dinner: a can of chicken
salt and peppa
sort of cut apples and grapes
smushed up triscuits
mix up for a bowl of dry deliciousness? yeah, right.
Day 5.
Note: i skipped day four because it was utterly boring in nyc.
not really. I just was at school all day and watched LOST-which if you have never watched you can not ever talk to me. im mourning until february.
anyways, today was our first day off from school so ash and I took the full liberty of sleeping in until noon. little did we know that both of our parents were feverishly texting and calling us to make sure that we weren't dead because a crane fell in manhattan today. i swear i wouldn't know if anything happened--the rest of the world knows before people actually living near the situation do; maybe thats not entirely true, but I don't have CNN on all the time.
after we flipped on the tv to get a quick story about the crane form a very nervous news anchor, we decided that today we were going to get some business done and see the telectroscope--which is a sort of telescope that lets people in brooklyn see people in london in real time. we thought about drawing HUGE posterboard signs with messages on them and holding them in front of the telectoscope to see if people on the other side would respond. here's the website:http://www.tiscali.co.uk/telectroscope/
but we, being the horrible navigators that we are, only managed to make it to fulton street and then on to a huge crowded subway at 5pm to times square. let me tell you about subways passing through about 6 stops at 5pm. if you're claustrophobic-don't. if you have germ issues-don't. if you don't want somebody practically touching your butt and kneeing you in the back and breathing in your face or standing in someone's armpit-don't. ash and i don't necessarily like those things--but we did it. holding on to a greasy rail on the red line squashed up next to a man sitting down in a seat crouched over his tan leather bag and stealthily unwrapping gum and then spraying some sort of man perfume that smelled like fake flowers and cucumbers, he sat there just squnched up next to an asian woman who was most likely a fashion student of some sort. the man whose armpit ashley was nestled into was trying to prove his knowledgeability about new york as he explained to his friend that people were BOUND to get off at the next stop-Penn Station and he went on and on and on practically being a tour guide. Ashley and I almost got off a stop early to actually breathe, but we held it in and emerged in times square where even the sidewalk sparkles (im not kidding) and immediately squirted a quarter size of purel sanitizer all over our hands.
we got lost a little. thank goodness for verizon having a gps system in the phone--genius.
later this evening we saw a play that was being put on at Stella Adler (the school that I'm at) by the 1st year conservatory students called Dog sees God. it was good...and interesting. Going in, Ash and I thought it was going to be some sort of metaphorical thing--like most titles in nyc are--but no, it was the confessions of CB (charlie brown) in his teenage years. basically charlie gets depressed and falls in love with schroeder. sally is now a wiccan-still in love with schroeder. peppermint patty is a skank/mean girl. pig pen is a manwhore/douchebag/germaphobe, linus is a stoner, lucy is in a mental ward for burning of the little red head girls hair, marcy follows in pattis footsteps and is a psuedo-skank and schroeder was molested as a child and then is teased for being gay and then falls in love with charlie brown and then gets beat up by pig pen who goes crazy if people call him pig pen. pig pen apparently loves charlie brown and gets pissed when he finds out that schroeder and cb had a thing going. slams schroeders fingers in a piano and then schroeder gets so depressed that he can't play the piano anymore that he brings a gun to school and kills two kids and then himself. charlie still writes all this to his pen pal.
oh and snoopy eats that little yellow bird and is rabid and dies.
wow. charles schultz would be so proud. i just know it. his uplifting message of blockheads just lives on.
of course whoever wrote the play must've written it from the subtext evinced from the comics, i mean, obviously.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Antique book smells, the 3 train, one meal a day= profound self-discovery
Day 2? 3?
I am so bad at days, thank goodness I have a schedule to keep me on track and a clock to keep me on time.
Today was glorious. The classes today at school were much less awkward than the first day--now we at least had played the name game at least 30 times, so everyone knew to say names instead of "hey you" or awkwardly avoiding addressing anyone at all and smoothly playing it off as if they were talking to the whole group in large.
i did, however get the crap scared out of me today.
we were all sitting in a studio room, listening to ipods, talking about classes, waiting for the adler technique class to begin--just sitting on the floor socializing. our teacher walks in and looks around and takes us in and immediately says "what are you doing, why are you sitting on the floor, get chairs." we set up the room, not understanding why this man is so urgent in his request, confused if we are being reprimanded or simply taught. class begins.
"do you all understand why you're here. do you?" no one answers, but we get out our notebooks and pens.
"have any of you even done research on ms. adler and her history, her background, the history of this studio?" a girl in the front row half raises her hand. no one else dares to move.
"do you have any idea what this studio is? do you have any idea what goes on here? here, you are driven, you are here to learn in a classroom to experience to grow. acting is fun--but we're not here to hang out. you do not 'hang out' here. if you want to kick back and hang out you shouldn't be here. don't bother. just leave. do you know what i saw when i entered the room today? not professionalism, not an attitude of serious actors who want to grow who want to learn, who are serious about this. from now on, show me. do not let me enter the classroom without you being ready to learn. do you understand?" we all nodded, scared, enticed, drawn in to this man with his booming voice and presence that filled up every corner of the room and struck us as we sat, quiet in our chairs.
somehow, i know it will be the best class. this guys for real.
the rest of my day was amazing. ashley and i went down to the drama bookstore and got some books that we'll need for class--and trust me, it's just like college--they'll tell you what you need and then add about 100 dollars more in books/clothes/classes that you must have after you've paid the tuition. that's life, isn't it?
took the 2/3 subway back home and decided to explore the neighborhood. let me tell you--we totally lucked out in our little shoebox with peeling lead paint and leaky radiator. walking down the street, people were walking dogs, riding bikes, just strolling past brownstones on either side of the quiet street. we turned down montague street to explore our little grid and came upon an old bookstore with a sidewalk sale of books flooding the pavement in front of the store. i get awkward when i come to sidewalk sales becauase i think if i browse, someone will think im stealing--so we walk in. the place was the kind of place that had old postcards that wre yellowed, the aisles were so narrow that two people would have to hug to slip by one another; it was the kind where you pick up books just so you can smelled the musty, woody, old paper as you flip through the faded, torn pages of books like shuffling cards of old, bent worn out card decks. it was the smell that sticks in your memory, that nostalgia smell. we stayed in there, leafing through copies of plays and poetry until i finally settled upon an old 1940s edition of john donne's poetry. next we walked down the street to where ashley thought the water was--we were just two girls exploring the city.
it took our breath away. at the end of the brownstone-lined street there stood the city, glowing with its twinkling lights that were reflected across the water. soemthing was so movie-like, so perfect about that setting, about the picture of new york city silhouetted by frames of couples leaning over the fence railing, the man with his arm around the girls waist.
it was a picture that made me want to fall in love. not be in a relationship, but deeply, madly have someone to love. and i thought that was so beautiful.
we felt a little awkward walking down this little brick-walk area with no one but couples lining the way--but it was such a beautiful awkwardness--it was like you could feel their love radiating, it was just joy--these people were sharing something with us passers-by that they had no idea that they were sharing; and it was so beautiful. when ashley and i were walking back home i swear we both agreed that the only thing we wanted to do right then was grow up, find out leading men, get married, live in brooklyn and go down to that bridge with the person we loved. it's just that kind of place that's in all those movies where the bumbling girl goes just to think, to read and some guy comes up to her and asks her if she dropped a book that he found, she says no, but he gives her the book anyways. they stand there in the awkwardness of two bumbling single people amidst couples in perfect bliss and laugh. it's just a place for falling in love.
im way too much of a hopeless romantic, jeepers.
I am so bad at days, thank goodness I have a schedule to keep me on track and a clock to keep me on time.
Today was glorious. The classes today at school were much less awkward than the first day--now we at least had played the name game at least 30 times, so everyone knew to say names instead of "hey you" or awkwardly avoiding addressing anyone at all and smoothly playing it off as if they were talking to the whole group in large.
i did, however get the crap scared out of me today.
we were all sitting in a studio room, listening to ipods, talking about classes, waiting for the adler technique class to begin--just sitting on the floor socializing. our teacher walks in and looks around and takes us in and immediately says "what are you doing, why are you sitting on the floor, get chairs." we set up the room, not understanding why this man is so urgent in his request, confused if we are being reprimanded or simply taught. class begins.
"do you all understand why you're here. do you?" no one answers, but we get out our notebooks and pens.
"have any of you even done research on ms. adler and her history, her background, the history of this studio?" a girl in the front row half raises her hand. no one else dares to move.
"do you have any idea what this studio is? do you have any idea what goes on here? here, you are driven, you are here to learn in a classroom to experience to grow. acting is fun--but we're not here to hang out. you do not 'hang out' here. if you want to kick back and hang out you shouldn't be here. don't bother. just leave. do you know what i saw when i entered the room today? not professionalism, not an attitude of serious actors who want to grow who want to learn, who are serious about this. from now on, show me. do not let me enter the classroom without you being ready to learn. do you understand?" we all nodded, scared, enticed, drawn in to this man with his booming voice and presence that filled up every corner of the room and struck us as we sat, quiet in our chairs.
somehow, i know it will be the best class. this guys for real.
the rest of my day was amazing. ashley and i went down to the drama bookstore and got some books that we'll need for class--and trust me, it's just like college--they'll tell you what you need and then add about 100 dollars more in books/clothes/classes that you must have after you've paid the tuition. that's life, isn't it?
took the 2/3 subway back home and decided to explore the neighborhood. let me tell you--we totally lucked out in our little shoebox with peeling lead paint and leaky radiator. walking down the street, people were walking dogs, riding bikes, just strolling past brownstones on either side of the quiet street. we turned down montague street to explore our little grid and came upon an old bookstore with a sidewalk sale of books flooding the pavement in front of the store. i get awkward when i come to sidewalk sales becauase i think if i browse, someone will think im stealing--so we walk in. the place was the kind of place that had old postcards that wre yellowed, the aisles were so narrow that two people would have to hug to slip by one another; it was the kind where you pick up books just so you can smelled the musty, woody, old paper as you flip through the faded, torn pages of books like shuffling cards of old, bent worn out card decks. it was the smell that sticks in your memory, that nostalgia smell. we stayed in there, leafing through copies of plays and poetry until i finally settled upon an old 1940s edition of john donne's poetry. next we walked down the street to where ashley thought the water was--we were just two girls exploring the city.
it took our breath away. at the end of the brownstone-lined street there stood the city, glowing with its twinkling lights that were reflected across the water. soemthing was so movie-like, so perfect about that setting, about the picture of new york city silhouetted by frames of couples leaning over the fence railing, the man with his arm around the girls waist.
it was a picture that made me want to fall in love. not be in a relationship, but deeply, madly have someone to love. and i thought that was so beautiful.
we felt a little awkward walking down this little brick-walk area with no one but couples lining the way--but it was such a beautiful awkwardness--it was like you could feel their love radiating, it was just joy--these people were sharing something with us passers-by that they had no idea that they were sharing; and it was so beautiful. when ashley and i were walking back home i swear we both agreed that the only thing we wanted to do right then was grow up, find out leading men, get married, live in brooklyn and go down to that bridge with the person we loved. it's just that kind of place that's in all those movies where the bumbling girl goes just to think, to read and some guy comes up to her and asks her if she dropped a book that he found, she says no, but he gives her the book anyways. they stand there in the awkwardness of two bumbling single people amidst couples in perfect bliss and laugh. it's just a place for falling in love.
im way too much of a hopeless romantic, jeepers.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
I am so awkward...
Day 2:
for the first time in my life i had dry mouth. not just dry, i need a sip of water, kind of dry mouth--but the kind of dry mouth where your mouth is a huge foam pit/sand dune and there's nothing i can do about it.
i was standing up in front of my first class today doing a monologue and it was the most terrifying thing thinking--what the heck am i doing here? what am i doing with my life? is my teacher going to think i suck? why am i doing the awkward dance? why is that kid not paying attention? why didn't i just stay home and go to school and get married and have kids and make slice and bake cookies?
but it wasn't that bad, i mean after saliva came back into my mouth and after the fact that i found myself laughing very loudly at inappropriate times and then making the situation twice as awkward by muttering under my breath "uhh.that was so awkward. im so sorry" and having people think that i'm the crazy laughing/dry mouth kid who talks to herself.
the things i learned on New York day trois:
1. murphys law happens--if a subway train CAN get stuck, it CAN and WILL get stuck--especially when you don't have an alternate route to the first day of class
2. i met our pothead elevator friend, lovingly named "the doob" and it turns out he's british and likes to awkwardly hit on desk workers
3. the twins from the matrix do exist--and i saw them in the subway, with matching chinstrap beards, shaved heads, bluetooth phones, bald heads and awkwardly matching leather shoes
4. if you try to explore staircases in old hotels and you don't think that it's a fire exit and that the alarm won't go off--it is a fire exit and the alarm WILL go off, forcing one to stealthily escape and pretend to take the elevator. see murphy's law
5. there are still newsies in new york who WILL scream at you to get a free paper
also, there is a kid in my class who, when asked to describe one thing on his wall at home, said he had an alien poster who was meditating, flipping the bird, and smoking a joint at the same time with the words "OMMMMM" written across the top. apparently he loves meditating. and pot-smoking aliens. that's classy art, my friends, classy art.
oh and i've never taken a rediculous ID picture, and i figured, now's the time to let loose, right? right
Brooklyn and Doobies and ear wax cleaners
New York New York!
Day 1:
I have decided to officially enter what my more technologically savvy friends know as the "blogosphere" and really write about all the crazy shenanigans that happen in my life (not that they happen regularly) instead of venting and writing philosophical ramblings. Please Jessika, it's time to stop being verbose--or not; we'll see.
At approximately 7:45pm I boarded a Boeing 747 with my one-way ticket in hand to New York City. I didn't cry. I didn't reminisce. But I swear I almost pooped my pants. And not just because I had just had a cup of coffee and two shots of espresso.
unnecessary, unladylike, sorry mom.
Anyways, I get on this plane with the rest of Group 6 thinking "oh yes! Maybe dad totally went all out and got business class!"
i was very wrong. very very wrong.
I ended up sitting next to a man who would pick ear wax out of his ear with his pinky; and granted we all have those times when our ears are just dying for a q-tip, but this man (and I watched him stealthily) just flicked it.
he flicked his earwax and im sitting next to him.
awesome, just awesome. of course what can i expect from the guy who has downloaded National Treasure 2 from Itunes on his Compaq and listens to mp3s on tape of "who moved my cheese"? I totally should've struck up a conversation with him.
So now I'm in Brooklyn Heights.
and living in a shoebox. I think the educational housing people lied to Ashley and I. Half of the building is hip and trendy with tangerine walls and andy warhol prints and our side has walls that are painted what ash and i agreed to be the color of baby spit up and have duct tape around the windows to keep the bugs out. But it's home. And I think it's the way it's supposed to be. Ashley and I start classes tomorrow and hopefully we won't be in movement classes where we have to be tulips or feel the emotion that a jello jiggler has when it is taken out of its mold.
ashley made a new australian neighbor (as in he lives here somewhere) who freely rolls joints in the elevator.
boy, are we in for a summer.
Day 1:
I have decided to officially enter what my more technologically savvy friends know as the "blogosphere" and really write about all the crazy shenanigans that happen in my life (not that they happen regularly) instead of venting and writing philosophical ramblings. Please Jessika, it's time to stop being verbose--or not; we'll see.
At approximately 7:45pm I boarded a Boeing 747 with my one-way ticket in hand to New York City. I didn't cry. I didn't reminisce. But I swear I almost pooped my pants. And not just because I had just had a cup of coffee and two shots of espresso.
unnecessary, unladylike, sorry mom.
Anyways, I get on this plane with the rest of Group 6 thinking "oh yes! Maybe dad totally went all out and got business class!"
i was very wrong. very very wrong.
I ended up sitting next to a man who would pick ear wax out of his ear with his pinky; and granted we all have those times when our ears are just dying for a q-tip, but this man (and I watched him stealthily) just flicked it.
he flicked his earwax and im sitting next to him.
awesome, just awesome. of course what can i expect from the guy who has downloaded National Treasure 2 from Itunes on his Compaq and listens to mp3s on tape of "who moved my cheese"? I totally should've struck up a conversation with him.
So now I'm in Brooklyn Heights.
and living in a shoebox. I think the educational housing people lied to Ashley and I. Half of the building is hip and trendy with tangerine walls and andy warhol prints and our side has walls that are painted what ash and i agreed to be the color of baby spit up and have duct tape around the windows to keep the bugs out. But it's home. And I think it's the way it's supposed to be. Ashley and I start classes tomorrow and hopefully we won't be in movement classes where we have to be tulips or feel the emotion that a jello jiggler has when it is taken out of its mold.
ashley made a new australian neighbor (as in he lives here somewhere) who freely rolls joints in the elevator.
boy, are we in for a summer.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
ok. so every time i write i close my eyes and just let my fingers go.
i've been wanting to write something---a play a screenplay, something for a long time so i fiddle with a lot of ideas.
this is so random. i swear im not a depressing person, it just all comes out.
so here.
"C ca cat. D da dog. Say it again. Do it slower like this: c. KA Kat. D. DA. DOG. You see. Put that down. Put it down and listen. C ca cat d d dog"
My parents were convinced that I was going to be their prodigy. From the time I was actually confirmed as an embryo, mom began to put headphones on her stomach. Dad read chemistry books to me, history, we practiced flashcards. All I wanted to do was sleep. Brahms was nice though.
"Draw this. Olook at me. Look at my face. No. do what I am doing. Go and get the A from the fridge. Bring it here. Get it. Now. go get it. Good. Good girl. Now bring the B. no not the D. the B. stupid. Bring the B. you know this you know the B. Get the B. good girl. Again."
When I was three I used words like vernacular and effervescent. I couldn’t stand classrooms where the kids read out loud because they would smatter the words everywhere. Bothching sounds and rushing words together. I was sent home for hitting a child because he pronounced schooling like sk. Ch. Ew. Lin. I didit hit anymore
At home I would read to myself. Mom would always have me read to her. To read out loud and record it on a tape so she could make sure I was reading. Secretly, I would read my father’s dragon over and over instead of reading books on philosophy or nitche or solipsism. I didn’t care for those things. I was made to. But I wanted a dragon.
I think I developed autism or something like it over the time during when I was 3 and 5. If that’s possible. Possibly.
I think my mom was always more comfortable when I was in her womb. When the only picture she could see of my was in black and white. And all she could hear was my heartbeat instead of my voice. She could dictate what I knew, or what she wanted me to know, to hear. She never lost me and could dream about what I looked like. She could worry about herself and wear flowy dresses and act like she was glowing and get attention because everyone loves a pregnant woman. Everyone loves that magic. i think she would’ve kept me inside for another three years and just imagined how her child would be. Frame the ultrasounds instead of balding pictures of crying baby. That’s how she would’ve preferred it.
i've been wanting to write something---a play a screenplay, something for a long time so i fiddle with a lot of ideas.
this is so random. i swear im not a depressing person, it just all comes out.
so here.
"C ca cat. D da dog. Say it again. Do it slower like this: c. KA Kat. D. DA. DOG. You see. Put that down. Put it down and listen. C ca cat d d dog"
My parents were convinced that I was going to be their prodigy. From the time I was actually confirmed as an embryo, mom began to put headphones on her stomach. Dad read chemistry books to me, history, we practiced flashcards. All I wanted to do was sleep. Brahms was nice though.
"Draw this. Olook at me. Look at my face. No. do what I am doing. Go and get the A from the fridge. Bring it here. Get it. Now. go get it. Good. Good girl. Now bring the B. no not the D. the B. stupid. Bring the B. you know this you know the B. Get the B. good girl. Again."
When I was three I used words like vernacular and effervescent. I couldn’t stand classrooms where the kids read out loud because they would smatter the words everywhere. Bothching sounds and rushing words together. I was sent home for hitting a child because he pronounced schooling like sk. Ch. Ew. Lin. I didit hit anymore
At home I would read to myself. Mom would always have me read to her. To read out loud and record it on a tape so she could make sure I was reading. Secretly, I would read my father’s dragon over and over instead of reading books on philosophy or nitche or solipsism. I didn’t care for those things. I was made to. But I wanted a dragon.
I think I developed autism or something like it over the time during when I was 3 and 5. If that’s possible. Possibly.
I think my mom was always more comfortable when I was in her womb. When the only picture she could see of my was in black and white. And all she could hear was my heartbeat instead of my voice. She could dictate what I knew, or what she wanted me to know, to hear. She never lost me and could dream about what I looked like. She could worry about herself and wear flowy dresses and act like she was glowing and get attention because everyone loves a pregnant woman. Everyone loves that magic. i think she would’ve kept me inside for another three years and just imagined how her child would be. Frame the ultrasounds instead of balding pictures of crying baby. That’s how she would’ve preferred it.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
my sister used to read with her middle finger...
she did and mom taped her "pointer" and "tall man" together and she never got sent to the princiPALs office after that.
anyways, that's not what this post is about, at all. I just got done watching Dan in Real Life and if you haven't seen it you should. Anyways, I won't ruin it for those who haven't but at the end steve carrell's character has a voice over that says something along the lines of " normally we tell our kids that they should be making plans about the future. plans about what they will do, wo they wil be, who they will be with and so on. but really we should tell them to plan to be surprised" and for some reason I thought that was so cool and true. All of these plans that we're making right now, they aren't going to turn out just so--i mean that's just the way the world works. I guess it's the way to keep us humble and to just assure us that we aren't superheroes and that life is going to suck a lot sometimes. I was also thinking about scripts when I watched the movie and about how people become screenwriters. I googled screenwriting and came up with this site that was basically a "how to" site. I mean, it had some good points, but when a person honestly alludes to "Jingle All the Way" with Sinbad and Ahnold as an example of good screenwriting, can you really trust it? no. i mean sinbad was only good at being a genie in that magic basketball movie. anyways, i was thinking about that and then I was thinking about life and how I listened to Donald Miller once give a talk or whatever about the story and about how our lives should be like the stories that people write and the stuff that people use as templates for movies--i mean, that's what many movies are based on--right? so here's my deal. every good movie has the protagonist involved in a conflict---they need to get something, they need to fight for something, they have to overcome things in order to resolve their conflict---and a lot of the time I feel like my life has no conflict--no epic desire or thing that i really, passionately seek--even though there are things that i WANT to seek. but it really all comes down to fear. it comes down to the point where you see this desire, this passion off, driving away and someone whispers to you "go, now" and you have to say screw it and just do it or end up kicking yourself for not taking the chance. i hate diving into conflict, into muddy waters, but thats what makes life exciting, that's what makes movies worth watching--nobody wants to watch a person just being, just painting their nails or watching tv--that's just boring. and i mean, i know where i'm going to be at the end of this life and it's so short, so logically what do we all have to lose? nothing really. nothing at all. but prepared to be surprised.
and probably scared to death.
anyways, that's not what this post is about, at all. I just got done watching Dan in Real Life and if you haven't seen it you should. Anyways, I won't ruin it for those who haven't but at the end steve carrell's character has a voice over that says something along the lines of " normally we tell our kids that they should be making plans about the future. plans about what they will do, wo they wil be, who they will be with and so on. but really we should tell them to plan to be surprised" and for some reason I thought that was so cool and true. All of these plans that we're making right now, they aren't going to turn out just so--i mean that's just the way the world works. I guess it's the way to keep us humble and to just assure us that we aren't superheroes and that life is going to suck a lot sometimes. I was also thinking about scripts when I watched the movie and about how people become screenwriters. I googled screenwriting and came up with this site that was basically a "how to" site. I mean, it had some good points, but when a person honestly alludes to "Jingle All the Way" with Sinbad and Ahnold as an example of good screenwriting, can you really trust it? no. i mean sinbad was only good at being a genie in that magic basketball movie. anyways, i was thinking about that and then I was thinking about life and how I listened to Donald Miller once give a talk or whatever about the story and about how our lives should be like the stories that people write and the stuff that people use as templates for movies--i mean, that's what many movies are based on--right? so here's my deal. every good movie has the protagonist involved in a conflict---they need to get something, they need to fight for something, they have to overcome things in order to resolve their conflict---and a lot of the time I feel like my life has no conflict--no epic desire or thing that i really, passionately seek--even though there are things that i WANT to seek. but it really all comes down to fear. it comes down to the point where you see this desire, this passion off, driving away and someone whispers to you "go, now" and you have to say screw it and just do it or end up kicking yourself for not taking the chance. i hate diving into conflict, into muddy waters, but thats what makes life exciting, that's what makes movies worth watching--nobody wants to watch a person just being, just painting their nails or watching tv--that's just boring. and i mean, i know where i'm going to be at the end of this life and it's so short, so logically what do we all have to lose? nothing really. nothing at all. but prepared to be surprised.
and probably scared to death.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
ok so that's a galnapper.
pronounced GAL-nap-per as my grandfather (from arkansas) would describe it. but let's be honest,
it's just a freaking huge mosquito. i mean, really.
i found this little critter just hibernating on my screen door, like i do most nights and ususally i don't mind him, as long as he isn't flying in my hair or crawling up my thigh or anything. but tonight was just too much to handle.
i kid you not, the world is ending.
so you know when there are plagues and stuff in the bible and the locusts come out basically eat peoples brains out like little zombie bugs, this freaking galnapper is the modern-day zombie locust.
this dude is what killed pharoahs. this thing is what made dinosaurs extinct (not a meteor). this freaking steroid loaded mosquito probably will end the world.
so anyways, i looked outside and this is what i saw, beneath that singular, seemingly harmless galnapper:
yeah. it was like galnapper holocaust.
sorry that was uncalled for. but really. look at them all.
i don't care if they do kill mosquitos, they need to go away, or at least clean up after themselves when they all decide to get together like some freakish cult and die together. i swear that little one that was alive and looking down on them was the leader.
consider yourselves warned about these beasts.
so this is what i'm thinking. i don't know a whole lot about life, and deep down i'm afraid i never will. I'm one of those kids who is afraid to grow up. I'm really afraid of growing older and the thing is--i can't stop it. it's out of my control, and that in and of itself scares me.
but cry me a river,jessika, everyone gets scared to grow up--so just enjoy it.
no, i dont normally talk to myself in third person. so here's what i'm thinking, instead of being afraid of everything and so conscious of getting older, i'm going to pay attention to things outside of me--which life is really all about, beautiful things. and just the things that make up definitions of beauty and truth and things that are of substance in this life. sohere goes. the list of beauty for me, as of today:
things that i find to be truly beautiful are:
women who have salt and pepper hair and don't care to dye it or do anything to make it look tame.
my mom's smile wrinkles in her forehead and around her eyes because you know that, sort of like how you can count the rings aroound a tree trunk to tell how long its been living, i can tell how much my mom has smiled
people who go around barefoot and have callouses because they would rather have their feet tough so that they can finally feel the grass beneath their feet.
old people hands--like my granddads with agespots and scars, because hands tell a life's story and are so rich.
the eyes of little children because they will stare at you and not look away when they get caught. children are unaware of awkwardness and fully aware of themselves, and most of all--curious.
women who are completely comfortable with themselves, even if they never have skinny arms or thighs that never touch at the top or tummies that are concave naturally. women who believe that they are beautiful and don't need a guy to tell them that to believe it.
the sound of wind rushing through the trees and being so powerful that it can knock something over with a whisper.
laugher that makes you pee your pants and not care who's around to hear you snort. laughter that wracks your knsides and cracks ribs and consumes your being and makes you silent laugh until a huge burst of laughter emerges as you attempt to catch your breath.
reckless abandon and seeing people who live inside of that
and that is all as of today, i'll probably add more every day, who knows.
but cry me a river,jessika, everyone gets scared to grow up--so just enjoy it.
no, i dont normally talk to myself in third person. so here's what i'm thinking, instead of being afraid of everything and so conscious of getting older, i'm going to pay attention to things outside of me--which life is really all about, beautiful things. and just the things that make up definitions of beauty and truth and things that are of substance in this life. sohere goes. the list of beauty for me, as of today:
things that i find to be truly beautiful are:
women who have salt and pepper hair and don't care to dye it or do anything to make it look tame.
my mom's smile wrinkles in her forehead and around her eyes because you know that, sort of like how you can count the rings aroound a tree trunk to tell how long its been living, i can tell how much my mom has smiled
people who go around barefoot and have callouses because they would rather have their feet tough so that they can finally feel the grass beneath their feet.
old people hands--like my granddads with agespots and scars, because hands tell a life's story and are so rich.
the eyes of little children because they will stare at you and not look away when they get caught. children are unaware of awkwardness and fully aware of themselves, and most of all--curious.
women who are completely comfortable with themselves, even if they never have skinny arms or thighs that never touch at the top or tummies that are concave naturally. women who believe that they are beautiful and don't need a guy to tell them that to believe it.
the sound of wind rushing through the trees and being so powerful that it can knock something over with a whisper.
laugher that makes you pee your pants and not care who's around to hear you snort. laughter that wracks your knsides and cracks ribs and consumes your being and makes you silent laugh until a huge burst of laughter emerges as you attempt to catch your breath.
reckless abandon and seeing people who live inside of that
and that is all as of today, i'll probably add more every day, who knows.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
