Day four of no net access in my house. Because rolling up bits of magazine and making beads and getting glue-y fingers no longer appeals to me, I bravely sat through a whole episode of "Making the Band" on MTV, hosted by Sean Combs.
[Unrelated side note: doesn't it make you feel old when you can remember the identitites past of old rap moguls? There was the "Puff Daddy" era, then the "P. Diddy" era, and now just Sean Combs]
Watching the show, I realized that rap music in general is very self-serving. It's almost worse than country.
Rap, or at least the "battles" that are a part of rap, are quite sad, really. Rap no longer becomes a form of music, it's just rhyming words saying how great you are/how trashy your competitor is. Rap is no longer a form of self expression, it just becomes an extended first grade rhyming excercise...but instead of words like "cat hat bat fat", rappers use words like "paradox" without really knowing what it means. (Sometimes. I think.)
I realize that this blanket statement does not hold true for all forms of rap...but the stuff they're hailing on MTV is pretty sad.
Then again, I should've known that already.
To continue the trend of making myself into a martyr, I'm being locked up in a hotel for three days with roughly 50 relatives I can't stand. When I complained to my mother about this, she just shrugged and said, "Well, it has a pool." I'm so excited now!
I had a bad dream last night. For some reason, the pope was at my school. And for an equally bizarre reason, he was sitting next to me at lunch. And he sneezed on my tofu. I was very upset and grossed out at this, but I didn't want to be rude. So I was going to say "Bless you", but then I stopped. I mean, why would I bless the pope? It seems a little backward, don't you think? And I was so at a loss for words that he condemned me and tried to "cast the evil spirits" out of my body by sneezing even more violently in my face. And then he died.
And I felt kind of bad, and all, if not a bit grossed out.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 4:17 PM
Thursday, January 02, 2003
Poor Melly short-circuted the motherboard of her computer.
Poor Melly has been without internet access for 3 whole days.
Poor Melly has actually had to resort to using inferior technology such as telephones. And such ancient establishments like a library.
Wait, I like libraries. They have books and stuff, I think.
What are books?
My brain has been fried.
All is (somewhat) well now as I'm able to spend an hour on the 'net using the library's computers. I apologize for the lack of updates in the past couple days, but this was beyond my control. I have, however, dutifully been writing down (the horror of actually using a pencil!) my thoughts in a diary made of paper.
I'm too advanced for myself, I think.
Anyway, moving on. I got home from Minnesota in one piece, if not for a few cramps in my legs (it's not fun being 5'7'' and sitting in the backseat for 10 hours).
I have entertained myself by rolling up pieces of magazine and making beads. I have pieces of glue permanetly stuck to my fingers now. I also don't know how to spell "permanetly". There is a dictionary three feet away from me, but I'm lazy.
My New Year's Resolution is based on a line from a movie that had no morals whatsoever. Scared yet? Shouldn't be. If "the greatest gift of all is only to love and to be loved in return." (From Moulin Rouge), my resolution this year is just to try and erm, love things. Like my family. I'll try to find positive things about them, and refrain from being so cynical. When I wake up in the morning, I will be happy that I have something to eat (even if it's Wheaties). I will smile at people in the hallways. I will attempt to love my teachers. I will love my peers. I will love my elders. I will love music, art, and literature. I will love God. I will try to get over myself. And maybe I'll be loved in return.
In other words, I'm resorting to Hallmark philosophy. You can go ahead and be scared now.
PS: I know I promised to get my site up during Christmas break. New plan: I'll get it up whenever my computer arrives back home...which is sometime next week, according to the Gateway people. Be prepared for pictures of Bat Dog, The Toll Booth Man of Chicago, Menomonie, and The Fallen Teddy Bear. And one cheesy picture of the sunset and a tree.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 12:34 PM
Sunday, December 29, 2002
I'll be returning home from the frigid wastelands of Minnesota tomorrow. Hopefully the promised land of Michigan is free of snow, but this is not likely. Seeing as it is December going on January and all.
I suffered through another sermon from the Bill Clinton pastor of my grandparents today. It was a glorious hour filled with weeping, crying, and more weeping. The bulk of this was carried out by Bill and Mrs. Big- a woman sitting in the front row with big hair and big fake furs wrapped around her big figure. In addition to her vocal outpourings, she also felt the need to nod with agreement at everything Bill said, while singing songs with overly cheesy lyrics. The weepings were of joy, while the cries were filled with self-pity. My cries, as you might imagine, were totally genuine.
It's not that I hate church--I attend it regularly at home, and rather enjoy it. It's just that this church in particular seems so overdone. It tries to be informal, yet everything said in the service is projected up onto a big screen. The music is quite modern, not a bad thing I suppose, but I prefer more traditional songs. Then, of course, there's weepin' Bill and noddin' Mrs. Big. It's great that they get so into what they do, it just makes me uncomfortable. Though in a way, it's quite amusing. I would have taken pictures today if it wasn't so taboo to do so...interrupting the time with God, and all.
So it's back on the road again for me tomorrow. I'm rather looking forward to it.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 6:57 PM