President Carter, P-p-president, Carter.

Hey guys I'm lazy and this is actually for my class blog but I'm putting it over here because I'm lazy as hell.

Hey guys! Looks like we have a holiday on our hands! 

Well we did, anyway. Exciting, no? I feel like people don't give enough credit to Presidents Day because not enough people care about American History because not enough people are Huge Fucking Nerds like me. Which is clearly a problem. 

So I made a list! 

I bring you: 

SINCLAIR'S TOP THREE PRESIDENTS. 

3. Jimmy Carter. 

What isn't to love about this dude. He's a huge humanitarian and a generally Good Guy (and, I frequently get told this is why he was a 'meh' president) and look! He's riding a bike! He's the only president to date that's won the Nobel Peace Prize after his presidency, he used to be a fucking peanut farmer, and Lil Wayne wrote a song about him*. So in his words "Ain't no mother fucker harder than Carter". 

*I don't think 'President Carter' was actually about Jimmy Carter but I really like that song so uh. 

2. Lincoln. 

I know I know, what a boring fucking number 2. I could go off but what it comes down to is this guy saved our fucking country from itself. Not a whole lot of folk survive civil war and we did, thanks to this guy. Also, a few reliable sources think that he might have had aspergers syndrome! HOW FUCKING COOL IS THAT. 

1. TEDDY. FUCKING. ROOSEVELT. 

You are the only republican I will ever love, Teddy. You are crazy and passionate and kind of a resilient douchebag. You got shot in the middle of a speech, finished it, and then went to the hospital. Ugh. Also you made meat safe and not as gross. 

RUNNER(S) UP: 

Taft. 

You fat fuck. 

Clinton. 

I would hang out with him. I don't even care. 

Ex-Commies.

Hey Ex-Compples class folk; this isn't my class blog. But I'm following some of you with this, my "personal" free time blog.

My class blog is here: heytheresinclair.tumblr.com.

That's allllll.

One Year Ago.

You know what I did today?

I woke up. I slept in until 8. I watched Jon Stewart re-runs online. I got up, went to school, did a bunch of homework, struggled with elementary math, drew and passed notes in English, swore at three hours of french homework before two hours of French class. I hung out with McKienze, and we were both laughing until we were literally in tears about Pikachu drowning in mayonaise and Lenord Nimoy yelling "THE INTERNET".  I came home and played with my dog.

It wasn't a bad day. It wasn't great. It was fairly normal.

Why am I talking about this generally unremarkable day?

Because a year ago, I was in shock. I don't think I'd even cried yet. My cat peed in the middle of my bed so I couldn't even grieve the loss properly; I laid on the couch in the fetal position and watched horror movies most the day, my head throbbing. I called in sick to work. I did laundry and crawled into bed. I tried to go to bed early. I woke up at 3am and heard myself laugh for the first time in 3 days and it was a hollow, barking noise I didn't register. It literally didn't make sense.

The following months took varying twists and turns because of one year ago today. My anxiety attacks had never been worse. I had complete strangers hug me. I'm pretty sure my managers at work gave me a Starbucks giftcard under the guise of doing a good job with spring cleaning when really it was a "sorry you got cheated on" card. I lost 30 pounds because I didn't really eat solid food for a month. I lost another 20 soon after.


You lover is an actress, did you really think she'd stay? 

I can safely say that being cheated on was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. In the realest and saddest terms I can admit this can be traced; I have a father that disowned me and a mother that attempted suicide twice, leaving me emotionally. I have a vivid fear of people leaving me, and this was pretty much the piece de la resistance as far as demonstrating how blatant and apparent that fear actually was.

We still talk, frequently. Daily. It's kind of strained sometimes; the subtext is always there, somewhere. We'll mention it now and then, and it admirably usually ends in yelling and one of us (me) crying. I get the strangest looks when I say this, but we're still friends. We're still best friends. It's hard, but it's worth it.

I don't say this to anyone who's reading this (maybe I am) but I admit this somewhere into the air, into the earth and the electromagnetic waves that are floating in between us, to the blood in our bodies and the pulses that drive them; don't give up. You can sure as hell not try for a while, you can sink back down to that animalistic, basic 'survival' mode for however long you can allow yourself, but don't give up. It doesn't matter why. I would hope it isn't out of spite (though it might be at first, I know mine was), but find a reason, any reason and fucking stay with it until you can theoretically get back on your feet and feel like a real human being again. Until you can do things and feel things and all the songs on the radio aren't talkng directly to you. Wherever you are, whatever you're hurting for, don't give up.

I remember I actually bought a copy of 'Kid A' and 'OK Computer' by Radiohead so, as I put it blatantly 'So I can be sad on the go [in the car]'. I listened to them a lot. I was waiting for someone in the car one day, flipping through the liner notes, and underneath all the legal jargon, in tiny, itty bitty letters were: "We hope you are doing okay". I mean, if Radiohead was wishing me the best, I couldn't give up.

I don't say this enough to anyone, I feel, but I love you. If you read this or I've read something of yours, whether you know I exist or don't, if I see you at school or at work, I love you. You keep me going. You are my comrades in arms, fellow human beings.

Thank you, friends. Thank you for months of pats on the back and sympathetic looks and letting me literally cry on your shoulders. Thank you for suffering with me. Thank you for at least nodding in understanding if you had nothing else to say. Thank you for listening. Thank you for keeping me alive the past year. 


Things can literally only get better.

Lots of love, forever and always, no matter who you are,
-Sinclair.

But our lips, but our lips.

You held each other by well-groomed hands, mumbling prayers to a neglected Jesus. The Maître-Des quiver as they watch you shiver as the mask and the mouth knit into each other. Our laughter was deafening but our lips, but our lips, but our lips were trembling.


Putting flowers on The Blood Brothers' grave, so to speak. What an awesome fucking group. I wish I had gotten into them a bit more than 5 months before their breaking up, but here we are. As I rotate through their discography again, I find "Six Nightmares Of The Pinball Masquerade" is my favorite song this time around. 


If I ever find a band that composes lyrics like morbid post modern poetry, if ever find a band that balances two vocalists perfectly, if I ever find a band that balances quivering guitars and tantrum fit drums and a sobbing keyboard, if I ever find a band half as great as The Blood Brothers, you bet your ass I'll love them with everything I have left. 

In Which Sinclair remembers her favorite band of several years;

Recently, I dug out a lot of old Nine Inch Nails. 200ish tracks of Nine Inch Nails, to be particular. Lets talk about this.

Does anyone not know this? (Does anyone read this blog?) Okay, I'll elaborate a tad. I was really, really into Nine Inch Nails. There isn't much more to it. When I was a. . . sophomore, I think, in high school, I bought 'And All That Could Have Been' off eBay because I knew a total of two of their songs; 'Hurt' (I'd never heard the original NIN version, I only knew Johnny Cash's rendition) and 'Closer'. When I got it in the mail, I was actually pretty sad to find out it was a live album. I can't stand live albums*. Regardless, I went through the painful 'getting to know an album' time and came out head over heels in love with this band. The next four years can attest to that. Even though my obsession has run out, I still hold a special, sad little corner of my heart for all that is Nine Inched and Nailed.

(*mostly. Why? Because I'm a terrible person. Though, on Modest Mouses 'Baron Von Bullshit' Isaac Brock goes off about how they'll never play 'Freebird' and it's hilarious. ANYWAY NINE INCH NAILS~)

I might have even flipped out a bit when I found out Trent was getting married and again when I found out Mariqueen was preggo.

Nine Inch Nails isn't about being sad or despondent, it's about a level of aching sadness and unease that, when awash in your own depression, you see being the core of the world. It's about being aware that past a certain point, you're not 'depressed', you're cynical and it's simply your world view; your philosophy. You are immersed in this idea that the skeletal system of everything around you is a varied array of flaws and exploitation of them.

Upon poking around, this is what Trent had to say about The Downward Spiral;

"Thematically I wanted to explore the idea of somebody who systematically throws or uncovers every layer of what he's surrounded with, comfort-wise, from personal relationships to religion to questioning the whole situation. Someone dissecting his own ability to relate to other people or to have anything to believe in."

Sounds about right. People have drug various ideas into trying to figure out the 'concept' of the album, and there's a lengthy writing on how, if memory serves, TDS is about a man becoming god and seeking to destroy himself as a result. S'pretty brilliant.

The great thing about a band being around for 20 years is watching the changes; what stays the same and what doesn't. I was a rabid fan for about 4 of those 20, but it gave me plenty of time to become aquatinted with the material. It's a range of emotion with the same core of loneliness and desperation; whether it be in relation to yourself or the social issues surrounding you.

Sometimes I think about the times I drug my ex to NIN shows and weep for her. Sorry, Miranda.

I spent a lot of rainy days listening to 'Ghosts', I spent a lot of days sitting in my car before work listening to 'The Fragile', a lot of afternoons after school just laying in bed, staring at my ceiling listening to 'The Downward Spiral' and feelings like I understood something I didn't before. Thanks for everything NIN, you'll n'er be forgotten.

Bee tee dub, I got the link and the quote off of the NIN wiki. Check it out at your local library!

Winter reading.

WINTER BREAK READING ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN.

OR SOMETHING.

Bolded have been read. Italicized are in progress.

• The Hunger Games
• Catching Fire
• Mockingjay
• Lolita
• Persuasion
• Less Than Zero
• The Informers
• Imperial Bedrooms
• Interview With A Vampire
• The Vampire Lestat
• Queen Of The Damned
• Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone
• Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
• Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
• Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
• Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheniox
• Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
• Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
• Hunger

On Things.

On the above picture:

I'm reminded of spring break, when I was desperate for an escape, hoping that the absent rock faces and barren terrain of the Owhyee County outside of Caldwell would cure what ailed me; fill me with that sort of inspiration that only my home can. It very much did. I'm always enamored when I see dense forests and towering trees, but something about rocks and sagebrush and nothing but hills and flatness puts something deep inside of me at ease. Reminds me of something I don't consciously remember, but helps whatever that part of me is.

Despite the fact we decided to go on a rainy day where the trail was slippery, followed but us taking possibly the most slippery icy straight wall of a trail which resulted in a peach sized bruise on my ass. Ouch.

Anyway.

On nanowrimo:

I got to somewhere under 30k. I'm not beating myself up over it, though. I got 30k more than I would have originally. I'm still working on editing it off and on. . . which at this point, is mostly just cutting the shit out of its fur, so to speak.

On other stories:

I've been trying to write YA sort of material over break if only to practice the tone. Working on what will probably end up being a short story with a dumb (read also:no) plot. But! It's stupid and romantic and fun to write so there's that.

On school:

I'm burnt out and that's all I'll say because it's frustrating talking/thinking/acknowledging it.

On music:

Caribou is an excellent band. I've been listening to "Swim" on repeat while reading. Also I wasn't aware of The Lonely Island's second album and been listening to that off and on.

On reading:

I have total of 18 books I want to read over break. I'll make a separate post for these. If I get through all of them I'll be super impressed with myself.

On the new year:

2011 sucked but I'm finding myself sort of optimistic- there is really no way 2012 can suck as much as this year did. I'll probably ramble about this later.