding them (and I imagine everyone laughs inwardly if not outwardly at me as I pedal by, because I must look goofy).
8. When I was six or seven and she eight or nine, my older sister announced to everyone in her class at lunch or at the playground one afternoon that I was a bedwetter. Someday I am going to kill her.
9. I took clarinet in band in sixth grade, using the one my mom had used from elementary school onward. After she died (when I was thirteen), I kept the clarinet, even though I stopped playing. Every time I look at the dusty green case, which I always shove in some corner of the room I occupy, I think about all the things I could have been, but am not and never will be.
10. I did not cry when Bambi's mother died.
Labels: anxiety, bathrom, beating, bedwetting, clarinet, death, Facebook, father, friends, mother, sorrow, tagging, trauma
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:06 PM]
Pawning The Guitar
Monday, January 05, 2009
Last night I felt like a pile of sludge, so after working out briefly this morning I spent a couple of hours cleaning like a mad housewife. It seems counter-intuitive that scrubbing stray hairs from behind a toilet should make me feel better about life; they could gather together into a massive brown tumbleweed, for all I really care. I only dislike the idea of having to push aside a hair forest every time I make water.
Pars prima of my errand-running for the afternoon consists in purging myself of a few books that I do not particularly need. The list:
Elie Wiesel- NightMost of these I read in high school and have clung to for little reason, other than especially liking them. But let some other kid read them fo' cheaps. I had two copies of Tess, which is probably unnecessary.
Harper Lee- To Kill A Mockingbird
Lord Byron- Byron's Poetry
Barbara Ehrenreich- Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America
Thomas Keneally- A River Town
Elizabeth Winthrop- The Castle in the Attic
Jerry Spinelli- Maniac Magee
F. Scott Fitzgerald- Flappers and Philosophers
Robert Cormier- Tenderness
Thomas Hardy- Tess of the d'Urbervilles
Anzia Yezierska- Bread Givers
Thomas Keneally- Schindler's List
My housemate has mentioned I may have his old bike, which needs tire replacements; if this does not prove costly, I will wheel it down to the shop (pars secunda).
Labels: bicycle, books, Byron, Elie Wiesel, errands, hair, Maniac Magee, Nickel and Dimed, Thomas Hardy, Thomas Keneally, To Kill a Mockingbird, toilets, working out
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 10:43 AM]