Circe winked before...

For posterity's sake I think it makes sense to update publishing on both journals. Plus I'm an ego-maniacal writer who lives to have people read her work.

http://tinyurl.com/2e8sq9

So, this will probably be the last personal/editorial entry made to this website.
From now on my blog will be located at: www.survivingmyself.com
I hope you'll all come to visit, I'm really trying to make a go of it.

This journal will still be open to comment on everyone else's stuff, and to put up drafts of poems I'm working on.
So basically after this entry, make sure you have friends enabled, because this is it for public posting.

I feel like I need to say something quickly that is both sappy and moving.
It's been a long road, and it's been documented here for the most part.
It's been real . . .

if all goes well this might be my last personal entry on this blog. I'm moving my stuff over to my own site soon. I'll give you all the info so we can stay in touch.
I thought I wanted to keep all my archives. This journal has been going on since August of '01. It is the longest thread in my life still intact.
But tonight I saw some old entries and some old comments, and recalled that everyone I loved has left their footprints here. And I know we are supposed to save photos and cards to remember the past, but I've never had that trait.
So I'm not sure what I'll archive, all I know i that seeing their names was another pointless excercise in pain.

So I've just spent the past four hours researching grad schools and related materials. I registered for both of my GRE tests in the spring (that cost a shiny penny). My eyeballs literally ache. I also think I might be coming down with some sort of mild cold or flu.
It's exciting to review this stuff, but it's also nerve wracking, because I know that I want to get in to grad school, specifically to a Ph.D program. But to get in means I'm signing my life away for 6 years. It's a very werid feeling to want to tie myself down like that.
but I'm also excited that it's also time to start preparing to pick schools.
Tonight I discover Claremont, and think i'll explore it's programs more.
I also can't decide about writing or modern american literature. I need a program to combine the two.
oh well I do go on. And I feel like my head is about to explode.

I've listened to this damn song at least 40 times int he past three days. it's sick. I can't get it out of my head, and I don't want to. Even as I'm listening I just wat to listen again.
I haven't felt this way about a song in years.
It pulls apart my soul. I want to be the girl in the blue dress. I want to be the singer. I want to be the frat boys, and the empty dance floor. i want to be the fences.
I know i'll get tired of it by the time the album comes out and everyone falls in love with it, but until then I'm doomed to have to go to freaking mysapce to listen to this song.

Dear God of All Things Mike Doughty -
I know you like me more then most people. Please send me this song to put in my itunes. Or maybe an even better one by Mike.
Thanks
the girl in the pajamas.

P.S I've listened to the song twice while typing this little post. It's a disease I want.

I think more atheists should be theology majors.

Kill me.


P.S. - In the spirit of the holiday I will try to write something more thankful later.

So I won this contest to go check out the soundcheck for Mike Doughty's show tonight. Turns out I'm the only one who won, and no one could go with me. I'm sitting in a corner, invisible in the open, and listening to them tune up and play tremendous brunettes (Mike & Scrap) and ponder as to whether they had called to tell me about it. They were running late. I stayed quiet.
After they were done I ran up and against all the commonsense in my body, I introduced myself. They didn't have any time, so I thanked them and asked Mike if he would do me a favor and if he had a sharpie could he sign something for my sister, because she couldn't leave work early to come with me. He said he had a pen, and I said, let's see if it'll work. When I pulled the trinket that I wanted him to sign out of my bag, and handed it to him, he told me to hold on, he'd get a sharpie.
The fact that he recognized in this object, which meant the world to me when my sister gave it to me, the importance, and treated with the reverence one would treat a photograph, meant more to me then meeting him.
He was awesome. He was nice, and surprisingly human.
The concert was hands down the best I've ever seen.
Most importantly, Kate cried when she saw the signed keytag. And later, after the show, when I went up to introduce her, he remembered what he had signed for her.
I know I'm not telling this right. I'm too tired to find the words to express emotional gifts and too slow to find the words for gratitude and the increase in personal depth one can achieve through another's understanding.
I'm not where I need to be yet.
Kate's 20 months closer then she's ever been in her life.
Mike Doughty was an angel with a homeless voice.
And as sad as I feel, I hope that in 7 years time, I'll be right where I need to be.

If you liked :
The Safety of Objects
Americian Beauty
or most independant films with good characters and no explosions
check out - Little Children
it's out on DVD now. really really good.

Neil?