Big Jet Plane

That's Life - Frank Sinatra

Now to explain this whole Larry David complex.  I’m praying everyone is familiar with Larry David, one of the greatest writers of all time.  He seems to get himself stuck in situations and he notices everything and he’s brilliantly annoyed and annoying.  Hi, nice to meet you.  For my testimony, I shall go through a typical scene of dealing with my LDC – Larry David Complex.

It’s Monday.  No, not “case of the Mondays” Monday, just Monday.  I don’t have my only Monday class until 3 pm (I know…) so waking up is never particularly hellish.  Except today.  Today I’m sick.  And I’m that sick.  Sick enough to require medical attention beyond my ADD, being a girl, and freebasing Dayquil and Nyquil respectfully.

Going to the Student Health Center is too much fun.  It’s a Twitter fanatic’s dream, a venue only one of two people enjoy: a very vain person constantly updating his or her many followers or a sufferer of LDC.  I trudge into the building after first making an ass of myself; I always do this when I speed walk faster than the automatic doors can respond, and I’m forced to stand there awkwardly, refusing to come to a full-stop and watching the people inside wonder if I’ll blow on the glass.  Signing in takes 3 different inkless pens that people refuse to throw away and a glob of hand-sanitizer because God only knows how long and how many people have been testing out these skeletal writing utensils.

“Kimberly.  Kimberly?”  You know how people have their Indian names, or their Christian names, or their Spanish class names?  Well Kimberly is my health center name.  I didn’t choose it, but then again, I didn’t choose to be called “Lupe” for all of tenth grade Spanish.  I report to the desk so the woman who busted her ass in nursing school to scan student IDs and adorn the desk with crap respective to that month’s holiday can be unapologetic about mispronouncing my name.  “It’s Kingsley.”  If eyes could kill.  Someone will be right with me.

An hour later I shift in my waiting room chair to dodge the plague being coughed out of the mouth of the girl sitting right next to me.  Does nobody respect the “skip a seat” doctrine of chair ethics?  There are seven other possibilities in this row.  I know I smell beautiful with what my boyfriend calls old lady perfume, but rules is rules.  Luckily I can’t hear the Murder, She Wrote episode from the TV 15 feet away – psych!  Angela Lansbury is far more captivating than the sheer brilliance that is the phone conversation taking place a cool 4 feet from me and the victim of the Black Death sitting on my lap. 

“Well Sherriff, I think it’s going to be a long – Dude, last night she straight up wouldn’t leave.  Like what do I even do? She’s crazy and she has that bad – couuughhhofdeaaath ugh.”  These three characters are in my show.  I wish I could cancel my own show.  If only I was Oprah…

“Kimberly…Kimberly…um Kimberly Clark?”  No, I’m not kidding.  And she’s reading it from a computer screen.  I’m going to make her work for it.  Hey, she didn’t kill herself in nursing school to just bring patients from one waiting room to another.  Wait, yes she did.  “Kimberly?”  I’m staring at her now, daring her to accuse me of the title.  “Are you Kimberly?”  She recognizes me.  Nope, I definitively say with a go-ahead-and-do-it smile.  “What’s your name?”  KINGS-LEY Clark, as if she’s Spanish.  Come to think of it, maybe I should have used Lupe.  “Right, ok that’s what I have here, come with me.”  But that’s not what you have right there.  Not even close.  I suck it up and follow her so she can use her degree to weigh me and assume I know how tall I am. 

The new waiting room has only 3 seats, and I respect the law, leaving a middle seat between me and the kid who also respects laws.  His pale body is bent and twisted and he’s wrapped around his neck and looks like he’s about to cry.  I’m sick too, but jeez.  We look at each other in agreement, as if the doctor will ask one of us to testify that the other is sick.  While he maintains the look of someone having just murdered his puppy, he also convinces himself that he DEFINITELY DOES NOT NEED TO BLOW HIS NOSE.  NAH AH.  NO WAY.  MM MM.  NO THANKS.  NOT DOING IT.  While I focus on the nurses down the hall, hard at work watching a YouTube video and passing around Pam’s dip, he sniffs in what sounds like enough snot to drown the puppy that may or may not have just been killed, judging by his heavy eyes and their threatening crocodile tears.  The sniffs become more frequent, and he sneaks a few sleeve wipes.  With each blood curdling snort, he looks at me, helpless, while I stare at him to walk the 5 feet the bathroom and release the 5 pints he’s so selfishly withholding.  NAH AH, his eyes retort.

“OK Kimberly, come with me.”  It’s Kingsley.  “Uh huh, that’s what I meant.”  Like KINGS-ley, like a king.  “Look, we see a million kids everyday and we can’t possibly be expected to remember all of you.”  I’m not asking you to remember me.  I’m not even asking you anything.  I’m correcting you.  I’m attempting to make right your wrong wrong wrongdoing.  “Look, I get it.  You’re sick, you’re tired, and this is the last place you’d like to be.”  Right, but I was just telling you.  It’s not that hard.  KINGS-ley.  Like a king.

Just for that I had to wait 6 more minutes before my blood pressure, temperature, and whatever information my finger provides could be taken.  The nurse who replaced the one I had corrected jams my finger into that thing I always fear will prick it.  “No, it’s not gonna prick you, just hold still.”  She averts eye contact with her unruly patient.  “You know, the print on these little computers is small and a name like yours is easy to mistake.”  I’m unapologetic, I tell her so with my crossed arms despite the 90 degree exam room.  “Wait here.”  As if I’m going to get loose and wreak havoc amongst the other patients, or God forbid, LEAVE!

Great, more waiting.  I sit on the exam table and kick the metal footboard.  I can play “Teach Me How to Dougie,” “My Cherie Amour,” and I’m getting good at “Sweet Child of Mine.”  30 minutes and 6 restarts later, a hyper good-looking doctor enters the room, knocking first.  Do patients get bored and disrobe?  Is that a problem?  Or somewhere along this journey did I sign a lease for this room?  Yes, you may enter.

He speaks very fast and doesn’t even use my name.  But I don’t care, he can call me all the terms of endearment he wants.  And he does.  He tells me that I smell good and even uses my favorite Bob Dylan combo, “honey-baby.”  He studies my chart like a fifth grader refreshing his spelling words moments before dooms-quiz.  “So what’s up, Sugar?”  Well, lately I’ve been experiencing feelings of doubt, lack of direction, and inadequacy.  And my marriage just isn’t where it needs to be.  How do you cure exhaustion without 5 cups a day, right??

I tell him everything WebMD told me to say in terms of the common cold.  He listens to my breathing and scopes in my ear.  “Bronchitis and a sinus infection.”  Bring.  It.  On.

This 5-minute consultation ends in a lengthy prescription sheet and a pat on the back.  Come on, Doc!  You said I smelled good!  Lay it on me!  Bryan doesn’t like to kiss me when I’m sick!  

Let me just get the hell out of here.  I hand my prescription paper to the guy at the pharmacy window like it’s my permission slip to go to the zoo for Ms. Conway’s 90^th time with the third grade.  He backs away as if the paper is on fire, defensively telling me to go to the other window for “intake.”  The windows are a foot apart.  My eyes threaten to set him on fire, and I electric slide to the left.

I sign over my life to the fifteen-year-old looking pharmacist at “intake.”  Not sure if she looks 15 because of her hot pink scrubs or if it’s because she has adult braces…nonetheless I’ve just given her my campus ID, my phone number, and my social.  Can’t wait for her to simply toss that in the trash for ANYONE to find.

While I wait for my prx, I watch the desk-nurse from earlier play 9 games of solitaire.  She’s awful.  But she doesn’t keep losing, no, for each time someone speaks to her, she loses focus and begins a new game.  Ugh you had 3 aces in that hand!

“Kinsly?”  Oh, that’s new today.  “Kinsly to the pharmacy window.”  At this point I’m so ready to dope up on cough medicine and OnDemand television that I trudge up to the window.  The guy at the “outtake” window taunts me.  “Ok Kinsly, just sign here.”  It’s Kingsley, like a – “ok did the doctor explain all the medicine to you?”  Yes.  Die.  “What’s that?  He tried?”  I consider snapping his Livestrong bracelet really hard on his wrist, but refrain when I'm distracted by his ringing cell phone.

You must be kidding.  Such is my life.  I sign my fictional name and let the pharmacist at the "outtake" window answer his phone.  "Hey Lupe, what's up, girl?"

"Sally" - Johnny Flynn & The Sussex Wit

Stealing this from someone very wise, someone I shall blog about tomorrow.  It is true; we aesthetics are cursed with the plague of mixing up our senses.  Sure, that doesn't sound too bad, I mean we're super deep, right?  Right!  And lo!  Here are my daily mix-ups as pointed out to me by a special person.

Song to daydream: "Spanish Key" by Miles Davis (yes, I spend long periods of time daydreaming)
When it rains: “Riders on the Storm” by The Doors or “The Rain Song” by Led Zeppelin (yes really...I'm that original) 
When I’m driving: “When the Levee Breaks” by Led Zeppelin
Studying: “Aqueous Transmission” or “Cherry” by Ratatat

Sitting on the beach in the summer: “Into the Mystic” by Van Morrison or ANYTHING Jimmy Buffett

Remembering my grandmother: “Make Someone Happy” by Jimmy Durante

Happy for no reason: “The Lottery Song” by Harry Nilsson

Most romantic song of all time: “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers

To get myself out of a bad mood: “Maggie May” by Rod Stewart

Getting in the going out mood: “Get Down Tonight” by KC and the Sunshine Band

When I want to feel extra Southern: “Atlantic City” by The Band

When feeling foxy: “Stoned, pt. 1” by Lewis Taylor or “Red House” by Jimi Hendrix

Lusting over a crush: “La Femme d'Argent” by Air or “Us and Them” by Pink Floyd

In love: “Pennies From Heaven” by Billie Holiday

Best hip/hop: “Ghetto Cowboy” by Bone Thugz & Harmony

Feeling sentimental: “Hello It's Me” by Todd Rundgren

Song I want in a movie about my life: “Don't Let It Bring You Down” by Annie Lennox

Best song to play at a party: “Shout!” by Isley Brothers (I go to Faber College...)

Reminiscing about my childhood: “Wild World” by Cat Stevens and “Until You Come Back to Me” by Aretha Franklin

Feeling sad: “Dear Chicago” by Ryan Adams and “Colors” by Amos Lee

When thinking about high school: “St. Steven” by The Grateful Dead or “Porch Song” by Widespread

Best song to sing on a long road trip with friends: “I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing” by Aerosmith & “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John (exaggerating all the end syllables) (yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)

Best duet: “Ain’t No Sunshine” by Buddy Guy &Tracy Chapman

Falling in love: “1963” by Rachel Yamagata or “Why Can't I Forget About You” by The Subdudes

Feeling grateful: “Watching The Wheels” by John Lennon

When I’m writing: “In A Sentimental Mood” by John Coltrane or Miles Davis’s album “Kind of Blue”

Sexiest song of all time: “Closer” by Kings of Leon (HA did you actually think I would switch that one?)

Best break-up song: "I Wish You Well" by Bill Withers

Feeling spiritual: “Inner City Blue” by Marvin Gaye or “Ave Maria”

Best chick rock: "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac (if you can even call it chick rock...just empowering to me as a woman for some reason)

Makes me think of my mom: "Itsy Bitsy Spider" by Carly Simon (This always makes me cry immediately? Like now...)

First dance at my wedding: “Makin' Whoopie" by Dr. John & Rickie Lee Jones (also best duet)

Pissed off: "One Way Out" by The Allman Brothers or "Ask Your Friends" by Pretty Lights

When I want to say "F you" to someone: "Money Can't Buy It" by Annie Lennox

At the end of a long night: "Use Me" Bill Withers (or covered by Fiona Apple) or "Such A Night" by Dr. John Anthem of summer: "Summertime" by Booker T and The MGs or "...,Money, Weed" by Lil Wayne (sorry Mom)

Favorite songs to sing: any Bob Dylan song, "Stand By Your Man" by Tammy Wynette (um yeah) or “Revelry” by Kings of Leon

Song to fall asleep to: "I Will Sing You Songs" by My Morning Jacket

When I want to resurrect my angsty junior high days: "One Angry Dwarf" and "Song for the Dumped" by Ben Folds Five or the entire "Music" album by 311

Best Bluegrass: "Real Love" by Railroad Earth or this one unknown 12-minute jam by North Mississippi All-Stars I have on my ipod from high school (play count according to iTunes: 108)

When i’m in a weird mood: "Lenny" by Stevie Ray Vaughn

Aqueous Transmission

As a late joiner of the Twitterverse, I'm still trying to decide who I am in terms of tweets.  I've only had this thing for a few weeks, and already the stereotypes of this new social outlet are making themselves more known, like the countless Facebook cliches.

A common Twitter day from a college girl's perspective:

8:14 am - @too-involved: Support UA women's basketball! pointguards doing autographs today at the ferg! free tshirts!

8:37 am - @so_addicted_to_coffee_its_alarming: I wish I had my own barista

8:41 am - @OnlyTweetsAboutWeather: SUNSHINE!  So nice outside!!!!

8:43 am - @always_negative_no_matter_what: Dear sun, stop coming in through my windows and waking me up for another long day.  I'd like to not be reminded of responsibilities this early.

8:50 am - @exaggerates-drinking-non-stop: Um anyone seen my car? typ morning after draft beer night haha

9:01 am - @so_addicted_to_coffee_its_alarming: its a 2 cup morning...

9:15 am - @lonely:sorority:girl:who:NEVER:leaves:srat:house: chapter tonight!!!!!!!!

9:27 am - @way~too~immersed~in~LAME~pop~culture: barely slept after that Bachelor episode...

9:49 am - @tmi_TMI_tmi_TMI_tmi: love waking up to my period...I guess that laundry I've been putting off will finally be done today.

10:04 am - @never-ever-does-anything-alone: workout with @genericname!

10:30 am - @too-involved: PLS VOTE 4 me on facebook!! Tryin to get a job here!

10:59 am - @always_negative_no_matter_what: Dear vending machine, all I want is a Sierra Mist and you gave me citrus green tea.  Thank you for successfully ruining my life.

11:17 am - @constantly_updating_pitiful_dating_life: waiting to hear from a certain SOMEONE about the test he was studying for last night!!

11:36 am - @OnlyTweetsAboutWeather: this wind is messing up my outdoor studying, still so pretty though!!

12:10 - @never-ever-does-anything-alone: miserable in class.  What is this teacher talking about??  Suffering with @so_addicted_to_coffee_its_alarming, @exaggerates-drinking-non-stop, @unashamed_slut

12:13 - @exaggerates-drinking-non-stop: I'm gonna need a box of wine after this class

1:11 - @lonely:sorority:girl:who:NEVER:leaves:srat:house: it's 1:11!! Make a wish that we have lemon squares at the house tonight!!! **Chapter tonight!!!!**

1:29 - @too-involved: local church used-book sale going on right now! B a good Christian and come buy some books! don't make me send an email reminder!!

1:34 - @too-involved: seriously like 30 ppl said they were coming to this on facebook

1:52 - @so_addicted_to_coffee_its_alarming: oh write 2 pages? oh take 2 espresso shots :)

2:03 - @way~too~immersed~in~LAME~pop~culture: just saw a cross between Chuck AND Edward Cullen!! nearly fainted.

2:41 - @constantly_updating_pitiful_dating_life: he hasn't texted back :(

2:46 - @constantly_updating_pitiful_dating_life: he made me feel beautiful :(

3:20 - @too-involved: DON8 bl00d 2DAY! just pretend ur doing it 4 a vampire!!

3:40 - @exaggerates-drinking-non-stop: going out tonight with @only_tweets_about_food! gonna take half-birthday shotsss

4:12 - @always_negative_no_matter_what: Dear annoying girl in my group project, nobody cares about your grandmother dying.  Trying to make it to the library before all the good tables are taken...

5:25 - @tmi_TMI_tmi_TMI_tmi: CRAMPS ah. And the stain didn't come out :(

5:26 - @so_addicted_to_coffee_its_alarming: Will someone please make a pill form of coffee? All the non-fat milk is starting to affect my spring break bod.

5:39 - @OnlyTweetsAboutWeather: beautiful day! hopefully tonight will be in the upper 50s and clear with only a 10% chance of rain so I can maybe see the stars!!

6:00 - @never-ever-does-anything-alone: dinner with my lovelies :) @girl1 @girl2 @girl3 @girl4 @girl 5... @girl 16

6:18 - @too-involved: seriously if nobody comes to tonight's Concert4Chlamydia I'm bringing a gun to Gallette's.

6:23 - @always_negative_no_matter_what: Dear dream table in the library, I finally found you and you have uneven legs. Now when I write, I rock back and forth. I want to burn you in the bonfire I didn't get invited to Saturday night.

6:33 - @way~too~immersed~in~LAME~pop~culture: OMG DID ANYONE ELSE JUST SEE THAT LOOK SERENA GAVE BLAIR???  I had to rewind 27 times.  WOAH.  How is this not better than the news?

6: 58 - @constantly_updating_pitiful_dating_life: just drove by his house and there's a bunch of girls on his porch...

7:20 - @exaggerates-drinking-non-stop: just did 10 Irish car bombs. Now singing "I love college" on karaoke. Fingers crossed for that test I have first thing in the morning haha

8:10 - @lonely:sorority:girl:who:NEVER:leaves:srat:house: chapter=success! now sitting in my robe watching my pledge sisters get ready to go out

8:16 - @constantly_updating_pitiful_dating_life: OMG he just texted me!! he said: hey did u just drive my house?  (!!!!!!!!) i am dancing around my apartment. I knew he loved me.

8:34 - @so_addicted_to_coffee_its_alarming: just passed out in library. Some girl said I look dead. Shaking with anger. Ugh I need a latte.

Stuck in the middle with you

I wish I had his motivation

Lenny - SRV

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, and because I really don't want to transcribe an interview right now...I've just revisited some old advice sessions.  The following is derived from a response I gave an old friend/roommate.  Coincidentally, it's from last Valentine's Day...

I really believe with every fiber of my being (and I eat Grape Nuts cereal...so that's a ton of fiber) that boys don't know dating protocol in college anymore.

It used to be:
1. Meet a cute girl in class, maybe through a mutual friend. ("Hey, wow, nice to meet you, you know Jake.")
2. Hang out soberly, a few commonalities, maybe an inside joke or two ("I love JR Tolkien." "Oh, cool, I'm really original and heady too.")
3. Get a number ("Hey, let me get your number, I'll text you when I get home and see if I'm missing the third book and need to borrow it.")
4. Boy initiates sober/semi sober meeting ("Hey, Big Bad Wolves just set up, wanna go get some before lab? Or we could skip lab and you can come to Best Buy with me because my ears are really small and I lost my special headphones.")
5. More flirting, more commonalities, kiss probably a few days later ("Wow, that was everything I hoped for, do you by chance use Rosebud Salve?  I want you to meet Mom.")
(Over the span of a few days, if not a week)

In 2010 Tuscaloosa,
1. Meet drunkenly ("Huuuh sorry, didn't mean to dump my beer on you!")
2. Neither party goes running ("It's ok, I love beer!")
3. Share a few commonalities ("Weird me too! I also love war reenactment shows!")
4. Take shots together ("again! again! Wait are you about to vom? Oh you're not? Wow you're a champ! Must be in a srat...hot.")
5. Trade numbers ("Wait, 281? oh 251! haha 5 is a funny number.")
6. Text the next night to meet up again drunkenly ("Going out tonight?")
7. Go home together and make out ("You're awesome. You taste like a baby bomb.")
(Span of 2 days)

Boys just don't have a clue about social convention anymore; they think if a girl isn't down to go home the first or second night, she's playing hard to get, thus looking for a serious boyfriend, which even to guys looking for girlfriends is AH! REAL MONSTERS scary.

The demise, however, is that once you've established the fact that you're fun and laid back, they feel silly bombarding you with texts and calls in a non-social situation (ie a test week) and therefore leave the relationship open-ended and solely for the weekends.

Another aspect of note is the fact that texting has TAKEN OVER.  If his texts are few and far between, or just vague, then assume he's DOING SOMETHING or that he DOESN'T LIKE YOU.  Let's assume he does.  Also let's assume he lives across the street.  If you analyze every punctuation and verb tense, then you might as well perch yourself on your window sill and document every flicker of light, every crack of the door, and everytime you think you hear a boy's voice coming from that house BECAUSE THAT IS LOCO.

Shape up and fly right, women of college.  If he wants you, he'll get you.  If he doesn't, stop forcing him to respond to texts like this one, "Hey, are you in front of Bruno?  I think I just saw you."  And if you really can't stop, simply delete his number so you don't work up the five-shot courage to send "hye cmoe 2 gattelles" from your perfectly able bodied text hands.

Can ya dig it?

third stone from the sun - JHE

So much school work and all I can do is play.  But really...

This is the root of why our generation has so many issues.

My personal terrors which still haunt me:

1 - Annoying cousin comes for the summer and when rough housing goes awry on bridge (obviously), annoying cousin falls off his bike and into a shallow river (the image of his red windbreaker lying face-down on the rocky rapids will stay with me til I die) to then emerge the following summer and drown his assailant (the good cousin with the blue windbreaker).

2  The one where sweet family inherits eerie summer lakehouse, complete with an antique dollhouse for the little girl who may or may not be a mute.  To their ultimate demise (and faulty paperwork) they realize they are now in said very dollhouse, doomed, for nobody should come to call on them during their eternal summer vacation.  This might just be my ADD creative juices deterring me from my work even more, but I think I remember it ending with the mute girl quietly whining, "I'm hungry."

Ash's personal struggle of an episode:

The one where the two fat twins (matching and also not saying much) throw their play date in the freezer with rotting tupperware their mom sells.  I think I remember the play date being pretty and skinny and perhaps encroaching on the twins' mother's attention.  Also I remember something about meatloaf, but hey, it was the 90s.  Meatloaf : 90s ; EasyMac : MILLENNIUM 

Presuming I have a heap of secret stalker readers, read my bff's blog!

http://theheyashblog.tumblr.com/

Save Room

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Slow Dance - John Legend

aaaaand here is a compilation I call "my sense of fashion and beauty."  The first one is my grandmother.

    

Moon River

Clearly I'm not in the mood to write.  I'm in the mood to compile.  I've recently gotten into design blogs?  Not that I'm really into interior decorating or fashion, but there is an album in my iPhoto that continues to grow with pictures of what I hope to possess in my future.

 

 

 

Pennies From Heaven

That's All - Gucci Mane

I've listened to this song 21 times today.  Here are "all" things that make me happy today, with much help from the wonderful and ironic Helen Levitt:

 

If Things Were Perfect

Pretty fitting song (by Moby) because a soulful "give me summer" punches throughout.

I'm going to roll with this though: 

if things were perfect, I wouldn't write an article about a race incident that happened on my campus last Friday.  And I'd have the confidence to share the short novel I wrote last year with someone.

if things were perfect, it'd be summer and Bryan would be Peter Pan, not growing up and not getting a job.  

If things were perfect, I'd land a sweet internship and write everyday and maybe babysit for adorable kids on the side.

If things were perfect, I wouldn't feel sorry for the boy in my class, because we both know he's gay, and we both know he hasn't come out, that he can't come out in his environment.  If things were perfect, he would live his life the way he wanted.

http://www.theonion.com/articles/future-us-history-students-its-pretty-embarrassing,19099/

Riders on the Storm

Today I'm a writer on the storm.  Thank you, Doors.  I'm having one of those days where I question myself as a writer.  Well, really as a blogger.

I'm the opposite of a narcissist when it comes to writing.  (When it comes to everything else, I hung the moon.)  I just can't really think of anything people would want to read about, and I often find myself thinking "Who cares?" after writing something.  The last thing I want is for this to be a big rant or God forbid, an outline of my daily bouts with Larry David Complex, for which I think I need to be treated medically.  

I'm stuck?  I kind of feel like this is the dilemma female comedians run into, that they want to fit in with the guys without ditching their ladylike axioms for the graphic nature of sex and gas jokes.  Ugh.  Now I'm just whining.  And I'm pretty sure the girl sitting next to me in the library is sexting her boyfriend, maybe for the first time judging by the giddy/discomforting nature of her position in the chair.

So here I am complaining about my writer's block while someone ten inches from me is losing her virginity via pink RAZR.  Hello Moto...