As I re-examine my life over the past few years, and specifically, over the past year, I encounter several glitches within the screen -- glitches that make me wonder whether or not I really do exist in the capacity I believe. I do not know that my loves, emotions, or even the looks that cross my face, constitute the truth of my existence. Have I been defining myself against a standard of relationship this entire time? Is this why the rug has unravelled and frayed before our very eyes? Can I, with a modicum of respect and dignity, extricate the remnants of self left before it is too late? The happiness has withered, the understanding has withered, and the very base of our hopes and desires has diverged -- we are no longer the two lost souls who found the answer complete in the other. The answer, now, the equation itself, has exploded and scattered itself beyond the touch of our skin, beyond our ability to grasp and solve the problem, or in this case, the answer.

It's been such a long time now that I've fled the grasps of my journal, but in doing so, I've inappropriately dampened the spirit of my innercore and have succumbed to the inexorable grasp of ennui. My Simon, my Simon, where hath thee gone? I almost wish I hadn't had him committed to the asylum this past November, but what's done is done and I cannot take my compulsive actions back now. He is there to stay, the devil help him recuperate. We're nearing a fateful curve in the timeline of Ms. Sinclair; my dreams of paradise hath yielded to dreams of destruction, with every building crumbling at my slightest touch. This could simply be due to the fact I've not held any steady job as of late, or the fact that the doctors have told me I have no emotional depth -- I am, what can be diagnosed as, a sociopath. I refuse to go any further into this detail, as I have a particular sorrowful and vulgar tale to disclose to my faithful readers:

Nearly a decade ago, I entered into a rather fortuneless friendship, one in which neither the friend nor I ever had a true grasp of what constituted a selfless giving of the self for an "other." However, over the years, our sense of betrayal only deepened, until a few Novembers ago, the friend really let me have it. On this particular November-y day, my father had been dispatched to the hospital on account of an unfriendly attack on his kidneys. He was to spend most of this day lying in a dreary mechanical bed, hooked up to a patch of morphine, waiting for the pain to subside. Not only did I spend this day in a particularly fretful sort of mood, I had the nerve to alert my friend to this backlash of fortune. However, not only did she spurn my announcement, she further had the nerve to do so in front of our community -- albeit we only had two peers -- but nonetheless, I was shocked and appalled at her display of gratuitous apathy. Family, it seems, meant bits of beans to her. Why am I divulging the details of this rather disagreeable tale now? I simply just remembered why our friendship was fated to end due to another ill-mannered reaction by the bird. Our friendship would end a few months later at her hand, twitching to sever all ties, twitching to curse and bewilder those once considered the "closest of friends." I am sorry to say I cannot divulge further details regarding this spite-filled recollection; not only does the salt in my embittered eyes sting, but I've no heart to recount the few threads that twisted and frayed into the loss of our friendship.

tell me to update my blog. Mathilda is oh-so-care-worn these days. She needs an icicle smoothie a la Viva Le. The tide has most certainly turned circular. Oh, and I can't wait to watch that new movie about the McCarthy-ist era.

And if this just doesn't tell you what kind of anxiety laden atmosphere we live in, I don't know what will...

Risk: 76% NUCLEAR 63% BIOLOGICAL 47% CONVENTIONAL

Your above scores indicate your relative risk in each of the 3 main types of terrorism. A score above 50% means you are living with the real possibility of death by that type of terrorism. A score above 75% represents extreme danger. Below 25% means you are most likely safe. Some quick advice follows: TO REDUCE CHANCE OF NUCLEAR ATTACK ������- Avoid large cities (especially political or financial centers) at all costs ������- Avoid extremely large sporting events ������- Avoid suburbs of extreme large cities TO REDUCE CONVENTIONAL DEATH ODDS: ������- Avoid buses and subways ������- Avoid suspicious people ������- Avoid establishments owned by targeted groups ������- Avoid exploding bombs TO REDUCE BIO RISK: - Avoid contact with other people - Own a shack in the woods - or a cool boat ������- Avoid contact with lots of mail (think: Anthrax) ������- Avoid drinking tap water This test sponsored by Dasani.

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 90% on nuclear You scored higher than 63% on biological You scored higher than 90% on conventional

Link: The Terrorism Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid

In preparation for my trip to the land of afar, I have set up a new blog wherein I will chronicle my Irish-attic habits as I experience them. You may access my website, entitled "The Boogie Irish," at the following location: www.theboogieirish.blogspot.com.

For those of you who haven't heard of my might adventures in some time, please know that I've been pressing many buttons on my myspace blog, wherein I heckle those with gluttonous spirit far more than they probably deserve.

Pecans and Pistachios be thy name.

Though only two of my friends remembered my birthday (perhaps it's due to the falsified information on my lj), I forgive everyone for this obviously atrocious lack of care of my person.

This summer is rapidly speeding by, and I now only have 32 days before my departure for Ireland. I experience nausea and dehydration daily here, so perhaps it's for the better. However, I do believe part of the nausea is stress-related.

I would write more, but for the moment I've a tourniquet on my soul.

“I’m still your f---“ – Broken Social Scene (You Forgot it in People)
“Sadness” – David Garza (This Euphoria)
“Happy” – The Frames (Burn the Maps)
“Father and Son” – Cat Stevens
“No Depression (’88 Demo)” – Uncle Tupelo (No Depression Re-issue)
“Scar” – Joe Henry (Scar)
“Touch, Feel, and Lose” – Ryan Adams (Gold)
“Adonais” – The Cure (Join the Dots Box)
“Vixen” – The Fall (This Nation’s Saving Grace)
“In the Lost and Found” – Elliott Smith (Figure 8)
“Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream” – Bob Dylan (Bringing it All Back Home)
“Got Your Money” – Ol’ Dirty Bastard (Nigga Please)
“Clay Pigeons (The Ballad of Lester Long)” – Collapsis (Clay Pigeons)
“Madame Helga” – Stereophonics (You Gotta Go There to Come Back)
“Satellite of Love” – Lou Reed (Transformer)
“The Minor Tough” – Spoon (Series of Sneaks)
“Weary Memory” – Iron & Wine (The Creek Drank the Cradle)
“Sad Eyes” – Josh Rouse (Bedroom Classics EP)
“Cockroach” – Joseph Arthur (Come to Where I’m From)
“Showdown” – ELO
“Sunken Eyes, Shaky Knees” – Calhoun (The Year that Never Was)
“So Many People in the Neighborhood” – Ween (Quebec)
“Do You Know How it Feels?” – The Flying Burrito Brothers (Sin City)
“Jesus, Etc.” – Wilco (YHF)

On this Friday morning on the 20th of May in the year two thousand and five, I have exactly three things to be semi-ecstatic about, and I am listing them in no particular order:

1) one of my co-workers if embarazada (pregnant), which means she gets to eat cookies and not feel guilty. damn!

2) my twenty-fifth birthday lies await for me and will pounce in no less than ten days. maybe i will rent a car to celebrate the occasion. but i would prefer to drink a fifth of gin. i can do that because i am not embarazada. woohoo!

3) my scheduled trip to new orleans takes place in exactly one week. cajun food and zombies await. we'll see who the king of the castle is.

Other than that, I am considering watching the star wars film this weekend, though i fear the freaks who tear down the sidewalks in yoda costumes. I would bludgeon them with my iron fist, if i had one. i just have brass knuckles. not the same.

It's a bit sunny but the sky also looks blue/black, which does not bode well for the evening to come. Perhaps I will eat chicken wings in the usual fashion. Or, I could not eat chicken wings and save my money for gumbo and jambalaya to come.

This and much, much more later...

I could spend all day at my job writing but I feel so uninspired that I sit and surf the internet, hoping for spikes of joy to strike me down. It hasn't happened. I completed one of the most vapid quizzes of all time, and am now pondering over why my back/shoulder muscles hurt so much. It is most likely due to time spent in a chair, though I have exercised by running and walking at the local meat market track. I need either a) deep massage, or, b) a pilates instructor to counsel me on my posture. I have neither; therefore, I am gloomy.

Postulations will be the end of me!

What recourse do I have but to clear the slate and set my soul a-flutter? These ill-fated mornings topple my countenance into a suffering pile o' ashes...the flames have succeeded for far, far too long!

That, and among other things, I am desperately starving! I would write more now but I feel a bit drained from all the pencil pushing and knee-grinding chair sitting. It would just rule if some fairy queen plopped out from the hemisphere and set me afloat across some mint chocolate clouds of heaven.

This month has simply not gone as planned -- I find myself adrift on so many different things; I cannot set my mind at ease. What is to become of me?!?! I need to just let everything go with no obligation or end in sight and just flicker in and out of each day. No set plan -- just the pathway to historic destruction.

Yes!

Christina just called and tried to leave a voice mail for me, but she laughed too long and my phone was like "shut up, beeiotch!' and hung up on her. I think she was trying to communicate that she's in an airport and just received some serious awapment! Awape, for those of you who don't know, means to be made a fool of, in the simplest terms possible.

Perhaps I will call the seriously anti-teetotaler later on but as for now I am complacently placating to my pocketbook; it's always work time!

Snooze it!

So, at the moment I kind of feel like a partially cooked piece of mutton that still has bits of rawness to it. I was too tired to do anything today except for read two pages of a book and watch "24" while ignoring the fact that I declined an invitation to go party with my boyfriend and his co-workers. Correction: I want to stay as far as possible from anything involving co-workers. From here on out. Unless they happen to be completely bizarre and wear trombones for aprons. If they do that, I'll hang with them. If they don't, well that's misery.

Maybe I just want to stay as far away as possible from anything involving any kind of work. Because that is just not fun. I suppose all of this stems from the fact I started my two-month-long full-time job today with little sleep and even less brain power.

Perhaps in my horribly skewed lack of lucidity, I told some poor, dysfunctional international student that the only way to get into grad school involves 40 pancakes and some leftover sharp cheddar cheese? Perhaps I only remember bits and pieces of the nightmarish reality I've concocted for the legions of hand grabbers that await? I fear I know no boundaries when I am feverishly sleepy!

It is now 62 days until my departure for Ireland. I guess you could say I sit in wild anticipation of the event...

I have now completed the Spring semester, having turned in 27 pages worth of work as well as having graded all my students' final papers. Yes! No more school for months! Instead I will be working full time up at UT, but oh well, it's a job, dude.

I can't handle writing anymore about what I'm doing because I have to go out and do more! Shoo-wee!

Man. I am tired! Whew. 17-page paper (19 if you include works cited -- does that tell you something??). Finished. 10-page paper. Not finished. Not written. More work to do by 5pm Thursday afternoon. Re-writes to grade. I am tired! Again! And Again! Have to write outline (annotated bibliography finished) and review research materials -- most have been read. It might be a late night.

I yam brain dead, said the sweet potata.

1)My uncle once: died.

2)Never in my life: have i/will i had/have sex with a woman. I don't think I will anyway.

3)When I was five: decided I would never die. Decided while riding a Strawberry Shortcake bike recently sans training wheels.

4)High School was: classically treacherous and lecherous?

5)I will never forget: i will forget most things.

6)I once met: good question. How about "I was once introduced to" because I can say I've met anyone I've had any interaction with. I've met Richard Linklater and Jason Schwartzman.

7)There’s this girl I know who: the ghost of her dead friend visits her. I'm not kidding.

8)Once, at a bar: stared wistfully at what could not be mine. I'm not a very outgoing individual in public.

9)By noon I’m usually: ready for a f'in nap.

10)Last night: I drank a margarita, a guinness, a fat tire, slapped myself at least ten times so i could drive back to austin from san marcos, and yelled at one of my classmates that san marcos is in no way the epitome of a small texas town. i'm a lightweight, and it was the end of school. i also yammered on for some time about giant water rats.

11)If I only had: more money and less responsibility.

12)Next time I go to church: church? why i never!

13)Terry Schiavo: if someone was going to die from complications of an eating disorder, you wouldn't think it would take fourteen years for it to happen.

14)What worries me most: let's not talk about it.

15)When I turn my head left, I see: a blue curtain and a justin bua print just behind it.

16)When I turn my head right, I see: my lazy ass cat who is sleeping on top of my students' papers. go figure.

17)You know I’m lying when: i get that look in my eye. sometimes i start laughing.

18) What I miss most about the eighties: the music, man! i miss the dwarf girl who lived in my town -- she wore these kickass denim jackets with bon jovi buttons all over them.

19)If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I’d be: one of the lovers under a spell in a midsummer night's dream.

20)By this time next year: fuck if i know. graduated with my master's? dropped out and on my way to tahiti? making messed up films and/or music with my equally messed up friends?

21)A better name for me would be: Aurora Illinois

22)I have a hard time understanding: math. don't do it to me, please.

23)If I ever go back to school I’ll: dude i'm in school. what the hell!

24)You know I like you if: i talk to you for longer than two minutes.

25)If I won an award, the first person I’d thank would be: my parents

26)Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferraro: i vote geraldine.

27)Take my advice, never: go to houston. unless you're from there. then you're allowed to go. i'm not. i don't.

28)My ideal breakfast is: an avocado omelette from magnolia cafe with black beans and fruit. yum yum.

29)A song I love, but do not have is: well, i bought it on sunday, so i have it now -- "shout at the devil!" - the crue!

30)If you visit my hometown, I suggest: leaving. maybe you should visit my house and dig up the treasure i hid in the backyard.

31)Tulips, character flaws, microchips & track stars: this sounds like one of the best movies ever made. a roboticized track star messes up his flawless racing record when it is revealed he is not human -- however, he has thought he was human for so long that he can literally smell the tulips, and does possessing those senses make him human? that's what the movie is addressing, dodo!

32)Why won’t anyone: give me some money to make my robotic track star with a heart of gold movie??!?!?!

33)If you spend the night at my house: i will subject you to aqua teen hunger force. and strangers with candy (if you're very good). if not, i'm going to play some f'in 80s records.

34)I’d stop my wedding for: who said anything about marriage?!?! ever?!?!?

35)The world could do without: the bushies.

36)I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: take another math class and/or attend a conservative or religious function.

37)My favorite blonde is: my sister, i suppose.

38) Paper clips are more useful than: water socks.

39) If I do anything well, it’s: that's a good question. i suppose what i do well is to precariously balance on the line of what could make or break me as a writer. that's enough.

40) And by the way: i'm going to move to california and there's nothing you can do to stop me!

41) The last time I was wickeddrunk, I: ripped my pants dancing and spent the rest of my night puking.

For some rather odd reason, I woke up on the peculiar side of the bed this morning. It could be a rapid mood swing day for us all! I had one of those inferiority complex dreams where I was shorter than one of my friends who is rather short, but I was standing way below where he was and I kept sinking, so I couldn't climb up to his height. Then directly after that, I went over to another friend of mine who was sitting down and eating, but he somehow flung his entire knife (?!) full of salad dressing at me, which landed and speckled my face. Then I woke up and now that stupid Eric Clapton song, "If I Could Change the World," is in my head and I need it to go away. My friends in the dream are musicians I haven't seen in a long while, and I'm hearing horrible songs for no reason?!?! What is going on? Maybe I'm being told to re-write rock! As if such a thing could ever happen. I think they're just telling me I need to grow some balls and learn to drink like a man. That would be oddly frightening, I do think.

So I haven't posted on this lovely piece of metal and cheese in quite a while; the LJ world must be lonely for my mechanistic thumbprint embrace -- hallelujah for quasi-camaraderie and sleepy-time feet slingers! Whatever. The semester is almost over. I am falling asleep. But I have to go learn more about why Freud sucks so succulently, buddies. Let's do lunch. Like in Guam. Get on that, yo ho ho.

I am never capable of posting on this machination without the aid of alcohol, it seems. Poor, poor me, but hooray for the liquor industry! Yes! They will grow and grow with the disintigration of one poor, hapless soul. Yes!

Please watch while I consider all the meandering parts of me that seem a bit too scattered to appropriately form a sentence that denotes my entire being. Ah ha! I am just writing to be writing, America! Get with it! I could tell you about all the bits of me that need to be linked together, but I am out of glue and want to watch television.

Yes! I am among advance presidential candidate status! Sweetums!

I am 65% Evil Genius.

Evil courses through my blood. Lies and deceit motivate my evil deeds. Crushing the weaklings and idiots that do nothing but interfere in my doings.

Take the
Evil Genius Test
@ FualiDotCom

Alcohol is no way to get involved with homework assignments.