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| 09:53pm 10/03/2007 |
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Sorry I don't update much anymore. Generally a little too busy.
I went to my first concert yesterday, Dropkick Murphys at the House of Blues in Chicago. It was pretty damn awesome.
I'm about to go out with Dan. It's our 6 month anniversary today. Who'd have thought I'd ever stick with someone that long?
Erin out. |
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| 12:09pm 12/02/2007 |
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http://www.blindness.org/donate/default.asp
The Foundation Fighting Blindness needs money, cherubs. If you have the time/money, just slip them a coupla dollars, eh? Either way, you can donate at the site above and also find out more about retinitis pigmentosa, the disease I have that's making me go blind. So yah, check it! And donate if you can!! |
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| 10:58pm 28/01/2007 |
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I am in the library and have been since about 4 this afternoon working for my class. In there have been a couple cigarette breaks and a 15-20 minute break for dinner. I have to pee now. Unfortunately, I don't know where the bathrooms are and I am 100 million times too lazy to get up before I actually leave to go look for them.
Also, my brain hurts.
If there is a god, he would take mercy and smite me now :P
Erin of the very stressed bladder out. |
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| 01:08pm 19/01/2007 |
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Hello hello
So the deal lately is that my class is rough but not impossible, Dan and I are living together for all intensive purposes, I'm much better at balancing my drinking and my schoolwork, I'm finally pretty heavily involved with theatre, it's really fucking cold and we have about a foot of snow on the ground, I'm considering pledging Arrow(a social group on campus that's like a sorority), Dan got a job with a band, I got a badass tattoo, and when I come home for Spring Break, Dan is coming with me.
Anyhow, thought I'd give people a quick overview of college thus far this semester. See you rockin' Georgia cats in April!!!
Erin out! |
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| I knew it was coming... |
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| 10:05am 05/01/2007 |
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but it still sucks hardcore. My license has been revoked indefinitely after this morning's opthamologist's appointment. Though my mom claims that she's going to continue letting me drive to certain things(appointments/work) that she can't, for the by and large, I'm not going to be driving, within the next year or so, never. Hopefully I'll eventually be able to drive again. For now, sorry for the inconvenience, guys.
Erin out. |
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| "In Lieu of Present Circumstances" |
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| 05:53am 02/01/2007 |
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(this is the start of a story I've been working on, I could use some help.)
Wake up.
Syracuse, New York. Not the sullen, painfully quaint town that used to pass for something real, but the still-smouldering wreckage that still sparked the occasional flame. The center of the lowest level of the Empire, where the wrong turn could hurl a poor lost soul into a hell of gang wars, drug deals, and shitty merc territory. The old Syracuse died about a decade ago, razed to the ground in riots that lasted a little over a month. After years on years of putting up with dreadful shopping facilities, a mind-numbingly dull Old Town, and no good restaurants to speak of, the residents abruptly and without warning went completely off their heads, striding across the city like avenging angels, destroying everything in their wake. It was great.
Politicians, of course, blamed drugs, sex, rock and roll, the shadow of the moon. Personally, I think everyone just got really bored, and either way good riddance to it. Syracuse had no place in the new States, the idealized land of suburbs that was run in the minds of the naïve and stupid by a beautiful, ‘give me liberty or give me death’ democracy and in the minds of anyone over the age of 10 with half a brain by the Empire. But then, anyone with half a brain would know that the previous was never really the case. Scipii’s Empire was just the next step in a long, fascinating line of corruption and betrayal of the people’s trust. America’s apathy made a mighty leap, and nothing changed, and the mob, after a brief decline at the end of the 1900’s, skyrocketed in the 2010’s. In a majestic show of bribery, blackmail, and assassination, the mob established itself as the central political power in the United States. Discreetly, of course- as only the Italians could do.
Lucky for me, though, because the demand for mercs was at an all time high, and not for fresh-faced, anger-driven rookies. The demand was for the experienced ones, the ones conscience-dead from too much death and not enough dough. The ones street-smart, hard, cold, and fiercely loyal to the hand that fed them. The ones who, when told to kill a man yesterday, could do it a week ago. Ones like me.
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I love guns. You could call me a connoisseur of sorts. Maybe I’m just sadistic, but to know exactly how much pressure it takes to pull a trigger, how fast the bullet will travel, the type of hole it will tear into flesh, the kind of fountain you’ll get as it pierces a living thing. In my mind, mastering artful destruction is all that really matters in the trade. Knowing exactly what kind of gun and what precise angle to use, what body part to target to turn a body precisely on it’s axis- the kinds of little details that turn a basic assassination into art. I knew a man once who could approximate angles and blood spatter so accurately that he could leave messages on the white wall behind a bullet-ridden carcass. Not by smearing it around like some scummy serial killer from a 1900’s B-movie, but simply by shooting right. Every angle a target would turn when hit, voluntary or not, he would anticipate and fire at the exact right place to keep him upright. I’d heard after he got locked up- a rare occurrence, he must’ve pissed off the wrong Op- that on one job he’d kept a mark pirouetting for a solid ten minutes in some macabre ballet of death. He’d only stopped according to one story because he ran out of bullets and to the other because he ran out of unshredded skin. And that- that, to me, is the precise definition of art. On further consideration, maybe it's not so much the guns. It's the death. I- I am a connoisseur of Death. |
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| 11:53pm 26/12/2006 |
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Hey, a Merry Christmas and whatnot to all yous who celebrated it, even though I don't consider myself Christian, I got stuff and all. Anyhow, new camera, money, nice pair of boots, and I'll be home late tomorrow. Can't wait to see everyone!
Erin out! |
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| 08:48am 22/12/2006 |
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So I can't sleep. Because basically I'm not used to sleeping alone. And it's starting to piss me off because it's almost 4 in the morning and I have to be up early tomorrow. So basically screw this. Anyhow, I was back in town, tomorrow I head up to Chicago until next Wednesday, but then I'm in the ville until the 7th of January. In conclusion today...well, techincally yesterday...Happy Solstice! The 21st was the culmination of the 2 week festival, the Halcyon Days, that leads up to the winter solstice. So yeah...happy pagan holiday!
And I was reading this phenomenal book today at the library- check this quote.
"Our kind. Us people. All of us that started the game with a crooked cue, that wanted so much and got so little, that meant so good and did so bad."
-Jim Thompson, "The Killer Inside Me"
See everyone soon!
Erin out! |
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| 03:25am 18/12/2006 |
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Mikrono te balun ta ristanu eis le kutrasa puchre, seis puchre, ki nasiclu e'tei. Eis hei nesto pur grastinosu, te abnoso vetso echis, belisa drechto horus. Di crastuma, eis m'tunxa dika sunta, osir mar iki nonsa. Musuta fesinda ke ba eis h'runs! Bika nosu te mossiter, k'lein eis mikrono!!
No you're not supposed to understand it. I rant in dead languages when I'm upset. And I am very much upset.
I've got to learn to stop putting myself in these situations.
D'arvit!!
Erin out. |
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| 12:43am 15/12/2006 |
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Again, need R&R
Margaritaville
That tiny tang of salt tickles the tip
Of your tongue as you enjoy the slight taste of
Tequila mixed into the apple margarita.
There is nothing better than a good margarita.
Small parties are their own specific
Sort of animal, tame and timid, in contrast to
The wild, clawing, gnawing, biting, fighting
Creatures parties with 10, 20, 30 people can become
Morality however, becomes much more microscopic
In these minor parties, and with the drink, the dick
Grows stronger than the mind, and you find that
Even that kind boy in the corner you’ve been
Shyly glancing at all night will do whatever it takes
To adorn his wall with that night’s triumph, and
Before you can even mourn the loss of such a
Sweet boy, a wave of heat sweeps over you
And your body meets the floor in an embrace
Not so friendly and next thing you know you
Are back at your own home, hurting in places
That you know are not related to the massive
Hangover you’re suffering from. And you keep
Trying to ignore it and keep lying to yourself
Even as you shower and feel the betrayal
Seeping down your legs and see it in the
Light crimson stream that floats into the drain
As if it’s daring you to deny what every inch
Of you is dying to dismiss.
Then your cell phone rings.
The teary, torn and traumatized voice
Of the friend that invited you the night before
Cuts through your resistance
And kills your last hope of escape
She cries, “We were raped.” |
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| 10:38pm 14/12/2006 |
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THIS IS AN ERIN OBROCK SPECIAL REPORT
...I am a dumbass.
THIS CONCLUDES ANOTHER ERIN OBROCK SPECIAL REPORT. |
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| 03:18am 05/12/2006 |
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So I wrote a piece after a slam poetry meeting today, R&R always appreciated!!
The White Girl and the Ghetto
What are you looking at?
Thinking ‘just some scrawny white girl,
She won’t have a beat’
And you’re probably right
But how am I supposed to show
The fire in my voice and how it sparks and spits and burns
And the anger in my soul and how it barks, bitches and churns
The smarts that I have gotten from when I’ve been on the streets
I may be from the ‘right side of town’ but that doesn’t mean I’ve got no rhythmn
No rage, no wrongs done to me, no reason for my art
You can make up your own explanations for my constant inebriation
Cause I’ve tasted more of racist life that you would ever think
I’ve smelled the gunshot residue of the ghetto in my dreams
I look like quite the southern belle, with all my ‘sirs’ and ‘ma’ams’
Don’t see to all the times that my friend’s
Lives and deaths are on my hands
I’ve tasted that of city life, the butterfly of hate
That grew from one man’s hate for kin and now it’s just too late
To save the slums and gangsters, be they black or white or you,
I’ve seen that hate and war and all the shit that it’ll do
So make up your excuses, “Oh, they’re hurt, oppressed, they’re poor”
I don’t give a rat’s ass about the situations they come from
I just care about the hell you put the ones they love through
So next time that you think that some white girl has no beat
You think about me
I’ve stared death in the face so many times
That it doesn’t even faze me
And I just spit at him. |
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| 06:08am 02/12/2006 |
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Basically I feel shitty right now. I am having a 'guy' issue and I need advice because I am totally clueless in this area. HELP!
So I crashed in Dan's room after Jam Night down at the bar last night because I was mildly buzzed(yay for old guys that buy you drinks) and we get up this morning and he goes to take a shower and I change. I'm bored, so for some stupid reason I decide to mess around with his cell phone and end up going through the text messages. For the record, I feel shitty and guilty about that. I don't know why I did that. But either way, I did. But Dan and I just became exclusive last weekend and I found texts he sent to an ex girlfriend that things are complicated with(I knew about this girl before hand) saying he wants to still be 'friends with benefits'. Dan has been working so hard and talking to me so much about establishing trust and telling me that he wants me to trust him and that just seriously hurts me, as much as it kills me to say it, because I really am kinda falling for him. I want to stay with him, but at the same time, if I don't get answers about this, then I'll never trust him. If I let him know what happened, he might never trust me again. I am so confused that I don't know whether to confess, bring it up another way, or just let it go. So I really, REALLY could use some advice. I really like this guy. I know that he likes me- he's called me twice today because he's out of town for the weekend just to say he misses me. I know he wants to be with me kinda, but I don't know if maybe he feels rushed into the relationship even though he's the one who asked to be exclusive, if I'm being too paranoid, but it seriously makes me feel like crap that maybe I'm not enough for him. I suck in relationships and I'm worried I'm not giving enough. I don't know what else to do.
So yeah...HELP!!!!
Erin out. |
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| 04:04am 27/11/2006 |
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In the words of the Dropkicks!!
"
Ahh, fuck it. Who am I shitting?
I'm a pitiful sight, and I ain't all that bright
I'm definitely not chiseled from stone
I'm a cheat and a liar, no woman's desire
I'll probably die cold and alone"
Back from Thanksgiving break, had a good time, kinda boring, saw Happy Feet twice and it was adorable and I'm ready to ace this class and get my ass home for winter break.
Erin out! (back in less than a month!) |
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| 06:28am 20/11/2006 |
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OK, sometimes I feel like my body is just insisting on falling to pieces. Just to fuck with me. Never anything that's going to fuck me up to the point of death, but just insisting on making my life as miserable as possible just to see how far my forced optimism can go.
Basically this is all about the three UTI's I've had and how apparently my last culture had too much sugar in it. So I'm going to be getting tested for diabetes over Thanksgiving break. Lovely, eh?
Fuck me sideways. I swear, if my body fucks up on me one more time I'm just going to kill someone. Ugh.
Erin out. |
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| Ah, what the heck! |
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| 02:04am 20/11/2006 |
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 Dear Santa...
Dear Santa,
This year I've been busy!
In January I donated bone marrow to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) moorchild_pipes in a life-saving procedure (300 points). In March I gave kingtatsel a life-saving blood transfusion (50 points). Last Wednesday I bought porn for brineebabe (-10 points). Last Tuesday I bought porn for kive (10 points). In November I committed genocide... Sorry about that, edkb13 (-5000 points).
Overall, I've been naughty (-4650 points). For Christmas I deserve a lump of coal!
Sincerely,
sawyerhickory |
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| So let's find a bar, so dark we forget who we are |
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| 12:23am 16/11/2006 |
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I really wish I didn't have such a hard time being a social person. I mean, I love people. I love being around people. I like people in general. Well, no, maybe that's not totally accurate. I like some people, but people in general I just find intriguing. I like to watch them, to see how they interact, how they experience things, how they express themselves. The problem is that if you spend all your time watching people, you never really interact with them. I'm usually fine with this, it only becomes an issue when I realize that I really haven't forged any meaningful friendships out here. I mean, I love the people on my floor, Leather is an amazing roommate, the Lounge Rats rock out loud, and the Pfieffer gang is awesome. I'm on friendly terms with everyone, I get along with them all. But I'm not close with anyone. I don't really need to be, it doesn't bother me, but I know that eventually my inability to form bonds with people is going to fuck me over. And I could go all blah blah blah my post traumatic stress messed up my ability to trust people or form relationships, but it'd just be an excuse. I wish I knew how to put myself into the scene, to be social without getting drunk, because that's the only time I'm honest with anyone about how I'd like to get to know them better and then it's just remembered as a drunken rambling. I guess it's kinda hit home recently, especially because a couple of my floormates were talking to me today about how they think Dan isn't good enough for me. I really do like Dan. He's usually an ass to people, and I know it. But he can be really sweet to me sometimes, and he's protective sometimes too, so I know he cares. He's not clingy or smothering, but he's there if I need him, and I'm there for him. I think usually he needs me more than I need him, which is always important to me. And here's the thing...he calls me beautiful sometimes. I've always had these superficial relationships with guys that revolved around them being attracted generally just to my empathy and strength of character. And I know that most people are all, "it's about what's on the inside", but I know that I'm no great shakes in the look department, and to hear someone call me beautiful, you know...it's like it caters to some weird feminine side I didn't really even know I had. Maybe that'll be bad later, but right now it's about the only reassuring thing in my life.
I miss home.
Erin out. |
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