So I talked to the transfer advisor today. I told her I was pursuing a degree in religion and an M.Div (from Yale or Princeton Divinity) and that I was thinking Calvin or Wheaton and had recently been looking at New Saint Andrews, but only as a curiousity and as I was talking she interupted me:

"eliiiizabeth, do you know who I really like?"
'No, who?"
"Joyce Meyers."
*retches quietly and stares* "i'm not especially familiar with her..."
"and Reverend Olsten, do you like him?"
"again, i don't really watch relgious...television. I dont really know them...you know i have an appointment with my sociology professor, i should get out of here. it was lovely speaking to you, I'l email the admissions people from the schools and call you." *sweet half smile*

my sociology professor was giving away books and i must have picked up about thirty-ish.

I just started Sexual Personae - Art and decadence form Nefertiti to Emily Dickinson.

I just finshed the first chapter and it is quite enthralling

i just took a shower and in my drain was an enormous clump of hair in the drain. i was putting it up in a bun later and another clump - about thirty hairs came out.

WTF?

will you all still like me if i'm bald? I refuse to wear a wig....hmm maybe if it gets too bad I'll become a fundie and insit on wearing a veil all the time in the name of modesty ofcourse....

in all seriousness, my scapf feels the way it felt that one time when i bleached it with manic panic and cried.If you know me, you know how hard i have worked to have virgin hair after years of dying it and stripping it and various other abuses.

Now its all falling out.

Maybe its because my hair has been really dirty lately (i ran out of shampoo for a week and just used vinegar) and aparently putting up your hair right after showering or getting it wet causes it to never try properly and start to mold. I never wear my hair down.

i need to go somewhere with really clean air and get soaked in rainwater. i got caught in the rain in St George Bermuda and it did something amazing to my hair.

does anyone know anything about this?

A few random thoughts from today...

I was cut off and later flipped off by a car covered in religious bumper stickers this afternoon driving through metuchen. Some of them that i could read were the classics "Jesus Saves", "I love Pro- Life", "God Bless America" and "In Case of Rapture This Car Will Be Unmanned".

i have one bumper sticker. It says "Edison is Better" with a heart. They sell them at the library for twenty five cents. Its on the inside of my car and it makes me smile.

So anyway, I was quite pissed off at the people driving this Jesus Freak car. I'm not anti christian in any sense of the word. I don't advertise it on my car, i don't torture people at work about it like one of my co-workers (who flaunts her attendance of daily mass while gossiping about the new girl Raquel and criticizing the practices of our salon and our manager). I won't set foot in a christian bookstore (that may however change because i've been eyeing the 'Archaeological Study Bible" in a big way. i'm such a nerd.)

Anyway, people hink that normal well adjusted people who don't have bumper stickers on our cars are just like you when they find out we're christians

so stop ruining it for us.

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I feel like I'm surrounded by hyspocrisy lately, or maybe I'm just noticing it more and its bothering me more than ever. In the past week somethign in me has kind of changed. I feel like my brash outspoken pissed off inner riot grrl has put her hair in a bun, shaved her legs and put on Hush Puppies. Could it be that I'm growing up and out of teen angst?

=======================

This afternoon in the library I was in an aisle looking for a book (Sophies World - thanks for the recommendation Linda!) and I brushed up against a guy in a polo shirt and cargo pants (I was wearing a dress and sweater with a pen stuck in my hair) he turned around and gave me a weirdish look when I was walking away to the microfilm machine (which is my new favourite thing IN THE WORLD). I didn't think anything of it, I get stared at a lot (not sure why). Later from my chair where I was sitting and mercilessly proofreading my essay (due tommorow, but i don't think its as good as some of my stuff in the past has been. pray for me!) I noticed his yarmukle and little prayer string tassels. I know the skirt of my dress brushed up against one of those tassels. I hope he's not in trouble or anything because he was quite cute. I wonder if he goes to that yeshiva on plainfield. Abbe has been trying to set me up with her orthodox cousin Harold who thinks I'm the most beautiful creature on the earth for a few months

For some reason I don't think that'll work. I do make pretty good matzoh ball soup though :)

I was channel surfing at my grandmas house while tyring to do some homework and absolutely nothing was on so i started watching religious TV which is horrifying and not quite as amusing as it used to be

So i have to write a sociology paper (one page) on who i am in relation to society. What 'clubs' i'm in. What "teams" I play for. Despite the fact that I live in my body 24 hours a day these days (i haven't tried to astral project in a while) I am totally incapable of answering that question.

I'm an irish catholic but i'm a protestant. Not an irish protestant. Sometimes, i think I'm more of a screwed up person who goes to church. I'm a feminist but i'm pro-life in a militant way which isn't very feministy. I'm a Liberetarian Christian Socialist in the tradition of Dorothy day. I like liberation theology lately. My parents are normal middle class new jersey republican catholics. I don't have a sexuality that i could attach a label or adjective to at this point except 'messy' at this point in my life...

i like hello kitty. i can build things out of wood. thats about it

Real Women Have Curves

I'd never seen this movie until like...two hours ago with is tragic. I love this scene.

I just cursed out my freezer because i couldnt get everything to stay in there. i yelled, thrashed, and threw things and then in true elizabeth thomas form sat on the floor in my kitchen and cried

hmm i wonder if its time to start going to meetings about this stuff

A squirell threw an acorn at my head this morning when i was hanging clothes out on the line...little bastard.

okay, this fall i am planing to go see:
Paramore (Oct. 23rd - Starland)
The decemberists (November 1st - Terminal 5 NYC)
David Crowder Band (November 10th - Roseland)
Rob Bell (November 26th - Electric Factory Philly)

anybody wanna come with me? I hate hangin out with myself I feel like a lonely loser. the tickets are all like, decently priced.

oh, i found this old pic of myself, and i totally love it.

Calling all dream interpreters

I had the weirdest dream. I was in St. Helenas (the church i grew up going to) back in my altar girl outfit - white robe, big rosaries, green sincture, with my hair in a bun. There were a few of us robed, the same number in streetclothes. they were all catholic people that I knew. Tom, Rob, my brother, Dawn, Steff, Andre etc. The priest (who bore a remarkable resemblance to the Pope) was on the altar and i was kind of tuning out because I couldn't recognize what he was saying as part of the Liturgy and he was kind of whispering.

I noticed then that there was a pitcher and a bowl on the altar which looked like the one that the priest uses to wash his hands before starting to consecrate communion, but it was bigger and white. Everything was white. Then, he comes down the stairs and starts to baptize people. One by one.

I am extrememly resistant to water on my face. I don't like getting wet, so in my head i am freaking out and i don't want this priest to baptize me, but he's getting closer and closer and i can smell the oil in the water and start panicking about how i just ran out of conditioner and how i will have no time to go to Trader Joes to buy more and this oil is gonna mess up my hair. And then he gets to me. And i calm down and the water is warm and i get all emotional and he says "Ego te baptizo in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."

You're all smart i dont need to translate that.

And i felt all weird and warm and confused because i'm not really much of a catholic. And the my cats were fighting and my pillow was all wet and i woke up.

Yet, an hour later i still feel the glow

Dream interpreters? throw me a bone.

Have you ever driven through really thick fog? Or how bout hiked through fog that was up to your knees? I like driving in rain and fog and things like that. I like having to look harder than normal just to see what i'm used to seeing because its warpped in beauty. Blanket of fog. Sheets of rain. The earth is my bedroom. and nothing is better than after the rain or after the fog. Everything is cleaner.clearer.brighter. It's like all the bad has been swept away and you have minor amnesia because you don't remember what everything looked like before the storm.

I love walking with umbrellas. I love umbrellas. they're abosultely wonderful. Especially with so shoes on.

i want to go to Nagles in Ocean Grove for strawberry icecream. and even more than that, i want to drive there. sing along with the radio. Jeff Buckley Grace is the background music

i've been called elizabeth by six people who i have never heard call me that before. How weird is that?

I love cameron crowe movies. Say Anything, Almost Famous, Elizabethtown. Why? All of them have totally unjaded protagonists. The main characters are always amazingly wide eyed and optimistsic and have a unique love for life.

People think I'm like that. They see my randomness and funky wardrobe and spontanuity as an extreme happiness that people want to put in bottle.

tell ya the truth, sometimes, i believe it :)

*smirks* yes. i have a sick sense of humor.

Ali G - Buzz Aldrin

this video is beyond hysterical

i walked in to my brothers room and took off my sunglasses as Aslan jumped into my lap, started purring and fell asleep in the span of about five seconds.

He turned around on his swivel chair and looked me up and down

"You...you were crying. You never cry"

I have two ways of dealing with things that bother me: I can either cry my eyes out and sob to the point that I am totally exhausted. I can turn off my brain turn to stone and internalize it, turn it in to anger and ignore it for as long as I can slowly getting really really bitter.

If you know me, you know that I never cry. I can remember the last time I did - Aslan ran away (we thought - he was sleeping in my room) and I thought he was gone forever. I cried a little. No sobs or major waterworks, just a few tears. Everyone I know cries more than I do.

okay, i get kinda teary whenever alex sings that josh groban song. you know the one i'm talking about.

I'm still really conflicted.
i'm glad i'm way too busy to think or i might self destruct.

I hve a new kitty named Katherine!

abbe invited me to synagogue for rosh hashanah! i already workedat the purim carnival, read at the passover seder and now this! I'm so excited! I am such a kick ass jew.

Steps - One For Sorrow

When i was a kid i ha a compilation CD with this song on it and i would hear it and cry my eyes out.

the thing is, i was like ten years old. I wasn't dating anyone, i didn't like anyone or anything like that...this song just brought out some serious emotions.

damn i had a freaky childhood

Everything feels so bad lately. Like a dark cloud or something.

i found this poem in a book that I am rereading called "When God Was a Woman" by Merlin Stone

Its called the Invitation by Oriah Mountaindreamer. it kind of reminds me of Desiderata

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

I found this picture from prom on my friends facebook. I haven't liked a picture of mtself this much in a while

Ani Difranco - Not A Pretty Girl

This song means so much to me today. These are the lyrics

not a pretty girl

i am not a pretty girl
that is not what i do
i ain't no damsel in distress
and i don't need to be rescued
so put me down punk
maybe you'd prefer a maiden fair
isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

i am not an angry girl
but it seems like i've got everyone fooled
every time i say something they find hard to hear
they chalk it up to my anger
and never to their own fear
and imagine you're a girl
just trying to finally come clean
knowing full well they'd prefer you
were dirty and smiling

and i am sorry
i am not a maiden fair
and i am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere

and generally my generation
wouldn't be caught dead working for the man
and generally i agree with them
trouble is you gotta have yourself an alternate plan
and i have earned my disillusionment
i have been working all of my life
and i am a patriot
i have been fighting the good fight
and what if there are no damsels in distress
what if i knew that and i called your bluff?
don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down
whether or not you ever show up

i am not a pretty girl
i don't want to be a pretty girl
no i want to be more than a pretty girl


I love Ani Difranco so much, she says everything i'm thinking. Why are women so forced to be attractive? My sociology teacher was talking about how she knew a woman who was a corporate CEO and didn't wear makeup and the other women shunned her. Then he asked if there were any ladies in the class who ddin't wear makeup.

Only one raised her proud nail polish free hand.

me.

He went on to ask me if i had a boyfriend. I said no and he asked if I thought that had anything to do with it.

everyone laughed. except for me that is. I forget sometimes that my worth is determined entirely by the way I look.

It doesn't sting so much anymore. I understand that we can't all be princesses, and that being about to bench 140 pounds and outsmart anyone who tries me in a battle of wits will never be as desirable as being the wilting flower.

I really don't know what to think

So i was in my car this morning driving to school and i was listening to one of those stupid radio staion morning shows becuase my car is in the shop and i have to drove the le sabre - whcih has no CD player and a broken cassette play and sitting in silence is the equivilent of chinese water torture for me.

So they had some stupid stupid stupid little contest where you have ten seconds to name five things or something.

the topic 5 famous painters.

i immedeitly start thinking

titian
o'keefe
kahlo
van gogh
raphael
warhol
rockwell

okay that was four seconds.

there were three contestants. NONE OF THEM COULD NAME FIVE.

i was screaming like banshee in my car.

i want to hunt these people down

i hit a cop car pulling out of my driveway yesterday.

i cried for an hour.

he needed three cars of backup becuase i think i freaked him out.

he let me go because it wasn't my fault.

well anyway, i'm back from bermuda. i had fun there and stuff

school started. work starts tommorow. my life is back to normal.

its nice