Voyeurism Quotas Skyrocket
Ever wonder where writing comes from?
Take that last post. That was a note to Necker, orginally. The half-finished scrap is currently lying on my bedroom floor, with a lot other scraps, worksheets, shoes, and all the clothing that I wore or considered wearing during the last two weeks. Sweaters, fishnets, boots, jeans, tops, camis, various underthings. It's a garmet garden. Buy a packet of miniskirt seeds, grow the yellow-and-chartreuse one for yourself, give the violet-and-blue to your friend. Your friend crossbreeds jeans and cardigans, then picks denim jackets with little pearly buttons and knit pants with rivets.
I have found what the very worst thing about my life is. It's stress.
Anna: and, most classically, I am reacting to this by stressing out
Necker: naturally
Anna: you're like an icicle of playing-it-coolness
Necker: yup
I'm constantly stressed. I'm a electric wire with millipede feet. Late arrival? I'm tightly moored and humming along. Three tests in the afternoon? I've slithered down from my pole, kicking and sparking on the pavement.
One the very best things about Britain was even though I was under stress, I didn't feel it. Moving hotels every couple of nights, getting along with friends and roommates, writing in my journal, not being locked in fire escapes - and I was happy. Just look at that bubble picture. Can't you see it in my face? I'm gorgeous!
And you know I'm stressed when I can't even give a compliment. "G! Hey! I haven't seen you all day! You weren't - where were - on the bus - this, this - morning? And that looks - OMG I have a history test - your, your shirt's - Swimmerette!? - really - I am so scared! - where? - how'd you get? - That - that - dress, skirt, thing, it's - so far ahead of me! - it's, you know, cute! See ya!"
On the plus side, my stressing did lead me to get fifty out of fifty on that Mighty essay. That assignment was like shaving your legs for gym class: irritating, perfunctory, scarring. I can't wait until my teacher sees my poem, which I'm coming to like quite a bit: "The stanzas connect in places the rubric didn't specify? Everybody could relate to it? This needs a few revisions, honey."
Take that last post. That was a note to Necker, orginally. The half-finished scrap is currently lying on my bedroom floor, with a lot other scraps, worksheets, shoes, and all the clothing that I wore or considered wearing during the last two weeks. Sweaters, fishnets, boots, jeans, tops, camis, various underthings. It's a garmet garden. Buy a packet of miniskirt seeds, grow the yellow-and-chartreuse one for yourself, give the violet-and-blue to your friend. Your friend crossbreeds jeans and cardigans, then picks denim jackets with little pearly buttons and knit pants with rivets.
I have found what the very worst thing about my life is. It's stress.
Anna: and, most classically, I am reacting to this by stressing out
Necker: naturally
Anna: you're like an icicle of playing-it-coolness
Necker: yup
I'm constantly stressed. I'm a electric wire with millipede feet. Late arrival? I'm tightly moored and humming along. Three tests in the afternoon? I've slithered down from my pole, kicking and sparking on the pavement.
One the very best things about Britain was even though I was under stress, I didn't feel it. Moving hotels every couple of nights, getting along with friends and roommates, writing in my journal, not being locked in fire escapes - and I was happy. Just look at that bubble picture. Can't you see it in my face? I'm gorgeous!
And you know I'm stressed when I can't even give a compliment. "G! Hey! I haven't seen you all day! You weren't - where were - on the bus - this, this - morning? And that looks - OMG I have a history test - your, your shirt's - Swimmerette!? - really - I am so scared! - where? - how'd you get? - That - that - dress, skirt, thing, it's - so far ahead of me! - it's, you know, cute! See ya!"
On the plus side, my stressing did lead me to get fifty out of fifty on that Mighty essay. That assignment was like shaving your legs for gym class: irritating, perfunctory, scarring. I can't wait until my teacher sees my poem, which I'm coming to like quite a bit: "The stanzas connect in places the rubric didn't specify? Everybody could relate to it? This needs a few revisions, honey."
posted by Anna at 8:51 PM
5 Comments:
Anna, I'm coming to Central's homecoming if I can!! Can't wait to see my best girlfriend! And stress? Hon, take a leaf out of my book and I'll take one out of yours. You know, combined, we'd be like the perfect person! That's pretty cool.
w00t first comment!
lol that was SO funny. i was like "anna? yeah.. thanks.. .what? huh? oh you're going? pumm what? okya... umhhh.. what? thanks.. bye!" lol then you ran off and i was like "well gee.. .i think she complimented me... oh well i'll see her on the bus" haha i luv youuuuuu anna. i'll see you tomorrow morning... runnin for the bus again :)
im always so tired in the morning to talk and then i never shutup in the afternoon teehee
<3 Xx gina
Cute blog!
I found your site when I was tracking my stats and I noticed people were jumping from your page to mine. Wierd how the web works, huh?
I love that picture of you in England. It's just so...bubbly.
Oh, that suggestion about the RAS post...you're genius. I love you. I just might do that, in time.
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