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Karalyg

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Let's see what this looks like [Mar. 25th, 2006|01:44 pm]
Karalyg
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Long Time No Post! [Feb. 27th, 2006|10:23 pm]
Karalyg
[mood |how is headache not a mood?]
[music |Rat wheel and the radio that should be off]

Crap man, three months! So anyway, I have recently discovered the wonders that are Facebook and MySpace. Mostly the latter is wasting silly amounts of my time. But alas, it seems the other thing I might be doing with that time is hitting refresh on my yahoo mail while praying to godess (or whoever) that I have new mail not from Overstock or REI. Alas.
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Wow, I have a subtitle. [Dec. 6th, 2005|03:06 pm]
Karalyg
Talking with amberleigh about LJ I started poking around and found a subtitle I must have written well over 6 months ago and have not seen since . . . *goddess please let me get into law school so I can change my journal title". Goddess blessed, so I suppose maybe I should do that. But I don't use this journal, so why rename it? Perhaps because I don't think I can go renaming my other (/Nick's) journal. Hmm.
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If you're interested. [Dec. 4th, 2005|04:02 pm]
Karalyg
My real weblog is here:
http://www.qualarius.org/weblog
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Here I am [Sep. 5th, 2005|12:21 pm]
Karalyg
My readership here is a few people who overlap with my other (Nick's) blog, so I guess I just don't feel compelled to write here. But for whoever you might be who sees this and not the other, I'm in Portland, attending Lewis & Clark, far away from Nick (but not this weekend) and settling in. Cat cat and fish are happy, rat is fine when she's left alone, but rather horrified of coming out. Blah blah blah. So uniteresting.
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Law School and other random stuff. [Jun. 2nd, 2005|09:32 pm]
Karalyg
I'm gearing up, the problem is that I don't know what for yet . . . a move to Portland, or a relatively smooth transition to Seattle U. Please, send happy vibes about Kara to Seattle University School of Law. I've lived here over a year, I've invested a fair amount of time and energy and cash into becoming a Washington citizen, and as much as I do enjoy and miss my parents I would still rather stay here and try to maintain some sense of normalcy.

*88.5 just played a killer version of "I feel pretty" that actually managed to make that piece cool*

World Poker Championship for Xbox generates characters sans logic . . . it's kind of funny. Asian guy, full beard, cowboy hat. Black woman, blond hair, blue eyes. Nick and I designed eachothers' characters. I think we look equally like ourselves. :) There's actually a butch looking white woman with a beard every few tournaments as well. =P

I'm drinking a Merlot/Bourdeux (sp) right now . . . I hated it the first night, disliked it last night, but do like it tonight - I guess it just needed some air. I'm glad about that since it would be a waste of money and offering someone half a bottle of wine is kind of strange.

Erin, can I pay you to make a slipcover for our couch? it's an odd shape so I haven't found anything pre-made. I know you're all engrossed with uber-fab boyfriend, but if you have a minute I'll pay you $20/hr for the sewing. :)
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Goddess bless NPR [Jun. 2nd, 2005|09:25 pm]
Karalyg
88.5 in Seattle kicks ass. "Jazz, Blues, and NPR News". I don't know if I'd survive without it. I do, however, wish that NPR hired less commentary people with stutters. I have nothing against people with a stutter, but they are a bit difficult to listen to on the radio . . . and it seems to be abundantly common there.
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... [Mar. 29th, 2005|01:19 pm]
Karalyg
Drop the finger. Drop it!

I find myself thinking during the day "gee, I was I had a place online to put down my random thoughts". Then I realize this is called a journal. So, I apologize to all two or three of you who read this and expect to find something vaguely intersting only to discover me rambling about things to do later in the day. I'd send you to inpromissum for real contect, but all two or three of you already read that too. =P

-Get fingernails; I will probably do this before entering the gym tonight because there is a cheapo-looking place right there. The paint job will be at risk if I go right to the weights (or even to change), but this must get done. Ben, remember how I used to tear my cuticles off? Yeah, I still do that.

-Work out; Not swimming because my torn up finger tips will feel too icky. And because I'm not wild about it so just about any excuse will do at this point. Weights, then 50 minutes cardio (or until my knees throw a fit), and then the sauna. Oh wait, I already scratched that off because I brought pants and a t-shirt and no swim suit (it's coed). Foo. Well, I guess that shortens my night.

-Taxes. If I own money I'm just plain old dead. So we won't think about that.

-Check the mail box, be disappointed that there isn't anything from SU or UW, shake and repeat tomorrow.

-Do my 35-40 minutes of work for the afternoon. No, I'm not kidding.

-Vacuum and get the rats out of the front hall.

-Clean up all my explosions around the house.

-Buy more frozen dinners. Seeds of Change, 100% Organic, Vegetarian . . . so tasty.

-Avoid the candy jar of doom.
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speechless, but not quite. [Mar. 14th, 2005|09:58 am]
Karalyg
When I was in a very, very dark place, feeling like the world was a twisted joke and wishing I were no longer a part of it, someone told me that despite all the ugliness, the devastation, the sickness, that people as a whole had a lot of compassion for one another. At the time I thought "so what?", this place we exist in is so fucking warped that niceties like compassion - from people I don't know and who don't have the power to fix anything - isn't worth a damn. I've since revised that point of view and just found a wonderful example of said compassion. I was reading through http://www.qualarius.org/ looking for a rant about gay marriage and the Federalist Papers when I came across the following.

I wrote this:
"Okay, time’s up. I can’t do this for much longer. My job is thankless, nearly mindless, and could be done by someone who didn’t graduate from high school. Why did my parents pay for me to get a degree, and why did I start grad school and shell out $13,000 if I was going to be a fucking copy wench? This is not starting at the bottom to move up, this is just plain garbage. I try to convince myself that it’s Zen . . . I find it meditative to make 8 copies of specs – punched and bound (1600 pages worth) and then do it again the next day because I failed to notice some of them were double-sided. I like that, right? And that fact that I forget to lock a particular drawer and occasionally let us run out of, I don’t know, paperclips, clearly means that I am mentally deficient – or at least those are the looks and the inferences I get from others. Why, oh why did I take AP classes, how could I have even considered retaking the SAT’s when I got a 1480, what possessed me to take on the responsibilities of Drum Major or News Producer in college, why did I write scholarship essays and move myself to LA? Did I do these things so I could take shit from people with half my intelligence when I don’t rise the occasion of ordering paperclips?

I have to go back to school. I have 1/3 of a Masters Degree and I’m sure my credits will transfer into at least a few different programs. I want to run a writing center, or teach Poli Sci 201; for the love of god I will work at the Sylvan learning center . . . just something where I can use my skills. Yes! Skills! I have some. I’m a talented leader, a talented teacher, I’m creative and resourceful and crafty. I have an eye for style, a love and sense for music. I said I’d do this for a year when I transferred (that apparently made me “worth” the training time), but I don’t know if I can make it. I didn’t spend 18 years being a dedicated achiever and cultivating my talents for my biggest challenge to be double-sided copies."


And someone I don't know - never have and never will (Nick doesn't know him/her either) - wrote this back to me:

"From the point of view of someone who sat in front of—or was it across from?—you in an AP class or seven:

Maybe you did all that shit (I could think of a more eloquent word, but I won’t), be it drum majoring or news producing or overall self-improving, because that’s who you are and that’s who you want to be, and because, at the end of the day, that’s what has given you personality and shit (there it is again) to talk about other than who-wore-what to the VMA’s (but in case you’re wondering, check out http://www.fuggingitup.com/). So when all is said and done, sure, you’re the most well-educated, creatively-mind, deep-thinking Collator around—which is not what you ever envisioned—but you’ve got other interests in life and things to think about when the need for printer ink is not a Top Priority. Not everyone can say that for him/herself.

The other night, I was bitching about not being proud of what I spend the 8 to 5 doing (also not proud of what I do when the sun goes down, but that’s off topic), and one of my friends says to me “You know, I think everyone feels the same way about their first, second, third jobs out of college. And then, they just come to realize that the corporate, working world is the same wherever they go…so the work won’t really change, but to make it bearable, the attitude has to”. In other words, the frustration peaks out. A somewhat dismal outlook on the next 40-some years of life, but in a way, I found comfort in her perspective. And, as you pointed out, the good days and the bad, they come in waves—so, it’s not all rough-and-tumble."


I think it speaks for itself.
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So much to say, so little remembered [Mar. 13th, 2005|10:27 pm]
Karalyg
Three hours in the car, with little to no scenery (it was dark), and listening to crap-ass pop stations because Dinner Jazz was a little too mellow to keep me awake, allows for a lot of thinking. Good thinking. For some reason the trip from Portland to Seattle (but not really the other direction) always seems to create a lot of good thoughts/ideas/plans/discoveries for me. Anyhow, in the course of those three hours I came up with probably five things I wanted to mention here or at inpromissum (the blog I stole from Nick) and now I can't remember a damn one. So here I am, blogging about blogging. That's bad, right? Okay, well think of it as me writing about my inability to remember random tidbits of useless information for more than an hour; doesn't really sound like that bad of an affliction, right?

One of my college band directors reappeared in my inbox tonight! I think I sent two or three e-mail to some other guy with his name and a similar address, because when I asked if I was being boycotted he swore he had not received any e-mails from me since we last met up in person. Heh. Very very unfortunately his wife has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. :( I don't know if I could cope with that. Losing my spouse is probably my biggest fear in life. And then of course *thinking* about it makes me worried that I'm bringing it on myself . . . fortunately a wise man named Frank convinced me otherwise and gave me some calming words to throw into the universe when I fear I've been suggestive of something bad. "I don't need that, I don't want that, I'm not asking for that". Okay, back to see if I have a third e-mail from da man.
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