Harry, you cannot go around randomly kissing boys . . .

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   > Malcolm Baddock

See No Evil

Simone de Beavouir
All Men are Mortal

Dorothy Dunnett
A Game of Kings
Queen's Play
Disorderly Knights
Pawn in Frankincense
Ringed Castle

George R. R. Martin
A Game of Thrones

J.K. Rowling
Prisoner of Azkaban
Goblet of Fire
Order of the Phoenix

Hear No Evil

Duke's Men
Better than Anything
Glory Bound
What a Good Boy
What a Wonderful World

White America

Miss Saigon
The Fall of Saigon
The Heat is on in Saigon
I Still Believe
The Last Night of the World
Now that I've Seen Her
Why, God, Why

Mixed Company
McDonald's Girl
Mona Lisa
Seasons of Love
Stars and the Moon
Walking in Memphis

Desert Rose
Field of Gold
A Thousand Years

I Heard it Through the Grapevine
Last Goodbye
On Broadway
Sex Medley
Tracks of My Tears

They Might Be Giants

Electrical Storm
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me
Staring at the Sun

Midnight Train to Georgia
Steppin' Out With My Baby

Wednesday, May 5th, 2004
11:05 am - SOS

I lost the bulk of my favourite CDs on a flight from Atlanta to Hartford last weekend, and the people at Delta are telling me that there's no way in hell I'm going to get them back. I'm going slightly insane over this, and if anyone could help me replace the CDs, I'd be extremely, extremely, extremely grateful.


The laptop has stopped being a giant paperweight/doorstop, so AIM file transfer is an option (unless you go to Harvard, it seems).


Here's the list:

Duke's Men: Chunda*
Duke's Men: Instant Gratification
Mixed Company: No Trespassing
Out of the Blue: Phraseology
Spizzwinks(?): Four Score and Seven
Whiffenpoofs: Whiffennium (00), Natural (02), A Very Whiffenpoof Christmas (04)*
Yale Alley Cats: Day and Night

Eminem: Marshall Mathers LP
Evanescence: Fallen
Oasis: (What's the Story) Morning Glory?
U2: Joshua Tree

Avenue Q
Into the Woods (Original Broadway Cast)*
LotR: The Two Towers
Love Actually

*I desperately want need these, particularly ItW, and quite possibly will go insane without them. I can't focus while studying without music, and listening to the dregs of my CD collection (e.g. Tori Amos, Three Doors Down, Transfixion) is destroying my ability to study. This is deadly, given that it's finals week. On the other hand, I've rediscovered the glory that is the original cast recording of Miss Saigon, and the wonder that is Lea Salonga's voice. <3. <3 <3 <3.

For people who have copyright/money issues, I've already bought these once (the ones that are still available for sale), but I'm too broke to pay for them all again.

current mood: desperate

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Monday, February 16th, 2004
8:14 pm - A cappella Valentines

Apparently, some people still haven't gotten the memo.

To: Matt
From: Cat
Re: Charming, lovely Valentine's note

I've been known to make exceptions.

Unfortunately, not for cephalopod presumptives with enormous proboscides.

This ends today's a cappella entertainment clip. Thank you for your attention, and tune in next week!

In other news, ghettomouse is not yet here and is not answering her cell phone. I'm tearing my hair out.

Missed Proof last Friday in favour of wandering around New Haven. :-/

Something Extra is on Friday at St. Thomas More at 8 p.m., but a) they suck; b) that's the night before YHP and I'll be at Princeton having coffee with an ex and shocking him with my 'sudden transformation.'

Out of the Blue is on Saturday at St. Thomas More at 8 p.m., and as usual I can't find anyone to go with me. Anne refuses, as per the pattern of the last two weekends.

current mood: unamused

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Monday, May 26th, 2003
3:21 pm - Girl, Interrupted

An excerpt that I thought was cool and true. Girl, Interrupted, by Susanna Kaysen.

Suicide is a form of murder--premeditated murder. It isn't something you do the first time you think of doing it. It takes getting used to. And you need the means, the opportunity, the motive. A successful suicide demands good organization and a cool head, both of which are usually incompatible with the suicidal state of mind.

It's important to cultivate detachment. One way to do this is to practice imagining yourself dead, or in the process of dying. If there's a window, you must imagine your body falling out the window. If there's a knife, you must imagine the knife piercing your skin. If there's a train coming, you must imagine your torso flattened under its wheels. These exercises are necesary to achieving the proper distance.

The motive is paramount. Without a strong motive, you're sunk.

My motives were weak: an American-history paper I didn't want to write and the question I'd asked months earlier, Why not kill myself? Dead, I wouldn't have to write the paper. Nor would I have to keep debating the question.

The debate was wearing me out. Once you've posed that question, it won't go away. I think many people kill themselves simply to stop the debate about whether they will or they won't.

Anything I thought or did was immediately drawn into the debate. Made a stupid remark--why not kill myself? Missed the bus--better put an end to it all. Even the good got in there. I liked that movie--maybe I shouldn't kill myself.

Actually, it was only part of myself I wanted to kill: the part that wanted to kill herself, that dragged me into the suicide debate and made every window, kitchen implement, and subway station a rehearsal for tragedy.

I didn't figure this out, though, until after I'd swallowed the fifty aspirin.


A comment from friend, yesterday - 'Every blonde stereotype you've heard--they're all true.'

current mood: angry

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