And furthermore.....

Dude.http://store3.yimg.com/I/daljeets_1736_3883469http://www.daljeets.com/newrock4439.htmlDude

Zoe Chevat and the Totally Kick-Ass, Stress-Free, Very Good Day

Cause that's how it SHOULD be, foo.Dude, tomorrow being SATs is completely overshadowed by Free Comic Book Day, X2 ( which, admittedly, is a stupid name for a sequel), and Alex coming back from Mexico after a year. Speaking of the poorly-named sequel; Entertainment Weekly has a gorgeously long article and a very positive review, even though it was done by someone who openly hates superhero-genre stuff. X-Men is not Justice League (sorry, Suz'). Colosuss and others to make guest appearances.By the way, I officially love Alan Cumming, because he's cool and blue and has a nice dog. " No one gets Anna Paquin, dearie."Hehhee.Bleh, geh, spaz.*looks at her layouts for a ammunition-loadable flamethrower, to be used in Toolbox Arsenal* That's the sexiest thing I've ever seen.

Yea, So, HELLLLO OUT THERE!

Hello empty void.Why hello Zoo, how are you?*echoing voice* ISSS ANYBOOODDDDYYYYY OUUUTTTT THHHHEEERRREE???????!!!!!!X2's coming out Friday, but I don't think I'll get to it till later. However, Saturday is SATs, which shall be rewarded with a trip to Free Comic Book Day at Time Warp. Hence, the icon change.Today was a damn crappy day. I hardly went to class, and have officially given up trying to keep with Dearborn's psycho-clip pace in Art History. Evil man switching up drugs. First he's on nicotine, now he's on speed. I am severely disliking myself at present. Feel like seven kinds of ick. Ewwewweww.Not even X-Men: Evolution cheered me up.Need cheery things....fast....slipping off happiness plateau....

*is in hysterics*

Aragorn: *backslashes an approaching teenage girl with his sword* That's the fifth girl named Mary Sue trying to join our group that I've had to kill this morning. We haven't even finished breakfast."Parody FanFiction, thank the gods

Ponderings....and a Question for Everyone

If you could live your life the way you really wanted to, what would you do? Society, money, and international relations aside, how? How would you dress? What language would you speak? Where would your home be? Throw 'logic' to the wind, and speak from the heart.

and 1 and 2 and....ouch

There's something very off here. I spent more time at the gym today than I spent sleeping last night. Am exhausted, but feeling rather fit. Biked to gym, worked out for two hours and biked back. Someone catch me before I hit the hard ground.Amusing thing of the day: Some people mouth the lyrics to songs on their headphones. Today I saw a woman Sign them as she was cycling. That's cool.Jon Stewart makes me happy.So...I'm in the mood for a crazy, maniacal scheme. I don't know what, but that's what my copy of Caesar's Guide to Megalomania, Imperialism, and Other Trifles of the Ancient World is for. ( I wish that book existed, really I do. However, no need, for we have Shrub.)So, upcoming things to be anxious as fuck all about: AP Test when Dearborn hasn't finished, the prick; getting all my stuff together for summer; being able to produce on command; finals...Things to be "squeee"-ing about: Starting June 21st, I will be living in a swinging, downtown, college pad, with artartart and a 70% female student body. If I can't manage this, then I'll settle for being a celibate loner. MagentaRiot: i want pictures and scandalously vivd details.I'm not sure it'll be half as interesting as I wish I could tell people it will be. ( Did that make sense?) Fact is, I can't help being excited about hope. ( Not that this is the sole reason I'm going to RISD...it's sort of a side dish. Dish...hehee)Jen says she'll slap me if I don't stop doubting myself. Which means I will not only be short and odd, but rather bruised.Maybe it's the hot weather, but all of a sudden it's a broken record in my head; sexsexsexsexsexsexsex....I am feeling v. devious, and will make feeble attempt to channel repressed sexuality into mad-seduction trickery.Crazy. Like a fox.Comment? Pwease?I'll make Angst cry. Six: "She will, too."

and 1 and 2 and....ouch

There's something very off here. I spent more time at the gym today than I spent sleeping last night. Am exhausted, but feeling rather fit. Biked to gym, worked out for two hours and biked back. Someone catch me before I hit the hard ground.Amusing thing of the day: Some people mouth the lyrics to songs on their headphones. Today I saw a woman Sign them as she was cycling. That's cool.Jon Stewart makes me happy.So...I'm in the mood for a crazy, maniacal scheme. I don't know what, but that's what my copy of Caesar's Guide to Megalomania, Imperialism, and Other Trifles of the Ancient World is for. ( I wish that book existed, really I do. However, no need, for we have Shrub.)So, upcoming things to be anxious as fuck all about: AP Test when Dearborn hasn't finished, the prick; getting all my stuff together for summer; being able to produce on command; finals...Things to be "squeee"-ing about: Starting June 21st, I will be living in a swinging, downtown, college pad, with artartart and a 70% female student body. If I can't manage this, then I'll settle for being a celibate loner. MagentaRiot: i want pictures and scandalously vivd details.I'm not sure it'll be half as interesting as I wish I could tell people it will be. ( Did that make sense?) Fact is, I can't help being excited about hope. ( Not that this is the sole reason I'm going to RISD...it's sort of a side dish. Dish...hehee)Jen says she'll slap me if I don't stop doubting myself. Which means I will not only be short and odd, but rather bruised.Maybe it's the hot weather, but all of a sudden it's a broken record in my head; sexsexsexsexsexsexsex....I am feeling v. devious, and will make feeble attempt to channel repressed sexuality into mad-seduction trickery.Crazy. Like a fox.Comment? Pwease?I'll make Angst cry. Six: "She will, too."

If You're Going to Whine for Etttteeeernity...

Lestat: " Louis, will you stop whining? That's all you do, all the time. Whine, whine, whine."Armand: " Come here and I shall teach you all I know...you sexy man thing, you."Louis: " Shut up, both of you. Can't you see that I'm brooding?"And so it was that Rabbit and I viewed Interview With A Vampire. **Mwah** to Anne Rice, you crazy woman thing, you. If anyone has ever seen the movie or read the book, then you know what I'm talking about. Tres amusing. ( Because everything sounds better in French.)

goth duck joins collection

So, my father randomly was out and saw some devil ducks and bought them for me. One is bright pink with a yellow beak. The other is metallic gold with a black beak. Both have black horns. They are officially unofficially Drag Duck and Goth Duck, respectively. Swee.Watched Far From Heaven by myself tonight, after sushi-getting with Cadillac. Made me think, which is absolutely something I cannot have in a Friday-night movie. ;-) V. good film. I give it 4 and 1/2 stars. (Out of 5) The lack of half (hehhee) is due to the *opening door* "Oh." " Oh." "I was just..." "Yes, I know." "Good." nature of the film, which is stylistic, but I can't stand Douglas Siek to begin with. And now, because I feel like it; random facts you probably didn't know about me: -The novel The Outsiders makes me cry.-I believed in Peter Pan until I was almost 13-Neon/glowstick green next to neon/cherry red causes me to be nauseous because of a dream I once had.-Hugs really do make it all better.-I associate very specific 'feels' to periods of time in my memory. (It's hard to explain.)-'poison' is a really sexy wordHmm...maybe I can think of more later...What are some of your odd quirks?

Utilities...Like Waterworks, or RailRoads...

Lame Monopoly joke. Want to play boardgames, but it is 10:52 at night, so I'll settle for telling about my day.Went shopping w/ mother, who thinks it is a necessary cultural experience to drag young, unsuspecting women (namely, their daughters) into Victoria's Secret. This little adventure produced the following conversation between myself and a saleslady as I attempted, futilely, to do a simple thing, like buy panties:Zoo vs. SalesLadySalesLady: I'm sorry, we don't have the matching colors for those (indicates bras being held by a very uncomfortable Zoo)Zoo: Uh, that's alright.SL: (clearly appalled) But...don't you want ones that match?Z: (patiently) It doesn't matter. It's not like anyone's going to see them.SL: You're going to see them.Z: (sweetly) Yes, but I don't care.Impossible, really. Crazy women of the world are prepared to apprehend me at every turn. Lordie.On the plus side, I managed to snag the coolest things, because Swedish department stores rock like that. *sigh* I am such the Europhile. And it would be kinda sad, if I didn't manage to make it cool ;)Speaking of general coolness, ladies and gents, I have de-lemonized my lime of an iMac. That's right, I upgraded every single fucking utility on the damn computer. And I put in Photoshop 7. Feel my l337 g33k wr47l-l.To everyone coming to Phoenix tomorrow; please bring pizza money. Thank you.**Please, please comment. I have the sneaking suspicion that no one reads this, and comments make me obscenely happy.**

Slalloming onward...

I continue to update, Lord knows why, since I have little fiscal evidence that anyone reads this. Oh, well, all for the better. Livejournal is really too much of a 'look at me!' thing, anyway, isn't it?I've been getting this vibe from a lot of my (straight) friends recently, that I mention gay stuff constantly. Message to all those people: DUH. If you could only all hear yourselves and realize that most of what I hear coming out of people's traps is 'boysboysboys', and that I feel totally alienated by 75% of conversation. My constantly "bringing the gay" is part of asserting my comfort level, not "proving" anything. If Mohammed won't go to the mountain....Yea, it is because I'm gay. And yea, I'm very comfortable with myself. However, society has this neat little way of reminding me that I'm not accepted every time I walk out of my goddamn house. Whether it's my friends yakking off about how Johnny Depp looks, or my relatives at Passover feeling the replesant URGE to delve into my personnal life, I feel scrutenized, disected, patronized, plain uncomfortable, and boxed in. Most of the last isn't done by the heterosexuals around me...it's done by flaming queens who think that who you love has to do with how you dress or what you dance to. The people most adherent to gay stereotypes that I've met? Gay men and women, who are boring and obnoxious, and just as hurtful to their own social accpetance as Fred Phelps. The excuse that your floppy wrists are you 'being yourself'? That's what a hateful society has convinced you is true. It's not, and if you want to be silly, leave me out of it.Grievances, A Peggy and Zoe Discussion: SwizzlePixie: "ahem...testing testing 1,2,3..."SwizzlePixie: "the Bitching Mike is offically on, and in perfect working order"SwizzlePixie: Thank you. I would just like to say that I have short hair because it looks better on my round russian face and i'm lazy like that.SwizzlePixie: *hands mike off to peg*Peggyzena: Sometimes I feel the need to yell "I wear bandannas because I unruly hair, not because it reflects my sexual orientation" Peggyzena: Just because I like girls DOES NOT mean I am attracted to you...I don't even like blondes! Peggyzena: *hands mike back over* SwizzlePixie: to all the girls in the locker room; i'm the only lesbian in there, and the only one who keeps her eyes to herself!...oh, and on the subject of whether or not i'm looking at you; don't flatter yourself.SwizzlePixie: *passes mike*Peggyzena: To my senior lounge-mates, just because I am a lesbian does not mean I know everything about lesbian sex...in fact, I have never had sex with my significant other! Peggyzena: *passes mike* SwizzlePixie: to the general Right: for a load of conservatives who claim to be disgusted with my lifestyle, you seem awfully concerned with what we gays do in the bedroom. *evil smile*SwizzlePixie: *passes mike*Peggyzena: Oh, and to nasty nasty men who think my sexual activities with women are for your benefit, kissing my girlfriend in public is not equivelent to free porn Peggyzena: *mike pass* SwizzlePixie: ditto on that one. oh, and mentioning gay things is a way to assert my comfort level, not to 'prove' something.SwizzlePixie: *pass*Peggyzena: With everyone saying how hot a guy is, I feel that I should be able to comment on a woman's attractivness without being stared at like I have three heads Peggyzena: *pass* SwizzlePixie: i hate melissa etheridge. i hate k.d. lang. and i hate that when i make those statements, other lesbian ask me " what kind of gay person are you"?SwizzlePixie: *PASS*Peggyzena: I wear make-up, and I'm gay...these things arn't contridictory!! Peggyzena: *pass* SwizzlePixie: butch? femme? i'll call it fetch and pass on the whole traditionalist notion!Anyway....back to our regularly scheduled programming...Am allllll alone en mi casa. Parents gone off on blatant marriage-lost-it's-fire holiday. Today was Easter Sunday, or, to some, better known as International Jews at the Movies Day. Rabbit and I biked to the Clairidge and saw Bend It Like Beckham which re-affirmed our stationary Anglophilia, and made me go " Hmm.....Indian soccer chicks....". (Fake)beard stroking optional.

Tom and Tomorrow

"By the way, officially, there are no Italian homosexuals...which makes Michaelangelo and Leonardo rather inconvenient, don't you think?"-Peter, in The Talented Mr. RipleyAhhh, Venice.

RAWR

Sorry I couldn't think of a more coherent title. Just went out to coffee with Cadillac and Rabbit ( as opposed to going in a Cadillac with a rabbit...). Love those two. Ladies, you make my day. To them I have one word, though...LOAF.hehehehehehehehehehehehehhe.Yes, that was completely necessary. Rabbit and I got a hearty chunk of The Descended worked out today, and productivity makes me feel special. If I may so bold: WE KICK ASS. I am cognizant of the abusive use of HTML in this post, and I apologize for those who don't understand the enthusiasim connotated by the use of bold print.I feel pretty.Oh so pretty.I feel pretty.And witty.And gay.Oh, yes, and I got smashed at seder last night, yet avoided a hangover. Manschwitz ( Men-a-ch-eh-vitz) is gross.The extra surge of good feeling is, also, of course, due to the absence of school. We're on break for the next ten days, and this is coming at just the right time. School puts a general hinderance, ironically, on my brain functioning properly, on my productivity, and on my happiness. If I didn't have to 'GO LEARN', I'd be a thoroughly intelligent individual with a grand capacity to GET SHIT DONE. Le sigh.All you who live near me, but who I never see, expect a visit this week, mo-fo. Yes, you there. Sitting, reading, and laughing. Be careful not to spill your cereal all over the keyboard. ;-Dpeace, love, and frappachinos.

niegh

I'm bored. Somebody play with me.

Ceremonies

It's seems as though life is surrounded by them. Special breads, chants, drink the wine ask the four questions. I have a question? Do any of you believe? What is the root of your belief? If there is a God so good and mighty on high, what does a divine plan have to do with innocent deaths? How can you waste your life preoccupied with what might happen after it. Live for now, I say, the rest comes later. What else can you do?Although it's an awful, rambling book, Ceremony definitly reminded me of Bloody Hawk, and that summer with the lodge by the lake. And the way we'd come back in the fall, Safia and I, crunching bright leaves underfoot, looking for the shell of that structure. What he'd told us about stories, what others have written about them. How do you tell the tale of the self? That's part of what religion is about, isn't it? Capping an ending on the story. There's more than one kind of happily-ever-after, though.I wonder what the next chapter will bring.

Possibly the oddest quiz ever invented...

Squee!!! Which jrock pet are you? brought to you by Quizilla*shudder*

Surreal...not the character from Black Jewels...

Trains are funny things, especially if you are arriving somewhere backwards. I just woke up from a mid-afternoon nap that was not so much taken by choice, as forced upon me by my body. After taking a panicky "don't-know-what-time-it-is-what-day-it-is" shower, I realized that it's Sunday, I managed to survive the LIRR ( Long Island Railroad), the Breaking the Silence concert, and some whacked-out sandwiches and that home isn't so bad beacause you can be naked there. events don't seem as 'real' in retrospect if you take a sleep directly afterwards. Concert was boring, except that Duck Adam (of the Adam/James collective) showed up, sans other half (James), and Laura gave me some Pocky. I swear, Nikki and I need to visit an Asian supermarket and stock up on Pocky, and dried mango slices, and all those other snackies we're addicted to, like YanYan, which is like Pocky in reverse. SAHLS people all went to the beach afterwards where we attempted to build a (illegal) bonfire, during which Gina and Jolie, my lovely evening host, wandered off for a walk. This is quite acceptable couples behavior, a opposed to What'sherface and What'shisface making out Blue Lagoon style in front of everyone. To quote Jordan (not Lopez) " Duude, don't DO that!"The raggedly remains of the group then piled into autoage and went to Dunkin' Donuts for bagels and coffee (keep in mind this was 2 AM). After mushy goodbyes, Jolie and I ended up back at her place, goofing around about 'roots' ( if you've seen "But I'm A Cheerleader" you'll understand) as we fell asleep. (Later) Morning brought breakfast and another goodbye, and, ultimately, me running through Port Authority like a madwoman to catch my bus.Now, I shall go have my Mexican food. Yuss.

I suppose that Hobbit footnotes grow hair...

On a peevish side note: there should be some public distinction between dramatics and sadness. While the general pretentious populance has decided that the two are inevitably linked, number one:A person is entitled to being sad for realistic reasons, and number two, which cancels out number one:Who cares? So what if depression errs to the dramatic side? If someone you care about is having a hard time, then be compassionate, regardless of connotation.You can't be mopey with Irish jigs playing behind your right shoulder. Not that I would choose to be. Because I advocate direct communication, I will say the following in explaination for the below, the above, and all that transpires in your heads between the lines: I have been having a very hard time recently. I've been fighting with my parents a lot, I haven't been to therapy in three weeks, and I've been the sole main organizer for the Day of Silence, attendee of SAHLS, and over-worked GLAAD volunteer ( all of which can be garnered from the first post in this journal, which outline this past week's schedule in greater detail than bodes repeating). Not to mention the juggling of schoolwork, AP prep, and three SAT classes a week. I have felt as though friends of mine, none in particular, just in general, haven't been very sensitive to my sleep-deprived, easily irritable state. Here is a clear and simple statement of what I need right now;-I need consideration-I need a little more (metaphysical) space than usual-I need everyone to just go easy on me for a few days until I can coax out of hiding the piece of my head from under my covers. Give, and ye shall recieve. ( Which, chances are, if you read this journal, you do anyway.)I promise to behanve now, and go draw in my sketchybook.

It's Over...Or Is It Ever, Really?

I'm so tired. I don't want to go to SAT class tonight. I don't want to go to school tomorrow. I don't want to do anything. I want someone to love me or I want to die. Either or.Fuck.

No really feeling the love

i am completely and utterly combo-pissed off/stressed out/exhausted. i am sick of being the only one who works at G/SA. people are starting to use that lump of gray Jell-O that sits between the ears for something useful, like independent initiative. Tomorrow is Day of Silence. And the buttons might not be here. And I have 3 dozen doughnuts in my fridge. This would all be easier if i was getting any kind of menial support from those ellusive personalities who are supposed to be my friends, but have somehow fizzled off into nitpicking bitchfest oblivion. The only person who has helped me to stay sane at all is Orli, thank God someone gives a shit, and thanks the Gods it's her. I'm not going to apologize for behaviour. I'm angry for perfectly understandable reasons. If i've been short, too bad, because everyone's been flinging dog shit at my preverbial parade for awhile now. I don't know why certain people have decided to hate me for no reason, or ignore me, or tell me that my template is not to their particular taste can't you do anything nice and sympathetic EVER, you boring, catty, nasty women??!!!!! what the hellish flying dildo-strapped FUCK is wrong with everyone???!! I long for sane, stupid, silly conversation, not sleeping with each other, and some of the fucking consideration back that I dole out so freely, even to those who obviously don't like me, but won't say it to my face because they're cowards.So fuck you because nothing matters; especially not me and my pathetic, whiney, lonely excuse for a miserable exsistance.

Meanwhile, in a parallel universe..

MagentaRiot: well in speech class i'm doing a panel discussion on where the lineshould be drawn on government invasion of privacy, you know, like the patriot act, and clear and present dancer, and megan's law shit like thatSwizzlePixie: clear and present dancer?SwizzlePixie: is that alvin ailey with a stiletto?I love you, Jen.Me and Bunny managed 5 pages of the Descended today. Good Lord, suddenly we're motivated.And I studied for Easton.And I've ceased to freak out.Duuude.This might have something to do with Sasha asking me to go see "A Day In the Death of Joe Egg" with her. Izzard and Sasha. **dies**

Where to stick it

I went to the SAHLs reunion today, which was small but pleasant. And I would write about that, if only I didn't have lovely little topic to bitch about.I don't know if it's because they're old, or bitter, or stupid....whatever it is, I could give less of a rat's ass. But the simple fact is that my parents are best at being nasty humans when I've had a good day. Perhaps it's because when I return from not having seen them all day, the juxtaposition is all the worse. But the more appropriate, and highly dramatic conclusion, is that they just do not like seeing me happy. Another layer of interpretation to be placed on this cake; I cite a good day as including their absensce. Whatever the reason (because in LJ rants, reason is not the point....moaning and bitching is), flaming asshole seems to be the order of the evening. I came in the door, and nary 5 minutes later was being told that I had ruined dinner. Either my subconscious is a talented bitch, or something is rotten in a meat-packing district in Denmark.My mother, my father, my sister's Anglo-Saxonified ass, and Guliani's "Quality of Life" program all know where to stick it. And if they don't, someone ought to let them in on it.I'm exhausted, I'm angry, and I have work to do for Easton.If anyone wants to argue with me about anything, and I mean this for collective good; PISS OFF.

cheese and grapes and cheese...

Referring of course to the five pounds of cheese hauled back from my sister's bat mitzvah-ish party thingy. I have been complusively chomping on cheese and grapes for the past day or so. Must stop. Will become Sasha and have feet smelling like Swiss all the time. *hugs to her GlitterberryGrrl*Am going to go see 'Spirited Away' again tonight with Bella, Bratty, and Abby. Hayao Miyazaki is one of my gods. Animation....purty....must.....improve....drawing...skills...must....go...to...Japan.People keep telling me that I'm not supporting the troops by opposing the war. Silly gits; I'm supporting them completely...my way will get less of them killed, and home faster. That's support.SAHLS tomorrow. Whee.( The Zoo apologizes for her incoherency, and promises a more thorough rambling when she gets the chance.)Linky of the day:<a href=http://www.sbnbs.com/

My Big Fat Gay Weekend

Not referring to this past weekend, but the mammoth one approaching. (*fuzzy* ice-age weekend) So, things I have to do, starting...oh....today (no April Fools Joke here): -April 1st: get G/SA second round of posters made and distriubuted, talk to Beams about buttons and food. -April 2nd: take SAT test #2, which isn't quite as gay, but it counts. -April 3rd: hightail it to NYC after school for two volunteer meetings for the GLAAD Media Awards benefit (it's the Gay Emmys/Oscars/Tonys/Grammys...it's black tie, A-list, and fucking huge), come home on the LATE bus. -April 4th: run and manage G/SA bakesale ( PLEAAAAASE BAKE!!!!! I'LL PROMISE LEWD FAVORS IN EXCHANGE FOR COOKIES!!!!...cause who doesn't, if they're good cookies?), then attend my sister's big Bat Mitzvah-sans-synogogue and ceremony Party, which is gayer than you might imagine. A rented hall full of frothily dressed preteens, a DJ who plays only pop crap, and my relatives, quizzing me on 'any Jewish boys I might know'. It's my own personal, tailor-made Hell. -April 5th: Wake-up at 10 AM, go to SAT class till 1:30, go to Phoenix meeting (or remnants thereof), collapse in repose. -April 6th: Spend all day at Columbia for the second monthly SAHLS convention. -April 7th: Go to school, then get home, get dressed, and get my little pink-triangled liberal ass to NYC, for the Media Awards set-up, Ticketing, security briefs, preshow, event managing, postshow, and then working the VIP party until 1 AM. -April 8th: Have to go to school to run G/SA, pre-DoS meeting.What are these heavy weights on the bottoms of my legs? Those are your feet, Zoo.-April 9th: Wake up at the crack of dawn to run Day of Silence breakfast sale, then 5th and 6th period lunch sales, then Breaking the Silence Party. -April 10th: Start seeing demonic bunnies named Frank. Develop insomnia-induced homicidal tendencies and go on a tri-state killing spree. Collapse in a pile of my own consumerist fancies, and get put in a little white room with soft toys where people look at me through a little window FOREVER. Start planning my memorial service, because I'm going to die.