Stranger in a ...

My gaze meets your path and I wave but my eyes do not see a gesture in return. At least it wasn't the finger. And now, who would have thought, you are a stranger in a not so strange land...

Addicted to vitamins?!

A couple of weeks ago I ran out of vitamins and made a trip to Target to get some more. I became a bit overwhelmed because there was a lot to choose from. Such options on the shelf were Centrum Performance with Ginseng if you need a tad more energy,Centrum Ultra Women's with beta-carotene for healthy skin, One A Day Teen Advantage enriched with calcium and vitamin D for your teenager's bone health, and my personal favorite, Men's Prostrate Vitamins to prevent your precious pecker from getting cancer. I looked at the packages and overall, the vitamins for women all looked alike. I randomly chose Women's Active Mind and Body by One A Day and didn't think anything of it. Fast forward two weeks later and I began getting headaches. I couldn't imagine what it could be and thought I was allergic to the world. I thought about my diet and realized that the only thing that changed was my vitamin intake. I had forgotten to take my vitamins for the past three days. But how could that give me a headache? Well, after looking at the bottle, I read that "this product contains about as much caffeine as a cup of coffee." Those vitamin assholes tried to get me addicted to their product! And it worked. My headaches are gone now but my body is amped with caffeine from my stupid One A Days and will stay that way until I finish it and buy a different brand. I suppose I could stop taking them altogether but I paid eight bucks for these things and the Jew in me can't bare to throw them away!

But don't think for a minute that I am not upset with the makers of One A Day. Tricky bastards.

Amita

"Someone isn't telling the truth and I want the lies to stop and I want them to stop NOW!," a woman named Amita shouts to the top of her lungs as she circles her father's office in the middle of the night. For the past three weeks her name was slandered with malicious accusations that she did the most awful thing a person could do to someone she loved with all her heart.

The room was large and had two lamps in the entrance but Amita didn't bother to turn them on. Sliding her hands across the white office walls that glowed from the street lamp outside, she noticed that her head felt funny; it throbbed as if it had collided with something quite hard and her stomach felt vacant and queasy. The emotional trauma that she had been dealt was taking its toll and tonight she realized she couldn't take anymore. "Every day there is something new; new gossip brought up behind my back and there isn't a goddamn thing I can do about it." A mess of thoughts raced through her mind and she continued to circle around the office. "I am helpless and those that have accused me of that horrid thing won't even look me in the face and talk to me. These cowards are going to fess up to what they have done and I will get my life back." She was in a hazy fury and her entire body felt like hell had taken over. Again, she paced around her father's office and ran her fingers across the wall. And then stopped. She felt something hard, smooth and cold. It was one of the five rifles that hung on the wall of the office. She looked around and began reading the plaques above her father's gun collection out loud. "Winchester 1892, Winchester 1893, Winchester 1894..." Tears rolled down her cheeks and the tiny seed of betrayal that was planted merely three weeks ago grew larger, stronger, and filled her soul with a fire that she was about to unleash. "Winchester 1895. I choose you." She pulled the gun off the wall and sputtered, "I will take each one of these guns if I have to and put it to those liars head's if that's what it takes to get the truth." As she said these words, she imagined having the people that began the nightmarish rumors tied to a chair, unable to move as she pointed the gun at their head. These people- two girls that she was only an acquaintance with would be squirming and plea for their lives "Perhaps the only way to control all of this is to threaten these people by threatening to pull the trigger." Her thoughts continued with questions unanswered. "Why would someone want to ruin my relationships and destroy my life? I barely even know these girls. Is there really that much unwarranted hatred in this world? How naive I am to believe that everyone has goodness in their heart and to trust that people are honest." With that final thought she put the gun down, slumped to the floor and decided that there is a learning experience in everything. And on this night, she learned that she had been too trusting and while there may not be a reason for any of this, her naive trust in others is what put her guard down and blinded her from seeing the truth. Is her trust and belief in the goodness of others foolish? Should she trust no one from this day forward? Her answer was simple: "No, I will continue to be who I am and I will always have trust in others however, my trusting eyes are not as innocent as they once were, and due to this, I will be more cautious as life goes on."

This is not my world

I awoke and realized I am in hell. I can't escape it and I cannot find solace in a world that offers none. I am in a fiery pit of instability and I cannot control most of it. What I can control is feeble but perhaps the most feeble of acts are the most significant. And that is what I hold on to and how I move forward each minute, each hour, each day.

Appearances

Last week I met someone who mentioned that the Sci-Fi Lounge is back and this time its home is in Crestwood Plaza. The grand opening was Saturday and I got a wicked idea. I had never been to this place but something told me it was a hangout for gamers, computer nerds and the like. So, why not show up dressed in Goth? From time to time I enjoy walking the streets looking silly or wearing something totally out of my comfort zone for the night. It's more or less of a social experiment coupled with entertainment for my mind.

I gathered a few friends and we met up at a Chinese restaurant before heading to the lounge. There was only three of us and while we didn't look way freaky we definitely looked like Marilyn Manson groupies. Black eye make-up, black lips, and just about black everything. I felt crafty and cut my tank top in half and put it back together with large safety pins. I might actually wear this out again-it looks super cool! Anyway, we showed up to the Chinese joint, sat down and ordered. What should have been a yummy dinner turned into an obnoxious, laughable and outright rude affair. When our waiter approached us, he looked down at us with judging eyes. We each stated what we wanted, he wrote it down and then repeated our order. However, what he repeated wasn't our order at all! If this guy didn't have an American accent I would have thought nothing of it but unfortunately that was not the case. Once again we told him our order and he appeared to get it the second time.

First, we got our appetizers and everything was pretty good. Then, we got the first part of our meal: Soup. I as well as my friend R ordered Hot&Sour and N ordered Egg Drop. R and I got Hot&Sour while N was given chicken noodle. Upon telling the waiter he got the wrong soup, the waiter retorted "No, you ordered this. I heard you say noodle, not egg." N, not wanting to pick a fight calmly accepted the wrong soup as we waited for our main course. Once again, the orders turned out all wrong. I was given the wrong chicken dish and N was given fried rice instead of white. The waiter scoffed when we told him our order was wrong and truly wasn't going to fix it. He ran off and we stared at our plates, then at one another in shock. What kind of waiter gives you the wrong food, mocks us when we tell him we didn't order what was in front of us and then walks away? Finally, we flagged him down and he gave us the right dish but of course he had to tell us that he was right and we were wrong.

I had not felt this type of discrimination since I died my hair dark brown once and got a super tan from being in a desert for two weeks. People would look at me like I was a "terrorist". I think it was my nose. Or possibly I had some sand residue. Maybe it was both. Or neither. Anyhow, the point is that i am always amazed at how quick people are to judge and you are treated so differently simply by the way you dress or put on your make-up. It's sad because what if I was actually attracted to the Goth look and it made me super happy to dress it but then I would get repeatedly treated like shit. Perhaps that's the point of Goth? Regardless, the asshole waiter was not given a tip and received Hell Money instead.

Hell Money is a form of Joss paper that looks like money. It usually comes in the form of giant denominations such as 500,000,000. Joss paper are sheets of paper that are burned during traditional Chinese ancestor worship ceremonies or at Chinese funerals to ensure that the spirit of the deceased has money for the afterlife.

Knowing that the Chinese culture is rich in superstition, I gave our waiter a Hell Note because in Chinese culture, receiving a Hell Note is very, very bad luck. Don't mess with Goth kids yo'!

As for the Sci-Fi lounge, they welcomed us with open arms and it made my inner geek glow knowing that my kind of people happen to be open and accepting. I even got compliments on my red shoe laces and black chucks. While the place itself isn't too fantastic, I can see it as a place to meet other cool geeks.

A shoe on the side of the highway. Just one. Not two.

A friend of mine commented on how he feels this world is meant for couples, where most activities seem to be a "members only" type of a thing. You know, a club where all its members must have a date. So I began thinking. I thought about all the events I have been to this last month and none of them required a date.

Let's start with the Naked Bike Ride. I did not have a date to this event and most of the people I met on the ride were single. They weren't all men either. I spent a good chunk of the night talking to a single girl I met after the ride about the dating pool in St. Louis. She was a cute, smart girl that wanted someone to cuddle with. Later on, I saw her chatting with a fella’. Maybe she isn’t single anymore…

A few weeks later I attended the FBC(Fucking Bike Club) Ride and honestly, I didn’t see any couples there. I went with a friend who spent the night talking to a few girls and he even got their numbers. Everyone was super friendly and sure, they were there to ride bikes, but they were also there to meet new people.

Last weekend I attended an Art Exhibit/giant house party. Again, I did not have a date and met a lot of single people there. It appeared that half the crowd was simply looking to talk to others, find new friends or lovers. It's all about reaching out and deciding to just talk to a stranger for the night. Get rejected? Talk to another one. And another. And yes, another!

Last night, there was live music in the Botanical Gardens and lots of people. Once again, I was dateless and I was enveloped by single people wanting to connect and meet their soul mate. This world may be focused on finding a mate but fortunately it is set up in such a way so you can do just that. Maybe people would have more luck finding a mate if they talked to one another instead of shyly glancing at each other from across the street, secretly wanting to dance while they stand alone on the dance floor or quietly sit on a music filled lawn at the Botanical Gardens.

Let me note that I'm guilty of standing on the sidelines while others dance and converse. I am guilty of retreating to my safe little bubble and then complaining later on how hard it is to meet people. If you can step outside your comfort zone and put yourself out there I know there are hundreds of people just waiting to meet someone new.

Art Department Identity Crisis

People are fascinating creatures; Complex, curious, and confusing as all hell. For the past two years I have been trying to figure out why the students in the Webster Art Department are able to make total works of....not art and yet, the faculty really seem to buy into it.

Art kid: "I created this piece because the telephone wire really spoke to me."
Professor: "Yes, using wire to create a ball is brilliant. It's brilliant because it isn't just wire, it's telephone wire."
Art kid: "Exactly. There was something about surreptitiously coiling the wire until it created a ball that made me think 'This is more than art. It's really talking to me. And it told me I was doing something new. Something never done before. I'm onto something here!'"

This exchange can be heard at any moment within the art studio walls. After years and countless hours of pondering how these kids talk people into thinking that their display of 5 red bricks neatly stacked against a white studio wall is art, I thought I understood. I thought I figured it out. And I did- but not completely. I thought that in order to get through the b.s. of the Webster Art Department all you had to do was create a work of "art" and give it a very kitchy, catchy story that everyone would just eat right up and voila, A+! While that does help, it still hasn’t been working for me 100%. So, this still leaves me wondering why. Why does it feel that there is a group of art kids, a group of professors and then me? This isn't a pity on Tera party, this is pure quandary.

Earlier today I walked through the studio once again, saw a stack of red bricks once again, almost tripped over a coiled up piece of telephone wire once again, and then WHAM! The answer hit me like those damn bricks! It's so simple. High School. Every student and to a lesser but notable degree, every professor, is nothing but a character. In high school, kids are figuring out who they are, where they belong and how to get where they think they are going. Hormonal teenage angst floods the hallways as students rush to join their cliques. The jocks playfully push each other against lockers and excitedly talk about their Letterman Jackets while the cheerleaders strut their high end fashion and gossip about who is dating who. The goths wear a constant frown on their pale face and choose to sit quietly in a secluded corner. Meanwhile, the stoners laugh and kick around hacky sacks in the courtyard while the metal heads discuss System of a Down's hiatus but it falls upon deaf ears-literally. These groups are all very different but they share a common thread. The thread is composed of the need for a sense of belonging and insecurities are woven in along the way.

Much like high school, the art department is divided into groups. The most laughable group, the hipsters, can be found in costume huddled around an outside ashtray, puffing herbal cigarettes as they critique the latest foreign film. Their mop-tops bob up and down to their favorite never- heard- of -before Indie band as they all push up their big, black glasses overwhelming their snooty-nosed face.

Of course you can’t have hipsters without hippies. You always know that you are within a few feet of a hippie because the studio is filled with the smell of Nag Champa. The Bob Marley tye-dyed hippies stroll around the studio barefoot with eyes thickly glazed over like a Krispy Kreme doughnut. While the hipsters listen to crappy music that is “good” because no one has heard of it, the hippies wildly dance to reggae or sway their dreads to the beat of Dylan.

If you aren’t a hipster or a hippie, then you most likely fall into the “I’m going to do whatever I want” group. Personally, I don’t like groups but at first glance, these group of students seemed okay. Why subscribe to all that nonsense when I can be friends with people that do whatever they want? They dress outside the norm, believe that if something is thought to be cool they should do the opposite and hell, they are even open to such characters like Billy who is "weird in a good way" because he wears a belt made from sheep intestines and totes around a voodoo walking stick he bought from coolrelicsofafrica.com for only two dollars! Wait, they can't fool me, this is just another group. I enjoy the way I dress, I like my goofiness, and I am comfortable being who I am. All the characters of the art department, including the hipster art history professors and the studio art, dazed and confused professors, are simply people who are insecure with themselves. Perhaps they like who they are now but it took pretending to be a hipster, a hippie, a weirdo-ultimately becoming that someone else to get there. Overall, I think art is a subject that attracts insecure people. In art, anything goes as long as you are going along with it. Otherwise, you are the person on the sidelines looking at all the silly groups with a puzzled look brushed about your face asking yourself “Why, why am I here?”

Rent-A-Puppy

For at least a year I have been wanting a puppy but I have one minor problem-I don't want to clean up after it. Obviously, this would be impossible. Unless, of course, I like living in a house that reeks of dog shit. But I don't. I am more of a Pine-Sol kinda gal.

Do you ever wonder why they don't make Cedar-Sol? Yeah, me either.

Let's get back to my puppy dilemma. Since I just want something soft, furry, cuddly and gosh darn cute to play with for a day, I think that there should be a business simply titled "Rent-A-Puppy." I looked all through the Yellow Pages hoping that by some miracle a genius like myself already thought this up and thus doing all the business work for me. But I was wrong. Either there is only one genius in this universe that came up with this brilliant plan(ahem, moi) or all the other geniuses are lazy like me.

This is really a shame because I bet business would be booming. It would be the cure to end the annoyance of children nagging their parents to get a puppy that, ultimately, the parents would care for.

I can see it now: All the Veruca Salts in this world whining "I want a puppy now!" would be able to get one! The child would be happy as can be and the parents too-since they won't wind up taking care of the little bugger. But then it would be taken away after the hour is up.

Such is life.

It's good to teach kids that life isn't all candy and make-believe.

Okay, maybe it wouldn't be a good idea as a Christmas present but it could show children the insane responsibilities of owning a puppy. I mean, the sole reason for this business is so that I can play fetch with a doggie for a day and then make it's real owners clean up after the mess it makes.

This is truly a brilliant plan.

If any genius out there with more motivation and gumption than I wants to start up a business like this- let me know. Then I could get a puppy, name it Waldo, and then lose it.

Fact of the Day: Shrike

The Shrike is a greyish medium sized bird that has been dubbed "The Butcher". Its prey usually consists of small birds, mammals, insects and frogs. What is truly unique about this bird is that it catches its prey and impales it on tree limbs or thorny leaves. Since they are able to catch prey that is larger than their mouth, they use the thorn as a skewer so they can rip apart their food. I think this bird is onto something. Maybe if the other birds take notice it won't be long until we start to see birds eating with chopsticks!

Fact of the Day: Unguligrade

The word unguligrade is just so darn fun to say that I decided to make it my fact of the day. Ungulilates are mammals that walk on their tiptoes. Usually, ungulates have hooves such as deer or horses but can also have "toes" like the llama.

Fact of the Day: Opossum

When baby opossum are born, they climb from the vagina to the pouch(marsupium). Once they make it to the pouch, they find a nipple to hang onto. They stay this way for about 60 days. Kind of...gross.

Fact of the Day: Venomous Mammals

Some mammals have venom in their saliva that will paralyze its prey when bitten. The only venomous mammal that resides in Missouri is the Northern Short-tailed Shrew. For that matter, it is the only venomous mammal in all of North America.

Other venomous mammals include the Eurasian Water Shrew, Southern Short-tailed Shrew, the European Mole and the male Platypus. The Platypus is unique because only males have venomous spurs located on their hind legs. The Platypus is also an egg laying mammal.

Fact of the Day: Cicada

The Periodical Cicada spends 17 years underground in total darkness and complete seclusion, feeding off the roots of a tree. After 17 years of loneliness, it decides to stop wallowing like an EMO teen and surfaces to come out and party. Hopefully, it finds a rave soon since it only has a few weeks to mate, lay eggs and then die. The Periodical Cicada is one of if not the longest, living insects in the world.

Fact of the Day: Ticks

Ticks have been kept in captivity under starvation for over three years without any negative effects.

Also, for all of you out there(well, those in St. Louis) who are worried about the diseases ticks can carry, there has not been a single reported case of Lyme Disease in Missouri. Phew!

Fact of the Day: Turtle

I am taking a zoology course that involves memorizing a shit ton of facts and being tested on those facts within two days. We also get to go out in the wilderness and watch the teacher orgasm over Fowler's toads and aromatic sumac. Instead of having a mental overload, I have decided to write a fact I have learned from this class each day.

Fact: Turtles breathe through their anus. Talk about never getting any fresh air!

So it goes

On Sunday I went to The Decemberists concert and noticed a woman who was wearing a dress that revealed a tattoo on her back. The tattoo was simple. It was a phrase I was familiar with from the novel Slaughter House-Five. It simply said, "So it goes." I thought that was a rather unique and fun tattoo to have and if she were at a coffee house I would have asked her about it. Unfortunately, I was stuck listening to a whiny rhapsody. So it goes...

A few days later I had dinner with a friend and tattoos were brought into conversation. I told my friend about the Vonnegut tattoo and he casually replied "Oh, that was Langen." We went to the same high school but I was three years ahead and we never really knew one another. Every so often I run into her at the most adventitious moments and to add to the randomness, my friend happens to know Langen. The logical side of me thinks that St.Louis is just so darn small; I know a lot of people and run into someone weekly but there is a difference between them and Langen. I run into her at places far from where I usually go and the times I run into her are completely unconnected to anyone else I know. So, I have decided that I have a karrass. She is in it.

Busy, busy, busy.

Zombies in the Storm

This afternoon a big storm came through and I experienced something new-oblong hail. I have never seen hail that resembled Lego blocks and perhaps if the rain did not hurt upon hitting my skin I would have built an ice castle.

A few hours after the storm passed and the ice melted, my brother asked me to tag along with him to Target in search of Xbox gear. Due to the storm, the power had been knocked out along Lindbergh but Ryan bravely fought the congested and crazy road. The path leading up to Target was dark and all the stores had lost power. The entire area was deserted and calm. Remarkably, the automatic doors at Target were still operating which was a sure sign that Target was still open for business. Ryan and I walked into Target which was being backed by generators. The lighting was dim making it difficult to see anything and the atmosphere was eerie. The speakers were out and dead silence filled the atmosphere. Briefly, I stood in wonderment of how peaceful Target had become when it hit me-the zombie apocolypse may have just begun. I was waiting for the zombies to come from behind, perhaps out of the vitamin isle. My only weapon was a pack of gum but fortunately I didn't need to use it. I scanned the room and didn't see anyone vomiting or reak of death so I felt I was in the clear. It was bit curious that a handful of people continued to shop- in the dark-acting like this wasn't unusual. The zombies were not in the vitamin isle,no, they were in every isle and I was surrounded! Ryan and I escaped without a scratch but there are zombies still out there. Beware.

May showers brings...?

This weather is getting me bummed. I heard there was a possible tornado headed my way. I should go tornado hunting. Or maybe I should stay in my basement where it's safe. Adventure, possible death or basement bore? It's a toss-up.

I love Twitter. No, not really

Update: While Twitter had the potential to ruin my day, and did make me miffed for a few hours, it in fact made my week. Maybe even month. After reading Augusten Burrough's Twitter, I found out he was here in St. Louis. Even more exciting, he was at the library across from my house. I was irked that I had a class at the same time he was doing a lecture and book signing and moped about class. After class, I decided I was going to take my chances and head to the library. To my amazement, the doors were not locked and I was able to get in line. Since the line was nearly diminished and I was the last, I only waited a few minutes before I got to meet the somewhat flamboyant and hilarious author. This put a smile on my face. According to Augusten( we are now on a first name basis), I have Roman features he would kill for. He settled for a photo with me instead.

Even though it was Twitter that announced Augusten's arrival I still dislike it, on principle, and nothing will change my mind on that.

Twitter Dee, Twitter D'oh!

Whenever I turn on the news or get my daily fix of TV shows, I keep hearing the word "Twitter". What is Twitter? Over the weekend, I set to find this out. As my in-the-know boyfriend explained, it is a micro-blog, allowing only a hundred or so words. It appears that people are using it for constant, by the minute updates on news or celebrity gossip. This idea is bizarre to me and I was easily able to dismiss all the Twitter nonsense and go on with my weekend.

Until today.

Today, I logged onto Myspace to see if one of my favorite authors, Augusten Burroughs, has put out a new book yet. As I browsed through his update page I found a link. It said "Twitter Updates." Since I could not find the answer to my question, I boldly clicked on his Twitter. Lo' and behold, my answer was there. His new book comes out in October. In the meantime, he is still touring to promote his latest book, Wolf at the Table. The kicker: he will be at the St. Louis Public Library Headquarters, right across from my house, today at 6pm. I have always wanted to meet the guy that makes me laugh page after page, but alas I have a class that meets once a week on Monday nights. All I can say is that Twitter has ruined my day. I would have rather not known that I was missing an awesome event.

So, beware of the dangerous perils that lie ahead before you innocently click on a link that directs you to the evil Twitter.