| (no subject) |
[Sep. 27th, 2005|10:49 pm] |
Thank you Peter Woods:
Leave your name and
1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal. You MUST. It is written.
This is what Peter Woods says about me.
1. Your name reminds me of poop.
2. Bolem II: The Bionic Vapor Boy- Mr. Bungle
3. Grape
4. We should make another movie.
5. Madison on Halloween. You were dressed all fancy and I was in a ridiculous white jumpsuit.
6. A pokemon of some sort.
7. What's the deal with mid-90's culture obsessions in art, anyways? |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 26th, 2005|01:30 pm] |
Today is a sad day, though I don't know why. I made someone in my conceptual art class walk two miles with fruit rollups taped to their knee/armpits in layers of warm clothing, and he did it in the rain. This morning, he gave me a tupperware container with sweaty globs of red paste, athletic tape and body hair that was pulled out by the gelatinous goop. I guess that his body is still stained. I feel guilty but it's exactly what I wanted to happen. I would have done it myself, but that wasn't the assignment.
I glued a bible to one of the doors to my building today. I glued it under the no smoking sign. A sweet old man in his sunday best gave it to me on the street corner. Bible day makes me sad because I don't want the bibles and neither do most people, but the old men giving them out are really just trying to be good people in a way. I take them and smile and say thank you, but really I don't care. I don't even want to use them in art because that's not a theme I want to explore. I wish I was better at art. I wish that I didn't love graffiti so much, the sharpies in my bag are too tempting and I'm never proud of what I write. I only write on flyers and removable things so I'm not too obtrusive.
It's a grey day and I love that I don't want to do anything. I probably have to print stuff out at the library but I'm writing this instead. I probably have to start writing my short story and edit other people's stories for class tomorrow. I wish I could write about playing in the snow again, but I already wrote about that. People related to that topic more than any other that I can think of. I wish that the dialogue that I write didn't sound like a nine-year old playing with barbies.
On Friday I went three hours without making a facial expression. It was difficult, I worried too much about how people would react to my stoic face. It was hard, but at least I didn't have to walk with fruit rollups in my armpits.
I want to change my picture on here, but I won't. I should call home today, but I probably won't. I need to get into a good fistfight with a drifter or watch an entire season of Desperate Housewives in one sitting. I need to eat a whole tablespoon of Wasabi so that my brain wakes up. Maybe that will help. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 6th, 2005|05:03 pm] |
My creative writing class is full of people who, upon reading that I wrote "bullshit" on my get-to-know-you card, paused before paraphrasing it as "BS" while blushing. Goddammit, this class is going to be fun. I might as well get ready to read and critique ten poems about flowers, and about 8 on their emotional breakups or some other bullshit.
I'm gonna go eat some nachos then go to bellydancing class now. It may not seem like a good idea now, but that's because it isn't. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 3rd, 2005|12:59 pm] |
I've been working on establishing my own Justice League. From the combined powers of Ryan and I so far we've done well, just by being uber-sexy and accessible. We've had at least three concrete additions plus they're friends, and that's not counting Jakob because he's always been in my Justice League. Looks like we'll have plenty of people to hang out with this year, to change things up and avoid the staleness of Madison. And I haven't even gotten the message out to art fags. It'll be a good year.
Oh, and Beste, I brought a sewing machine to school instead of a computer, so if you need me to mend anything just mail it or visit us here. I'll just mail it back when it's done. Listen up, I'm offering myself as a pro-bono seamstress here. I'll fix your jeans up real good now that I have the machine. It's awesome.
Anyway, back to defending the world from evil. Toodles. |
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| Oh me oh my... |
[Aug. 25th, 2005|03:33 pm] |
I've recently acquired an addiction to online quizes. And pedophilia, it seems.
Take the quiz: [url=http://www.zenhex.com/quiz.php?id=24617]Who's your perfect teen Celebrity BF? (Teen
girls)[/url]
[img]http://67.15.137.163/quiz5/24617/res3.jpg[/img]
[b]Ricky Ullman[/b]
Every one knows the name of the hott Ricky Ullman. They will soon all know your name, because he won't be able to wait to show you off! He's sence of humor and great smile will keep you laughing all the time. You could help but have a good time with this guy. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 20th, 2005|11:11 pm] |
Tomorrow at 5 am I'm leaving to go whitewater canoeing for four days and I'm so excited for the staff trip and after that I'm moving home and a few days later moving to Madison (the 29th) and then I'm going to buy me some new underpants because I lost some of mine walking outside from the laundry room to the cabin and they're probably still out there on the path and someone will probably find them and think that it's an eye patch unless it's a pirate because they should know better than that. |
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| Awww shit |
[Aug. 19th, 2005|07:27 pm] |
I got my hair braided by a bunch of eight year-old girls from inner city Chi-towne, which makes me feel real ghetto and shit. I want to pick a fight with a bitch for gettin in my face.
I'm going to go whitewater rafting and canoeing next week. To keep with tradition, Scottie and Jakob, I do plan to pee in the raft and mushroom stamp someone with an oar. But that may be because I'm listenig to Mclusky and smoking cigarettes and feeling supra-badass, yo. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 18th, 2005|01:31 pm] |
I can yell really loud. I think I'm going to culture my gift by becoming one big ass bitch. Maybe I'll pick a fight or become a super-hero that yells at little kids who disrespect. I scared kids from inner city Chicago with a good ol' bitch out mere moments ago. Even they cringed. Man, what a rush. I'm such a bad person.
I gotta get me some brownies and a hamsammich. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 10th, 2005|11:15 am] |
My hands and wrists are covered with scratches after playing with Crazy Mike's kitten. Scars of a fully enjoyed weekend I say. By the way, no rooftop party is quite the same without someone who goes by the name of Crazy and a random foreigner that you find on the street. Even if they're both lame, they make the story better.
I think that I'm addicted to nicotine again. This happens every so often. It's now been over a year since Nic and I have had our on again off again relationship, and though I rarely miss him on our off times, our on times are quite enjoyable. Thus, I keep going back to him. I almost left him after the unpleasant purchase of Turkish Silvers, which I find to be total mellow ass crap, but I came back after rediscovering the Silver's cousin. Smoking is so gross, but it haunts my dreams. We'll see how things go.
Ry Patch is visiting me this weekend and I can't wait to see him again. We're going camping and all that fun stuff, even using a hole for a bathroom. Madison will be so luxurious when I return, just thinking about living in the same building as my bathroom makes me giddy. No more emergency 2 am squats outside the cabin, hoping that no one else is out to relieve their bladders lest they see my trespass.
I love Coca-Cola. I think it's manufactured from little bits of heaven. I sneak it in my coffee mug so campers don't know of my indulgence.
Jakob Aebly, why don't I see delightful little anecdotes from your adorably flamboyant life anymore? The same goes for Ashley. I miss both of my fags so tragically.
toodles all. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 1st, 2005|07:21 pm] |
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I was walking into our dinner tent and a couple of the six to nine year-old boys at one table were being real rowdy. One of them yelled, "*Adolf* put his finger up his butt!" To which little *Adolf* defended "Not all the way!" |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 31st, 2005|05:02 pm] |
A snapping turtle bit me yesterday. I think that's one of the most badass reasons ever to have a band-aid on your big toe. He (or she to you pc pieces of shit) barely nipped the skin off, so it doesn't really hurt but still bleeds enough now and then to be totally sweet. I hope that I get a scar.
I love talking to old guys. This weekend we had a family camp and when one grandpa heard that I was artsy fartsy, he said an amazingly sweet old guy story. It went as such, said in a very even conversational tone:
"I knew a guy in Door County once, well he was a Nazi back in WWII, in intelligence I think, but he sold us a beautiful painting from his shop a few years back. We keep it in our living room, it's just beautiful."
Old guys are so sweet. They always find a way to bring WWII into everything and it makes every story better. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 28th, 2005|09:52 am] |
Our local creepy drifter parked the car that he lives in at the public beach down the shore from camp, so I snuck through the woods ninja-style and spied on his homeless ass. But then I had to pee real bad and just jumped from my cover of foliage and walked down the street back to camp, in plain view of the creepy stalker. Due to the amount of caffiene I consumed this morning, though, I was 3/4 of the way hoping that he would follow me and I would deliver a prime-ass ninja kick to his adam's apple, then stand over him as he lay gasping on the pavement and warn him in hushed tones that if I ever heard about him following my friends on their evening runs again, there would be consequences. Then I would feign a kick to his ribs, stop myself, and growl that he wasn't even worth it. I'm usually not hostile toward hobos, but this one likes to drive slowly behind my co-workers when they run and wave to them in that dirty sour milk stench way they have about them.
In a way though, I do see this man as a hero. A mentor. A role-model. That's why he must die. |
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| Milwaukee |
[Jul. 20th, 2005|11:26 am] |
Evan is singing "Daylight come and I wanna go home" with his guitar at the computer next to me. It's a lazy rainy morning and I'm actually taking my break without sneaking off for a cigarette while thinking about how much I hate the two little petulant bitches in my tribe and what I would do to them if I weren't bound by law. I'm a truly dispicable person.
I'm reading Harry Potter. I'm sick of the 14-year-old girl who pretends to be allergic to everything and makes us sleep with the lights on constantly threatening to ruin the end for me, the know-it-all violin-playing bitch troll.
I'm bitter. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 19th, 2005|10:50 am] |
I am currently covered in orange war paint leading a tribe of middle schoolers through a Survivors Challenge week. My tribe is the Deadly Lawn Gnomes and I'm ready to sacrifice two members to the gods of CWES for being total collage kids. Dick bosses. I have to spend an hour of my afternoon with six of these kids and Matt, the other leader of my tribe, all perched upon a 18"x18" foot platform. I should purposely smear myself with a dead rotten fish before joining them, then see what happens.
I'm going to eat cheetos now because they're orange and delightful. |
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| So many admirers... |
[Jul. 14th, 2005|01:43 pm] |
I've had two boys ask me for my hand in marraige today...too bad that one is 13 and has Down's Syndrome and the one who told me that I was very pretty is almost completely blind. It always works that way, doesn't it?
I think I'm going to go kayaking. I'm avoiding the crazy old cleaning lady because she wants me to braid her hair and I'd feel guilty making up an excuse not to. Problem is, my keys are in the building where she's washing dishes and until I get them, I can't go kayaking. She's sweet and everything, but deaf as a post and looks like a witch and whenever I start talking to her, she wants me to stick around and talk to/scream at her for about 15 minutes. Sometimes I sneak into the dishroom (it's the only way to the staff bathroom) and walk behind her so she doesn't see or hear me, but then I feel simply wretched because I'm too afraid to talk to the poor, old, deaf cleaning lady and I don't want to braid her hair goddamnit. I hope there aren't any spiders in my kayak. Or bullfrogs. A girl sat on and killed one today, and I had to pick up its crushed squishy body and throw it in the lake so she wouldn't see it, freak out, and dump her kayak. I was lifeguarding and I hate kayak rescues.
There's a girl who has been totally blind her entire life, but she's really cool and funny and outgoing. I feel like she needs a nickname though, and I'm constantly fighting the urge to call her "Eagle eyes." She's fun to pick on, but I think that's overstepping it. I always tease her with long grass and she thinks its a fly and swats at it, never suspecting me. God, I could do that for hours. Blind kids are such easy targets! Kay, their mobility teacher, totally encourages it, says it builds independence. Yesterday, she full on pummeled the kid with Down's in the chest with a football. Just picture that in your head for a moment: a large, tan, gym teacher-like woman launching a foam football with all of her force, aimed directly at a visually impaired Down's kid's chest, hearing the thud of the football and the groan of air rushing from his lungs. He shouldn't have said that women were too weak to play sports. I would pay to see that again. Afterwards, he told her she should go have sex with Brett Favre's mom, but she didn't hear and I was too shocked to say anything. God that kid can be a creep. Creative, though.
Thats all for today, I heard the cleaning lady's car drive away. |
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| Hmmm. |
[Jul. 12th, 2005|01:16 pm] |
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Ahh, if only we could all feel the joy that a little child with Down's Syndrome feels while playing with a giant purple ball, kicking it with his little legs and laughing as it soars through the air. How great would that be? |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 8th, 2005|11:11 pm] |
| In a Past Life... | 
You Were: A Diseased Astrologer.
Where You Lived: Russia.
How You Died: Suicide. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 8th, 2005|10:20 pm] |
I must add a few camper's names into my favorite people jar. I keep a figurative jar in my head full of rocks on which I have written the names of my favorite peoples. Katy, if you read this, you are most definitely in the jar, also Emma, Chris, Sam, L, S, Jack, Molly, Brei, Andrea, Spencer, Shaun, Karlee, and countless other of these amazing ankle-biters. I feel a little weird since Katy and I swapped LJ info and I now realize how bad some of my entries are. Then, because I miss her, I looked her up and read some entries. Am I a creepy stalker thing? Whatever, she was sweet.
There are a few Batman obsessed boys here. They said that I was totally awesome for having a 14-year old boy for an inner child. I'd be a total fraud if I didn't say that was part of the reason for taking on this gig. I like talking to people without being judged for being immature, here I'm often praised for it. Totally sweet stache. |
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| camping |
[Jul. 8th, 2005|10:21 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  contemplative | ] |
| [ | music |
| | old timey jazz | ] |
I just got back from camping out. I realized what a changed person I am when I was overjoyed to hear that our campsite had the primative pit toilets and we didn't have to use a cathole and save our toilet paper in a bag. This camp is a two-weeker, but I'm done today. Three of the other counselors are taking them on a canoe trip down the Flambeau River for a week. I wish now that I could go, but next week should be really enlightening. We're having a camp for visually impaired kids, which I'm both nervous and excited about. My greatest fear has always been blindness. I'm a really awful person, though, and I seem to be not so good with the more challenging campers. I care too much about connecting with everyone, and when it's difficult, I sometimes lose my patience. This week we have a girl who is medicated for mood swings, we wonder if maybe she also has Asberger's Syndrome (autism, mood swings, sensitive feelings). She's been in and out of foster homes and her stories are always changing about her home life. Last night she said that her dad was an alcoholic and he sent her to camp against her will so he and his girlfriend could have one week of happiness without her. While it could be totally true, that was about the time that her meds wore off and she was exploding at everyone, hated everything, and insulted counselors and campers before bursting into tears. Earlier that morning, though, she had the best attitude ever, and she said that she had done online research about the camp before coming and was so happy when she was called to say that she was bumped up from our waiting list. She was really patient and nice on our canoe trip too, and said that it was the most fun she had had in a long time. That night, though, she thought that it was awful and verging on child abuse and she pitied our future children. I'm so concerned because she's going on a week long trip and everyone loses their patience while canoing including the counselors and we're trying really hard to make sure that, especially since her homelife is difficult, this will be one of the best experiences of her life. She refuses to talk to other campers and always tries to include herself into our staff meetings and conversations, so even the counselors can't give her too much encouragement because we want to ease her from her dependence on us. It's such a crappy situation, especially since all of the other campers are so tight, they get along so well, especially the girls. Ashleigh just calls them airheads and resents their friendship when they try to include her, which they won't do for much longer. Oh well, I'm sure that it will be fine. Tension is part of the experience. I just like to vent, and I get over-involved in analyzing the campers sometimes.
Deep breath.
I hope to god that she isn't the victim of abuse. The poor girl. She wants acceptance so badly but is afraid of failure so she pushes everyone away. However, she has benefitted from hanging out and canoing with Jack, who is a quiet, sweet boy who is one of the kindest hearted 17 year olds I've ever met. He's a little Of Mice and Men-like, only brighter. They get along well when we make them partner up for activities, he likes to hear about her fascination with dogs, and he's so patient. I hope that he can be a good influence. I love that kid.
Anyway, ramblings of a concerned camp counselor. This was very theraputic. I should do it again next week if I need a ramble. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 3rd, 2005|09:41 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | Nerdy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | The Flaming Lips | ] |
I am the proud owner of my first Gameboy Advanced, complete with some D-Mars to meet my nerdy puzzle game needs.
Hush is officially the sexiest thing ever, the two volume Batman graphic novel. Soooo hot. Though now, my new obsession is Nightwing. All of the badass-ness of Batman, but younger, less surly but with a sweet dry sense of humor, and he's an ex-acrobat. Maybe I should move to Bludhaven... |
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