First day of school

First day of school!
Get out a clean sheet of paper and a pencil.
Can I use a pen?
Sure, yes. A pen works too. Just a clean sheet of paper and something to write with. Anything.
Can I borrow a pencil?
Yes. Here.
This is a pen.
Are we taking notes?
No. Not yet. Just...listen.
This pen doesn't work.

I went to school today. Middle School. And a girl named Nicole told me how she fell off of a wall and cracked her elbow and she has to get good grades this semester because she's on parole because she brought a 3 1/2" blade to school and somebody found it. She wasn't going to take it out of her pocket, she just brought it because it was cool. She also isn't afraid to tell cops that they're gay if she thinks they're gay. And she went to Oregon and learned that if you say the word "fag" in Oregon, they'll kill you. And her dad asked her if she learned anything there and she said, "No, fag."
I think I am actually cut out for this.
I even wore a vest.

meow

i want to go into one of those long white tubes and see what is inside my head that makes it hurt all the time. I want to buy a cat scan machine. but then my neighbor will get jealous of my cat scan machine and get one of his own and it'll be this big ongoing battle of who can have more cat scan machines and then a bus full of children will crash and ALL of them will need a cat scan at once but there won't be enough in the hospital and it'll be all my fault. So maybe i'll just let my head hurt.

I've decided

I've decided.
I can have my own goals. I don't have to be dressed in white or a suit. I can be dressed in a long sweater and sit down every morning and write my novel. And that's good enough. And I can be excited about getting off work in one hour and going to class where Alex is and we can hold hands. And thats' magical. And I can be excited about the wind and the rain and I can be excited about next semester and reading all of Shakespeare's plays. That can be exciting to me. And it is. I just have to stop letting the bitter-sweetness taste only bitter.
Because I like sweet things so much better.
Like pumpkin pie and candy canes and ice cream cake.
And love and happiness and giggles and hilarious bird kisses.

And my life is better now than it ever has been before. Really for really.
And I love the mountains and the year 2012. And when Alex literally screeches to a stop in front of my apartment building and yells for me to get in and that he has just come back from the future and turned his car into a time machine with the "future flux capacitor".
And I love other people being in love and getting what will make them happy. And I know I deserve that and I'll get it one day and it'll be magic like Disney.

I'm just so hungry.

papers.

I'm writing my ten page paper like I write my book. It's completely my voice this time. At least, I'm trying to make it so. It's an experiment. To see if my voice can actually get me a good grade. I always shift into my college-I-want-a-good-grade-voice when writing papers. But not this time. I'm going for it. I'm editing it and pretending it's my book. And we shall see. As for the fragments that I love so dearly. .. .I have introduced the semicolon into my paper many many times. Hope he likes it.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

One thousand wink faces.

If it were up to me...

If it were up to me, I would spend all day on amazon.com searching for books that I want to read; reading the first few pages and then buying the book for only a cent. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have four 10-page papers due the day I get back from Thanksgiving break. I would only have letters to clack out on my typewriter. If it were up to me, my teachers would let me write my papers however I want. And I would use run-on sentences. The kind that leave you out of breath and excited when you finally reach the period gasping for breath, trying to remember how that sentence started and wondering why you are now talking about the sound of a wet Popsicle falling on the hot concrete slithering beneath your bare feet. And fragments. I would use lots of sentence fragments. If it were up to me, it would be snowing right now instead of going from extreme cold to oh-this-is-okay-weather so I would know what kinds of clothes I should wear everyday. Once it starts snowing it's easy: snow suit. If it were up to me, I would have worn my knee-high rainbow socks today because these pants just aren't keeping my legs warm enough. If it were up to me, I would still be asleep in my bed. Curled up under the blanket that feels like a bear, dipping in and out of my bucket of dreams. If it were up to me, we'd both be ready but we're not and that's okay because time is growth.

But my teachers are still going to say "Find your voice!" and when they read, "I just. Didn't. Care." they're going to circle it and write fragment in red pen and put question marks on the page and give me a B-. And that's okay. I guess I can write fragments on my own time. And I can curl up with my bear blanket in the middle of the day and pretend it's still too early in the morning to be awake and I can try to find those dreams I was having a few hours ago. And I guess I can write four big papers in a week. I'll just take breaks where I breathe for a minute and then search amazon.com for books with long titles. And if it takes a while to snow, I can still wear my snow suit and pretend I'm a spaceman or someone's teddy bear. And I can wait any amount of time to be ready. I'll just spend my time typing on my typewriter fragments and run-ons and words of endearment like "pood".

I get dressed with the lights on

I really do want to go back through my life and count how many times I have heard the exact phrase, "Did you get dressed in the dark this morning?" directed at me. I bet it would be a lot. I heard it today when I walked into work. I heard it all the time in high school. I hear it at work a lot too. People must just think I have some bad fuses in my house. But really. I rarely get dressed in the dark. I just have a philosophy called I wear whatever I want to wear and sometimes that means I wear my red sweatshirt with hot pink boots over my dark blue pants and green and black scarf. But I just wanted to wear the boots so my feet wouldn't get wet and I like my red sweatshirt and I just finished making the scarf today so I wanted to try it out. It's very warm.
So.
Really.
When you look at me. You just have to look at each thing individually for it to make sense. Oh nice boots. And scarf. Oh nice sweatshirt. See? It all fits together. They match because they are all nice things. They have a common thread between them: I wanted to wear them.

But really.
If I get a time machine, I will go back to each time that it was said to me and I'll count. Or maybe I'll get a life computer. One that has a script of your whole life written out and I can CTRL F and find each time.

I don't know how I feel about prop 8. And I don't know how I feel about people celebrating about it. . . .