Friday, July 30, 2004
Last night I played dress up doll for no one and got shit about it. I'm getting sick of people who lie to me. I like the truth more. I saw a good friend last night and he was drunk and much older than I remembered him. Or maybe he was just too drunk and it made him seem older. My best friend thinks that the whole situation is sick. I danced alone to loud music is a large room with a small number of people. I got drunk off of one cocktail. I proved someone wrong. I ran around in six inch heels until my feet hurt so bad I couldn't stand it, so then I took them off and put on filp-flops with my fishnets and laughed inmy head because I was happy that now I can run around in six inch heels and put them on and off at my leisure. Someone asked me if I could see anything what wouldit be and why. I said my little orphan boy because he is my best friend in the whole world even if I never see him again,but I miss him so much. Has anyone seen Thomas Andrew Oldham? Shhh! Don't tell anyone that his real name is Thomas or he'll kill me. We used to have a secret club,and only we were allowed to know each other's real names. I started going by mine though, so I guess I ruined it. The dream is still there. Even when I drink myself to sleep. I woke up screaming and I grabbed Armon and yelled for him not to leave me. I don't even remember waking up. Fucking dream. Maybe it means that.....
|
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Lights up. The teacher sits on a stool center stage. She is surrounded by a pack of children sitting in a semi-circle at her feet.
TEACHER: Good morning class.
KIDS: Good morning Mrs. Miller.
TEACHER: Now, today we are going to learn about something called cap-i-tal-ism. Can you say cap-i-tal-ism?
KIDS: Capitalism.
Teacher: Very good. Ok, I'm going to read you an excerpt from the book, "Money Doesn't Buy Happiness" Ready?
KIDS: Yes.
TEACHER: Ok, here we go. Once upon a time there was a young man named Richard. Richard was a horribly smart, shy, and overall plain young man. He attended a good Ivy League college on full scholarship. Richard walked around campus all day with his head down. He never talked to anybody and nobody ever talked to him. Richard was a very lonely young man. At night he would stare at his ceiling and think of how one day he would change his life for the better. One day he would own his own company and then he would control all of the morons he went to school with. Richard was a doer.
And once upon another time there was a beautiful young girl named Mary. Mary moved out of her parents' house when she was 17. She worked as a waitress in a crappy diner until one day a photographer came in and gave her his card. He told Mary that she was beautiful and she should be a model. Off Mary went on call after call for modeling jobs. Soon Mary was paying her rent from working these small jobs, and even sooner after that Mary began to find menb to pay her rent for her. The only problem was that Mary never had enough. She always wanted to be five pounds thinner or wear a more expensive brand of jewelry. Mary would skim the latest issues of "Vogue" and "Glamour" and wish that she had those clothes, that hair, that car. Mary always wanted more.
The years came and went and shy, smart, Richard now owned his own computer company, and two houses, three cars, lots of stock, a big screen plasma TV, a golf course, a dog, a huge stereo, and a small island with a private jet. Richard was no longer lonely. People always seemed eager to be his friend. He was introduced as, "This is Richard. He owns the company." Richard threw big parties and went out all the time, but he still felt like somthing was missing. He couldn't possibly imagine what, though, because he owned everything he could ever want. This was the night that Richard met Mary.
Richard was out at a bar with some of his work associates the night he met Mary. Mary had been sitting feigning interest in Richard's friend Matt when Matt introduced Richard to Mary. "Mary, this is Richard. He owns the company." Jackpot. Mary knew from that instant that she would marry Richard. She spent the rest of the night talking to him and smiling and pretending that he was her prince charming. Then it was morrning and Mary had to go home, and she was so convincing that Richard simply had to see her again. Mary, who had been so convincing in doing her convincing, had actually started to believe that Richard was her prince charming so she agreed. The days came and went.
A few months later, Mary and Richard were married and back from their private island honeymoon. Richard had to work all the time and Mary was left alone all day. As compensation for being gone all the time, Richard gave Mary tons of money to play with while he was away. Everyday Mary would shop. She bought clothes and jewelry and make-up. Richard would come home and kiss her head and go to sleep. And Mary and Richard were lonely and sad.
One day after Mary had bought herself some new breasts, slimmer thighs, and a perkier ass, Richard came home and didn't say a word or kiss her on the head. Richard went and worked on the computer until Mary fell asleep. The next day Mary was floating around the pool in her Versace bikini, drinking a cocktail, and being horribly misrable when she suddenly found herself in the midst of a steamy conversation with the equally steamy pool boy. One thing led to another and Mary and the pool boy out the mirrored ceiling of the master bedroom to use for much longer than they had intended. The in walked Richard, who looked at his wife, walked over and kissed her head. Richard went over to the night stand and opened the top drawer. Mary was crying hysterically. "Shhh!" said Richard. Richard pulled out a gun adn Mary was screaming and crying. He opened his mouth and stuck the gun inside. "Shhh!"
After Richard's funeral, Mary went home to her big house, and five cars, and lots of stock, and dog, and plasma screen TV, and clothes, and jewelry, and shoes. Mary lived unhappily ever after.
The children are sitting wide-eyed and disturbed. A few of the are crying.
Ok, class, what did you learn from that story? Yes, Billy?
BILLY: That Mary is a two bit hussy who should have never been trusted in the first place.
TEACHER: No, Billy. What did you learn about capitalism?
BILLY: With capitalism you can get rich and have a hot wife, but you will end up dead and unhappy?
TEACHER: Kind of. The point is that people try to buy things to fill them with happiness.
The children are staring wide eyed and crying.
Any other questions or comments class? Class? Class? Hello? Children? Answer me!
Silence. Lights out.
* This paper got me a B+.
|
TEACHER: Good morning class.
KIDS: Good morning Mrs. Miller.
TEACHER: Now, today we are going to learn about something called cap-i-tal-ism. Can you say cap-i-tal-ism?
KIDS: Capitalism.
Teacher: Very good. Ok, I'm going to read you an excerpt from the book, "Money Doesn't Buy Happiness" Ready?
KIDS: Yes.
TEACHER: Ok, here we go. Once upon a time there was a young man named Richard. Richard was a horribly smart, shy, and overall plain young man. He attended a good Ivy League college on full scholarship. Richard walked around campus all day with his head down. He never talked to anybody and nobody ever talked to him. Richard was a very lonely young man. At night he would stare at his ceiling and think of how one day he would change his life for the better. One day he would own his own company and then he would control all of the morons he went to school with. Richard was a doer.
And once upon another time there was a beautiful young girl named Mary. Mary moved out of her parents' house when she was 17. She worked as a waitress in a crappy diner until one day a photographer came in and gave her his card. He told Mary that she was beautiful and she should be a model. Off Mary went on call after call for modeling jobs. Soon Mary was paying her rent from working these small jobs, and even sooner after that Mary began to find menb to pay her rent for her. The only problem was that Mary never had enough. She always wanted to be five pounds thinner or wear a more expensive brand of jewelry. Mary would skim the latest issues of "Vogue" and "Glamour" and wish that she had those clothes, that hair, that car. Mary always wanted more.
The years came and went and shy, smart, Richard now owned his own computer company, and two houses, three cars, lots of stock, a big screen plasma TV, a golf course, a dog, a huge stereo, and a small island with a private jet. Richard was no longer lonely. People always seemed eager to be his friend. He was introduced as, "This is Richard. He owns the company." Richard threw big parties and went out all the time, but he still felt like somthing was missing. He couldn't possibly imagine what, though, because he owned everything he could ever want. This was the night that Richard met Mary.
Richard was out at a bar with some of his work associates the night he met Mary. Mary had been sitting feigning interest in Richard's friend Matt when Matt introduced Richard to Mary. "Mary, this is Richard. He owns the company." Jackpot. Mary knew from that instant that she would marry Richard. She spent the rest of the night talking to him and smiling and pretending that he was her prince charming. Then it was morrning and Mary had to go home, and she was so convincing that Richard simply had to see her again. Mary, who had been so convincing in doing her convincing, had actually started to believe that Richard was her prince charming so she agreed. The days came and went.
A few months later, Mary and Richard were married and back from their private island honeymoon. Richard had to work all the time and Mary was left alone all day. As compensation for being gone all the time, Richard gave Mary tons of money to play with while he was away. Everyday Mary would shop. She bought clothes and jewelry and make-up. Richard would come home and kiss her head and go to sleep. And Mary and Richard were lonely and sad.
One day after Mary had bought herself some new breasts, slimmer thighs, and a perkier ass, Richard came home and didn't say a word or kiss her on the head. Richard went and worked on the computer until Mary fell asleep. The next day Mary was floating around the pool in her Versace bikini, drinking a cocktail, and being horribly misrable when she suddenly found herself in the midst of a steamy conversation with the equally steamy pool boy. One thing led to another and Mary and the pool boy out the mirrored ceiling of the master bedroom to use for much longer than they had intended. The in walked Richard, who looked at his wife, walked over and kissed her head. Richard went over to the night stand and opened the top drawer. Mary was crying hysterically. "Shhh!" said Richard. Richard pulled out a gun adn Mary was screaming and crying. He opened his mouth and stuck the gun inside. "Shhh!"
After Richard's funeral, Mary went home to her big house, and five cars, and lots of stock, and dog, and plasma screen TV, and clothes, and jewelry, and shoes. Mary lived unhappily ever after.
The children are sitting wide-eyed and disturbed. A few of the are crying.
Ok, class, what did you learn from that story? Yes, Billy?
BILLY: That Mary is a two bit hussy who should have never been trusted in the first place.
TEACHER: No, Billy. What did you learn about capitalism?
BILLY: With capitalism you can get rich and have a hot wife, but you will end up dead and unhappy?
TEACHER: Kind of. The point is that people try to buy things to fill them with happiness.
The children are staring wide eyed and crying.
Any other questions or comments class? Class? Class? Hello? Children? Answer me!
Silence. Lights out.
* This paper got me a B+.
I think my English teacher is either going to give me a "B" or report me to the authorities because I keep writing capitalist bashing stories. Yesterday I wrote an essay that compared capitalism to a pimp. It contained sentences such as, "I'm not capitalism's whore!" and "Sex equals money, money doesn't equal sex (necessarily), and yes, I'm going to say it, capitalism sucks."
|
So I keep having the same flash back. At first I thought it was a dream, but the I got it during the day and it's uber vivid and it's really freaking me out. I asked my dad about it, but he doesn't remember. Thenm I remembered that my dad has the worst memory on the planet and he can't even remember mooning my friend Katie when we were 16. Make it stop.
|
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
YAY! I just finished my last day of class for acting. My professor said I look like I should be in Flock of Seagulls. He also said that I should go talk to someone at Horizon theater because she wants to put on my play in a playwrite showcase. YES! A "real" non-school theater wants to do my play! This is super fantastical. I'm so happy I think I'm going to cry or explode or both. I'm going to go talkt to her tomorrow. So, I have to get to writing.
|
Thespacebaronthiscomputerisbroken.Haha!
|
YesterdayArmonand I spoke in narritive and no one else got it. My hair or lack there of looks insanely ridiculous. I find this extremely funny. I look like I got stuck in 1987 and I'm pretty sure it's going to make my dad cry when he sees it. Does anyone have a wig or suggestions? I tried to build a time machine for Mercedes,but I think you need magic or something for that sort of thing. This morning I had a conversation about how very talented people often die young, so I said, "In that case,I'm going to die before 30." Then I got laughed at.
|
Monday, July 26, 2004
I'm about to go shave my head and donate my hair to kids with cancer. FUCKING ROCK!
|
Last night was supposed to be fun. Drinking, food fight, brainless chatter, drunken race. Loser pukes first. I would have lost. I was running late. "Miranda where are you? I miss you. I haven't seen you in like forevermillion years!" I told her I was on Ponce and I'd be there soon. I hung up the phone. I arrived at her door about 12 minutes later. The lights were all off. She opened the door, ushered me in, and promptly locked it behind me. She looked like she hadn't eaten or slept in days and her apartment looked like she hadn't left it in weeks. The windows were shut and covered with dark curtains to keep out any light. I was wearing sleeves. She looked at me and said, "Miranda, are those for fashion or are you hiding something". She pulled them up and shook her head at the burns. She was tweaked. I sat down. There was a room full of people, drinking, smoking, snorting. My heart was pounding. I hoped no one could hear it. I felt like crumbling. She was so sad. When did everything get this way? I shouldn't have stayed away for so long, but I couldn't make myself stay there. I told her I had to go because Armon was feeling bad. "Don't go. We can give Armon a roll. It will make him happy." She looked at me with childlike eyes and I knew she needed me there, but I couldn't stay. I gave her a hug and told her I loved her and I missed her. I promised to hang out with her on Tuesday night. "I miss you too. I'll see you Tuesday." I left and this was the hard part. Hold it together. Pretend you don't care. Pretend it doesn't hurt like the most unique and exquisite pain I'd ever felt. I'm the strong one. I'm the fixer. I'm not allowed to fall apart. I drove to the cathedral. I walked up and sat under a tree on the front lawn and looked at the huge spire. There was fierce wind and lightning. I sat and thought about the fucking irony of it all. She was named for the catholic saint of mercy. The wind blew harder. She needed me and I left because I couldn't handle seeing her that way. Thunder boomed in the distance. I shouldn't have left her. Why can't I fix this? Why do I always have to watch the people I love deteriorate? I fell on the ground and began to sob hysterically. It began to rain hard. I wanted to run, only I was already hyperventilating. Why did this hurt so bad? It was pouring now and I was drenched and cold and crumbled on the ground with my heart broken into a thousand pieces. I peeled myself off of the wet ground and walked to the car. I climbed in and cranked the heat and put on a dry shirt. I forced myself to stop crying and I drove home and went to sleep.
And that was my last night. Sorry this wasn't light hearted. I like to write happy more because it does a greater service to humanity, but last night is still on my mind, so I had to write about it.
|
And that was my last night. Sorry this wasn't light hearted. I like to write happy more because it does a greater service to humanity, but last night is still on my mind, so I had to write about it.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
ATTENTION: I, Miranda Brooke Baras, have found a cure for insomnia. I know, I know, right now you are saying to yourself, "That Miranda sure is a genius." and that much is true. I bet you are also saying to yourself, "Self, I wonder what this magic cure could possibly be?". Well, the answer is here folks, and it's name is alcohol. I know what you're thinking. "Isn't that just following the path towards alcoholism?" No, no it is not. You see after just one drink...maybe two. I pass out before I can even get really drunk and it turns my brain off. As my good friend Mercedes says, "When you pass out from drinking, it just means you're brain is having too much fun for you to handle." I guess this means my brain is having a total party. And I get to sleep. I however, must caution all of my readers: This cure is not for everybody and I am in no way responsible for contributing to the alcoholism of any person who is subject to reading this material. Thank you and have a fantastic day.
|
Monday, July 19, 2004
Dear Everyone,
I know I say this all the time, but I am really funny. I have proof of this fact! Today in class I read some of monologue and everyone laughed. I was also asked how I came up with stuff like that, and I replied that I'm just very eccentric. I would like to thank my lonely childhood for pumping up my imagination. Also, the only way to be really funny is to be really serious. So, if I act seriously odd for the next few days, I'm just trying to up my funny. DO NOT BE ALARMED! Today in class, I kept laughing at things that I forgot I didn't say out loud and it got me a lot of eyebrow raises. In short: I am very funny and very happy right now. This is awesome! Love,
Miranda
|
I know I say this all the time, but I am really funny. I have proof of this fact! Today in class I read some of monologue and everyone laughed. I was also asked how I came up with stuff like that, and I replied that I'm just very eccentric. I would like to thank my lonely childhood for pumping up my imagination. Also, the only way to be really funny is to be really serious. So, if I act seriously odd for the next few days, I'm just trying to up my funny. DO NOT BE ALARMED! Today in class, I kept laughing at things that I forgot I didn't say out loud and it got me a lot of eyebrow raises. In short: I am very funny and very happy right now. This is awesome! Love,
Miranda
And Now, For A Happy And Amusing Story:
I happened to be out the other day with a good friend who has recently gone from man whore to sex-no-more, and we saw the most unbelieveable ass EVER! It was freaking out of this world and ungodly, and all that great stuff. So my celibate friend looks over at her and says something around the lines of: "Damn, do you see that ass? It just makes me wanna bend her over and..." I guess i was giving him a look or something. "Bend her over, and get to know her very well before I do so, because I don't do that sort of thing anymore." Maybe this is one of those you had to be there stories.
|
I happened to be out the other day with a good friend who has recently gone from man whore to sex-no-more, and we saw the most unbelieveable ass EVER! It was freaking out of this world and ungodly, and all that great stuff. So my celibate friend looks over at her and says something around the lines of: "Damn, do you see that ass? It just makes me wanna bend her over and..." I guess i was giving him a look or something. "Bend her over, and get to know her very well before I do so, because I don't do that sort of thing anymore." Maybe this is one of those you had to be there stories.
Another question: Why is the egg donor such a fuck up? I just don't get it. You would think that she would've learned on round two.
|
Last night was great. I got sleep. Yay! So, I think I may now have to enter the world of the grown up peoples for serious. And by that, I mean I may be getting a kid. And, by that I mean more specifically, a teenager, my kid sister who I haven't really seen for most of her life and who until yesterday I believed hated me for leaving her. On the upside to all of this, I will finally have a piece of real family who might even love me a bunch if I can work all of this out the right way. This should be interesting.
|
Friday, July 16, 2004
OH MY G-D!!! ANXIETY! I'm about to
go to work and I'm not sleeping tonight, or tomorrow probably.
I'm freaking out, and my heart's beating too fast, and I can't find the
phone number for the egg donor...this is going to be a disaster...by
the way, if I leave town without telling anyone, don't worry cause I'll
be back. It just means I have problems to run away from. Why am I so
g-d damn high strung?!? I'm like a fuckin' Jack Russel terrier! This
sucks, this sucks, this sucks...and, I'm gonna get a lecture. I can
already tell. Does anyone know where I can get some shit to calm me the
fuck down? I would really appreciate it. Or, I could always just bail
out on tomorrow, but then I'll be gilt stricken and feel
awful....hummm....maybe I'd rather feel awful than anxious. Crap!!!
Sorry for the stupid rant.
|
go to work and I'm not sleeping tonight, or tomorrow probably.
I'm freaking out, and my heart's beating too fast, and I can't find the
phone number for the egg donor...this is going to be a disaster...by
the way, if I leave town without telling anyone, don't worry cause I'll
be back. It just means I have problems to run away from. Why am I so
g-d damn high strung?!? I'm like a fuckin' Jack Russel terrier! This
sucks, this sucks, this sucks...and, I'm gonna get a lecture. I can
already tell. Does anyone know where I can get some shit to calm me the
fuck down? I would really appreciate it. Or, I could always just bail
out on tomorrow, but then I'll be gilt stricken and feel
awful....hummm....maybe I'd rather feel awful than anxious. Crap!!!
Sorry for the stupid rant.
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
I began writing my autobiography today. It's called, "Shhh!". And yes, I know I'm only 19 and my life hasn't even really begun yet or some crap like that. I'm basing "Shhh!" on my life as Brooke Baras, and when I finish it, I'm going to build a large bonfire and watch that fucker burn. Today I dug up my old high school insomnia journal, "At 3am I'm a Genius" as research for "Shhh!" and...HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!! I was such a schitzoid tweaker in high school. Why was I not institutionalized? I had hallucinations and shit and I never even did drugs! I guess I hid it all very well. So, everyone can understand why the fuck I'm flipping out over this, here is an excerpt from "At 3am I'm a Genius":
"I've become an insomniac of some sort, I go at least one or two days a week without sleeping, It's kind of funny, I mean, I used to be the one that always went to bed at 9pm, and now I'm the one that doesn't got to bed. I think if all people lost some sleep the world would be a much more creative place. That's when I get my best ideas, in the odd hours of the morning, and it's not like you can call people at that time and tell them what's on your mind because either you would get in trouble or the person you called would be half asleep and would have no clue what you were talking about. People are afraid of their thoughts. I always wonder why that is, I could sit alone for hours and entertain myself with my mind only. People amaze me sometimes with their fears. Thinking for yourself is almost like a phobia, people go to extreme measures to avoid it. That's why we have so much media, tv, radio, web, papers, books, all to escape our own golden thoughts. I hate human nature. It's one of the things I hate most in the world. I just don't understand people and they don't understand me. They're hypocrates and liars and sometimes my lack of understanding makes me want to scream. If people don't understand they could at least accept, that's what kills me. People don't undersatnd me and they don't accept me, well most don't. I pity the unique and creative souls in our world. Sometimes I imagine that I don't actually belong here...the other night I was staring at a ceiling of plaster. It was white and powdery and covered in droplets. I was picturing it like snow on a tv screen, spiraling inward, into a pastel rainbow of glow-in-the-dark colors forever spinning. I just thought it would be a comfort to fall asleep to, like silent music singing you to sleep.....I haven't been getting much sleep lately and I've hallucinated two nights. The first night, I saw fairies. It was dark and I was putting the phone on the ground from my bed and I saw one flutter up diagionally from the floor to my candle. I turned the light on and it was gone. I turned the light back off and I saw my pants bundled up on the floor, but they were covered in the shimmering fairies, and the mass of pants and fairies looked like it was breathing. The second night I took my bracelets and necklaces and put them in a pile on my bedside table and turned off the lights. The pile started squirming like a bunch of worms, so I turned the light on and it was still moving. Then I stuck my hand in the pile and it was still moving, so I turned off the light and stared at my ceiling for a while. A little elf man's face appeared in the vent in my ceiling. He had a hat on and I could just see his head and shoulders. He was talking to me, but I couldn't hear him, it was like he was on mute. I finally turned to the window above my bed, then I saw a medium sized black creature and it really freaked me out, so I closed my eyes and tried to sleep."
WHAT THE FUCK!?! That was me age 15 or 16, no drugs, with a horrible lack of sleep and an overflow of insane. This should be an interesting book to say the least.
|
"I've become an insomniac of some sort, I go at least one or two days a week without sleeping, It's kind of funny, I mean, I used to be the one that always went to bed at 9pm, and now I'm the one that doesn't got to bed. I think if all people lost some sleep the world would be a much more creative place. That's when I get my best ideas, in the odd hours of the morning, and it's not like you can call people at that time and tell them what's on your mind because either you would get in trouble or the person you called would be half asleep and would have no clue what you were talking about. People are afraid of their thoughts. I always wonder why that is, I could sit alone for hours and entertain myself with my mind only. People amaze me sometimes with their fears. Thinking for yourself is almost like a phobia, people go to extreme measures to avoid it. That's why we have so much media, tv, radio, web, papers, books, all to escape our own golden thoughts. I hate human nature. It's one of the things I hate most in the world. I just don't understand people and they don't understand me. They're hypocrates and liars and sometimes my lack of understanding makes me want to scream. If people don't understand they could at least accept, that's what kills me. People don't undersatnd me and they don't accept me, well most don't. I pity the unique and creative souls in our world. Sometimes I imagine that I don't actually belong here...the other night I was staring at a ceiling of plaster. It was white and powdery and covered in droplets. I was picturing it like snow on a tv screen, spiraling inward, into a pastel rainbow of glow-in-the-dark colors forever spinning. I just thought it would be a comfort to fall asleep to, like silent music singing you to sleep.....I haven't been getting much sleep lately and I've hallucinated two nights. The first night, I saw fairies. It was dark and I was putting the phone on the ground from my bed and I saw one flutter up diagionally from the floor to my candle. I turned the light on and it was gone. I turned the light back off and I saw my pants bundled up on the floor, but they were covered in the shimmering fairies, and the mass of pants and fairies looked like it was breathing. The second night I took my bracelets and necklaces and put them in a pile on my bedside table and turned off the lights. The pile started squirming like a bunch of worms, so I turned the light on and it was still moving. Then I stuck my hand in the pile and it was still moving, so I turned off the light and stared at my ceiling for a while. A little elf man's face appeared in the vent in my ceiling. He had a hat on and I could just see his head and shoulders. He was talking to me, but I couldn't hear him, it was like he was on mute. I finally turned to the window above my bed, then I saw a medium sized black creature and it really freaked me out, so I closed my eyes and tried to sleep."
WHAT THE FUCK!?! That was me age 15 or 16, no drugs, with a horrible lack of sleep and an overflow of insane. This should be an interesting book to say the least.
I think I'm goning to do this as my next monologue for acting class and probably make about a "c" and crack only myself up while doing it.
SHANTAL: Shit shody, I thought I had it bad breakin’my
leg and all.At least I wasn’t on TV, but I mean damn,
don’t you still get money for that shit? Anywayz, hey
peoples. My name’s Shantal. I got Dancing Man
Syndrome…um and today the doctor tried to tell me that
I got Whit Man’s Disease too or some bullshit. I was
just like, Bitch, you don’t know me! Do I look like
some kind of cracker to you? That and I don’t know
about that bullshit doctor, but I have never seen no
MAN with such a great rack or this much back! You
know, some fools just don’t be knowin’what the fuck
they talkin’ bout.
DR. HOWELL: Ok Shantal, back on subject. What got you
here?
SHANTAL: Oh yea. Well it was Friday night, you know,
and me and my girlz had just got our nails and hair
did and we was lookin’ fine! So, we decided to go to
the club and get our party on cause DJ Coma was
spinning with MC Amnesia. I love MC Amnesia! He can’t
remember shit, but he still always manages to rhyme,
that and damn is he cut! Well, me and my girl, Janika
got to the club lookin’ all cute and shit so the
bouncer let us into V.I.P. I was sippin’on some
Hennessee when MC Amnesia walked into the V.I.P. He
came over and asked if I had time to dace with him
between sets, so I said yea,if he had time to buy me
a drink. Well he went off to buy me a drink and I’m
standin’ around for bout twenty minutes before I finally go
to the bar to get him because that damn fool forgot he was
going to buy me a drink! DJ Coma started spinnin’ a
slow jam so I got upon the bar trying to be all sexy
and dance for MC Amnesia, but for some reason I began
to dance really fast I was poppin’ and shakin’and then
the next thing I know I’m on a stretcher going to the
hospital. I blacked out, I mean shit I thought I said
I was drunk. At the hospital they told me that I fell
off the bar and hit my head and broke my leg. That’s
why I’m here. I can dance though, for real. I don’t
have that White Man’s Disease Bullshit, I was drunk.
Ya’ll know, I can…
|
SHANTAL: Shit shody, I thought I had it bad breakin’my
leg and all.At least I wasn’t on TV, but I mean damn,
don’t you still get money for that shit? Anywayz, hey
peoples. My name’s Shantal. I got Dancing Man
Syndrome…um and today the doctor tried to tell me that
I got Whit Man’s Disease too or some bullshit. I was
just like, Bitch, you don’t know me! Do I look like
some kind of cracker to you? That and I don’t know
about that bullshit doctor, but I have never seen no
MAN with such a great rack or this much back! You
know, some fools just don’t be knowin’what the fuck
they talkin’ bout.
DR. HOWELL: Ok Shantal, back on subject. What got you
here?
SHANTAL: Oh yea. Well it was Friday night, you know,
and me and my girlz had just got our nails and hair
did and we was lookin’ fine! So, we decided to go to
the club and get our party on cause DJ Coma was
spinning with MC Amnesia. I love MC Amnesia! He can’t
remember shit, but he still always manages to rhyme,
that and damn is he cut! Well, me and my girl, Janika
got to the club lookin’ all cute and shit so the
bouncer let us into V.I.P. I was sippin’on some
Hennessee when MC Amnesia walked into the V.I.P. He
came over and asked if I had time to dace with him
between sets, so I said yea,if he had time to buy me
a drink. Well he went off to buy me a drink and I’m
standin’ around for bout twenty minutes before I finally go
to the bar to get him because that damn fool forgot he was
going to buy me a drink! DJ Coma started spinnin’ a
slow jam so I got upon the bar trying to be all sexy
and dance for MC Amnesia, but for some reason I began
to dance really fast I was poppin’ and shakin’and then
the next thing I know I’m on a stretcher going to the
hospital. I blacked out, I mean shit I thought I said
I was drunk. At the hospital they told me that I fell
off the bar and hit my head and broke my leg. That’s
why I’m here. I can dance though, for real. I don’t
have that White Man’s Disease Bullshit, I was drunk.
Ya’ll know, I can…
Monday, July 12, 2004
The world has gone insane! I went crusin' yesterday with Andy and pictures will be posted soon. I'm going to real college in January. I will have college friends there. This rules! Also, someone thinks I'm funny and they want to co-direct my play, "Dance Like It's A Disease" so I have to re-write some of it. This is going to be fantastic!!! Have I mentioned how great my life is right now? Oh, yeah...I also get to hang out with the best guy in the world tomorrow AND, I get to kiss him. FANTASTIC!
|
Sunday, July 11, 2004
The word "Blesseth" is super hard to say with a lisp. Up yours, Shakespeare!
|
Saturday, July 10, 2004
I just had a guy in my hallway catch me doing the happy dance. I was thinking about my life and how it's been a complete 180 in the last five months, which made me really happy. Then I walked outside my apartment, closed my door, twirled around and laughed. When I stopped twirling I saw him. I was wearing a big grey sweatshirt and leopard print fuzzy slippers. He just looked at me, smiled and kept walking. I'm really glad I wasn't singing.
P.S. None of you will EVER catch me doing the happy dance!!!
|
P.S. None of you will EVER catch me doing the happy dance!!!
Tonight is funny because...
Armon and I are getting sauced on vodka and Hi-C.
I was told that my ass looks like it's starting a continent, specifically, Asia.
I hit my arm on everything at work.
We are about to play bloody knuckles and I'm boxing at 12:30...ouch...haha...
I'm a massochist...I mean.....wait a minute....I don't think I mean to write that...
Time for more Hi-C.
|
Armon and I are getting sauced on vodka and Hi-C.
I was told that my ass looks like it's starting a continent, specifically, Asia.
I hit my arm on everything at work.
We are about to play bloody knuckles and I'm boxing at 12:30...ouch...haha...
I'm a massochist...I mean.....wait a minute....I don't think I mean to write that...
Time for more Hi-C.
Friday, July 09, 2004
I saw my first shooting star yesterday. It was amazing.
|
I opened my eyes this morning and though. Wow, I must have done something really good.
|
Thursday, July 08, 2004
My subconscious is a phenomenal writer. I read my free associations and think to myself, "Why can't I write that well when I'm thinking."
|
Hi Miranda. Hey Brooke. What's up Drew? Hey Angel Baby. Haven't seen you in a while. It's been about five months. It's been about a year. It's been a long time. Yeah, it's been a long time. You still working there? Where have you been? I've been hiding out. I've been behaving. I've been doing good. You still have great tits. How that relationship work out? It didn't. I knew it! You still engaged? I dumped him for a girl. That's rough. Still got a nice ass. Are you nineteen yet? Yeah. It's about time, give it two more years. What are you doing now? I'm working and going to school. You still hang out with so-and-so? No, they're too into drugs and sex and sex and drugs and money. I told you I've been behaving. Yeah, well I'll see you around. Not for a while. I'll be hiding out. Don't worry about me because I'm doing fine.
|
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
The hair brush is my best friend and worst enemy at the same time. I loathe you oh hair brush! Yet I need you so. My hair is a matted and tangled wreck that your bristles sadistically rip and tear apart. Do you find this amusing hair brush? Do you laugh at my pain? Then you glide smoothly from strand to strand as if in apology for your wrong doings. I'm sorry hair brush. I simply can't stay mad at you. Until tomorrow morning, that is...
I love words. I think they are so beautiful. The language doesn't even matter. I find the stringing together of different words intriguing. I think this is what makes me what most people would classify as a dork. Damn it! I think I want to fill a wall of my house with words. Any words. In no particular order. Then I could just sit at home and read my walls. Maybe I'd cover them in great literature, or just my own writing.
|
It was a living dream. I kept thinking of how to put it into words, but I doubt the words could do it justice. There we were, the two of us, my sense of urgency almost subsided......(there is more to this and I have left it out, to keep it for myself. I'm very selfish with my thoughts) Oblivion. We said nothing and everything all at once. Don't stop. Don't stop. Because this is eternity. Eternity is just this moment. Eternity is brief. Eternity will end.....
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
Yay! My computer's fixed! And I've been itching to write things. I think I may just leave out the story and get a bit rhetorical. Have you ever had something happen, but you were so in shock that you couldn't properly react? Didn't it just piss you off to no end, so that you want to rewind time and have the proper reaction? That was my Saturday night...and now it's Tuesday and it still bothers me, so maybe writing this will help. The proper reaction would have been a hard punch in the face. The reaction I gave was a slap on the shoulder and a, "you're gonna get me fired!". WHAT THE FUCK! I meant to say something along the lines of, "You horrible selfish prick....blah, blah, blah." Ok, ranting over. It made me learn a few things, which is what life's all about, so I guess now, I'm older and wiser (still kind of an emotional cripple, but that is being worked on). Poor Armon, he got to sit and listen to me heave sighs all weekend and have me keep saying things like, "What is wrong with me!" while throwing myself on the futon (I'm not mellow dramatic I swear). I feel like I've been pacing forever. There's this underlying sense of urgency and it keeps making me uneasy, but relaxed at the same time. It's an utterly bizarre way to feel, like a cat on a hot tin roof (thank you Tennessee Williams). I want to run away and stay in the same place all at once. I want to immerse myself in beautiful things that lack conventional beauty. I want to know exactly what it is that I want.
Friday, July 02, 2004
When I was 11 years old, I was called into the school therapist office. My best friend Drew was sitting there with tears streaming down his face. He asked the therapist to leave us alone for a few minutes. I asked him what was wrong and he started yelling at me, "Kiss me!". "Eww, no way!" I replied. He grabbed a pair of scissors off of the desk top. "If you don't kiss me, I'll stab myself in the ribs!" he cried. " Drew Oldham, you will do no such thing!" I screamed at him. The next thing I knew He shoved the scissors into his side and pulled them away, the blades bathed in red. "Oh My G-D!" I yelled. "Please kiss me Brooke, it hurts." he begged me. I began to sob as i bent over and grazed his lips with mine. As I pulled away he began laughing histerically. "What's so funny?" I demanded. He pulled a broken ketchup packet from under his shirt. "You are not funny! I hate you Drew Oldham! I hate you more than any boy in the world!" I stormed out of the office and told on Drew. He got detention for the week and we stayed best friends from then on.
|
Last night was salsa night. I bought the most fabulous hot pink salsa dress and black shoes with spikey heels that tied all the way up my calves. It was hot dress. absolutely sexy. Only there was one problem. I didn't want to wear the dress. I didn't want to dance with anyone. I didn't want anyone else to touch me. I didn't want anyone else looking at me like that and it made me feel awful. I sat and pouted for an hour, and acted really silly and refused to tell Armon what was the matter because he would have laughed and thought it was cute or something. An hour later we left and went to 80's night, where no one touched me or looked at me like that. And I danced all night. Sweet Jesus, this is big!
|
