tv party/girl/eye
The bubble graphics team on 'Blind Date' were really, really on fire tonight. This is the point I want to drive home.
This summer will be a lot of ongoing experiments, to begin early morning Saturday. At this point my mother and boyfriend will help me move some livin' essentials into a (possibly haunted??) house in Williamsburg. I will experiment with taking a summer class, becoming a waitress once again, drinking/eating on porches, driving legally, and breaking the record for world's longest badminton match (e.g. testing the limit of my fey lily wrists for 124 minutes plus).
Tomorrow I break my 72 hours of TV and drag my fists to the dentist's office. Breaking off TV altogether is okay, really, even though it's just been these past couple of days, after hastily finishing papers, reading about serial killers, running in with the law (again), hastily packing, going to the beach, reuniting with family, and sleeping on top of photo albums strewn upon my bed. But there are still some obstacles in my way ('Project Runway' summer season, hmm?). I will write out a purpose, hypothesis, and 'lab materials needed' later.
When I was about seven and received language arts homework advice from my mom, I was completely convinced that she had made up the word "comma," somewhere along traversing from her youth and early adulthood in Japan to a sudden, new life with an American scholar-type. For some reason I just assumed she was fixated on the idea of a "kama," and simply humored her when she offered her insight on punctuation, saving any real ,-related inquiries for my dad. Don't get me wrong, she is certainly turning battier as she approaches her late fifties, but every once in a while I am humbled to remember how I waved all her kamas off and put my faith in a man who, if Ted Turner and his affiliated TV networks so willed it, would now watch Rob Schneider movies on an endless loop until the last cigarette break of his life.
This summer will be a lot of ongoing experiments, to begin early morning Saturday. At this point my mother and boyfriend will help me move some livin' essentials into a (possibly haunted??) house in Williamsburg. I will experiment with taking a summer class, becoming a waitress once again, drinking/eating on porches, driving legally, and breaking the record for world's longest badminton match (e.g. testing the limit of my fey lily wrists for 124 minutes plus).
Tomorrow I break my 72 hours of TV and drag my fists to the dentist's office. Breaking off TV altogether is okay, really, even though it's just been these past couple of days, after hastily finishing papers, reading about serial killers, running in with the law (again), hastily packing, going to the beach, reuniting with family, and sleeping on top of photo albums strewn upon my bed. But there are still some obstacles in my way ('Project Runway' summer season, hmm?). I will write out a purpose, hypothesis, and 'lab materials needed' later.
When I was about seven and received language arts homework advice from my mom, I was completely convinced that she had made up the word "comma," somewhere along traversing from her youth and early adulthood in Japan to a sudden, new life with an American scholar-type. For some reason I just assumed she was fixated on the idea of a "kama," and simply humored her when she offered her insight on punctuation, saving any real ,-related inquiries for my dad. Don't get me wrong, she is certainly turning battier as she approaches her late fifties, but every once in a while I am humbled to remember how I waved all her kamas off and put my faith in a man who, if Ted Turner and his affiliated TV networks so willed it, would now watch Rob Schneider movies on an endless loop until the last cigarette break of his life.