Monday, January 25, 2010

Leftover Palace

Today I ate a "sausage biscuit" from Donut Palace.
Mistake.
Today I battled with my lunch lady via emal.
Via emails that were shared with the principal and executive director.
Via emails that claimed I was anorexic.
Via emails that called me sweet and claimed to love me.
Those emails were win.
That experience goes in a box under my hat--
when I tip my hat to you, like a gentleman, some will slip out,
and sprinkle onto your day. And, it will make you smile.
The thing is:
you can think it's okay to make S H I T T Y F O O D,
that no one will say anything
that we'll all just eat it.
But. I won't.
I'll complain.
I'll send you emails.
I'll get involved to the max.
And you can turn it around on me.
But in the end,
either I win
or nobody does.
But today, I think I won.
I'll only eat on G U M B O Day--
in which I will eat two bowls of gumbo.
I'm happy with my B U R R I T O S in my room--
that I got for 39 cents at Wal Mart.
Sure beats whatever Shepheard's Pie is.
Looks like scraps to me.
I think I won today.
But, best of all: I'm full.

Friday, January 22, 2010

B L O G G T B L O G G E D

So our T E K K G U Y here at MSA is a douche.
He blocked blogger.
I don't even know what to say.
No internet in class.
None at home.
Limited in dorm.
I'm just G O I N G T O C R Y.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

I D O L O V E Y O U

---
Present from Brebre:
P R O M I S E R I N G

Thursday, January 14, 2010

H O S T' N

So, I'm hosting coffee shop tonight. I'll be reading my two new shorts ( One about Mony and the other about Paw.) I'll also be intoducing people. Yay.
>>
>>
>>
I've never hosted before.
I A M A F R A I D.

Y E S !

Scarlett O'Harra:
"What do you expect me to do?"

S O U L M A T E Z A R E B A C K I N S T Y L E



So apparently back in the beginning timez, people were not just pink or blue. There were men, there were women, and then there were the Androgyne. Basically, this was a man and a woman, back to back. They had all their parts and were completely alike, but one sort of circular body.
--
Tha man was the child of the Sun, and the man-woman was of the moon, which is made up of sun and earth. They were round, and moved like their parents (because planets are basically big circle spheres) so they rolled around.
--
Androgyne were greedy though, and they were very powerful (imagine a man and a woman in one body, every strength and every weakness balanced out) and they dared to scale the heavens, and made an attack on the Gods.
--
The Gods took council and Zeus discovered a way to humble their pride and improve their manners. They would continue to exist, but he cut them in two.
--
After the division, the two parts, each wanting the other half, came together throwing their arms around one another, intertwined in mutual embraces, longing to grow into one; they were on the point of dying from hunger and self-neglect because they did not like to do anything apart; and when one of the halves died and the other survived, the survivor sought a mate, man or woman, as we call them--and clung to that.
--
They were just destroying themselves when Zeus, in pity of them, invented a new plan. He turned the parts of generation round to the front, for this had not always been their position, and they sowed the seed no longer as hitherto like grasshoppers, in the ground, but in one another. After the transposition the male generated in the female in order that by mutual embraces of man and woman they might breed and the race might continue or if man came to man they might be satisfied and rest. and go their ways to the business of life: so ancient if the desire of one another which is implanted within us, reuniting our original nature, making one of two, and healing the state of man.
--
Each of us, when separated, having one side only, like a flat fish, is but the indenture of a man, and is always looking for his other half. When one of them meets with the other half, the actual half of himself, the pair are lost in amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment. These are the people who pass their whole lives together yet they could not explain what they desire of one another. For the intense yearning which each of them has for the other does not appear to be the desire of lovers' intercourse, but of something else which the soulof either evidently desires and cannot tell, and of which she has only a dark and doubtful presentiment.
((Most/all of this is directly copied from the link provided. I changed a few words and took out ellipses, just because that's how I roll.))
I think this is an amazing and beautiful way to look at like. It's an idea and belief I've always had, but never knew a word for. I'm so glad to know it's not just something
I M A D E U P I N M Y H E A D.
Enjoy.



(Click for source.)
Y E A H, I T H I N K I T ' S C O O L.

Acrylic is Asian for "Fake"

This is the first time I have seen all my fingernails in almost a month. It's a new experience to type with out acrylic nails. An extra inch on my fingers.

I don't want to bite them.
I want to grow them out like talons.
Scratch people's palms when I shake their hands.

I want them to help me.
Introduce themseves politely.
Show me how to find the clouds filled with money.
Show me how to do a rain dance.

I feel so weird in my own fingers.
They look terrible,
glue and then layers of nail covering it.
And uneven bed.
I've been prying them off for days.

It looks like a won.
It looks like I struggled.

G A G A


She's not broken, She's just a baby, But her Boyfriend's like A D A D J U S T L I K E A D A D.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Granny's Pink Suit Part II

I am you. New in New York City--fresh from Germany--"ich nicht sprechen deautsch."

Ich nicht sprechen city, I don't speak crowds--I just want to go home. My husband is still in Germany--he'll be on his way as soon as he can. I've never been so alone. Nineteen seemed like a much bigger number two years ago--7,781,984 people makes 19 look pretty small.

Before I left I kissed Carel and turned in front of the mirror. I wouldn't dare gettting on a plane dressed casually. I bought a brand new pink suit just for the occasion. I felt good--like every breath I took was one more closer home. I sighed deep and took a step out the door, struggling to carry my over-sized suitcase.

When I got off the plane...(to be continued.)

S A V E M Y S C H O O L

State officials are trying to move my school to Mississippi College for Women, in Columbus. The move would cost T O N S O F M O N E Y. The move would make it impossible for almost all the amazing teachers here to continue working for Mississippi School of the Arts (MSA.)


The move would make conditions worse for students, and they would lose the sense of "home" that is so prominent here in Brookhaven. The move would destroy the home created for so many alum already.


Though the move wouldn't take place until after my graduation, I would still feel very much affected. MSA has meant so much to me in these two years. It is a wonderful opportunity and family that anyone would be lucky to be included in: faculty, teachers, or students.


MSA has made me a better and more mature person. If it weren't for MSA I would not be pursuing my writing as I am now. If it weren't for MSA I don't know who I would be right now. The people surrounding this school have been my mothers and fathers--they've pushed me and helped me with any and everything I've needed. These people are unlike any others, and losing them would be a travesty for potential students to come.


Just as MSA is coming into view--just as people are becoming aware of it and being interested in it, MSA is potentially getting knocked down and halted. MSA could well fall apart because of this. The spirit of MSA, the Phoenix, would be so put down by this pointless move--recovery would happen, I'm sure, but not without struggle. Not without a forever looming sense of betrayal and loss.


MSA doesn't deserve this. The students and teachers and faculty who have made their homes here don't deserve this.


I will never understand why people fail to respect the arts--I will never know how to explain to them its importance. Imagine a world without color, a world of complete sameness, with no words, no music, and no creativity. Imagine a world completely void of Beethoven, Bob Ross, the Beatles--a place where children didn't color pictures to hang on their parents' fridge. What a loss.


I love MSA, I love it for all it's done for me and everyone who has come in contact with it. I love it for trying, no matter what challenges are brought to it. But more than I love it, I need it. I need to come back to MSA, like every other alumni--and see that it's still here--the same as people go home, just to know that it's still there.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Granny's Pink Suit


From my G R A N N Y D A:

Diane Troxler-Wright


After your pawpaw Carel and I were in Germany a few months, he found out that he was being transferred back to the States. I left on a flight before he was able to leave. When I got to New York, the airlines were on strike and I could not get a connecting flight to New Orleans. I panicked...I was only 19 years old and had N E V E R been that much alone before. So, I called Paw crying and her calmed me down. He told me to go to the train station and get a train to Louisiana. Well, I did and because of the strike...there were N O seats on A N Y train leaving New York for at least a week. I called Paw again...cryingand he calmed me down again and told me to go to the bus station and try there. I did and *bingo* I was able to get on a bus within the hour. Now remember...I was alone in New York city, scared senseless and wearing a P I N K S U I T! Back in thouse days (the late 60's) no one would dream of flying in the casual attire that is worn today. Well, I got on the bus...P I N K S U I T and all...scared silly and just wanting to see Mony and Paw. It took 4 1/2 days to get to Louisiana by bus...all the while in the same P I N K S U I T...stinky, Coke stains, food stains...are you getting the picture? When I finally made it home, Mony asked, "Does this have to go to the cleaners or can it be washed in the washing machine?" I looked at her and said, "B U R N I T." And I have N E V E R worn pink again.

New story

Leftovers
I like the picture I have of you in my head. Of you in your kitchen, with a spoon as tall as me, stirring a pot as tall as you--on a stepladder so you can reach. I like thinking you will always be that Mony. Making gumbo--serving out rations to all the family, each of us with the same number of shrimp in our bowls.
I D I D I T

o_o T H I S I S N O T A happy F A C E


I C A N N O T W R I T E A N Y T H I N G.
I C A N N O T D O M Y S T U P I D H O M E W O R K.
I A M T O O O V E R W H E L M E D T O F U N C T I O N.

P R O C R A S T I N A T I O N

( Kelsey, I love you.)
Don't be fooled ________.


I spent ten minutes of my morning writing down story ideas, bouncing memoriez off my Mom like a moonbounce.

I have three ideas, that I hope to write today.
I also have to do like, a lot of homework that I've been P U T T I N G O F F.



I hope I can get about T E N P A G E S O F W R I T I N G done today. That would be great.


Don't be fooled--like a kid with a dog in the circus.
I'm rubber, your glue, and W T F why aren't we made out of skin and organs like everyone else?

Monday, January 11, 2010

V I C T O R Y I S I N V I E W

I have about 20 pages of non fiction short pieces so far.
I need 80 or so more, by the end of May.
That's my goal.
To have a F I N I S H E D M A N U S C R I P T.
Hopefully, this summer I'll be able to get it into publishing.
My own book of stories for my own crazy famliy.
I mean it's basically a D R E A M C O M E T R U E F A T R U E.

Buffy, Algebra, Vampires, and Equations


So: Bubbie hates algebra. Alot.
2x+5 = 3x+4
2x+5 = 3x+4
-4 -4
2x+1=3x
-2x -2x
1=x

Here's the thing about algebra:
It does have a purpose. It does solve some twisted, hellish purpose.
just to see if she can. Algebra is hard, there's no need for it--
they just want to see if we're strong enough to kill a vampire.
But, I don't care about killing vampires--or x-variables--I care about words.
I'm the writer--the one girl in all the world with the strength and power
to defend against the hell mouth, and all the boring poems and demons
that come out of it. Equations are, like on Buffy, from another
Hellmouth entirely--I'm Sunnydale, metaphors and research papers--
and algebra is Cleveland, where I send the second slayer,
the one that's not really me--Faith--
to do her best.

did you wanna hear somethin sweet?

I mean, because it's not like you have a choice anyway.
I'm going to tell you--
I'm going to be mushy-gooshy sweetie fried--
and you can't do a thing to stop me.

I love him.
I really, really do.

I don't really know how else to say it.

That is all.

O V E R W H E L M E D

I'll never talk again;oh, boy you've left me speechless--

I love L A D Y G A G A
Brebre got me her new Cd this weekend.

Currently, I am listening to "Speechless" instead of doing my AP English work.

This is my T O D O L I S T

REFLECTION ON FRANKENSTEIN CHAPTERS 1--5
QUESTIONS ON FRANKENSTEIN 1--5&6--9
COMPARISON AND CONTRAST ESSAY (FRANKENSTEIN AND BEOWULF)
eMAIL MISS VAL ABOUT MY TRANSCRIPTS
eMAIL USM
GET PORTFOLIOS READY TO BE SENT--THEN SEND THEM
DECIDE WHAT WORKS SHOULD BE SUBMITTED TO THE LITERARY MAGAZINE
EDIT WORKS THAT SHOULD BE IN THE LITERARY MAGAZINE
EDIT EVERYONE ELSE'S NON FICTION WORKS FOR THE LITERARY MAGAZINE (I'M THE NON FICTION EDITOR.)
ALGEBRA II TEST--STUDY AND STUFF



O_O
did I sign up to be a senior?
It's the final act of my high school career.
I feel like I should make it a good show.
It's not a game, but I still have to play.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

baby small

I G O T A N E W L A P T O P
not new like I had one before.
Like, O M G Z Z I H A S I N T E R N E T Z F I R S T T I M E Z E V V A R R
It's magical.
It is my very own net book.
I love it.
It is an Eee PC.
I have skype.
It is magical.


We sold our great dane puppies to purchase it.
By "We" I mean "mom."

Yaaaay.


I am very happy about this.
I love internet.
I love baby computer.

Friday, January 8, 2010

Jules




I like riding with you.


I like the near-death experience of it all.


I like that you can't listen to choruses,


that all the songs we sing are poems


with a back beat.


I like that we never know where we're going.


Left;Right;Just don't go back


T O S C H O O L.


We just want to be away.


We just want to be going.


Moving.


Always somewhere different.


Slamming into people.


Slamming into ditches,


lightpoles,


each other.


If I can make it


S O C A N Y O U.


We're going to graduate.


We're going to keep moving.


Farther and farther apart.


And I'm going to miss you.







Book Making

I'm trying really hard to make a book by hand.
I hope it works.
I'm also trying really hard to get my parents to buy me a lap top by hand.
I hope that works A S W E L L.

O F F T O A L G E B R A II

What i mean to say is

that I am still really worried about S C H O L A S T I C S; because it's all my stories about my
M O N Y and I care a lot about them.
Everything I write is for her, really--maybe not in the sense that they're all A B O U T her per say, but they are for her in the way that--I mean, I want her to be proud of me, ya know?
I do all this so that one day she can brag about me. Something tangible that's not just the honor roll. I want her to be able to say, "Hey, diju read my granbabbiez book at da store? Iz real good."
I want her to feel like I've done something big. B I G like really big.
I want to feel like I've done something B I G.
I want to put her name in the world forever. Next to mine.
Je t'aime, Mony.
What I mean to say is that
I love you.
More than you will ever know. And I need you,
more than that.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

PS;PS

I won't know if I've won anything until lirpA.

PS

Sorry that last post wasn't all that C R E A T I V E I think I'm too stressed to be W I T T Y.

This won't be a habbit of mine.

P R O M I S E.

I submitted my works to Scholastics--all my best writing is in their hands.
I've stressed about it for kind of a month, and for the entirety of this week.
I will continue to stress unitl I know if I've won.
If I don't win
I W I L L C R Y U N T I L L E T T E R S F A L L O U T O F M Y E Y E S

this is most likely creepy--but H E R E Y A G O