home of the enslaved and cowardly

I had a beautiful dream last night.

Captivatingly frightening and fascinating. When you're scared but can't bear to peel your eyes away. That would be my first take on her work. I wonder if she has any part of her or her body that she feels self-conscious about. Maybe the highs she get during her pieces and performance state prevent self-consciousness? So much nudity and vulnerability, not just in terms of her body - there must be some awareness, right? Obviously, I am not the woman herself, but I cannot even fathom those experiences or attempt to understand them from perspective. Like almost everyone out there , performance art to me was something... less substantial? Perhaps because it is hard to understand, we put it off as something only the performers and critics and comprehend.

你的容身之处不是在我这里. Grass is greener. Help others only when you are sure that you don't need help.

When things (read: real life conversations ) don't go according to the script that I have already thought of, signed in triplicate, stamped, mailed, and reread in my head - I panic. Just a little. My panic is usually proportional to how close the conversation was to my script. Throw something in my direction that I didn't anticipate, and things can happen one of two ways. I can pretend to carry on the conversation in a plausible manner while silently thinking up of reasons why you said what you did (or if I was being too presumptuous or if we are very incompatible and should gradually drift away as the conversation slows down). Or I will throw something more unexpected your way - great relish and enjoyment of your refreshing response and thought process (or perhaps sudden fury and anger at your repulsive and unwanted comment). But, by all means, please don't let this discourage you from conversing with me. I will handle myself most appropriately. Or inappropriately. We'...

The Genteel Giant He comes from the days of yore, when you measured up your peers by their relative height and willingness to share french fries. Never one to treat anyone unfairly, this means that The Genteel Giant was capable of being quite the not-pushover. To everyone. Even with girls. Smaller than he. Which is still everyone. Because we were  are all still smaller than he. Apparently, something occurred during the High School arc that mellowed and sensitized the creature into the chill being he is today. Always one for witty banter and the absolute last word, The Genteel Giant is easily rendered amused by clever things. Solid loyalty and survival skills acquired from the Boy Scout years mean that you shouldn't vote him off the island. _____________________________________________________________________ Never Laconic Current status: female companion to The Genteel Giant. But, that's none of your business,  and her identity is strictly her own. Always qui...

This weekend, I did not fight with water balloons. I fought water balloons (an hour's worth of pruny, swollen fingers to mark my valiance). Watching them get used up in less than thirty minutes by bratty 9 and 10 year old boys was even more wonderful. Truthfully? Setting up everything for the kid brother was well worth it because that kid is the most delightfully sweetest, shyest, brightest, creative boy I know. Between we siblings three, our love is the obnoxiously loud, screaming, laughing, squealing, bear-hugging, wrestling, too loud to be publicly acceptable sort. CHEESINESS ALERT: I couldn't imagine my life or family being any other way. Happy (early) birthday to my dear brother! We're Phineas & Ferb fans. Bite me.

Summer plans are being in terms of productivity, so I have rewarded myself with a frozen yogurt waffle cone (it's not as bad as it sounds. Almost like a soft-serve ice cream cone). It's quite difficult to type coherently with just one hand whilst eating at the same time. Now for the real celebration... Kid brother of mine is turning a whole decade old soon, so I will be rushing home for the weekend and setting up his scavenger hunt. As tradition has dictated for the past 4-5 years, I create a scavenger hunt for the kid brother that involves clues, missions, and pictures that lead him to the location of his birthday present. For this year, in a fit of productivity (read: too lazy to do actual schoolwork), I started brainstorming the setup. So far, this masterpiece will include: riddles, pictures, codes, and other neat-o things. Last year I incorporated Chinese clues into the clues - he apparently wasn't ready for that. NO WORRIES. This year's gifts are bigger and better....

Upon watching reruns of childhood cartoons, I pointed out that Angelica from Rugrats  was a role model for me when I was younger. She was my favorite mostly because she was girly. The only other female main character would be Lil, but to the little girly-girl I was, Lil was simply too tomboyish and bald . Angelica wore her pigtails and dress with pride, ruling the "dumb babies" with the support of her doll Cynthia. Her brashness and cunning side would give me both secondhand embarrassment and hope to be more outspoken (read: less of a pushover). I doubt that I was completely convinced as I have only developed a backbone these past few years, but  it was a good push in the right direction. Coach cleverly suggested that I could be the Angelica of The Group. Though I wouldn't find this to be such a terrible thing, I am not objective enough to judge whether that would be an accurate description of me. Hmm. ALSO (more importantly) - ANOTHER SHOUTOUT TO MY FAVORITE ANONYMOUS...

Really. Without my roomie, I would be stumble around whilst simultaneously suffocating myself. Once again, she has shared some brilliant insight that was a completely new perspective on something I've been told and told myself for a while now. How lucky I am to have someone this clear-minded and close and wonderful. This new take I have now encourages me to not walk around in the dark like Blanche. Hair up. Earrings on. The old gal is back in a refreshing new flavor. Now it really feels like I'm Carrie Bradshaw. What is this.

Countdown until a certain genetics exam (let's just call it self-destruction) has begun. And here I sit, typing. When in a mood of the cerulean type, I generally like to dress wraith-like ( a la Blanche ). So here I sit, dressed like a conservative old goose, typing. ________________________________________________________________________________ There are some characters that are not ready to be fleshed out - mostly because I am not ready to closely examine yet. My dynamics with them and their dynamics with the group aren't fully cooked. So for those, we have to be patient. Just a heads up so that you don't hold your breath waiting. I will also try to do less self-advertising. Coach was right - no one really cares. This is more of a self-discovery, corny sort of thing. And I'm much more used to having an imaginary audience anyways. ________________________________________________________________________________ She-Sheldon At a superficial glance, thi...

Running into a problem lately. As I have found myself to be one of my best companions (going to forgo any denial because, at this point, even I can recognize this as kuh-razy), I talk, mutter, and voice my thoughts to myself. Which isn't weird to me. At all. Anyways, with all of this quality me/myself/I-time, I can't stand to be around certain strangers. How can I explain in this a sane manner? I cannot help but physically and mentally cringe when too many people are coughing and sneezing and wheezing and whispering too loudly in my too-tight-for-too-many-people-who-have-just-brisk-walked-in-the-hot-midday-sun-and-haven't-finished-perspiring-yet classroom. ANYWHO, TIME FOR THE MEAT. I am still closely examining the dynamics between what roomie calls, "THE Group" to fully explain in this, what I imagine to be, Abed-slash-Carrie Bradshaw (see: Sex and the City ) manner. ________________________________________________________________________________ In every gen...

And other things. Hammurabi's for my etymology paper. The other things are for my friends. It's my genius  fault, really. I REALLY want to make a parallel between the hit show Friends  and my, well, friends. But we soon realized that the pool of characters wasn't enough to cover all of our friends. So, we started collecting more characters from TV show, cartoons, movies, books. Maybe what we need is our own original series. Too bad we don't have an objective third person to use as a narration device. I, as challenged by one of the said friends, will simply serve as the writer for now (let's ignore all of my emotional, delusional. and hormonal baggage that all of my imaginary audience is familiar with from previous posts). Let's start off with the easy ones... _____________________________________________________________________________ Coach Coach - Nick Kent if you're well-versed in the world of sports blogs - as I like to call him, has been a class...

Or at least where the heart doesn't chew itself up only to spit out a sobbing, rotting mess covered in festering wounds. Not to say that I am said mess, but it isn't hard to figure out who I'm talking about on a blog that no one reads. Usually, I am just addressing myself - for anyone (nonexistent) who hasn't got that out of the previous sentence. Home is just so wholesome. Family is so wholesome. Pets are so wholesome. Coming home for even just a weekend is likely taking a vitamin that not only gives neon yellow pee, it also gives you a pep in your step and a giggle to creep people out with. Not that I mind, because mind you, I've got the giggles and don't really give a damn on what you think. That's what the power of having the giggles means. A shoutout to Tina Fey's Bossypants  that has managed to keep me from dissolving more often than I would have without a daily dose of giggles (which, for the record was twice this week. With Bossypants , that is)....