Thursday, February 26, 2004
Just a bit of advice
When Super Awesome Roommate decides that the procurement of HBO has become an IMMEDIATE and MANDATORY issue, and skips off to the cable people to pick up a !Brand New Digital Cable Box!, do not return from (a perfectly acceptable and not at all ass-kicking) your day at work and watch In the Bedroom while pseudo-napping on the couch.Doing this will mess your shit up.
And yes, you are welcome.
Heather at 3:50 PM
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
200 Word Wednesday: The Inside of a Day (or: things i wish i didn't have to write to you)
Hold the MOO juice glassUnder the still brewing coffee-maker
Pour with right, balance with left
Pot back in place, three quarters
Of an inch from the moo glass into
The travel mug like a well placed
Shot to get the morning started.
I do this at six thirty-five
You would never know
Slip on my coat, fish out keys
Keys in my mouth, walking to
The car where I sit and smoke
In the school parking lot, on the phone
With my mom who is talking
About restaurants and love in the
Noise of clanking forks and mumbling
I do this at eleven twenty
You would never know
Shirt up over my head
By the time I hit the third stair
Earrings trapped in sweater knit
Counting, twelve thirteen, right turn
Into the bedroom to find
Last night's t-shirt, fluff hair, sigh
Contemplate Oprah, napping, you
I do this at four o?clock
You would never know
Sit on the porch, head back
Eyes closed, cigarette lit with
Confiscated lighter, the wind is
Blowing one curl on to my eyelid,
There are dogs and cars and men
With Miller in brown paper sacks
Rain plopping from Magnolia leaves
I do this at nine, ten, eleven, etc.
You would never know.
Heather at 8:06 PM
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Warning: Big Freaking Sacrilege Ahead (Subtitled: At least I said "freaking.")
The Lenten season appears to be upon us. (This having been brought to my attention by two gentlemen, one of whom felt compelled to call me on the way home from Mardi Gras (I'm sure it wasn't some weird titty-related synapse connection) and the other who gets the "funniest joke of last night" award for pledging to give up celibacy for Lent.) So I've been thinking, maybe it's time for me to get in the spirit of things. Maybe I should jump on that tiny band-wagon-o-religion and give something up. And then I remembered the old adage that "Heather" is one letter away from "heathen," which I followed with an extended period of convoluted logic, giving credible reasons for me to not actually give up anything. Anyway, here's my little post-it to Jesus. If that isn't who I'm supposed to be addressing this correspondence to, somebody get back to me on this. I'd hate for this to get lost in the mail.Dear Lord and Savior (aka that "dude" in that new Mel Gibson movie),
I know I should give up something for Lent. All the cool kids are doing it. And when I was 13 and prayed really really hard to get to be one of the cool kids and then the next weekend a popular girl started calling me and then we got to hang out and it was awesome, I became a believer in the power of prayer, so, like, I owe you one or something.
But you see, Jesus, I'm having a hard time coming up with something to give up for Lent. Thus far I've considered the following:
- Smoking (a possibility, but the portfolio is due on Saturday, and I have to smoke a lot before then to keep me motivated and I'll have to smoke afterwards to celebrate, so this one just sucks)
- Sex (um, just no)
- How about casual sex? (again, I don't think I'm really feeling you on this whole "no sex" thing)
- Drinking (please refer to above mentions of portfolios, celebrations, etc.)
- Caffiene (I skipped my coffee on Sunday and I thought I might die.)
- So what about just coffee? (But it's so goooood)
- Not doing laundry (This could work to a certain degree. Maybe if I decided to have all my laundry done by the end of Lent...)
So Jesus, really, I've got nothing. And you've still got the whole "son of God" and "died for our sins" thing working for you, so surely you can come up with something. I'm still open to suggestions, as long as none of them reference the aformentioned I-totally-can't-live-without-them items.
Thanks and stuff,
LaMagnolia
Heather at 6:25 PM
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Dear Mr. completely delusional asshole Nader,
I can't imagine few things worse than waking up on a Sunday morning with a wicked hangover (what was with all that Jack and Coke?) only to learn that you've thrown your elderly-and-less-attractive-than-even-John-Kerry-consumer-advocate ass in the Presidential race.
People will have your head for this. On a stake.
And in the meantime, I'm going to take a nap and try to forget that you (and my headache) exist.
Dissappointed, Pissed Off, and Suffering from the J.D. flu,
LaMagnolia
p.s. You suck.
Heather at 11:46 AM
Saturday, February 21, 2004
A sad, sad state
My idea of a perfectly acceptable Friday night now apparently includes the following:1. Wrestling in the kitchen and leaving (as yet unnoticed) black scuff marks on the recently mopped floor.
2. Drinking black cherry KoolAid with vodka from a plastic bottle.
3. Sending a friend on a scouting mission to the Ramada to see if it's an acceptable "get drunk and make fun of people" location.
4. Watching The Secret of NIMH and evaluating the whole of 80's animated features.
5. Having parts of The Secret of NIMH explained to me because black cherry KoolAid and vodka has a negative effect on my attention span. (as if it could get any shorter)
I am so not punk rock.
Heather at 10:44 AM
Friday, February 20, 2004
The drive home
When I left school today, I was blessed with the following synchronicity:1. It was 70 degrees outide. In February.
2. The sky was 70% blue, 30% crimpy looking clouds. Magnificent.
3. It was Friday.
4. When I'd turned the car off this morning, I was 30 seconds away from a rocking bass line in a Beta Band song, so when I was leaving the parking lot, it got to the best part just when I couldn't see the school in the rearview anymore.
5. I still had some Orange Soda left from an unexpected 6th period student who thought I needed something to drink.
So, happy Friday to you, too.
Heather at 6:49 PM
Thursday, February 19, 2004
post script (read: she's not really all that depressed)
1. I added new links, for all you losers who really come to my page just because of my stellar taste in blogs.2. After all my "We should SOOO make a tshirt of that" bullshit, I've now spent countless hours making all sorts of stencils and making the f*@$ out of some tshirts. The standout favorite thus far has been the stellar "The Shitty Jennifers" tshirt, the stencil for which is being held on reserve until I remember that I can go ahead and make the other 2 shirts I've promised and send them through the ever reliable USPS. However, "The Shitty Jennifers" might lose their top spot after the coming weekend's "Drink More, Care Less" shirts are unveiled.
Heather at 6:46 PM
So what's the story?
In short, there isn't one. At least not one worth telling. I know the posts have been infrequent and cryptic and a tad depressing and not the usual bubbly Heather-fare that we've all come to appreciate.There is a bottom line in this (and a whole hell of a lot of stuff leading up to it) but the bottom line hasn't really been reached yet. There's still shit to sort through and conversations to have and other evenings to lose to thinking about things I should have been finished thinking about a while ago.
It's not that life isn't good. School is good, bordering on great for at least one or two periods a day. But then I come home and remember what all is going on, and then I try to nap (and even napping has become fitful and unrewarding), then I think about planning for school or finishing my portfolio, but I've done little to none of either. The hours spent away from work are getting sucked into that great void of sitting in front of the computer or the tv or on the bed, doing absolutely nothing productive, and listening to either trash pop or depressing guitar and/or piano melancholia.
Feel free to leave me comments telling me to "cheer up," or "look on the bright side!" and know that the laugh I have at your expense might do a bit to improve the quality of my day. I'll see my way through this, but there isn't a whole lot anyone can do about it in the meantime.
Heather at 6:24 PM
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
200 Word Wednesday: An Open Letter
Dear Love of My Life,You can ask questions, but I can’t guarantee any uplifting, life-affirming answers. No, I’m not sure why no one has snatched me up yet. Probably has something to do with being flighty and weird and intimidating. No, I’m not ready to settle down. Terrifies the hell out of me, actually. And no, I can’t make any promises, accept any gifts, or put anything down in writing. I’m a doubter, a Grade A certified scaredy-cat.
But yes, I will run away with you, if you can promise me a few minor allowances. I must leave junk all over the house. I will leave the Sunday coffee cup on the bookshelf until it needs to be used next Sunday. I will put the bills next to the houseplants until the next time they get watered, when the water will overflow and smudge the fact that I now owe the cellphone people $211.74. I will forget to kiss you goodbye at least every other Tuesday. I will frequently “forget” to shave my legs. I will pick my nose while deep in thought. I will love you so fearlessly that it makes me cry.
Get back to me.
LaMagnolia
Heather at 2:52 PM
Sunday, February 15, 2004
Dreaming in Reverse
I will spend my day listening to ani difrancoAnd taking deep breathes that I think make things better
Trying not to realize that I’m slipping
When what kills are the things that I can’t help remembering
And I always wanted to write you poetry
That was bigger than anything that was going on
That was true love and eyelid kisses
That was a dozen roses and contrived near misses
Because all along I saw the you you never were
In your head or mine, on journal pages and receipts
I saw a dreamer and a planner, a balanced checkbook
Holding my breath, waiting for you to look
And I said I couldn’t love you if you never
Made me cry with the thought of losing you
Until I felt the weight of your absence with my head
Face down in a pillow, saline dripping and dead
Now we’re lost in that place where people
Forget which way they came in
And I want to remember the look of your driveway
Turn my stereo down when you grin
That disapproving way I came to know
That meant you would never understand
But there was something I was doing right
Even knowing that none of this was ever planned.
So here I am at my most vulnerable
Mascara streaked and waiting
Knowing things can’t get worse or better
Typing and silence, cold logic and debating
Heather at 3:51 PM
Trendy Trendy New New
New link posted.Yes, believe it or not, my dad has a blog now.
And it's fresh and beautiful and you should all be reading it.
Heather at 9:02 AM
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
200 Word Wednesday: Love and NPR
On the radio todayThere was a man
An old songwriter
At the point in his career
Where operatic 20-somethings
That our mothers would listen to
Are making entire albums
Of his times-gone-by-hits
And I sat entranced
Listening to his voice
Of gravel and cigarettes
And thinking of you
He kept talking
About places that
I know you’ve never been
Oakland and Sacramento
Hollywood and
Screaming out of limos
And I was thinking of you
And your slow quiet voice
How you could never
Ride down Rodeo Drive
Yelling at tiny blonde things
But how if you did
The story would be
Just as good as it is
Coming from his mouth
Using your voice
Or at least your voice
As it will be
Forty years from now
Ten thousand cigarettes
Snubbed in coffee cans
And on the bottoms
Of work boots
All adding up to one
Fantastic existence
Right onto Highway One
And I realize
You let me get
Too many words in
And I want more talks like this
Where you can go on
Uninterrupted
About everything in the world
Music and love and
Family and skies
Where I’m driving
With nothing to say
And thinking of you
Heather at 5:36 PM
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
The Horrorscope
My (aquarian) Horoscope as appearing on Yahoo (in their infinite astrological wisdom) today:Today you could enter into a new romantic relationship, Heather, or else you could experience a new sense of unity and commitment within an existing one. Whichever it is, the relationship might become very intense, so be sure that you and your partner make the effort to give each other plenty of space. Powerful bonds can lead to great strength as a couple, but they can also burn out if the parties aren't allowed to grow and develop as individuals.
My response:
Um, what?
*more to come later
Heather at 10:00 AM
Monday, February 09, 2004
Feblahary
First off, I don't seem to be writing anything that interests anyone these days. Sure, you all stop by, but no one ever has anything to say. And to make things exponentially better, I'm in a ghastly mood tonight and I can't seem to break it. I'm reading You Shall Know Our Velocity, stumbing through the first fifty pages that are so ridden with anxiety that my own anxious tendencies are being sent into overdrive. I've found myself on the porch twice tonight, reading and smoking in the dark, making my way through the pages, only to realize that I was somehow reading and at the same time playing out my own anxiety-ridden plot in my head.I've always had a flair for picking the wrong book at the wrong time. Anyone have a spare copy of the Bell Jar around? I could just read that and get it over with.
And to make things even more GRAND and STUPENDOUS the "powers that be" have decided that since I spent my weekend cooped up and napping and trying to convince myself that I did not in fact have some bronchial malaise that would eventually kill me, I was entirely deserving of a day of
So, in summary: No one loves me. My portfolio isn't finished. I keep forgetting how to SPELL portfolio. It's still raining. I'm still coughing. And Dave Eggers is f-ing with my head.
Heather at 6:42 PM
Sunday, February 08, 2004
Dear Jack White's Pants,
I'd like to say that I respect your role in the "rock world." You serve your purpose. You bring to mind thoughts of the skinny-wriggling-likes of Jagger or Tyler. And I must say, you brought home all the Jack-White-alicious goodness I was looking for when you silhouetted that lovely piece of Jack-White-ass in front of the incessant and seizure inducing strobe light.However, you are hideous. And as soon as I have my way with Jack, and he's dead to the world in whatever sort of drug-induced-post-coital-haze I leave him in, I will promptly have you executed, most likely by means of firing squad to be followed by incineration.
Rockin it till the wheels fall off,
La Magnolia
Heather at 5:53 PM
For everyone else who should really be working on their respective portfolios
LAYER ONE:-- Name: Heather
-- Birth date: January 28, 1980
-- Birthplace: Nashville, TN
-- Current Location: Greenville, MS
-- Eye Color: Gray, with green and blue tendencies
-- Hair Color: I think we're currently going for brown.
-- Height: 5'6"
-- Righty or Lefty: Righty
-- Zodiac Sign: Aquarius, Gemini Rising
LAYER TWO:
-- Your heritage: English, Irish, French, German (asst. other western european mutt)
-- The shoes you wore today: Are you kidding? It's sunday.
-- Your weakness: Starbucks, cigs, boys
-- Your fears: Driving, loneliness
-- Your perfect pizza: Mushrooms. Period.
-- Goal you'd like to achieve: True love.
LAYER THREE:
-- Your most overused phrase on AIM: "Dude." or "indeed"
-- Your first waking thoughts: Do I really truly have to go to work today?
-- Your best physical feature: Definitely the hair.
-- Your most missed memory: Lots of high school stuff featuring people I rarely, if ever, talk to anymore.
LAYER FOUR:
-- Pepsi or Coke: Coke
-- McDonald's or Burger King: McDonalds
-- Single or group dates: Single. Gracious, who goes on group dates these days?
-- Adidas or Nike: Sandals.
-- Chocolate or vanilla: Vanilla.
-- Cappuccino or coffee: COFFEE
LAYER FIVE:
-- Smoke: Often
-- Cuss: Often again, and typically at inappropriate times.
-- Sing: In the car, on the porch, at the tv, etc etc to infinity.
-- Take a shower everyday: Typically.
-- Do you think you've been in love: Eh.
-- Want to go to college: Again, yes. Now. Please.
-- Liked high school: Probably more than I realized at the time.
-- Want to get married: Ask me again in five years.
-- Believe in yourself: To a fault.
-- Get motion sickness: Only on swingsets.
-- Think you're attractive: More often than I probably should.
-- Think you're a health freak: Thank god, one complex I don't have.
-- Get along with your parent(s): Yes, annoyingly so.
-- Like thunderstorms: Only when I have someone to ride it out with me.
-- Play an instrument: semi-piano.
LAYER SIX: In the past month...
-- Drank alcohol: Does last night count?
-- Smoked: Within the last hour.
-- Done a drug: Nope.
-- Made Out: Certainly.
-- Gone on a date: Not a formal one, no.
-- Gone to the mall?: If the Greenville mall counts, which it shouldn't.
-- Eaten an entire box of Oreos?: Gross.
-- Eaten sushi: Sadly, no.
-- Been on stage: Again, sadly, no. Damn closed Sandbar.
-- Been dumped: Not a chance in hell.
-- Gone skating: No. Do I ever skate?
-- Made homemade cookies: Nope.
-- Gone skinny dipping: No, again. I'm beginning to think I don't have enough fun.
-- Dyed your hair: Of course.
-- Stolen Anything: A pen from the office. Yeah, I'm living wild.
LAYER SEVEN: Ever...
-- Played a game that required removal of clothing: Sure.
-- If so, was it mixed company: Why else would I have been playing it?
-- Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: Duh.
-- Been caught "doing something": Not that I recall, but I do have obscenely polite friends.
-- Been called a tease: Yes
-- Gotten beaten up: No, thanks to Todd and his valiant skateboard weilding.
-- Shoplifted: Never.
-- Changed who you were to fit in: Half-heartedly attempted once, but failed miserably. (at the changing part, not at the fitting in part.)
LAYER EIGHT:
-- Age you hope to be married: 35? That sounds like a good round number.
-- Numbers and Names of Children: None right now, thank you. I'll worry about that when the time comes.
-- Describe your Dream Wedding: Flee where ever I'm currently living. Go somewhere shady. (Vegas, Gatlinburg?) Get hitched. Come back and flash the ring.
-- How do you want to die: Ugh. I don't want to think about this one.
-- Where you want to go to college: I'm beginning to think this thing was written for 14 year old girls...
-- What do you want to be when you grow up: Working in a museum somewhere, acting smart all day.
-- What country would you most like to visit: Italy, Portugal, Greece. Anywhere where it is acceptable for me to lounge all day and look at pretty things.
LAYER NINE:
-- Number of drugs taken illegally: Just the one.
-- Number of people I could trust with my life: 5, 4 of whom I share DNA with.
-- Number of CDs that I own: Probably 75 or so.
-- Number of piercings: 2 holes in each ear.
-- Number of tattoos: Only one. Hopefully another fairly soon.
-- Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper?: Not a clue.
-- Number of scars on my body: Too many to recall.
-- Number of things in my past that I regret: Zero. A few minor regrets here and there but only the major ones count, so I'm still at nada.
Heather at 4:05 PM
Friday, February 06, 2004
Friday so far...
1. I've managed to apparently come down with something that can only be described as2. As a result, I sound like Bea Arthur. Lovely. And so great considering my job requires me to TALK all day!
3. Our home alarm system became possessed at 5 a.m., dinging randomly, keeping J. from sleeping, and significantly disturbing my own final hour of much needed sleep.
4. I managed to leave my PURSE at HOME. (wtf!??!??!) I needed to bring my laptop to school today and apparently in the confusion of the dinging and the missing hour of sleep, I failed to notice (until I was getting out of my car at school, 35 miles later) that my purse was very much still in my kitchen.
Pray for me or something.
Heather at 6:59 AM
Thursday, February 05, 2004
Flighty? Yes.
I was bored. That's the only logical explanation. And sick, and feeling like I needed to do something other than worry about how my shoulders have suddenly started hurting in the last hour. Now I'm going to bed. Hope this is a little more palatable to all the whiny bitches who didn't like the last one. At least now the content isn't fighting with the ad anymore.Heather at 8:42 PM
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
200 Word Wednesday (Bandwagon Alert! You will be expected to jump on.)
"I wish you were here right now," he says, leaning out the driver's side window, right hand draped across the steering wheel."But I am here, you drunk. I'm ten feet away from your car. You're too smashed to even know what's going on," she screams, adjusting her high, black PayLess heels, stumbling forward a little, then righting herself and flipping her short black hair.
“No. You aren’t getting it. I wish you were here right now,” he repeats, slurring slightly.
“I’m walking home. Go. Just go,” she says, reaching down again at the shoes, this time to yank them from her feet.
“But you don’t get it,” he says again, on a loop.
“I’m going. Look at me. Walking home,” she says in her high-pitched I’m-no-longer-interested voice, shoes drooping from her left hand, her middle finger and her now empty ring finger sunk sturdily into the empty heels.
“Where am I supposed to go?” he asks.
“Pawn shop might be a good idea. I doubt either of us will be needing that,” she says, pointing to her marquise-cut diamond solitaire, fit snugly onto his pinky, and with that, she walks home, but not after chunking half of ten bucks worth of stylish footwear through his back windshield.
Heather at 5:06 PM
Monday, February 02, 2004
How I Spent My Summer Vacation Day Skipping School
Preparation: Make sure other people are also skipping school. Form the Slacker Teachers of Greenville Club.
Step One: Sleep until noon (or until the covers become so unbelievably tangled that you think you've entombed yourself.)
Step Two: Wake up, drink coffee, smoke cigarettes, flirt with mailman.
Step Three: Watch with amazement as roommate has procured a treadmill during Skip Day. Resolve to do something similarly productive.
Step Four: Watch at least two hours of TLC.
Step Five: Get on treadmill and promptly get off when you realize 1)how ridiculous you look and 2) that you are allergic to all things aerobic.
Step Six: Go have a smoke to undo any sort of body improvement that may have taken place on the treadmill.
Step Seven: Read lovely but dark book that you've already read before (but you've become a teacher since then and have resultingly forgotten the entire plot).
Step Eight: Recall your oath of productivity. Paint "Disco Queen" picture for stupid friend who is sincerely sick and at school.
Step Nine: Have someone cook you dinner, watch American Idol, have witty conversations on the front porch.
Step Ten: Go to bed early (yeah, right), knowing that school will be waiting for you in the morning.
Heather at 7:32 PM
Sunday, February 01, 2004
"Some people are just shitty." --Dena, on bitches
I'm sure there are a lot of people whom I've pissed off in my life. I could easily name twenty off the top of my head. But you see, the situation is this, my personality won't allow me to continue to piss you off. When it comes down to it, I'm a really nice girl. Aggressive, mean, spiteful, sure. But it all tends to pass rather quickly and then I go back to being friends. (right, Lizzie?)So when you feel compelled to take me outside (literally),
to tell me that I'm not welcome in your house (which you happenning to be renting along with someone who is a very dear friend of mine),
after you've somehow become confused that there is lingering animosity between us (big word for you, wasn't it?),
I shouldn't have to be upset. I also shouldn't have to feel guilty for calling you a "straight-up bitch," which was admittedly weak, but the best put-down I could come up with on short notice.
I've always had a hard time realizing the fact that there are some people who are in no way worthy of my time, people who may in fact be completely devoid of any redeeming qualities. Well, tonight, I think I took a huge step into big-girl land in realizing that you (Grand Queen of the Shitty People) are in no way worthy of my time. You are completely devoid of any redeeming qualities.
It is for this reason, I feel completely justified in saying that first, I hope you get a horrible STD that renders you unable to spread your whore-love any further than you already have. And after all your naughty-bits have withered away, I hope you have a life altering moment in which you realize exactly how unreasonable and crazy you actually are. And then after that, you're more than welcome to continue to conduct your whiny-little-rich-girl life in whatever way you see fit (of course now devoid of your dignity and your means of reproducing.)
Heather at 4:44 PM
