inspir-aimi-ation.

First and foremost, the sole purpose of this post is to inspire my other half to fulfill her duties, before we forget some of the mildly ridiculous events that have befallen us. So in true nerd-chic fashion, I am going to lay out a few writing prompts, Taimi, you can pick and choose as you like:

1. Our roommate got punched in the head. Discuss.
2. A group of girls at a party approached us and told us that we were united as women together, and that we must "eat the men". And then we put our hands together in a circle and shouted "girl power!". Compare and contrast to other girls we meet at parties. Also, extrapolate on the psychological ramifications of a riot grrrl power revival. You may use the following as resources: Spice Girls, Susan B. Anthony, Harriet Tubman, Heidi from The Hills, Tegan and Sara.
3. I was mistaken for a Mormon at another party. In rebuttal, I rashly declared: "I am probably about as far as you can get from being Mormon", to which I think someone replied, "Farther than Satan?". I answered "yes, absolutely" and then felt the need to defend my character and insist that "I really am a good person". This became immediately embarrassing to me. Ruminate on instances in which you have had to assert your status as a good, moral, ethical human being to total strangers in completely inappropriate surroundings (e.g. in a public bathroom, around a beer pong table).
4. Why Facebook is evil/glorious, optional subset: is this socially acceptable to post on a wall?
5. Tiki Bar/dead frog Jamaal.
6. Winking at strangers in academic settings/playing footsie with strangers in classrooms and why it is either wildly uncomfortable or slightly wonderful.
7. Theme parties: where do you draw the line? See also #8.
8. Halloween is in the month of October, currently it is the month of October the year of our Lord 2007.
9. Fifty words on the importance of "subverting the dominant paradigm", and then twenty five more on how ridiculous you feel for writing those fifty.

Alright. The beast of burden is upon you. Show me what you are working with.

being of the jew in woodland hills, and x-files face creative writing class kids

Back to school. Here I sit in the library with my token scene friend (also known as Patrick, who pre-approved me to refer to him in such a mildly offensive yet simultaneously endearing manner), who encouraged me that it was Taimi to blog (time-y to blog...). It is the first day of school. The first day of school at University of Oregon means a few things for me. Primarily, it means my re-immersion into having to strategically zigzag during my between-classes routes as to avoid people trying to pawn things off on me that I do not want. For example, I am not interested in attending bad underground hip-hop concerts. I also am not interested in purchasing poorly written literature, although I myself am a producer of poorly written literature. Secondly, the first day of school signals the end of certain brain cell killing activities (who am I kidding). Thirdly, it means compulsively shopping at American Apparel, since their genius marketing team located it directly in my line of vision in a deliberate attempt to drain my already pathetic bank account. Finally, it means making quick decisions and snap judgments about how taking or not taking a certain class may or may not affect my destiny. I do not want to tangle with fate, especially if it is of an academic variety. I have tried before, and it was a grievous error, which I will not discuss here as it would be comparable to electronically cutting my veins and spilling my blood onto your LCD computer screens. What? Anyway. Today marked the beginning and end of my career as a creative writing student, as my fantasies of being inspired to write the next great American novel were destroyed as soon as the phrase "working on our craft" came out of the prof's mouth. Its a 200-level class, and I have read "A Good Man is Hard to Find" by Flannery "being-a- Catholic-sucks-oh-shit-so-does-Lupus" O'Connor twelve too many times. Also, the following freshman were in my class: boy with "I write fantasy novels featuring gryffins but not dragons" hair [frizzy golden locks in pony tail], approx. seven people who pour their hearts out into their "eljay", ambiguous anime fans doodling manga illustrations in their student planners, a frightening young future sex offender, a child with an X-Files face (who am I to even make fun of this, I nearly died of joy when Scully and Moulder finally kissed) and a girl who bore a striking resemblance to Roma Downey from Touched by an Angel (this isn't even remotely an insult, she's a beautiful woman. It is Della Reese who haunts my dreams). But truth, I love English majors with a fiery passion that burns at night. They (we) are all so shamelessly weird, I just want to embrace our collective quirks. Eugene, what can I even say about you. You are an oasis of idiosyncrasies. I am just waiting for the topless girl sighting, and also that one guy who dresses up in a bear suit and goes around campus rubbing his back against trees and just acting bear-like in nature. What a hero.

Perhaps Oregon is particularly appealing to me because I have just returned from the depths of Southern California for the most excruciatingly uncomfortable series of obligatory family events. Grandma died and I reunited with my almost excessively Jewish family (including an aunt who says "verklempt" in casual conversation and also "talk amongst yourselves" in a fashion that I am guessing is entirely un-ironic, as I think the humor of the famous Coffee Talk skit would be lost on her, since it is basically her real life). As my father says, I am "of the Jew", but not an actual Jew-Jew (Ju-Ju Bees are delicious candies). However, I had to play Jewish this weekend, which was delightful. Anyway, the entire weekend was basically a series of wildly inappropriate events. To choose just one, it would have to be my aunt attempting to set me up with a "nice Jewish boy" who was a friend of the rabbi (also, I have to mention that during the service, the rabbi wore a tie with a huge growling leopard face and a swiping paw). This was so awkward that my heart is almost crying to type this. After being introduced to said nice Jewish man and after having not-so-subtly hinted at that I was eligible for marriage and the creation of beautiful non-Gentile babies, the following questions ensued. "So, are you active in the Temple?" "Have you ever been to Israel?" "Are you here alone?". I essentially had no response to any of these, but I made up some answers: "Well, I kind of fell out of the faith after high school." "No, but I hear its beautiful". "I traveled here with my family?". Honestly, I don't know where I come up with this shit. It was absurd. But anyway, he was very nice and I think he would have even allowed me to eat bacon, should a marriage actually ensue. However, he did decide to opt out of taking the SAT out of self-proclaimed laziness, so I don't know if there is a future for us. Who knows, I could be the shiksa goddess for him. All right, I'm done with this. I would do my homework but I used all the money that I was supposed to spend on books on a plane ticket to Hawaii. Oi vey?

There is a yamaka in my bathroom as we speak...

Shalom friends!

My roommates and I decided to throw a party. Pimps and hoes? Too ridiculous. Black and white? Nope. Sarah's Belated Bat Mitzvah or a-Jewish-themed-party-in-which-everyone-shouts-shalom-and-wears-handcrafted-yamakas. You know how pink is the new black, Bright Eyes the new Dashboard Confessional, and Forever 21 the new Urban Outfitters? Judaism is the new pirates theme party. The story behind this is that Sarah, the infamous half-jew of our household, recently lost a grandmother and now she must go to LA to pretend she not a half-jew, but a full one. A jew that actually went to Hebrew school and knows how to celebrate Yom Kippur. But how can Sarah achieve her dream of being a real jew without ever having a Bat Mitzvah? Thus, the party.

How to explain? Well, when I stumbled into the bathroom this morning, clearly 67.8 percent of me still drunk, there was a yamaka with the Jewish star sitting by the sink. When I ran into Bryan at the store he was wearing a yamaka. Someone brought their own yamaka. This is where the existentialism comes in--where is the reality in people actually participating in a party for judaism and also, how could we throw such a big party without the cops not arriving?

But I did not question reality, Judaism, religion, and/or the absence of the law enforcement. Mostly I started taking shots when I got home and did not cease until I fell into a deep, dreamless, and motionless sleep in my bed. That is when my words began to slur and I began to tell people how much they meant to me, of course. But how could I not? My beautiful roommates greeted me with a chalice they had decorated upon my arrival in the kitchen after work. Wonderful, wonderful people. They just had to know. As did all the new and old friends I stumbled across in my kitchen, living room, laundry room, and dining room. I even shouted "shalom!" to the strangers I'm pretty sure knew no one who lived here and just walked in from the street. I remember telling someone I was, "drunkity drunk drunk drunk.'

I actually got drunk enough to not worry about the cops coming. And they never did come. A miracle from a Jewish God.

Moral of the story? As far as obscure themes for parties go, this could have been one of the best. As far as roommates go, I know mine are some of the best.

judaism themed parties = probably a good idea

a simplified summary:

a miraculous absence of law enforcement = great.

Things that I enjoy while drunk:
shouting/being shouted at with "mazel tov" and "shalom"
slurred heart to hearts
flip cup
bagel bites
having a collection pot for bat mitzvah money at a fake bat mitzvah that actually ends up with money in it by the end of the night.

Things that are poor choices while drunk:
bagel bites
text messages
shots of Jaeger
having people over when I have to get up early to work the next day.

Things that I dislike:
being asked "so, do you like to party?" while holding alcohol in my hand. I just have no response.

I'm going to go steam milk and hang out.

I love my roommates.

L.A. bound.

please don't judge us, but we'll judge you

The boys locked eyes. We are sitting in a corner, not tan enough or blonde enough (yet strangely, we are wearing the correct quota of Forever 21 polyblend clothes. also maybe even leggings with a tunic, but no belt.) to show our faces, but we're watching this all, drinking lukewarm Natty Ice and dying on the inside. It's like the Discovery Channel, but live. All of a sudden, in perfect synchronization, said boys commence a delicately choreographed C-Walk perfected circa 1999, towards each other. At precisely the same time, these two gentleman (no) pop their collars, and embrace. Bros. We look to each other in horror. You know that scene in Harry Potter, when the Dementors come, and suck away any hope of ever feeling happy again? It was like that, minus the consolation prize of attending Hogwarts. I turn to Taimi and I say, "We should be writing this down." She told me, "Yes, I thought the same thing when I saw the girl reach her hand into the empty box of beer and throw it at a group of her friends upon realizing its emptiness."

This blog might remind you of middle school angst. It might even remind you of high school angst (God willing). That is more or less the point. But we realized something. It is too good not to write down. This is glorious. Plus, we've blurred the lines of what defines substance abuse to the point where we might not even remember the majority of college, so this also has its practical purposes. So cry, laugh, judge, and shotgun a beer. We know we have.

No but really. This is just a random example, but some of the things that we observe are truly ridiculous. We are fully aware that creating a blog, in turn, makes us ridiculous human beings, but we are willing to accept and embrace that likelihood. Invariably, publishing our collective and sometimes individual thoughts on a public forum will be considered pretentious. We know. We're okay with that. We even kind of like it. The thing is, Taimi and I are both borderline academically inclined, and both of our majors require us to write. A lot. Exhaustively. So, we should be writing. All the time. And it was between this, or going to independently owned cafes, wearing our scarves and glasses, and sipping overpriced soy chai lattes while scribbling meaningless shit into discounted notebooks. Taimi got a new laptop, so we opted for this option. We might still hit up other venues, who knows, may even pull "The Man Who Kept Cigars in His Cap" out of the archives and give each other writing prompts. We're not emo, or myspace. We don't take pictures of ourselves in front of mirrors or hide one of our eyes behind a lock of straightened hair (though we might in the future, just to be ironic). We just figure we should write this shit down. Give us a break. I digress...

These are our adventures at public university. We're kind of like Felicity, but less whiny. Actually, that is not even a remotely accurate comparison, sorry. This is an experiment. Go with it.

Love always,

Sarah & Taimi

Also. We forgot to mention. This blog (that is a terrible word) is at least, in part, dedicated to Cody Schoenkopf, who always inquires us to share our writings with him. He is a creative genius and we aspire to impress him.