Kitty Power

Please Excuse Exploding Head

Holy fucking christ...the stupid computer just ate 25 pages of layout. Somebody up there must really hate me...

My life...

My life consists of cursing a G4, night owl behavior, too many pics, cold pizza, soda, and tired eyes from eyeing a monitor for upwards of 12 hours a day. Am I compressing all my college years into a freaking week or something? Geez...

Natch, me being me, that "I'll be out of here by Friday" turned into "Monday, I'm leaving, I guess." I WILL finish this book because shit, I'm just sick of being here and I want something to show for this extra week of torture for posterity. It definitely sucks though. No doubt about that.

Bottoming Out

I don't feel especially head in the clouds this week. The book is just...annoying. I suppose this can be blamed on -- besides the obvious: taking this freaking project on -- not planning ahead as I should've. Then again, when was I supposed to do that? I guess while I wasn't working in between feeling depressed and cheering up. Umm...not really.

Adding to my fun is this month's stroll down memory lane being "All Ex, All The Time." I need to get over it already. It's been 6 months. I hate it when I'm suddenly blindsided (again) with the bitterness that as he's frolicking in the tropics with his jailbait rebound (though being that they've been together since we've broken up, she's not technically. A rebound, that is. She is indeed barely, if even, 18.), I'm pining, alone, and miserable more often than not. I can't even take any consolation in having walked away from him because though I felt like I was heading to some sort of breakdown with the combination of him being so ridiculously far and all the general crap going on here, the last thing I am is satisfied. I can't even imagine thinking of simply finding a replacement. The whole episode has turned me so far off to the concept of relationships, being emotionally open, or just being out there. But, I want to. The stupid episode from earlier in the semester was my tentative reentry into the dating world -- besides my January fit of debauchery, but that's a totally different story for a real site post perhaps. The thing with that kid was that I could never be sure if I really liked him. I even I confused myself on that matter. I just loved the attention and having someone crazy over me for a change and the fact he was shit hot and the grapevine fallout was like a constant ego boost didn't hurt. But then, wackness. I totally let my ego get too wrapped up in him because when everything went sour and stupid, I lashed out in a big way. I was mad pissed off that I was going to be cast aside it was with someone that isn't really that cute and besides that, has been passed around more times than a dollar bill. (Why yes, I am a bitch. Thanks for asking.) Seeing them near constantly and him still sniffing around like a pathetic dog was like salt in my wounds.

Aurgh...I need to stop dwelling. I won't see them again -- if I'm lucky -- besides reunions. Though she is moving to NYC. I do actually know how to avoid Wes people, but fate might bring us together out of spite. The ex and I have most of the continent plus a chunk of the Pacific between us. Deep in my heart, I know he's not worth the angst. He's immature and full of macho bullshit which is why I broke up with him in the first place. I went to Iowa for him. I've been tortured enough. It's time for more work and less drama. Once I go back to NYC, I have a clean slate. I always thrive at home.

Life Quiz

Live life to the fullest, you say. At your heart you are a hedonist with a great imagination and verve for life. Be careful of using this enthusiasm as an excuse to ignore the unpleasant. Your selective focus could cause blindness.

About 36 more hours...

About 36 more hours until I'm supposed to be out of Middletown for good yet around 60 more pages to layout. *sigh* Am I ever going to make it out of this place?

*grumble, grumble*

Stupid comments not working...*grumble, grumble*

Tonight is one of those nights where I was hit with a wave of inspiration. That in itself is a good thing, but the yearbook office Mac never is. *sigh* I think I've laid out only about 8 pages in 6 hours. That's fucking weak. And I have only about 80 to go before Friday. Kill...me...now.

Personally speaking...

The most amusing thing about the past couple of weeks was finding out that I was in the other week's Time Out NY. It made my finals crunching time, when Hani, the coolest guy I haven't officially met yet, broke the news. I squealed for a sec (on the inside, natch) and told everyone online at like 3am before heading back into the work abyss. In the midst of all of last week's silliness, I had forgotten about it.

Two nights ago at a party this kid comes up to me. I've been increasingly friendly with him as school drew to a close. That's the way stuff always goes. There's something about leaving for good/going away for a semester that had Wes boys all up in my face suddenly when I could've been a pothole in the ground any other time. Absence makes the heart grow fonder -- or rather, the lust swell. Like everything, I was playing the whole thing neutral. I've said before that I'm pretty much over the guys here, for reasons that leave neither side without some blame. I saw his interest and I chose to do nothing because deep down, I didn't actually care. And like every punk ass Wes boy, he couldn't get past the initial chatting stage. Screw him. My helping out the gameless days are waaay over.

Anyhoo, a friend of his had come up here for graduation with a copy of the magazine. He's an ex-Wes kid, so he thought I had looked familiar and told my boy so. He naturally recognized me and was shocked/surprised/curious to find that I was in the Personals section as apparently the Hot Personal of the Week or whatever and he decided to ask me about it. What did I do? Shrug it off, natch. Oooh, I'm busted...I don't give a fuck, man. Everyone, their mama, and their hot friends should go join up. Why? Because not only is it a fun way to meet people that you've already established you've got things in common with -- or at least interest in -- but it works. Last summer's fun and debauchery owes everything to Spring Street via Nerve (or you can go via TWoP if being in the company of those self-proclaimed hypersexual folks freaks you out). Personal track record: an ex, a fling, an in-town "friend," 3 real buddies, and countless others who I chat with even nothing ever got off the ground. The internet...not just for deranged sociopaths anymore. Young, single, fun, and urban people can get down with that too. Thus ends my plug...except to tell you to join Friendster. I want more friends and testimonials.

End of A Stage

I am a college graduate.

I feel decidedly underwhelmed. This past week has been such an emotional rollercoaster, as this year and the past 4 have been. Today, I was choked up as we went through the aisle of faculty cheering us on, but I couldn't manage tears for anything else. I am so drained. I just want Friday to be here already so I can have 192 pages sent to the publishers and leave this school behind...if not forever, until I feel the need to reconnect. Right now, I just don't care. I have no emotions to give to the thought of walking away and not looking back. That sounds like heaven.

Rant

This year has been the biggest test of my patience to date. I've never been the type of person without a strong opinion that I'm more than willing to give. Sure, it's gotten me into some trouble over the years, but hey, I've never been one to mince words if the situation called for it.

But what made the last 4 or so months so trying was that motherfuckers don't know when to stop pushing me. Yearbook, house shit...they just don't understand that once I've lost my temper, you're already on the "I'll fuck you up" ghetto revisited side of me. (And for the record, especially for nitpicky folks like Steven, yes I am from the ghetto. East New York, Brooklyn for a fact and I lived there for almost 20 years off and on with the brief laying down of the hat in Queens and Orange County. I don't have to drag out a ghetto pass for effect, m'kay?) I am the type to rage and hold a grudge, so right now I have a clear crystalline hatred for most of the senior class and my disgusting fellow residents. They can eat shit and die.

Oh, a bad mood? Me? Perhaps. I can't confirm or deny that.

How To Make Boring Reunion/Commencement Events Fun

How To Make Boring Reunion/Commencement Weekend Events Fun:

Start with the right clothes. Looking good can make your day.
Add a good set of friends: the perfect blend of snarky, fun, and silly.
Stir in a sense of adventure to stick out the tough moments or go explore.
Garnish with good music.

Serve with a side of "refreshments." Mix to taste.

Crazy thought of the day

Crazy thought of the day: Maybe I should get a boyfriend so I can be irresistible to every guy that crosses my path. That seems to be a method working for a lot of people. Gah.

The one thing college has taught me...

The one thing college has taught me without a doubt is that I have no desire to share living space again -- well, besides the whole going back to the 'rent thing. That's sort of unavoidable. With the exception of probably my frosh year roommate, everyone else has generally sucked. Once upon a time, I did ask myself: is it me? And then I thought that I may be high strung and blunt, but goddammit, I respect common space and other people's schedules and well-being. Fucking courtesy is so hard to find nowadays.

And what brings this to mind -- that my fucker housemates are back in town. Three more days. Thank God. I've been in a killer mood this week. I might have to wield the knife if it was any longer than that.

On the TMI side of life...

On the TMI side of life, I need to get laid. As in post-haste. As in I'm hurting on the inside. As in the next guy is going to be the happiest guy on the East Coast for a few days.

But because this is Wes, I might as well put it as far out of my mind as possible. The way things work in this alternate universe -- despite it being Senior Week when the general rule is that at every event with booze, there is so much pulling of ass that it turns into a near orgy without fail -- I'm just not destined to win. Believe me, I've tried everything but clubbing of guys and dragging them home and natch, blowjobs at the Semi Formal. I've embarrassed myself for a date -- and didn't even get one. I'll admit I have been in situations where I've found success with my predisposed "who gives a fuck" attitude but that rate is about once a year. That leaves mad days of total misery.

I think the one thing I've learned over the years finally is to not take it personally. Wes boys generally suck. They are wishy-washy and interested only in the cache of getting with certain people, but have no substance beneath their not especially slick veneers. Nor any game -- and that really is annoying when someone you could have been inclined to kicks it to you in such a pathetic way. All I can do then is walk away and cross them off my list just for being weak. Ugh...okay, I never said I don't accept any blame. But hey, in the long run who cares? I'm not interested in most of these fools anyways. I'm just irritated about the ego deflation and drought building that not being on the radar of those in mine has brought me over the years. Then again, what did I expect going to a school in the middle of nowhere with less people than the neighborhood I grew up in?

A few more fucking days, man. Then I can go to NYC and go wild amongst the millions. Sounds like a plan.

Nothing To Report

I'm sure wack. Finally got a freaking blog and not a damn thing to say.

Life is bouncing between drama and moments of utter chillness. Presently, I'm just exhausted from a bunch of nights of debauchery and going to bed after the sun rises. Stuff is fun, but I'm feeling a little overloaded. The book is stressing the fuck out of me, but what else is new? I just wanna chill, man. Who would've thought I'd need a break from wildin' out?

Good Night

Some nights are just good -- despite all the elements that could normally derail everything.

My friend Jay and I heard that there was a themed birthday party a block or so away. She got the email invite and I didn't. I wasn't mad -- such is the nature of our school that you find out about everything one way or another anyways. I can't even imagine how many times over the years I've gone stomping through someone's house, drinking their shit without even knowing their names or faces. That's the Wes experience.

She came over and we broke out my bottle of champagne (cheap, natch. That's extraneous information. I've been drinking the cheap shit for years. Yesterday in the liquor store I asked my friend Alex as I suppose I once asked my Mommy about the Tooth Fairy or getting big: "When do you think I'll grow out of drinking cheap liquor? How do people get out that habit?" and he sagely replied, "Probably when you start making real money." Word.). Alex and Tino came by also and we just chilled in the kitchen.

It's always fun clashing together my friends. The boys are mostly reformed hippies who used to sport white boy dreds. (Ugh. I'm very fond of telling that I would've never been their friend then.) We've gotten super close in the past 2 years or so and I've spent many days watching (yes, I did say watch) them smoke up while reggae blared in the background, followed by much alcohol consumption and random party crashing. Jay and I bonded in X House a.k.a. the black dorm on campus frosh year when they were just throwing kids in there and it was rundown. Our weekends always ran as: "yeah, it's midnight, we're gonna have some jello shots and then go find a party. We'll be back around 3." A favorite pastime was making fun of people doing the Pirate Ship Bounce (TM) -- which is that "dance" favored by people with no rhythm involving grinding and letting their hips swinging widely from side to side with a jerky knee-bending motion move them and their dance partner. Quite frightening. -- and her roommate. We haven't really changed much over the years. The four of us were hanging without any worlds coming to an end. I was telling someone last year that despite the differences of the people I hang with, they tend to have some element similar to me in there, so they tend to get along. Luckily for me.

The theme of the party was "D" in honor of the birthday girl's name. The email stated that you had to come as a D whatever. I poured the remnants of my champagne into an empty yogurt cup and filled it some more. I was going as "drunk." We got there and decided that most of the crowd decided to be "dorks" because despite just about everyone on campus at that place since it was the only game in town, that party was "dead." Even the torchbearer party scouts were "dejected" because they sadly confirmed that yes, this was all there was. "Disappointing." Yeah, okay. Enough with the "D." I'm "done."

Anyhoo, we were rescued by the appearance of these girls, one of whom lived next door. The 4 of us and the 3 of them piled into the kitchen, knocking back Jacks and Coke, vodka and cranberry, and a tequila shot or two. The girls are cool. I've known that over the years but it wasn't until fairly recently that I've spent any time with them. One confessed to me that she thought I was some bookwormish straight-laced good girl who ran home after every advertised party. What could I possibly do but laugh and laugh and I did. I'm not the most hardcore person I know, but I got home at 6am the night before and unfortunately (I suppose) many of these years were out and about when I should've been in and working. No matter now. I went out repeatedly to scout more blood for the room and scavenge cigs to share (I'm so addicted. Geez. It really doesn't take much. I can see my post-college self filled with cigarettes and coffee because I have problems having one of something and moving on. God help me if I move onto drugs...). Eventually it was 3am and 7 drunken kids plus one sleepy one were in the kitchen listening to Pete Yorn and Radiohead. Good times.

After a while, it came to an end and Jay and I walked through the foggy night off to my house. She said as I've heard from so many others: "I can't believe you liked Tino. Alex is way cuter." Indeed, but I've always been quite contrary and had it in my head that I wanted a challenge. Ah well. Water under the bridge. We sat on my couch waiting for her car escort to the other side of campus. After some water, I settled in under my blankets and was out until mid-afternoon.

Welcome to Senior Week.

Mostly Over It All

You have to learn to not give a fuck, while still giving a damn -- Stolen from Tad's member info

With the end of finals, I've gotten to a place where I can't wait to let go of everything around here... or rather, every stupid thing that has been getting on my nerves. I'm so over this place as callous as that sounds. I'm glad this long demoralizing frustrating semester and year are finally finished. I'm done with insipid housemates , the yearbook, student accounts, boys and their overflated egos, stupid university bureaucracy, shitty Connecticut weather, allergies, the abstraction of every topic until your own lived life doesn't feel real, loneliness, and wearing the mask.

But this place has been good to me. I will also miss the thrill of a good party, talking with friends at 3am, laughing at the "pirate ship bounce," crushing, adventures at the lake, making an empty room into my warm home base, sunny days in the CFA, the lab, random encounters, Bob the cat, making a connection with other people, profs who grab and inspire, the satisfaction of good work finished, and realizing how I've much I've grown in 4 years.

I think the best place to be is ready to go yet still mindful of the memories.

I Have Entered The Modern Age

I have entered the modern age.

Kinda...sorta...not really.

I've been jealous of all the bloggers and their quick and easy templates and dated posts and knowing that most hid their lack of HTML skill behind simplicity (or friends with know how) where I just used FrontPage yet they had sites still prettier than mine. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

So who am I?

Candicissima a.k.a. Candice. 22. Pisces. High-strung, conflicted, college graduate as of May 25th, NYC born and raised, unemployed, writer, urban bohemian at heart, social butterfly, music junkie, scatterbrain, dreamer, crafty, intellectual, sarcastic, melancholy, passionate, idealistic, explorer.

I'll try to keep it interesting.