liveitdown

Farewell livejournal

2009-12-07T10:10:45Z

switched over to: talesofaconstipatedwriter.tumblr.com/

website seems more fun. Either that or blogspot; tumblr won just because that's one blogging website I haven't tried out yet.

Ta.

a little e e cummings

2009-12-07T08:35:14Z

l(a
le
af
fa
ll
s)
one
l
iness

--e.e.cummings

liveitdown @ 2009-10-18T01:56:00

2009-10-18T09:15:55Z

Dear Angry Lemonade Man,

I have never been more shocked by a problem and its outcome than I have been with this one. When I poured the gallon of lemonade for you, I was not lying when I told you I poured it for you myself. Nor was I lying when I said that it was lemonade. We use three ingredients: lemon juice, water, and sugar. It is very very hard for us to confuse any of these ingredients with another. Needless to say, I felt proud when you were thankful for the extra mile we took in making sure you got the lemonade you wanted.

Fast forward to 6 hours later:
My co-worker runs up to me telling me the Angry Lemonade Man has returned and this time he is indeed angry. As a shift leader, I could not run away from this situation or get anyone else to solve this problem. I was on my own. I must admit, it was very intimidating when you slammed that gallon of lemonade down on the counter and bellowed, "This isn't funny guys!" I tried to assure you that yes, I had watched that lemonade be made, I had poured it myself, and no, no diet lemonade had been mixed up in it. That was Chick-fil-A quality lemonade.

I wanted to fight you on it, but then I remembered my job is to solve and listen, not to fight. I offered a refund, you declined. You wanted your gallon of REAL lemonade. I asked if you could wait for it while I made a new batch, you agreed.

To tell you the truth, the second gallon of lemonade I got you actually came from the same batch of lemon juice we made for your first one. But I poured it into the machine instead of the pitchers so you would find comfort in seeing it be poured from the machine. And when I had you taste it first, I was expecting you to tell me it still tasted horrible. I was surprised when you said it tasted better. Hmm.

In the end, YOU ended up thanking ME and telling me you appreciated what I did for you. I had not expected this. Had not seen it coming. An angry customer calming down and even thanking us that we did this for you. The norm is for you to grab that gallon and storm off. So when I stood in front of you gaping for a little bit, I hope you realized it was out of awe and respect. You ended up teaching me more than I expected that day. A tiny part of me is a little bit less bitter at rude customers. Maybe you had a hard day and a sip of crappy lemonade pushed you over the edge? Maybe you just needed someone to take you seriously and pour you some lemonade the right way. Either way, I'm glad I came across you today. It was actually worth it.

Sincerely,
your Chick-fil-A server

"But you're so hypnotizing/ You've got me laughing while I sing/ You've got me smiling in my sleep."

2009-10-08T08:30:12Z

loving this song. love the lyrics.

"Run far away
So I can breathe
Even though you're far from suffocating me
I can't set my hopes too high
'Cause every hello
Ends with a goodbye

But you're so hypnotizing
You've got me laughing while I sing
You've got me smiling in my sleep
And I can see this unraveling
Your love is where I'm falling
But please don't catch me"

--Catch Me by Demi Lovato
These Disney kids are pretty wonderful.

liveitdown @ 2009-10-07T00:26:00

2009-10-07T07:45:36Z

I Try...

I try to do my school work. I end up watching the TV shows I missed.
I try to read for my own pleasure. I need to read the romanticism poetry I'm required to read.
I try to hang out with friends I haven't seen in awhile. I hang out with other friends I haven't seen in awhile.
I try not to drink coffee. I buy a tall white mocha (hot or iced depending on the weather).
I try to do well in school. I procrastinate.
I try not to skip biology. I am behind in biology.
I try to get out of work early. I get tricked to staying until closing. Again.

I try to write in my journal. And I try to write here.

Balance is so hard. This is why we give it up and we end up juggling. It's half balancing and half throwing things up in the air. Mm, the joys of college.

Overall, it was a good day today. School from 8:30 a.m. - 6:45 p.m. Went geocaching with friends during break. Didn't get pancakes. :( Wasn't able to take a nap in my car so I compromised by buying coffee. Tried two sudoku puzzles; finished neither. Didn't skip any classes. Got a free pencil from a classmate in biology class. Filled up on gas. Ate Chick-fil-A. Went home.

Yup. Not much brain power tonight folks. Good night and good bye.

oh Jane Austen, your stories are like fairytales for people who outgrew the Disney ones

2009-10-06T08:20:13Z

Was doing my English homework when I noticed how pretty this passage was. I thought I'd share it here because good passages like these should be shared (and because it made me go "aww").

"Yes--he had done it. She was in the carriage, and felt that he had placed her there, that his will and his hands had done it, that she owed it to his perception of her fatigue and his resolution to give her rest. She was very much affected by the view of his disposition towards her which all these things made apparent. This little circumstance seemed the completion of all that had gone before. She understood him. He could not forgive her--but he could not be unfeeling. Though condemning her for the past, and considering it with high and unjust resentment, though perfectly careless for her, and though becoming attached to another, still he could not see her suffer, without the desire of giving her relief. It was a remainder of former sentiment; it was an impulse of pure, though unacknowledged friendship; it was a proof of his own warm and amiable heart, which she could not contemplate without emotions so compounded of pleasure and pain, that she knew not which prevailed."

--Persuasion by Jane Austen, ch. 10

in an effort to get this blog more active

2009-10-03T09:30:03Z

I was looking through all my past diaries -- maybe get some inspiration. I wanted to post my first diary entry here but man, it's pretty lame. So lame in fact that it borders along the lines of embarassing.

When I was little, I would write random "journal entries" but those are all lost now and it was only in February 2003 that I started an official diary that I actually wrote in and kept. But you see, at that time I was only 12, so my diary entries were...um, not that interesting or witty. ha...

So while we're on the topic,

Diary #1--What started it all.
Used from February 2003 - August 2006

Diary #1 liked to whine a lot due to pre-teen AND early teen angst. It is filled with lots of complaining about grades, school, and teachers. Lots of superficial entries about...boys (oh dear), and moaning about how they don't notice me. hahha, nothing has changed much I guess.

Diary #2
Used from August 2006 - January 2007

Diary #2 has a couple pages near the end that were never filled in. Last few entries kept talking about brand new starts, hence never finishing this diary and quicky buying Diary #3 just to have something tangible that'd represent something brand new.

Diary #3
Used from January 2007 - April 2008

Diary #3 had emo song lyrics scribled on the cover as shown on picture above.

Diary #4
Used from April 2008 - November 2008

Diary #4 went by fast. And it is also my favorite diary. The pages are strawberry scented:)

Diary #5
Used from November 2008 - June 2009

Diary #5. Most hated diary since it was in a boring composition book. I only wrote on one side of the pages so I'd finish it faster...heh.

Diary #6
Used from June 2009 - present

Diary #6 is the present diary and so far it's been a good diary. :)

"please understand if i don't answer the phone."

2009-10-01T10:08:52Z

it's very difficult to work with someone who makes it their goal to make sure everyone knows they don't want to work.
and it's very difficult being the shift leader and having to tell them, no--you can't go home.
and they ask you again, and you say no. think about it. we're short on people today. i'm gonna have to ask you to stay.
then they pull the silent treatment.
so you go up to them and say, hey. are you angry at me.
they look at you and say no.
oh but you know that they're really blaming you.
so you say, okay. but you're making me feel bad that i asked you to stay.
they say, don't feel bad.
then they continue with the silent hissy fit.
and it's like this for the next 5 hours until closing time when they go up to you and ask, is that it.
and you're thinking, that's a rhetorical question if i ever heard one.
but you say yeah, just so they'll leave
because you're tired.
tired of the hissy fit
the silent treatment
work
everything.
you send them home and finish everything by yourself
because you find that it's easier that way.

liveitdown @ 2009-09-26T01:12:00

2009-09-26T08:19:04Z

wearing a vintage dress i found in the garage + nice songs playing on the radio + it being 1 a.m. in the morning + an english paper waiting to be finished = crazy impromptu dancing!!!!

:)

liveitdown @ 2009-09-22T22:31:00

2009-09-23T05:37:34Z

The one person I want to talk to right now is having a baby.

On the bright side, SHE'S HAVING A BABY!

writing

2009-09-21T07:39:32Z

I think writing is both frustratingly hard and satisfyingly simple. Writing is one big oxymoron. Writing is a form of expression, but at the same time it lacks meaning.

Once you write something down it automatically becomes harder to say what you wanted to originally. The moment you write those little words down you are giving up your own interpretation over to the reader's own interpretation. You loose what you wanted to convey and are in the mercy of the reader. I mean, it made sense in your head right? Then you take that pen, or that keyboard, and start trying to express what you wanted but the meaning seems lost.

This is why I became an English major. There's something about words that is both hopeful yet sad.

Words/sentences/paragraphs seem to work so hard but it is never enough. There are the words then there are the meanings behind those words. And it's in those meanings that are so subjective and free to any reader's interpretation. I might be wanting to express the color blue but the reader is not seeing the same hue of blue as I am.

Being an English major makes me feel alone.

The moment you try to share what you want to, the moment those words are spoken, written, sang, then that's the moment you are giving up the right to them.

Writing is liberating and enslaving. This is getting philosophical. But I guess that happens to anything you think too much about. I think English is hard. I hate reading an author's or poet's work and then having to reanalyze what they've written. For me, I read stories and poems for the feelings they evoke. I am content with reading an author's work and being in awe of the words. I love the feeling of finishing a good book or poem. I hate mulling over the writings/analysis because it's like abusing the author's works.

Ugh, I make no sense. I prove my own theory right by not being able to prove it at all. hahha.
Here's a poem that says it nicely enough.

"In the Bookstore" by Julia Vinograd
I went down to the bookstore this evening
and found myself in the poetry section.
But for every thin book of poems
there was a thick biography of the poet
and an even thicker book
by someone who's supposed to know
explaining what the poet
is supposed to've said and why he didn't.
So you don't have to waste your time
on the best the writer could do,
the words he fought the darkness and himself for,
the unequal battle with beauty.
Instead you can read comfortably
about the worst the writer could do:
the mess he made of his life,
how he fought with his family,
cheated on his lovers, didn't pay his debts
and not only drank too much
but all the stupid things
he ever said to the bartender
just before getting 86'd will be printed for you
and they're just as stupid
as the things everyone says just before getting 86'd.
The books explaining the poet
are themselves inexplicable.
The students who have to read them
cheat.
I left the poetry section
thinking about burning the bookstore down.
Some of a poet's work comes from his life, ok.
But most of a poet's work comes
in spite of his life, in spite of everything,
even in spite of bookstores.
So I went to the next section
and bought a murder mystery but I haven't read it yet.
I find I don't want to know who done it
and why;
I want to do it myself.

"you know that I could use somebody"

2009-09-09T08:47:25Z

Feeling a bit lonely lately.

Mmm, and in the midst of stress, studying, and organizing (trying, at least), I am here writing.
So, I've gotten in the habit of carrying my journal/diary/life-book with me. So when I feel like writing everything ends up there and there's nothing left for here. ah well, my diary makes no sense anyways.

Example:

Disclaimer: I would never normally share any part of my diary anywhere or to anyone but it's 1:30 a.m. and loneliness can do stuff like that.
(note to self: stop with the colons. And is disclaimer up above even a disclaimer or a side-note?)
(note to self #2: stop with the side-thoughts)

Tuesday, September 8, 2009
(12:13 a.m.)
   Hi diary. I'm writing because I am a little bit lonely.
   I'm so tired. A 9 hour shift at Chick-fil-A with free food give-a-ways is not fun. I would write about complaining customers and how tiring it was today but I'm too tired to do even that. Right now I just want some company and since I don't have that then I guess I'll write.
   I am going to bring you to school. I get so bored in class that I need something to do. But I'm already behind. I'm tired of school. I'm tired of work. I'm tired of a lot of things. I'm in such a funk, I should just pull out my Charles Bukowski book and read his poetry.

(12:34 a.m.)
The poems made me sadder. I don't know why I even bothered to read it. Bukowski is all about being alone.

(5:11 p.m.)
   I bought coffee--after I told myself I wouldn't. In addition to that, I bought a cinnamon roll pastry. And earlier today I had a McFlurry from McDonald's. I feel awful.
   And now I can't find my black pen.
   Why is everything so difficult?
...
   waiting, waiting, the breeze outside is nice. writing is nice. over-thinking isn't quite so nice. :/
   okay--off to biology class.

(10:52 p.m.)
   Found my black pen. It was waiting in my room all along.
   Still feeling a bit down. I need to start reading my bible more. All this loneliness shouldn't be happening.
   P.S. I'm tired of writing in cursive.

a phrase taken from a poem

2009-08-26T06:00:14Z

"Darling, there are just as many ways
of saying goodbye as there are ways
of letting you go."

the why

2009-07-09T05:25:00Z

I got this grand idea to document my summer--document something--because one time after work, one of my friends showed me a blog she kept for about a year (?) that had pictures of her and descriptions of what she did during the day. I thought that was neat...thus, me retrying this blogging thing.

Although summer is about half-way over already, I still feel like this project may be fun.

And I see that pictures are still yet to be put up. So here's one from the 4th of July weekend:

Simple, yes. But it captures summer well enough.
And here's a picture of the dog, Brody, who kept me entertained before the fireworks:

Um, I hope the owners don't mind me putting up a picture of their dog. But since no one has really found this blog, I'll chance it. :)

Whew, I'm exhausted.

Harry Potter

2009-07-09T05:06:30Z

"Tales of a Constipated Writer"

2009-07-05T22:02:34Z

The username "liveitdown" just came. There's not really a significance, just that I needed one. I've had this livejournal for awhile, but then I stopped using it. And then I decided, 'hey, I think I'll get back to blogging though no one knows I have this livejournal nor does anyone read it.' But there's something about writing that's relaxing. And perfect, it's summer and I have this free time. So here it goes. For one season (maybe more), I'll try my best to cram whatever of my life I can on this blog. Pictures included.

The reason I have the subheading of "Tales of a Constipated Writer" is because of a poem by Charles Bukowski.
And here it is:

The Professionals by Charles Bukowski

constipated writers
squatting over their machines
on hot nights
while their wives talk on the
telephone.
while the TV plays
in the background
they squat over their machines
they light cigarettes
and hope for fame
and
beautiful young girls
or at least
something to write
about.

"yeah, barney, he's still at the typer.
I can't disturb him.
he's working on a series of short novels for
Pinnacle magazine. his central character is some
guy he calls 'Bugblast.' I got a sunburn
today. I was reading a magazine in the yard
and I forgot how long I was out there..."

endless hot summer nights.
the blades of the fan tap and rattle
against the wire cage.
the air doesn't move.
it's hard to breathe.
the people out there expect miracles
continual miracles with
words.

the world is full of
constipated writers.
and eager readers who need plenty of new
shit.
it's depressing.

hmm

2009-07-02T07:27:06Z

I thought this might be fun. I'm going to try to document as much of my life as I can on this. My goal is documenting this summer, at least. I'll put up pictures, links, quotes I like, etc.

This is a work in progress. I can't even figure out how to make this layout work and I'm getting tired so I think I'll just leave it as is.
Okay, maybe I'll fix this up later.