One day I'll have a cowboy and a horse. One day I'll wake up early and not resent my alarm clock. One day I'll figure out how to match my clothes. And on that day, the internet will explode and Will Smith will come out of hiding and start singing Welcome to Miami, but only to me, and only non-stop.
Party in the city where the heat is on...
Instead of wearing a sensible jacket or sweater today, I wore a huge coat. I decided that I'm sick of being surprised by how cold it is. Instead, I want to be surprised by how much I'm sweating after walking up the stairs from my puppet class. Does my life sound like a joke? It's not. These things are real. I'm also inventing a new literary theory called Peter Pan Theory. Believe it. Believe how smart I am. And I'm writing a paper on how I would turn my favorite book into a movie. And writing a paper on how I would teach my little students grammar using that same book. And now movie. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.I love that the original title of the book was supposed to be I'm OK. Read it. Read him. He changes lives. So does his wife.
I have a lot of books that I need and want to read. It's just that sometimes I forget how much reading means to me so I sit around watching internet TV and eating toffee...
I have a lot of things to do before Thanksgiving break, but once that break comes....ohhhh the nothing I will do. The puzzles I will put together. The birds I will whistle to.
Dear Life, I love all of the things you are doing right now. Remember when you found that Annie record at DI? Remember two years ago when you convinced the new guy at work that you were 30? Keep doing what you're doing. Because I'm lovin' it. Just like the McDonalds slogan. Love, Natalie
As many of you may know (many meaning the 3 people who read this blog), Eric Layland and I are taking a puppetry class together, which has turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life - along with microwavable lasagnas and cutting myself bangs.
Puppetry is hard work. Here we see Eric working hard with his glue gun. Here we see Eric having trouble with the glue gun. You'd think we wouldn't have any problems using a glue gun, but let me tell you...it's tricky. I got some glue in my hair today. The teacher asked, "Does anyone have any questions?" Sheepishly from the back of the room, "How do you get glue out of your hair?..." I just ended up cutting it out. I needed a trim anyways.
Moving on....Minus one, let me introduce you to the new group of friends I have made:
Day one, we made a sock puppet. This is Flo.
Flo, like so many other things in my life, is white trash. For example, there was a whole lamp in the back of my car for 4 months and I finally decided to throw it away the other night....in a tiny garbage can at a gas station. It took me a few minutes to shove it all in there...Anyway, Flo is gross and a smoker and thinks everything tastes like nicotine. She's also not very funny, apparently. She came with me to the Divine Comedy tryouts and didn't get called back. Sorry, Flo.
Next we have Gene: Gene, although some may say looks like Hitler (which, if you say this, I will kill you), he is not. He is supposed to be reminiscent of this man: I guess I forgot the glasses and made his mustache too short. Also he didn't have a bowtie or a double chin....But the curly hair made me think of him. So. Not Hitler: Gene. Anyway...Gene grumbles a lot. You can't hear much through that mustache and he has a paisley shirt which...is open in the back like a hospital gown because I didn't know how to make a real shirt. Eric made a pig. He gets mad when I tell him he made a puppet that looks like him, but can you blame me when he makes that face all the time?
Our most recent puppets today are my favorite. They were really low pressure because I didn't have to try hard to make it cute, it already was. We took some stuffed animals and did some slight surgery... Our teacher told us to "Pretend you're surgeons....Proctologists." And from that we have: I haven't given mine a name yet. I was too busy hugging him and making him wave to people on campus all day to think about a name. Emily suggested Dr. Emmit Brown and Marty Mcfly. Mcfly could be cute...since he is a frog. I thought of Carl. But, I don't know if that's sticking... Look at that pure happiness in Eric's face. That's what puppetry does for you. Gives you happiness. And a giraffe with a little bow. And frog guts.
I made a stage for my (disastrous) puppet show that I preformed last week. If you'd like to feel awkward and be embarrassed for me as my props fall off the stage and the moments of silence tell you I forgot some things...you can. Here.
The moral of the story is: Puppets rule the world.
I tried out the labyrinthine sentence, which I like because it reminds me of Dave Eggers. Also...a couple of sentence fragments and list of sorts.
I feel tired. I turned on the computer and wanted to be in the mood to write something moving and inspirational, something that would make my chest expand as my fingers flutter over the keys because I'd know that what I was typing just might change the world someday; not the whole world, but maybe someone's world - even if it's just my own little world full of incisions made on the back sides of stuffed animals to create puppets and microwavable lasagnas bought at the grocery store - even if it's just that little world that is changed, I'd feel important and excited that my fingers could change a life; but alas, I turned on the computer and felt my eye lids fall a little closer to my cheek bones and my arms fill with sand, and with shoulders drooping, I feel my mind slipping under the green, woolen comforter in my two-windowed bedroom and instead of inspirational, I feel tired.And hungry. And I want a Jamba Juice. I want Disneyland and a genie to grant me wishes. I would wish for a soft serve ice cream machine. And the ability to fly. I would wish for the brain power to write a novel. I would wish for someone to give me an Indian name. I would wish for the summer and a beach to dig a hole in as sand seeps into the holes in my beach socks. I would wish for love and for a cowboy.
I woke up every half hour last night, listening to the wind and the rain. And I kept having dreams about going to my car to drive to work, thinking how I have the worst luck to have to wake up at 5am on the scariest night of the semester. The wind sounded like a haunted house all night and since the windows in the living room were open, my door trembled like someone was trying to get in. I would wake up and think, "Natalie, you love thunderstorms." But then the wind would shake my door and and the trees would dance outside my window and the memory of the men breaking into my house in the dream I just had would come back. So I would readjust and hold my blanket tighter. On the drive to work, lightning outlined the mountains. I love thunderstorms, but they feel like something is missing if I don't have someone next to me. They have the potential to feel pretty lonely. I watch the empty raindrops and feel my heart beat in the thunder.
So. I got a Twitter. Due to a recent downgrade in my contacts whom I text, my fingers are restless. I sit in class and think these GENIUS things and have no one to text them to. I'm anxious. Antsy. How can this be remedied? Twitter. I...got a twitter. In the past, I have failed to see the point of this internet tool; however, with my recent predicament I am beginning to appreciate the novelty. I can now text someone all of my inane thoughts. The internet. I know the internet isn't listening and doesn't care but I don't care about that. I don't want a response. I just want to use my thumbs to send a message into space. And now I can.
Tweet Twit. I twitter it. You can check it out if you want to read about how much I HATE people in my classes. Or how I feel like Kevin Mcallister at night time .
I forced Eric Layland to get one too. Because...well no. I didn't force him. He just looked over at me in the library and asked, "Who are you texting?" "The internet." And the rest was history. Beautiful, magical, technological history. And we set it up so our tweets come to our phones...so sometimes my twitter is just a conversation with Eric. But don't let that deter you...we have awesome conversations.
Sometimes life is adorable. And you can think about certain things and suddenly there's a smile on your face you can't fight...and you feel silly because you're alone. But there you are with a giggly grin on your face, launching into memories that make your eyes close. I love those moments. If I could live in those memories...I don't think I'd want to live there forever...just for a while until I could make new ones.
I love that the original title of the book was supposed to be I'm OK.
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