Wednesday, Oct. 08, 2003 - 7:00 p.m.
Allow this to become Linguistiblog for a moment: Vernon Smith, winner of this year�s Nobel Prize in Economics, was just on NPR. When asked to explain his award-winning theory, he obliged, saying, �I�ve always thought you should be able to explain to your brother-in-law what it is you do for a living.� Now, it�s an old, tired routine in linguistics that nobody understands what we do or what we believe in � tell someone you�re a linguist, and they ask how many languages you speak and whether they�re supposed to use �he or she� or �they� in sentences like this one. And I�ve ranted before about how this misunderstanding is our fault, not the world�s, and about how someday I intend to do something about it. Yes. Okay. I STILL can�t explain to people what it is I do. I tell people my thesis was about the words �here� and �now�. I tell them I study language as a science. I tell them I have a theory, which is mine, and what it is too. But I can�t really do any better than that.
There will be no resolution to that brief rant, because I know all you want is More Seventh Grade Diary Entries. Okay. Just indulge the nineteenth grade me for one more minute.
Mary and I talked recently about how month after month, for years now, we get cranky and sad for a few days, feel horrible about our lives and everything in them, then get our periods and realize the ickiness was mostly due to hormonal changes. And still, the very next month, as well as we know and love our bodies, we get cranky and depressed and are absolutely bewildered by it�until we get our periods again and realize the ickiness was mostly due to hormonal changes. My mom and I talked about this, too � the same thing happens to her, and she has had, by conservative estimates, over 400 periods. What I am getting at, of course, is that though the rain and stress of the past week contributed to my despair, once again Madame Brun-Rouge was the secret agitator. Damn that underhanded harlot.
I will try to be perkier at band practice tonight to make up for last week�s spiritual defection. I will eat something before I drink a bunch of High Life tallboys. And I will leave you with more Eva, Aged Twelve.
January 5
Dear Diary �
I�m bored!! There�s nothing to do around here! I ♥ Warrant so much. Other bands are so obsessed w/ looks + stuff, they don�t really have time 4 music. Alisun says Jani is ugly, but I think he�s so hot! But what can U expect from someone who thinks Vanilla Ice is a babe? Sigh. I ♥ the songs I Saw Red + Cherry Pie!
Milo and Otis is what we rented today. It should have been rated �Super G�.
I�m sneaking downstairs to watch Saturday Night Live!
Peace,
- Veggie
January 6
Dear Diary �
Hey. Russell�s being a bitch today. I ♥ Warrant so much, even more than Slaughter or even Shane! Jani writes all of his songs. I visualize being with him and meeting him at a concert. The Warrant and Poison concert is next Friday.
Matt hasn�t (thank God) called. I hate him so much I wish he would die! (really). He is ruining my life!
I ♥ WARRANT!!!
I also ♥ Black Crowes, Slaughter, Ratt?, Poison, etc.
I hate Motley Crue because Matt likes them.
Peace,
- Veggie
January 7
Dear Diary �
Hey. We went to the zoo today. The baby hippo was adorable! I also (majorly) had to clean my room.
I decided that when I�m 20 I�ll build a caf� called The Sad Caf� + play only Eagles music! Cool, huh. I wish I had a marmoset as a pet. They�re so cute!
I ♥ Cinderella! [drawing of marmoset] I ♥ Black Crowes
I ♥ WARRANT
I wish I could fuck Jani Lane!
Peace,
Veg
January 8
Happy B-day ELVIS
Dear Diary �
Hey. I went ice-skating today. I met these 3 girls from Conifer. One was named Melissa G. Her name sounds so familiar! People call her Gordo. I don�t remember the other two�s names. They were 6th graders. I told them I was 13. Melissa was really weird, (just like me).
There was a new TV show on last night called Blossom. I could really relate to it. It was after Fresh Prince.
There�s this weird new band called Rhinobucket on the radio!
Peace �
Veggie
Well past 20 years old and no Sad Cafe. Perhaps my life has not been well spent.