meanwhile, back at school. i checked and this is actually 1.9 miles from my dorm door. but yes at home. i am sooo frozen to death. even as a college freshman i can hang out w/ people (also college freshmen) who will say "where's our impenetrable fortress" when playing in two feet of snow. of course.
sigh. meanwhile, carrington. nice long name emblazoned on the spine of a book on the bottom floor of the smithsonian. gelato stand and tube top glamour shots. those might have been the days :^) happy disposition and rose-colored contacts. this movie looks and that's about it so far. pistachio pickled mouth

cleo, the caribbean psychic from "mind and body" on BET. dave and tony agreed that she was the most convincing. my hypothesis now that i've seen her: businesslike + subtropical accent = wow. haha, when wharton starts offering infomercialism or televangelism or psychic hotlining...

did some obscene soho shopping with anand, unappreciated gift shopping with lisa, frosty rhinebeck shopping with mom. ahh. being the kind of person for whom shopping (for) is easy vs. being completely inexplicable to shop for. 1) brown coat 2) david foster wallace 3) joolrie and blah blah blah. a puzzled/vindictive for bad presents girl. a spoiled brat girl. i sleep i dream with my monica lewinsky face and my curly hair.

finding forrester (gerund + male name). good will hunting (adjective + male name + gerund). and the long day wears on :^)

thinking that i should have gone to testimony/full measure = korean-christian a cappella performance. that would be the closest ad hoc de facto move i could make at the end of the semester to being a good girl who was at peace on the inside. instead of one who wore pink. but i'm not. i will ask politely about it and maybe i will...anyway. meanwhile yes. i shook my head. it fell off.

is it cantos and response? canticle/something? i haven't stirred past the eh steps today, and i don't think i've talked too much either. that is probably why my head is so heavy. it's full. ready to be emptied into the streets of new york and the indian restaurants of pokipsi. to lisa's car as we pass cappucino's listening to wdst.

looking on the bright side of finance, i do understand the wall street journal and business week now. thank YOU, business economics! and i'm excited for next semester. in the meantime writing this last paper of papers is just annoying. wow, there's my lip balm. i was looking for that. if you have any questions, feel free.
* * *
since i am awake. kc3 disappears one by one by plane train and automobile. bye everyone!

i think this week will be x-filesian 'lost time' to me by tomorrow morning. excavating memory, why i write, annie dillard, cty, lawn, crabgrass, crabcake, baltimore, jamie lee, cello, gig today, $130, christmas. erdos. erdos of gifts. mm right. i just retreated to room after having just turned down another academic-sexiness conversation (same flava, different star) in favor of sleep and bright room and imminent departure of roommate. so nice of him to understand. that i am weak. like all the rest. and also abandoned my girli-slumber duo (unguents and salves) and AIM and even the snow outside in favor of tabula rasa. oh snow day culture. i am weakening. my soliloquy is on dripmode and it fares sooo much worse outloud. so there. telling uma about failing my finance final even as i try to win her favor. what is my problem? cleaned my room finally, because i had no more excuses. now there's no trace of what i tried to do this week. maybe in my hard drive and in my sonique. the end of a century. le reseau trivial. did connie and i (and our chromosomes) fuck spackenkill over for MIT? me for brown. whatever. like won said, a vacation to think. ravel's la valse the first time i heard it one night on wet grass, i thought, dizzied. watching sonique smear-visualize it in my currency i am just fantasiaed and mclarened into submission. drunk on exhaustion. can i push it? weak.

"always be closing." oh the relevance :^) i'm shivering from sleeplack. nothing new. thank you thank you thank you, failure failure halfassing. there is a difference between halfassing and procrastinating and you can measure it with a pyrex beaker if you are so inclined.
* * *
forty-five minutes of won-jinx! to the tune of "exactly, exactly." sexiness and cinematic moments in our academic lives. my mother will be so pleased. i'm sniffing tiger balm. i think i will bypass gin and tonic or tiramisu and move straight for the kill, using eau de tigre for the rest of my olfactory cosmetic life. teehee. tony can't open his eyes he put it too close.

teehee, and this is for everyone who knows:
"you should come visit pokipsi."
"yeah! i've been idealizing the princess diner."
"wait, the what?"
(i don't mention e*******y to outsiders)

3 different versions of big star's thirteen :^D and i feel like a pedant.
and now, whiskey before breakfast, wow - so evocative of the summer. i wish there was someone around who remembered but i'm just sitting here finishing up. [yawn] more later. i have no endurance.
* * *
just to show how much i care:
As a concept, han is more useful in describing Korea’s dilemma of view towards globalization than the construct of minjung. Coincidentally, the word for Korea is also han.
* * *
if i have a crush on a guy, fate will bring us together for approximately 20 seconds. in that brief window, i am reincarnated each time and will eventually ascend to girlie nirvana by being COOL! but not anytime real soon. :^D

i think spackenkill has a snowday today, because i'm listening to wdst and even though they still don't announce spackenkill, they say everyone else. and my little brother flashed online at about 8 o' clock this morning. meanwhile back at penn, it's a rainsloshed day, full of grumbling truck noises amplified by the rain. singing in the shower. anyway. i'd be jealous of chris, except i don't have school today either. this is the home stretch, i guess, i have 50 pages to write between now and tuesday. so why am i spilling words here? skimming off the top until i'm settled enough to put good word to thin paper. i treat myself to sleep and fantasy antoines and alberta ferretti gorgeous tipped coats in the interim.

hair length vs. nomenclature - round 1. fight!
joanne: "cute" short OR heavy wavy toss-over-shoulder nihon-jin
jo: half-up, field hockey broad style

yesterday i watched boys and girls and an hour of ma vie en rose. strange-lah. i am definitely sore from spinning, but (25% unrelated statement) i went and got a non-rockabilly desk chair from the lounge so i am stable. quiescent. chillin. smiling in oblivion to that which does not touch me. good manners, for once and for all. i won't be able to breathe until this work is done. okay.

Girl, Interrupted - Dependent Good Love Taker
love experience
9/18
sex experience
3/18
animal aggression
7/18
estrogen
16/18
testosterone
2/18
"I don't like wearing socks, ever. Not even comfy ones."

Caring and soft, you are beautiful on the inside. You seek solid relationships, and the ones you find are often very successful. You are a wholesome companion, and the people who love you do so deeply and forever.

On your end of things, however, you can be very lazy about love. Despite your warmth and kindness, you don't nurture in intimate situations; instead you absorb the affection of others. You crave love's spotlight and sometimes treat romance as a performance meant to elicit strong emotions from your partner--emotions you don't always reciprocate.

In many ways, you're romantically immature: like a child, you need love, but you demand that people bring it to you. You were once on the path from girl to woman, but something interrupted you. Find that thing and put it somewhere besides in the way.

Also: you are beautiful *only* on the inside.

Life Story
What people say about me: "She's so pretty. And nice. And such a cultural imperialist."

gorblimey! and it's all so true! and discouraging! and encouraging! [confused sniff sniff] or truer than very good womens' magazines' horoscopes can be. it is def'ly worth the fifteen minutes and slow load times. teehee, the cultural imperialist thing - in history today i said "the thing about the cultural imperialism of joanne" instead of "cultural imperialism of japan". had to hide before i got too red. otherwise i'm having a more articulate, less freudian day (with pronounced cheekbones and fair skin) with everyone. the giggle syndrome duly noted and confirmed for all the right people. didn't appreciate marginalization during filming but made scandalously cheasy posters for rob's latest ad campaign with tony and the newly girled lisa (yeah GIRL!) mgmt interpersonal going well...now that classes are over i am totally liberated from time.

on documentation or notoriety by any other name. a silent notoriety exciting itself in mental spaces :^D i have a bandaid on my knee and i bit my lip eating a clementine in one bite. so how powerful is memory? how overtime can senses work? i haven't gotten very past the summer it seems (8/10 in the sun and tan when i went deeper but i'm retoeing the hole) virtuous and vicious cycles akin and elliptical. because i can't be an actress yet. and the girl at mcclelland told me "i'm sorry, the pianos are for decoration." this poem looks like the california surfer dude hand! --->

sometimes my cat face in pale
flat face entails
heavy eyes strike
strike off 'til
the chin furrows touch proud

i did a self-portrait on saturday and i had a bloody nose too. boy betrayal. secret angel tally. overdosing on 'healthy food'. check, check, check. [nodding like esme] it's all part of the process. a complete lack of issues but so many theses.

definitely the strangest nights ever. full of vomiting, newbury award winning children's books, vomiting, mysterious hook-ups, thai singha, then vomiting. no really. yesterday i both vociferously publicized for, and voluntarily discharged myself from, university symphony orchestra. i am the same age as the average high school senior and even specific high school seniors whom i know and love. i am maybe three things to all people but lessening and waning myself (transitive blah!) until just a slivered almond of intent and observation. milan! kundera! eeeg! at rest permanently, or so i would pretend.

vignette: a very, very thin slice of life
i think i like the idea of offering an empirical hors d'oeuvre as opposed to an analytical meal. and also because "the less you tell people the better" -greg elinson (!) (!) what the second exclamation mark is for anyone can guess. teehee. but yeah! ink polaroids, storypeople, tony's almighty haikus, for instance. management case studies, even :^) here's a good place to segue into how management has effectively broken me and then...?

joanne:
"Too often, I defer a leadership role within [team name] due to my lack of energy and my desire for team approval, rather than team action."
"Even through e-mail, I suggest ideas but surround them in gossip or trivial banter, in an attempt to seem more easy-going, less compelling, and to inspire team feedback"
"While I seek group esteem at the expense of action, I let personal (!) emotion let me become undiplomatic, or even withdraw from group activity."

dr. helene "mess around with gender roles" elting:
"I am impressed with the self-critical stance."
"Marvelous."
"93 - Congratulations, Joanna."

a lot of goofing off, in its most rarified nominative forms :^)
a paliwal duet and erdos number charts.
any beautiful girl is composed of seven
gestures: four of hand and three of mouth.

albert camus
finally figured it out, wooo. all of my dolorousness has been transferred into FAT and that is the burden of loneliness that i am carrying around with me. 'ohh! that makes sense!' it totally does: the fatter you are, the further 'you' are from people. right?! teeheehee. so even if i'm not feeling all blah, my fat still is. like this: "In the depths of winter I finally learned there was in me an invincible summer." but a fat one. i'm so obsessed :^) anyway. damn the winter and damn my hibernation syndrome. and everything else.

galatea and my fevered brow
i am so sad. why can't i change? why can't i stick things out to the end? this is not a cry for help it is the song of solomon. it is the song of inertia. :^(

writing. the heisenberg principle for losers!
some weeks i wake up needing to go run. i triphopped to williams for my CURF interview, clad like j. crew beach '97. no socks (teehee...if we evolved built-on socks!), execrably wet hair (up). ten minutes late, blew into williams 320 onto the suited and skirted NEC, the fragrant smell of pre-professional breakfast pizza and an overwhelming sense of having failed. once again.

totally a problem, lately. cuteness to ditziness to failure, checkmate! i am oh so approachable and yet oh so...yeah. my nodding, smiling, lip biting (x2). searching out shyest boy in room and engaging in awkward eye contact. i answered questions with the elan which will garner me a rejection e-mail and suggestion to return better adjusted to their sartorial and mental realities.

spaceboy records, trixie l'amour, greene for pets. nothing fits. packaging is everything and that's how i make friends with saleswomen. and everyone else! currently sitting, ready to dive into work with my lactic acid reflux (sigh) my coldchapped lippth and more tired than ever before. but not sleepy.

gaining a measure. the measure. physical environment being crucial to mental productivity, i rearranged things: bookshelf to accessible position and little prince calendar to visible position and stereo to touchable position. 30/30 on the paper "a waste of flesh". a pity 30 in the wasteland of 25s no doubt but flattering :^) and infinite needed. my hmong and tallulah pieces in the street. thriftway today for the essentials. u penn is the light upon the hill and to reach the ghetto you walk down, down, down sidewalks, past middle eastern groceries, frito-lay trucks fronting the 80s version of the doritos bag until you reach the place where they sell both goya and erewhon. teehee. standing in line. strange, friendly, hairless women and beautiful children, and impatient students. and - sigh. the inflation of spirit and the spinning excitement of mind late at night, far (enough) from home/dorm. "what have i done to deserve this" but in an okay way. it takes so little to reconvince me and spur me to the end of nodding and smiling the start of furrowed eyebrows and the headtilt. the slow divulgence and convergence of personality. proud like a prow. the measure? the full measure?