Trust Metric (I don't get it, but okay)

TrustFlow trust metricCreated by ciphergoth, see trustmetrics for details. Closest 50 non-Friends for shirash:1: tatufans, 2: cristine, 3: mmb2, 4: nickthestripper, 5: tareopti, 6: theschimmel, 7: uglyflowers, 8: the_bishop, 9: bohemianpoetry, 10: borednow, 11: sostoked, 12: jcrewgoose, 13: joannabanana139, 14: jrc520, 15: peoplesyak, 16: riny, 17: thegayone, 18: assuckattheprom, 19: dylanboiwonder, 20: mortality, 21: northern_va, 22: rliz, 23: rubyfruitjungle, 24: transgender, 25: webster_wotd, 26: riot_grrls, 27: beantownkids, 28: goldennemesis, 29: sky_on_fire, 30: annierose, 31: crombie7xk, 32: faeries, 33: gaystr8alliance, 34: juniperivy, 35: nellishness, 36: personofnolabel, 37: righteousbabes, 38: supergirl2355, 39: tegan_and_sara, 40: umavaruna, 41: boston_photos, 42: cinnamonapple, 43: averseortwo, 44: ann_septimus, 45: apfrost, 46: atro_city, 47: charyt_vohehmee, 48: haupt052535, 49: jacram37, 50: metaquotesPlease comment in my journal on how you found this tool and what you think of it - thanks!LiveJournal username:

hang the dj

I want you to apologize for being realistic and feel guilty about your inhibitions. This whole wanting to trust people in college thing is a bigger deal than I've been articulating thusfar. Flashbacks of 7th grade ... 10 oclock, writing bad poetry and wanting to be hugged and understood .... or something. Apparently I'm a nice person. Supposedly. A lot of things come to me in the shower. Like the fact I always used to think people who liked me should be in pain. Something that's been in the back of my mind this whole year is trying to figure out the definition of a friend. I think I defined the definition of sig other for weetzieluv, but friend... still in the fog on that one. I guess because I've mixed all that up quite a bit in the recent months/days/weeks... what have you. I guess a friend is someone who's friends with you for no other reason than they enjoy you and... well, you enjoy each other. In a platonic sense. We'll see how long that definition lasts.

drizzle and steak

So, it's Sunday. I just love how I'm expected to deal. To just stretch out to utter rubber bandwith and re-align. THANK you T, D, E, J, and S. If this is growing up, please hand back the doily socks and patent leather shoes. I mean, sure, I did it to myself this summer. And no, I wasn't traumatized like I've believed I was after every other summer (well, especially last summer... being burnt twice AND being told that people don't understand your writing really doesn't help one feel comfortable, happy, or large-ego'd). Also known as Young Writer's Workshop. It's awfully nice to go somewhere and hear what a cool/nice/unique person you are for three weeks straight. Perhaps this is why I was the one who organized Pilgrimmage this year. To prove that there's no change. These people will still consider me one of them. Even when I've supposedly sworn off writing, sworn off girls, sworn off Virginia. For one day, I'm supposed to forget JnJ and Liz and Alexis and Great Barrington. Maybe it's the fact that it's 12:30 and I made Sara a mixtape last night till 3am. Maybe it's T suggesting all this innuendo. And telling me to get over myself. Wow. That's not cool. I guess we're not supposed to take online journals seriously. Hillary brought it up, the whole "exhibitionist" factor. It's a Sunday. And I feel used. As stated before, it's been a LONG week. Obviously, it's a self-fulfilling proclamation: one claims no relationship, one feels alone. Done, and done. Don't mix tea and tongues.

Mr. Henshaw revisited

**This idea of writing letters and never sending them... is interesting/frustrating. Story: There is a VERY cool record store in Old Towne Alex, and one night, I 'ran away' and spent about an hour there, the only person in the store, getting ideas for nu music from the owner (also named Jonathan. I think I live in a Jonathan world. Have never DATED a jonathan. No, that jonathan doesn't count. Maybe I should).He came up with this CD Song Cyclops by The Doleful Lions. In the liner notes, instead of having lyrics, the band listed its email address. So I sent an email. And Jonathan, the singer, responded. He told me I should write him again. Instead, I wrote a respone into Word Perfect. Now, it's here. **Dear Jonathan, I'm writing you this letter for a few reasons. You are a jonathan, and jonathans thus far have been good to me in my life--so even though I don't know you, you are a de-facto good person to write a letter to. Second: I get some sort of mileage out of writing deeply sincere letters to random acquaintances. I do this because I like strangers better than friends, because I like to perform, and because I like to share. Also, you gave me the link to that site that talked about the music you listen to... and the fact that you listen to bands like Slayer and Black Sabbath yet write music that's a cross between Belle and Sebastian and... something 70sretro-y...intrigues me. I never contact musicians I like. Or artists. Or whoever. I went to a Richie Havens concert last year (at The Birchmere) and this guy at the table had collected tabs from every Havens show he'd been to... he sat there the whole time yelling stuff like "we love you, brother" and just waiting to slip his burly arm across the stage after "His Eminence" had left so as to grab another tab for the collection. He commented to my friends and I that he enjoyed the title of ‘roadie/groupie.'I hate that. I hate that so many fans assume that because the music has become their own personal soundtrack, that they take it a step up, assume that a musician has somehow lived their life or watched over them. My favorite painting (or in the top 5) is Picasso's *Girl with a mirror*. I bought a print of it which hangs above the head of my bed. It has been there for maybe a year now. It has enriched my living experience. I love it/it intrigues me. I nurture no believe that it loves me back. I just finished reading an issue of Adbusters. Adbusters puts me in these moods, and I apologize for subjecting you to it... however you said you wanted me to write to you again.. if you just want me to write to you and tell you over and over how much I enjoy your music, I can do that because I do enjoy it... but I'm not too much of a worshipper. I do want to buy your new CD, however, but NOW doesn't sell it. Who does, or how should I go about ordering? I bought the werewolves/rats CD... and it wasn't close enough. Not bad, but no Song Cyclops. But yeah, Adbusters. I feel it's sort of salvationist propaganda which I try not to let interfere with my life too much.. .I try not to be too political, mainly because I think politics are very futile, and it is only the politics of relationships that remain controllable/interesting. When you read something heavy on a long drive, it's only a logical progression that you will spend the next however-many-hours-till you get home thinking about it. And in my case, wanting to write about it. I call Adbusters salvationIST because it lays all these heady issues on the table, provides information which supports its side (the uber-liberal side, I'm guessing) so that you will be informed, and then proposes ways of culturejamming, coming together to mess with the system, little solidarity movements like Buy Nothing Day and TV FREE week. Mad Pride. And there are allusions to a revolution alongside talk of a techno-reigning age. I wonder about the apocalypse, and it pisses me off. Magazines aren't supposed to bring you to this. Like *The Tale of Young Werther* wasn't supposed to cause readers to jump off bridges in mass numbers. Or Marilyn Manson's music wasn't supposed to cause homicides. Art is introspective and/or retrospective and is supposed to cause people to react as such. Art doesn't pull triggers, it's just the products of multiple mind-purges over the years. I entertain passing thoughts of writing a page-long letter to the magazine (like this one) describing my profile *suburbanite white girl, enjoys the idea of being cool/quasielitist, going off to costly preppy private school so she can pair vintage 40 dollar t-shirts with trendy faded jeans and write analytical essays about the Great Books* and ask what life they believe I should be leading. To say "I'm trying to curb my consumption while still loving which I love-- which is art. Which makes me relatively materialistic. Which I think according to you is a bad thing. But I love loving the world and loving people and the things they make. I love dissecting the little things, over-thinking them and listening to people and being frustrated and shopping and repeating this in cycles lasting months into years." We're supposed to be miserable.. We're supposed to be not-obese but not exercising and being productive without being consumers and not doing everything they want us to.. It's the same evangelism, isn't it? Just a different package...I'm not sure what I want to write about this summer.. Or who I want to be, really. I had these ideas of all the things I'd like to change about myself for college.. But none of them seem very important right now. Books I think I SHOULD read. The thought strikes me that you're always supposed to have things you SHOULD do... but that you never ACTUALLY do... guilt can be very lucrative.

Adventures without clothes

So they want me to go to RHPS. Rocky Horror is of cultural importance, not to LIKE but to KNOW OF. I don't really LIKE the idea of outfitting library girls in my clothes and shoving off with them.. spectaclizing myself so they can spectate from back rows. .Giggling. No, giggling does NOT do it for me. Throw yourself and smile. That works slightly better. I'm wondering what the combat booted attitude would be. Probably just a TAKE IT sort of thing... I found some old friends on this thing.. why does Caroline have perfect lips. SERIOUSLY, she does. Perfect lips and kind eyes. These are my "luck-friends".(I'm fillin her up right quick)Friday is in DIRE need of a dynamic.

post-City withdrawal symptoms

I was all prepared to write a long angry post about cancelling plans and food and humidity and rain.... but then egg drop soup and dumplings sedated me. I guess all that can be said right now is that I'm full of new Wellesley people to know, chit-chat... I'm starting to wonder a little bit about whether it was a bit of overkill, hyping it up, but I really do like the people I've met, and as my Wellesley anxiety is kicking in, I'm finding it hard to justify.. I guess I fear the awkwardness that ensues. I fear the idea that a majority of these people will be silent in person. That's why I'm trying to talk to people on the phone. I know I'm going to be hopped up on day one... it'll be weird that my parents will be there for the whole day..