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A Million Reasons to Like Marzipan [entries|friends|calendar]
Etenebris, Lord Adept of Funny Words


About Me

Lecturize, or Etty, has online and offline pseudonyms. He doesn't enjoy your attention, will not donate blood or organs to those who ask, is a very angry Conservative in a very blue state, and yes, he enjoys run-on sentences with a violent intensity that Al Franken envies. Oh, yes, and he's a writer.


Through a Child's Eyes
Julia Anderson's Home

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Three Cheers for Fascism [April 15, 2008 @ 6:14pm]
Apparently, there's about to be a lobby--there's always a lobby, isn't there?--to get the government to fix insurance prices for cancer patients. An interesting approach to fascism: Kill the capitalists with legislative kindness. But that's always been the idea, hasn't it? There's no one knocking down your door, AK-47 in hand--that BS only happens in Tibet and the Wachowski Brothers' pipe dreams. As Jonah Goldberg points out in his political commentary, Liberal Fascism, when totalitarian fascists arrive in the United States--or, as the case may be, come out of the closet--they will not be here with guns or burning crosses, but with smiles and love. The point being that the smiley fascism would be legal, whereas the outright, kill-y fascism would be just so much worse.

This would be a prime example of smiley fascism: Soiling your right to your own earned money, interfering with the free market, etc. How do liberals not understand that they are walking contradictions? Let me pose this question a different way: How can you, liberals (I suppose this is now an open letter), claim to be progressive and anti-fascist, when you run out at every turn and steal from those who have done you no harm, whether for your own benefit, or for the benefit of strangers? How can you call yourselves defenders of liberty and free expression when you censor "hate speech," as we are seeing in France, and as occurred only a year or two ago in New York? (The latter case surely requires some legal intervention, as the perp did vandalize property which never, in fact, belonged to him. But since when has first-time vandalism carried a prison sentence?) How is it that you are fighting for free speech and individualism by handing more and more individual power over to the federal government? For those liberals who consider yourselves idealists: How are you idealists, when you believe that individuals can't possibly survive in the world without government aid? For those liberals who consider yourselves realists, tragicists, cynics, etc.: How can you identify with the aforementioned labels when you somehow believe that a smiley, optimistic government official can solve the world's problems if he is made omnipotent?

I'd like to lobby for a law against lobbying. I used to be pissed off that nobody my age was politically minded. Now, it's just frightening when I find people who are.
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[December 28, 2007 @ 11:58pm]
My arm is weak, because I have just completed a short story. The first draft, actually, but still, it's the first thing--how flattering a name--I've finished in...ever. Ever.

My arm is weak, and I think I might cry.
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One Gun, One Burqa, and Two Hands [November 30, 2007 @ 6:25pm]
The title of the new first chapter of TEA. I'm revising it, as I think it looks a bit schizo. But I might just like this version.
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Untitled Poem [November 26, 2007 @ 7:02pm]
I was thinking of it as "Time&Place, Time&Place," but I've decided against it. The poem hardly makes sense as it is; the title would just throw everything even farther down to hell.


Our faces are virgins to this world
where wolf eats mother eats man
eats wolf.

Angst and makeup and chains
of musky kennel smell
make do, while we never ask
our captors for a piss break.

Crowded in marching flesh,
the bees dance and make
for moon without tide.
And for the colony's toil,
tideless moon gives
death to Man who eats man
who eats

For all speak of Ivory Tower,
But there are no words of
Lumbering Sewer.


It was supposed to be about the dangers of collectivism; it looks more like I had an accident taking out the trash.


As a friend of mine has already noted on her LiveJournal, the site does some weird and wacky things to the spacing. I originally had all sorts of pretty indents; looks like they're gone. :rasberries:

I'm sneezing, not breathing, and all I want for my birthday is... [November 04, 2007 @ 9:31pm]

(Well, okay, and maybe some Laura. And Tammy. Can't forget Tammy.)
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Do Your Part [October 30, 2007 @ 12:32pm]
To counteract the horribleness of my last post, here's...this:


I'm Diseased--Let Me Count the Ways [October 30, 2007 @ 8:18am]
1) I'm having panic attacks again, or I can feel them coming. Many of you don't know this about me, but I have a history of depression and severe anxiety in my family. Anxiety attacks like mine surface when, I guess, things aren't going well in life, particularly at school. And "not going well at school" for me isn't what you'd think. It's usually something like, "Am I not as intelligent as I thought I was? Why am I so awkward? How many people hate me, I want to know. Why do I feel like a pariah?" And, of course, an English project or something is always mixed in there. (Usually a group project, where I'm left with all the work. The issue there is that I find people generally unreliable, difficult to work with, etc.) But, anyway, the symptoms include: Uncontrollable crying; a false sense of imminent danger (i.e. death), like you're stuck on a conveyor belt leading to a vat of boiling oil; very childlike behavior/emotions, at least for me (i.e. a strong desire for some non-existent maternal savior); extreme difficulty breathing, though that's minor in my case; difficulty judging the future, as in, when you think about the next day, and the next, all you can see is this one (meaning: pain); inability (appears to observers as a refusal, but really isn't) to perform normal actions required of you, like getting out of bed, or getting in the car, much akin to the sensation of a strong gravitational pull to remain where you are; and a VERY upset stomach, though I've never vomited from a panic attack.

2) I have a nervous twitch thing, where I have an urge to look downwards, forcing my chin against my neck. It's disgusting, and I've had it for a while.

3) I hate my body.

4) Leading back to #1, I feel like a pariah, because of various things, the only one of which I feel comfortable talking about is the fact that I'm the only person I know who's really interested in politics. (Well, I know other people, but they all go to different schools, so, sorry, Blin, you don't count.) Therefore: People hate me. They think I'm strange and out-there because I find politics to be one of the most important aspects of my life, and I take it seriously. In turn, I'm also a bit disgusted by other people, and I worry that I might be thinking of people as inferior. There are a lot of things I want to be, and a supremacist has never been one of them. (I know one now, and Christ, he never lets up.)

5) I feel exceptionally guilty, because this is the second time in two weeks I've stayed home because of anxiety issues, or anxiety-related issues. It seems as if I'm hurting my parents, or at least betraying them, somehow. We can't afford a therapist right now, so I have no idea what to think or do about all this. (I decided to write this journal entry because of that.) I'll occasionally have a glimmer of inner strength, and I'll remind myself that I NEED to get out of bed, that I HAVE to keep going. My main goal has always been to be a writer; that's perhaps one of my biggest reasons for LIVING. (No, I'm not saying that I'm suicidal, people. Just that we all have reasons to stay alive, and one of my most important is my writing. [Family is, of course, above it.]) A lot of the time it's more primal than that, though. As if I'm always climbing a ladder, EVERYONE'S climbing a ladder, and to stop would just be to jump off--and why on earth would I do that? (I know, that made no sense.) I just hope I can keep a hold on that strength.

6) I'm so disgusted with myself that I have to wear a coat all day long to hide my arms like some sort of burqa. With time, I bet I'd even want to cover my face. I feel so silly about myself that I can't stand other people seeing me without at least two layers on. (I guess this is really just an extension of #3.)

7) I feel, as always, that my writing sucks infinitely. (Even writing this, come to think of it. How many unnecessary modifiers have I used?)

8) All my doubts have infected every moment of my day-to-day life. I'll be washing the dishes, and at the same time I'll be secretly agonizing over whether or not I actually have half a brain, whether or not I'll ever keep a friend, whether or not my friends actually WANT me as a friend, etc. Regardless of what people tell me, no matter how much they encourage me and reassure me, I still have these thoughts. This has made me realize that this issue is entirely INTERNAL, meaning that I'm the cause of my own problems. Which must, of course, mean that I'm also the solution. I should take hope from that, and I do; but sometimes it just doesn't seem like all that much, or it gets clouded by too much doubt.

9) This is a tag-along thing to depression and anxiety, but it's true, and it's very silly: I want someone to love me. Again, people tell me, but... :shrug:

10) I'm a bit crazy for saying this, but I feel like I'm two people. Not in the living-a-double-life way, or in the split-personality-disorder-schizophrenic way. More in the way that my depression and anxiety and all those issues have been shoved to one side of my Self, and all my other parts (the doubts, the fears, the gifts, the hope, and the love) they've all been put into the Self that I think I am. But when things get rough, that other Self leaks back into "Me," and then it's as if the panic attacks are being Fed-Ex'd right to my door. Which is how I can feel them coming. I see them more as a storm on the edges of town, drifting towards me. It's an unreliable radar, though; I don't know exactly when they're going to hit, I just know they are. (Could I make an aneurysm analogy without seeming petty?) And this "Separate Selves" business--I get it. I'm just trying to disguise the fact that I'm "bottling up" my issues. But it's all kind of a battle, and I have to find SOME way to cope until I hit better days. (What the fuck is it with me and metaphoric euphemisms? Translation for those of you who are tired of my whinging: I know that I have to deal with my issues, but I'm holding off until the day when I CAN do that.)


I have to make this separation here, because this isn't a continuation of "I'm Diseased--Let Me Count the Ways." I'd just like to say this, because this is more like a private journal entry than anything else (even though I'm making it publicly viewed): My wish, above all else, right now even above writing, is to be content. I'd like to feel that.

I also realize that I didn't get into the issues with my family, or my house, or any of that. Yet again, this is because this is fashioned to be more of a private entry, so a lot of this was written in a self-understood context. I guess I might write more about my tangible issues later, but I don't want to just whine and whine nonstop. Let's just finish by saying that I feel tired.
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How to read Ann Coulter [September 10, 2007 @ 6:32pm]
Grow a sense of humor. Bitch.
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T-Shirts Are My Anti-Work [August 07, 2007 @ 10:56pm]
[ mood | blah ]

I spent the first part of today reading Chekhov short stories. Chekhov is an idiot, but worth reading.

I spent the second part of today in a walk-in clinic. The doctor told me I'm "tight", so I don't like doctors anymore.

I spent the third part of today registering as a freshman. There was no air conditioning, and I grimaced while taking my yearbook photo.

I spent the fourth part of today looking up clubs in the student handbook. Nothing but the newspaper and debate look promising, and that's not saying much.

I spent the fifth part of today looking through an old yearbook. Almost none of my teachers were in it, so I have no idea what they look like.

I spent the sixth part of today searching for new shirts on the internet. Among three others, I chose one that says "Der Waffle Haus".

I spent the seventh part of today writing a mass email. I proofread it twice, because I suffer from Grammatical Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

And I spent the ninth part of today writing this post instead of writing something worth reading.

Virginia Woolf needs to kick me in the head.

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...In which I offer very specific clues as to my exact latitude and longitude. [July 20, 2007 @ 12:30pm]
I'd like to say "I'm back," but I can't logically say that, considering the fact that I never left. That's right. Etty never goes on vacation. He's never been farther from home than Cape Cod. Or Florida. Where is Cape Cod again? I have this strange feeling it's in both New York and Wisconsin. Let's check, shall we?


Meh. Close enough. Anyway, now I have to find out whether Cape Cod is farther from my quaint little town than Florida is. Of course, that's kind of a disproportionate comparison, when you think about it. I mean, is Florida as big as Cape Cod? I have no idea. God, now I have to check that, too. My mind's a bitch...


Apparently, Cape Cod is approximately 70 miles in length. Gee whiz.

Hey, I just figured out that I wasted around seven minutes of my life finding out that Cape Cod is about 70 miles "long" (How do you measure its length? It's a goddamn sickle! To illustrate how strange this is, I'm going to include a giant picture of Cape Cod after this paragraph. Wait for it.), and now I'm going to waste about ten more minutes finding the size of Florida, and comparing the two. As my good friend McQuinn would say: "Bugger it." Obviously (to me), she wouldn't actually say that, but I decided to put that in, because...uhm...er...look, Cape Cod!


Huh. Now that I look at it, it seems more like one of those little shoes you always see on elves.

Okay, well, now I'll do the rest of this in my own, because this "typing it out" thing is extensively un-fun.

Conclusion: Florida is around 58,677 square miles, so, yeah, I guess it's bigger. And according to MapQuest, I am 1171.11 miles from Orlando, Florida (I went to Disney World, people. Keep up.), and 1108.63 miles from Provincetown, Massachusetts. I don't know whether to say Florida won, or Cape Cod won, because most of this was just me trying to wake myself up without resorting to heaps and heaps of caffeine. I went to sleep at 3:30 last night, all thanks to TheHill88. She's a new obsession. Like peanut butter on wheat toast. Eat it. But don't eat her. Unless she wants you to, in which case I'm highly disturbed.

Go away now. Shoo. I have nothing left to say for at least another hour. /away
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Glorious news [May 29, 2007 @ 8:55pm]
[ mood | artistic ]

I'm rewriting TEA. All hail Julia Anderson reborn.


Proud Owner of a Spastic Feline [April 28, 2007 @ 6:16pm]
[ mood | I'm lying about my deadness ]

My leg hurts. My table's been broken in half. I think the cat's asleep.

Damn cat.

Came home from the grocery store, 200-something dollars less; sat down at the table, began to simultaneously eat a lemon Italian Ice thing and read a book called Jennifer Government (I hate to admit that it actually looked interesting); then Brother comes over and sits on the table. Seventeen-year-old, nearly-eighteen-year-old -- is it not completely obvious to him that our half-a-textbook-thick (thin?) kitchen table is far too world-weary and, well, cheap for him to confidently sit on? Well, anyway, it snapped, I snapped, we all snapped for ice cr-- oh, wait, that's a different cliche.

Whatever -- so the table fell on my leg. So what? So I somehow got a footprint on the cover of some possibly really old book during the commotion; what's the big deal? I think I'll just enjoy the warm weather and go to sleep, nursing the pain in my leg that has already disappeared...I just like to hold a grudge.

Oh, yeah: the cat ran away. Spastic cat. Silly cat.

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Mrs. Clinton goes to Crazyton [January 22, 2007 @ 7:23pm]

You'd better have the same reaction...
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No non-meeting [January 11, 2007 @ 10:45pm]
[ mood | tired ]

Teh hurraz! I went to an Alateen meeting today! And I felt very welcomed. I was one of five newbies (I was the first newcomer to get there, though, so ha!), with only one "veteran", as they called him, and he looked maybe a bit younger than me. The three adults there were overly enthusiastic in the beginning (one woman kept asking people if they wanted a hug -- but it was in a kind, understanding way, not an, "I totally feel like demeaning your pain" way), and I thought this would be another case of "Etty can't stand the happy people, so he had to go somewhere and sulk to get his groove back" -- it wasn't! They discussed some things relating to alcoholism, and since it was a small group, I gave my two cents (more like a hay-penny), and was thanked. There was a girl really younger than me who had a lot of great insights. Basically, I'm going back next Thursday night, and hopefully Thursday nights to come.

Talking more in-depth about what I learned, though: I learned one thing about myself, which, if you're thinking in terms of "epiphany", isn't exactly that astonishing, but I'm pretty amazed just by the soothing effect of being near people who instantly love me for going through what I've gone through and for coming there to ask for support. When they asked for money, I put in a dollar.


I'm cheap, I know...

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Non-meetings are the funnest [January 08, 2007 @ 8:55pm]
[ mood | Blame Youtube? Really? ]

Well, I promised all of you a dandy little commentary on my trip to an Alateen meeting, and so here it is.

It didn't happen. The end.

If only that's how 'Sleeping Beauty' went -- and I'm talking about the original here, people. Meh, whatever. Vague references just aren't my thing, I guess.

I called somebody up on Saturday (or Sunday -- my sense of time is shot), someone who supposedly had the schedule for Alateen meetings, and I was told by said someone that an Alateen meeting was set for tonight at 8:00 at such-and-such a church. Well, turns out that's an Al-Anon meeting. As I've mentioned before (same link as above), Al-Anon is a group specifically for adults. While teens can go, it's about as effective as...as...well, you get the point! I was welcomed to join, but I declined, even though they all seemed to be great people. I've been told that there's a meeting at other-such-and-such a church on Thursday at 7:30 (PM, obviously). So, I'll be going to that.

Sorry for the non-story.


The marathon begins...for the eleventieth time [January 07, 2007 @ 4:32pm]
[ mood | Those are rabid wolves? ]

So, school starts once again tomorrow. I missed four days of the week before vacation, and since my teachers obviously have no idea what goes on in each others' classes, all that un-done homework will be dumped on me with the same amount of fairness that the Miranda Rights have brought the United States judiciary system. In completely unrelated news, the newly-Democratic congress is taking America somewhere in a hand-basket -- word on the exact destination yet to be heard. Oh, wait, here; and here; and I think there's a tad bit of 'hell-truth' stuck on the liberal Representatives and Senators here.

Am I delirious? Well, since I just posted that (:points upward:) little beauty up there, all of my friends being either to the left (I've deemed you so, Blin!) or moderate with slight-left-leanings (yes, Brain-twin, that means you), I must be.

Well, so, aside from the fact that there are now serious time constraints on "T3h 1337 5C13|\|C3 PR0J3C7"-- wait, who am I kidding? There were always issues in scheduling for that doohickey! Anyway -- I have homework in every class--though I admit, most of you have it much worse than I; being a whiner is in my blood--I have that project to do, but besides that, there are new nifty little (unofficial) assignments that I've got to complete. Like, for example I have to go to an Alateen meeting tomorrow at 8:00. It's self-assigned, really, but it's mostly because of family issues as of late. I haven't been keeping you guys up-to-date, mostly because a lot of you know me personally, in real life, and I'd rather just make sure that this kind of thing never gets out. Whatever: Alateen is a group for teens who have been affected by an alcoholic, be it friend or family, because, as I've come to discover, alcoholism is a family disease (and anyone who tells you it's not a disease in the first place honestly has no idea what he or she is talking about, and has never been to AA). They're a branch of Al-Anon, a completely anonymous group for anyone who's been affected by an alcoholic, their website being http://www.al-anon.org/. And then, because of something else that's going on that involves money, a trial, and numerous other things that I have rather dubious (or decidedly certain and well-expressed) opinions about, I have to draft a chart of rulie things. Well, I lied in that last sentence -- I'm indifferent to money, unless it serves a purpose of mine, whatever that may be at the moment (I get hungry too, y'know). Yeah, I'm a capitalist pig. I'm not sorry.

Now to mock CGI effects: Just look at what horrible computer-generated effects can do to a perfectly good song like Ice Queen, and you might just despise all computers from then on. Then look at The Howling by the same artist, and you could just fall back in love with technology. Enjoy being wishy-washy -- revel in your inner Cindy Sheehan/John Kerry.

Ice Queen, by Within Temptation

The Howling, by Within Temptation

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Wookies: Are they good for anything but coats? [January 04, 2007 @ 11:15am]
[ mood | cheerful ]

Hrm...no comments. I knew I wasn't popular to begin with, but-- No, sorry, I just can't turn this into a pity trip. I really wonder where some of my friends are, and how they're feeling. I want to know, and it sometimes keeps me restless at night, to be honest. I mean, I know that everyone's busy with finals or reports (even I have a project that I should be working on -- but my partner's in China currently, so that's a big flop right there), that's not why I'm complaining. It's just not knowing how everyone is, what they've been up to, that kind of disturbs me. :sigh: I guess I'll just have to wait.

In any case, I've been looking over some of my earlier posts, and I've discovered that, over the years (or year? I dunno, I never keep track of time, except in little, one-hour increments) my spelling has improved from the eyebrow-raising level it had been originally, by my spontaneity has been reduced drastically. Does this mean I'm less of a spaz? Hardly. I still suspect that I twitch without realizing it. :shrug:

Just wanted to say: I love all of my friends, and I wanted to let you know that, as one of my newest friends has recently explained, sometimes, everything will just be okay. It'll just be okay.

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Drugs make you do the whacky [January 03, 2007 @ 2:02pm]
[ mood | No drugs -- please? ]

Say 'Nope' to Dope, people.

Effects of Drugs and Alcohol On Spider Webs

:Sigh: This thing keeps messing up... First the owner of the video on Youtube erased it, and then, apparently, Break.com's "embed" feature (the process with which one acquires said embedding feature is quite lengthy...for those of us who are impatient with having to come up with multiple screennames over and over again...) doesn't work on Livejournal. Again, /sigh.


See the hypocrite; be the funny [January 03, 2007 @ 12:58pm]
[ mood | :giggle-giggle, smirk-smirk: ]

Ah, how I love modern-day idiots...

Hypocrites Win Awards. Too bad it wasn't a cash prize.

But look, the true prize is inside...this picture. Look at the blue, circular sticker on the left side, opposite the "Stop Killing Children For Oil" one. What does it say? That's right: "Keep Abortion Legal"

Laugh. Just laugh.


Julia, let Kelly play with the microphone... [January 02, 2007 @ 7:06pm]
[ mood | My pupils...where are they!? ]

Kelly's time to shine...and she messes it up. Yeah. So, this'd be Chapter 10, people. I feel like I should celebrate. I'm officially in the double digits now. (Well...I've been in the double digits for quite some time.)

I just hope that Julia and Kelly can get along. And, of course, that I get lots of great, happy reviews. But that's just wishful thinking.


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