Birds and the weather 13:44

I finally moved in the birds together a couple weeks ago. At first, Piccolo sort of stalked him, persistently trying to preen him, and he would peck her away. But quite suddenly, a couple days later, they were preening each other and snuggling up together on perches, and the following day they were trying to figure out how to have sex. Oh, the swiftness and excitement of new love! They are both too young to breed, and I wouldn't want them to anyway, but I am not too concerned yet because they can't seem to figure out what to do. Piccolo sort of presents herself while Simon makes the most charming burbles and shuffles around her confusedly. Sometimes he'll jump on her back and just stand there, making puzzled chatters while unsure of what to do next, then steps off. Yeah, the first time can be awkward.

Also, it's flippin' freezing outside. Yes, I am talking about the weather, which is always fascinating (and I may be desperate for something else to put in this entry so that it's not all about bird sex). But the sky is clear and the sun blinding, and when I am inside sharing a sunbeam with the cats, I think "gosh, it's beautiful, I should go out and smoke hookah and read". After about 15 minutes, my fingers are numbly swiping at the book attempting to turn the page, and I am glaring at one of the cats sleeping blissfully next to me, jealous of his fur. Fortunately, the fictional (post-)apocalyptic scenario and/or non-fiction warning of one that I am most likely reading about distracts me enough to finish the hookah session, because I'll be damned if I am going to waste any good shisha.

destiny is annoying 11:06

Tuesday started well enough when I was awoken early by a loud "OOTEENI". I'd forgotten that the night before at 4am, as I struggled to sleep, I decided to change my text message alert to the Jawa sound. It was louder than I remembered, and also not nearly as amusing.

The text was from a number I didn't recognize. It read: "We are nocking."

Being half-asleep, my first impression was that it was a creepy message. Then, because neither of the doorbells work, I found it entirely possible that someone was in fact knocking on one of the doors. Who would have my address and visit at 8am, and also have my phone number while I didn't have theirs, I didn't know, and was not enthused about knowing. I was sure that after I greeted them with my morning hair and squinty-grumpy-sleep-face and a "what the fuck", they would no longer want to know me as well. I stumbled downstairs, still half-asleep, and checked both doors. No one was there. I wasted no time in returning to bed, but being curious, asked "Er ... who is this?"

The reply came a moment later: "Destiny".

Ha-ha. I didn't know if it was actually someone named Destiny, or if it was some text-message advertisement playing on the whole "destiny's knocking" thing ("destiny's knocking...MAKE MILLIONS FROM HOME TODAY!!"), or if it was actually ... destiny. I was intrigued by the latter, because it's about fucking time it got in contact with me. However, considering I don't believe in it, and if I did I don't see why it would be a plural thing ("we"), and also I'm pretty sure it would know that "knocking" is spelled with a "k" in front, I texted back and suggested they had incorrect digits. Destiny apologized.

So I could've totally dismissed destiny almost immediately after waking this morning. In fact, later on that day, destiny texted again, asking "Are u there", and I had to explicitly state again, repeatedly, that it had the wrong digits. Apparently destiny isn't the sharpest concept, and was within one text message of being told to fuck off before it finally understood. Good grief. Destiny finally decides to play some cards in my life, and it's fucking annoying as hell. Makes sense. It's probably a little low on the self-esteem from being overshadowed by fate, which has a subtly different but more serious position.

Simon 23:45

I got Piccolo another boyfriend. He is insane. He violently attacks shiny things and spends most of his life pacing, trying to get out of his cage and through that window where he sees the other birds. Or maybe upstairs where he can hear Piccolo singing happily. On some bird-brain level, he knows he can and should have better things, and they are right there. But I can't let him out until he's tamed, and he is not taming easily. This new environment is very different for him, after being shuffled around shelters his whole life, but it clearly does not yet seem better to him. Particularly because he is suddenly so unexpectedly alone, despite the fact that he never really bonded to any other birds he was with.

Playlist: Beautiful Songs 20:48

In my opinion, at least. Of course, there's so much beautiful music out there, but I'm trying to narrow it down to mostly stuff that makes me pee my pants and/or gives me tingles, maybe tears in my eyes too. I know, some of these songs aren't "good", but they're still damn pretty. Whatever, inevitably everyone on Earth will disagree with something here.

Here's the last.fm version, where you can listen to some of the songs for free. However, some of the songs linked to may be the wrong version, so here's a more specific list, since I have nothing else to do with my time but be accurate:

--The Beatles - Let It Be
--Boards of Canada - Dayvan Cowboy
--Bonobo - If You Stayed Over (Reprise)
--Bright Eyes - First Day Of My Life
--Broken Social Scene - Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl
--Broken Social Scene - Guilty Cubicles
--Coldplay - Fix You
--Coldplay - The Scientist
--Coldplay - See You Soon (live version is good too)
--Coldplay - Strawberry Swing
--Danny Elfman - Finale (I mean the one from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but really, I'm sure any Danny Elflman "Finale" is beautiful)
--Dave Matthews Band - Crash Into Me
--Death Cab for Cutie - A Lack of Color
--Death Cab for Cutie - The Ice is Getting Thinner
--Death Cab for Cutie - Passenger
--Death Cab for Cutie - Transantlaticism
--Enya - Anywhere Is
--Explosions in the Sky - Your Hand in Mine
--Fiona Apple - Across the Universe
--Fiona Apple - Never is a Promise
--Frou Frou - Let Go
--Godspeed You! Black Emperor - Storm (the first half at least)
--Goldfrapp - A&E
--Goldfrapp - Monster Love
--Jon Brion - Bookstore
--Jon Brion - Peer Pressure
--Jon Hopkins - Cold Out There
--Jon Hopkins - Light Through the Veins
--King's Singers - And So It Goes
--Penguin Cafe Orchestra - Perpetuum Mobile
--The Philadelphia Orchestra - Clair De Lune
--Radiohead - Everything in its Right Place (live)
--Regina Spektor - Human of the Year
--Regina Spektor - Samson
--Sarah McLachlan - Blackbird
--School of Seven Bells - Face to face on High Places (not the extended version)
--Sia - Breathe Me
--Sigur Rós - Glósóli
--Sigur Rós - Starálfur
--Sigur Rós - Takk
--Stars - Tonight
--Thomas Newman - Plastic Bag Theme
--Thomas Newman - Road to Perdition
--Underworld - To Heal
--The Weepies - Nobody Knows Me At All
--Yann Tiersen - Good Bye Lenin
--Yann Tiersen - Tabarly

Continually in progress, of course. I have approximately a million more suggested songs to go through and possibly add here. Feel free to suggest more.

can't tell if I sound more like Macy Gray or Tom Waits 00:14

Seriously, when in the last week did I apparently swallow a cheese grater and the contents of several ashtrays? Was it a drunk dare? I bet it was a drunk dare. In fact, I remember my sickness was almost better, then I drank a bunch of beer, and there must have been some sort of extreme beer-induced metamorphosis in the virus, because the next morning I woke up and thought "this must be what emphysema is like". Not fair, I don't smoke. NOT FAIR.

You'd think with all the fancy technology these days, people could make cough syrup that doesn't taste like shit. But isn't so delicious that it makes things easier for DXM junkies. So like, maybe after the specified dose has been ingested, it suddenly tastes like poopie for 4-6 hours until you can have more. If people can make "grāpple"s, we should be able to make cough syrup tasty in moderation.

I kind of thought I would be better by now. My immune system has been in the shits since Brazil for some reason, but still, I was optimistic about improving more quickly than this. Me! Optimistic! I KNOW RIGHT

I had a pretty cool, non-treacherous sick dream last night, though. It was epic and involved lots of travel in a place that was both Brazil and Thailand at the same time (but not really at all like either of them), and the coolest part was when there was this giant magical squid (it didn't really look like a squid though) attacking the city and I defeated it with a giant jade (it looked like green fire opal, but it was jade) and golden sword. Then it turned into a tiny opalescens, and I carried it with me back to my houseboat, and I for some reason had to cut it up and cook it, but I didn't know how, and it was a very stressful and emotional time for me. As I worried more, I began noticing more tentacles in all these random places, and I cut off more and more weird things that looked like they shouldn't be eaten, but really squids as a whole look like they shouldn't be eaten, and eventually I broke down and said "fuck it, someone who isn't a vegetarian can do this". ...So that last part wasn't so cool, I guess, but the battle was. Also, throughout the dream I was consuming chocolate goodies, and I could actually TASTE AND ENJOY THEM. Normally in dreams involving deliciousness, I dream of the ordeal involved in obtaining the delicious items, and when the time nears to consume, I am lucky if I get one hint of a taste before my dream dissolves and I wake up very, very unsatisfied.

And that's all. Yep. When you ever hear (/read) about someone's "awesome dream", are you ever left feeling like "hey, that was a really good way to spend my time, and was totally worth it"? Do people even pay attention to them anymore? I think most peoples' brains have picked up on the key words "weird/cool/awesome dream" and immediately tune out the remainder of the story, even if they try to pay attention. Even reading back on what I just wrote, I feel a little sorry for whoever may stumble across it and foolishly read it, hoping it leads somewhere interesting. That's the thing, though: No one reads this. Not that it's secret, but I'm not really spreading the word since it's boring. It's public just in case someone finds it and decides they really want to read some boring pessimistic rambles. The things people are into these days, especially on the internet ... you never know, someone could be getting off on it right now. In fact, I'm sure of it. If even just one person is reading this, I am sure that person is getting off on this drivel. So I'm doing you a favor, you sicko.

And with that thought, goodnight. And have fun, I guess.

Evil dreams and illness 23:58

My subconscious is mutinous. My dreams lately have been less boring, but I wake in a state of depression. I am teased with things, like stupid metaphoric puzzle pieces that complete me. Last night I had an elaborate dream filled with emotion and resolution, where raw parts were exposed after long being ignored and buried. I felt wanted, and valued, and things were on the mend, and I could feel clearly and brightly. Part of me, the part that always doubts when things are good, arose and pointed out how everything seemed awfully dream-ish, dashing the illusion. I was then teased with a false awakening, where elements of my prior dream lingered to further lead me on. "I thought it was all a dream!" I said happily, with immense relief. "Actually, wait...Shit. This isn't real either." "Dammit," my subconscious explicitly responded at having been found out.

I then woke up too early and with a sickness clutching my throat and brain. My body ached as if I'd been thrown down a hill. My hope was nowhere to be found. Finally, sleep, my only sanctuary, had turned against me. Needless to say, I was not excited to go back to sleep. I did, somehow, keeping my eyes on my penguin-filled television screen for as long as possible, which seemed to have eased my wicked subconscious into its own rest. I'll try the same technique tonight, except instead with a book about Ebola.

Retouching on hypochondria here: Reading this book about Ebola (and Marburg, and AIDS, and the plague, etc) is really great considering I am sick. So many chapters begin with describing someone's initial vague, flu-like symptoms that happen to be what I am experiencing. Of course, I know I'll be fine, but I'm getting no comfort from these pages.

Speaking of the flu, what the fuck? I'm pretty sure I just got inoculated against this shit a couple weeks ago. So either it backfired, or I have a different kind of flu, maybe -- OH SHIT -- Swine Flu!!! That could mean that I will ......... experience the same thing as a normal flu, because Swine Flu isn't a big ding dong deal. When will that crap blow over? Anyway. Sleep.

Well that didn't work. 21:37

The prologue to the bird romance has been tragically cut off. Piccolo's boyfriend dropped dead today. Looks like she and I are going to continue being bachelorette buddies, at least for a while.

Well. My mood has been thoroughly murdered. I mean, not that it was really kickin' anyway.

Nothing, really 22:50

So I got Piccolo a boyfriend. Just because I'm not getting any action doesn't mean she has to suffer, too. They can't be together until at least a month of quarantine, though, but can frantically call to each other from across the house. Insert your own anthropomorphized romantic plot line here.
Piccolo is a sweetie and we've bonded. She likes to explore my hoodie and has taken to preening me, which is cool, because I've stopped washing my hair. She likes to ever-so-gently nibble my face and neck until she finds a different texture and try to pick it off. I will miss it when she replaces this treasured relationship she has with me with her new boyfriend. Sigh. All girls are the same.

I picked a really great time to graduate. I mean, it's always been my goal to go to school for nearly my whole life to develop and advance and learn and prepare myself to go back and live with my parents in the same shitty town I grew up in. Job searching has not been going well, due to some slip-up about this thing called the "economy", and also because I am searching in the nearby Lands of Impossibility, also referred to as "Portland". I'd love to move further away and get a job in a more accommodating city, but--oh wait--I have no money, due to NOT HAVING A JOB.
Today my dad picked up this "Job Hunter's Survival Guide" book, which is great, because I was beginning to embrace the idea of death (I feel obligated to point out that I'm joking here). It's a suspiciously skinny book, however, and I have no hope that it'll actually help, but I may as well read it because it's not like I'm super busy doing anything else.

Oh, as a follow-up to my previous post, I had bloodwork done to examine my random symptoms, and according to the results, I am not near death. Needless to say, I am glad, but I must admit there was a little bit of disappointment, because dying would at least have been interesting.

Hypochondria 23:29

What better way to spend unemployment's gift of free time than to worry?

Recently I've been accumulating a variety of random symptoms, none of them serious on their own, and probably insignificant. But thanks to WebMD's Symptom Checker, I am now sure that I have 6 months or less to live.

I was just curious, which always ends badly. And as I began going through all the symptoms, I realized there were so many more that I didn't even know I had. "Hey ... you know, my lower back does kind of hurt." "More tired than usual? Now that I think of it..." "'Blank stare'? That's a symptom? I'VE BEEN DOING THAT MY WHOLE LIFE!!" The more I checked, the more I worried, and the longer the list of potential conditions became. Here are some highlights:

--Supraventricular tachycardia
--Aortic Stenosis
--Hyperthyroidism
--Cocaine abuse
--Pulmonary edema
--Hemophilia
--Pre-leukemia

(Unrelated side note: cancer is way cooler if it's spelled "canxer")

With the help of Wikipedia, it's clear that I'm totally fucked. I mean, hemophilia is basically only in males, so I must be really sick. I don't remember abusing cocaine, but that just means I must get so high that I black out.

But in all seriousness, I'm sure I'm mostly healthy and will in fact have a lifespan longer than I want it to be.

I'm pretty positive, however, than I'm a host to Toxoplasma gondii, considering my love for cats and the fact that I find myself snuggling them almost before my brain processes that I've seen one. Including the gnarly ones in India and Brazil. You know... cat-fondling or not, considering the amount of dirty countries I've been to and the fact that I've been biting my fingernails basically since I've had teeth, I'm sure I've picked up a variety of other intestinal parasites, too. Dear parasites: Aren't you supposed to make me lose weight? What's the deal here?
Anyway, I would like to blame T. gondii for my high incidence of past car accidents, since apparently they're related. It's not my fault, it's my parasites'.

Too loud 00:04

I'm anxious to move, for many reasons not worth stating, but specifically right now: So I can sing really loudly and terribly, alone. At my last house there were surprisingly frequent times when all four of my roommates would be gone at the same time and I could belt some shit out. The house was far removed from other neighbors, so there was little risk of angering anyone except 349812498153895724520 moles in the yard as they conspired to leave hills and trails in the next eerily precise pattern of their design. Now I have no such luck, and due more to consideration for others than to self-consciousness (though there is plenty of that), my melodic screaming is confined to my car. I was almost glad to be stuck in Portland traffic for a bit today. Almost. There was this girl behind me who was singing far more passionately than I, which is a rare and refreshing sight. She was pounding the roof and everything. She also nearly rear-ended me a dozen times. We have much in common. We may be related.

Speaking of which, I haven't been in a car accident in a few years. Now that I've written that, I'm sure it'll happen soon. I can't believe it hasn't yet, actually. I've even mentioned it out loud a couple times to other people recently, and nothing has happened except increased encounters with normal Oregonian drivers who are even shittier than I am. And that could be attributed to increased amounts of me driving in Oregon. My theory is that fate is holding off for one epic crash where I end up going over the edge of the 405 bridge. Probably within the next week, because I keep forgetting 405 is under construction. I wouldn't put it past myself to drive through a dozen road cones and into a hole in the bridge before remembering. I would probably be too into singing a song to notice.

I will be making several visits over the next three weekends, amounting to about 12 hours of driving/belting out songs. Probably the same 15 songs, too. I'm excited, but I fear for my life.

Discontent persists 15:11

Inner turmoil enhanced by impatience, uncertainty, and a long, steady binge of little girl daydreams. Being a mind-hermit is unhealthy and downright harmful to the soul sometimes. Physical consequences as well. I don't want to leave my bed.

Signals are so damn mixed that they would make a delicious smoothie. An angst smoothie. Not that I've been terribly clear either. Feelings and actions in disaccord as I try to be realistic and hopeful at the same time. This is why optimism doesn't work for me.

Let's see how I interpet all this weeks from now when I've hopefully forgotten what the hell I'm talking typing about.

Must seek cats.

No, seriously, though 02:22

"X" is an underused letter and should be added to things more frequently to make them more extreme and awesome-sounding.
Examples: surfxing, corn nutx.
I mean, it's not like it's doing anything else.

Why is it that the people I have the most fun with are those that care the least about anyone but themselves?
(But also, the people I have the least fun with. I have yet to distinguish the line.)

Addendum to previous post:
--frequently going to a shitty lumberjack dive bar and drinking Jägermeister, which seems to make me unpopular. They have it on tap for a reason, so WHO THE HELL DRINKS IT? ANYONE!?
--playing The Sims 3 more than I previously conveyed
--cutting dried poop out of Maverick's tail

Things I'm doing this summer instead of working 19:27

-Playing stupid flash games for far too long (example: GemCraft Chapter 0)
-Playing The Sims 3 and Portal once I finish totally legally obtaining them
-Being the sweatiest person in kickboxing class
-Reading The Invisibles and wishing the rest of my books weren't in storage
-Going on a 3-week ornithology trip to finish college, which is why getting a job isn't working out
-Eating nutella and getting fat
-Playing piano badly
-Riding out my current relationship until its bitter, miserable end
-Clearly being pessimistic

My name is Alice 21:53

This is me:



This is my cat Priya:


This is my cat Maverick:



This is my blog.

Let's start with that.