Baking with Plath

I’m sad today.

I hate computers; they always lose the shit I need. I want to send in a paper I’ve already written as part of my application because it’s an option and because I don’t have time to write about one aspect of a book  that has inspired me. Anyway, I emailed my english teacher from senior year asking her what paper she thinks I should send; I think I wrote some good stuff in her class. I just got an email back and she told me to send in a paper I did on Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. I don’t like Virginia Woolf. She is so boring. I would have filled my coat pockets with rocks and walked into the river behind my home in the English countryside too if I was as boring of a writer as she was, but that is entirely beside the point. That paper would be a good thing to send in-if I could find the paper. I wrote it at school last year so it was saved to my account at school. At the end of the year I copied all my files from my school account and put them on my computer at home. My motherboard or something in that computer died back in November. My brother got all my files off and put them onto my laptop. Thinking this paper is on my laptop, I check every word document I have from High School. The only file it could have been in under the name “lighthouse2″ was a paper about Hamlet. Somehow the same Hamlet paper was under about 6 different file names.  I hate computers; they make life difficult.  

Dirge without Music
in
The Buck in the Snow and Other Poems
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the
      hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, – but the rest is lost.

The answer quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter,
      the love,-
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant
      and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do
      not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all roses in
      the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

I think is this the most beautiful and loving poem about death ever written. It made me think about my Uncle (my mother’s sister’s husband) he past away recently, Decemeber 14th to be exact. He had inoperable lung cancer and was in his late 4o’s. We’re having a “Joe Day” in March to sprinkle his ashes and I’m thinking about maybe reading it. I wonder if his little girls understand; they know what happened. The youngest is 5 and she asked her mom, “Is Daddy gonna die?” I don’t know if they understand that if it was up to him, he never would have left them. I don’t think they understand that we are powerless to control anything.   

My mom took my car to get a new battery on Thursday, apparently there’s a part missing. The technical term for the part is “battery wedge”; it prevents the battery from moving around. They weren’t going to let my mom drive off without it because if she hit a pothole or something the battery could move and short circuit which wouldn’t be good. Anyway they finally let her drive away after they found a dealership that had the part. It’s really hard to find parts for my car because Ford stop producing the model car in 1997 and the parts in 1998; my car’s from 1995. I need a new clutch but that’s a different story. When she got home she told my Dad what happened and it turns out the part has been missing for five or six years. He was doing something to engine and had to take out the battery and when he put it back in the part broke. He rationalized that the part was unnecessary and told no one about it. I don’t really think it’s that big of a deal, if it hasn’t short circuited by now I don’t think it will. I probably just jinxed it.   

That’s and oil pastel I did about a year ago. It was for art class, lavander ribbion under a pink light, that’s why it’s got all those crazy colors in the shadows.

So, I’m sitting here at home in my kitchen and I don’t think I am going to get dinner tonight. It’s 7 o’clock and that’s usually dinner time but my mom isn’t making anything and my dad isn’t hungry now. Maybe we’ll end up going out to eat, I like when we do that. 7:06pm- we’re getting italian take-out, yummy greasy food.

I registered to vote today, sort of. I filled out the form and now I just need to mail it in. HORRIBLE GRAMMAR, ending in prepostions, yuck. (Note: Hillary, Obama, stop the mud slinging or neither of you get my vote in the primary.) I had to register with a party if I wanted to vote in the primary, but then I can only vote for whoever is in that party. That’s how Maryland does it. I meant to register on my birthday back in November, it’s whatever.

I hate the whole process of coming home by train. First, I have to get a cab. Call at like noon and get a reservation for 4:30, my train leaves at 5:20.  They always arrive early, I hate this even though I like to be absurbly early for everything; I hate this because the train is late by 20 or 40 mintues most of the time, but there is the possiblity of the train being on time. What I hate most about taking taxis is the small talk. “You a VCU student?” “Yeah.” “What’s your major?” I always lie to make myself sound more interesting. I said Crafts this time. One time, during the ten to fifteen minutes it takes to get to the train station my driver decides to tell me about his relationship problems. About a month later, I call the same cab company and the send me the same guy. Guess what? He remebers me and he tells me about his same relationship problems. I wanted to shoot myself. OMG I KNOW WHAT MY PERSONAL ESSAY IS GOING TO BE ABOUT! MY DISPLEASURE FOR TAKING CAB RIDES. Anyway, I get to the train station and it’s on time so that was good. I got to read a little bit. I watched a group of girls miss their train, it was hilarious. Their train was just sitting there in the station for like 20 mintues after everyone boarded because the train had to wait until my train came in for some reason and then it could leave. Well these girls were in line waiting for the next train to come in, thinking it was their south bound train, it was the north bound train coming in next. Well the train gets in and the south bound train leaves. The conductor is tearing tickets and the group of girls get up to him and he looks at the tickets and tells them your train just left. That was a great moment, I laughed to myself for along time. Another thing I hate about trains is the wholesitting next to someone I don’t know. I got a seat by myself and just before we left the station this bigger women with a huge suitcase walks down the aisle looks around at the seats. Everyone around me had two seats to themselves. I must have been the smallest person sitting in two seats so she seats down next to me. I was really upset because I had a lot of work to do on the train and I needed my space to get that work done. And I thought she was going to be getting off in DC because everyone always gets off at DC, no she is taking the train to New York. It sucked.    

I’m done. 

Dear Philosophy Professor,

You’re lectures are painfully boring and you are very long winded. When you go off on tangents, which is several times in a single class period, they start out somewhat amusing but end up being lame. Please change this awful behavior. Today in class, Andrew’s equivelant statments, “I am a mammal therefore my biological mother is a mammal”, were sound. It cannot be made invaild with examples like Gena Davis’ characters’ dream in the movie “The Fly” or test tube babies. “The Fly” is a movie; gestating and giving birth to something not of one’s species is biologically immpossible. Just as well, test tube babies still have biological parents eventhough the sperm and egg meet in an artifical way. The only why I know to make mammal offspring is with a sperm and an egg, if you know another why then I would like to hear it.  

I am so unbelievably stressed. I shouldn’t be taking six classes; I have no idea why I made the decision to take six classes. Plus I still haven’t finished my application essay. I didn’t like applying to colleges the first time around. I hate school so why do I want to go to a school that requires me to learn Ancient Greek well enough to translate classical philosophers? I don’t know, that was a great idea Perri. Yeah, I’m transfering. I just don’t feel right here, probably because I don’t have any friends. That’s another thing I need to do, I need to be social. Who wants to be my friend and hang out with me? I’m not picky, I’ll be friends with almost anyone.

itunes is on shuffle right now, Van Halen’s “Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Love” is a great song. David Lee Roth> Sammy Hagar

This writing thing is diffcult when you’re so uninspired and lazy, can’t forget lazy.

Dear heat in my apartment,

Please move into my bedroom because it’s absolutely frigid.  I want to sleep in my bed tonight but if you refuse to blow warm air into my bedroom I will be forced to sleep on my “couch”; it is terribly small and will undoubtably injure my neck. Also, you are far too loud when you turn on during the night.  Please don’t explode gas heat. Although I criticize you, I fear you.  

Dear asshole who lives above me,

Your guitar playing is horrendous; you’re lucky I don’t come up there.