Wednesday, July 30, 2008

more about hair (hey, I'm bored)

Well, once my mom gets out of her close-to-the-end-of-the-summer-school-session faculty meeting, we're going to go into town and possibly get the dog groomed. Mom keeps asking about whether I remember the name of the groomer, and I keep reminding her that I didn't even know there was a dog salon here. Then tomorrow, I'm going to get my hair cut, yippee! I have miserable split ends. Weirdly enough, there are about six different spas, salons, etcetera here in this miniscule place. I guess little New England towns have to really have everything right there within a one- or two-mile radius, because when it's winter, you're completely snowed in.
That reminds me of my mom's friends. They've lived in Brooklyn for years--one of our Brooklyn friend-families--but they just recently decided to move to a tiny town in Canada. They have two small children and a yippy dog. They've also got an amazing house. (In fact, it turned out to be such a good investment that the father stopped working.) I wonder if they realize how totally removed from the rest of the universe they are going to be from about November to March. I mean, that's a long time to be crammed together in what looks from the pictures like a very small house with a screaming 9-year-old, 2-year-old, and puppy.
Not to be morbid, but the puppy may die.

Speaking of New York, I've been harboring this weird wish to move there. I mean, it would be a two-hour commute to school, but especially considering the fact that I have to wear a uniform, it would make me really feel like a student, which I like to feel. It would be like, oh, I'm getting up at 5 a.m. and leaving the house at 6 so I can catch a bus, look at me, in my plaid skirt and polo, I'm so devoted! I would love to feel that way.

All right, obviously I need to calm myself. Ooh, Nilla Wafers. Yum. Bye.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

And now to get on with it.

As I've been trying to do my whole life.

I think I need a haircut. I had a dream about it last night. The same dream, however, also included dancing and performing slapstick with a monkey and getting a call from an unattainable boy, so I don't think I'm going to base too many grand life decisions off of this dream.

I'm feeling really fat. All I can eat is carbs. It's one o'clock, and already I've eaten:
  • 1.5 waffles with whipped cream
  • a small bowl of cereal
  • a piece of bread with cheese
  • a large amount of macaroni and cheese with ground beef
  • M&Ms

Not that you would care. Not that anyone cares about any of the things I do or try to point out.

Time to go drop off my sister at camp, where she will be for a month. Bye.

my mom told me to go blog about my emptiness...

So naturally, I ended up writing a piece about cows, which are the current metaphor for the void that is my life. (I know, being melodramatic is fun, isn't it?)

Why everything in my life right now is centered around cows.

1. Cheese - Cheese has begun to play an important role in my existence. Between cheddar bunnies, macaroni, and Kraft's American Singles (which seem to be popping up uninvited everywhere), cheese is taking over.

2. Earrings - My earrings are shaped like cows. My sister got them for me as a birthday present. These earrings seem to be the only thing that people, including my own mother, notice about me. Even my little brother said, "Oh, those are really cute." So did Brittany, one of my mom's students, who is astonishingly rude and actually wears tye-dye. Not to be mean, but who actually wears tye-dye as something other than clothes to sleep in?

3. Salt/Pepper Shaker - I think it's the pepper shaker, but then again, it could be the salt, or it could even be one of those horrid things where someone has actually come along and ruined my day by bothering to mix up the salt and pepper inside of the shaker so that no matter how hard you try, you always get an ugly grey mix of spice that cancels itself out. Anyway, the pepper shaker is shaped like a cow, and it seems to be part of a kind of conspiracy.

If you have any suggestions on how to tame this wild takeover, please put them in the Cbox.

Saturday, July 26, 2008


I miss the city. Really a lot, I do. Who knew staying in New England for the entire summer would be so freaking hard? I mean, I did it last summer too, but last time I left in the first week of August to go home and help my dad paint the house. This time I'm here until August 22nd or so, which will be interesting because I haven't started any summer work at all, and it's all at home, three hundred miles away. What I really want is to be a 20-minute train ride from the middle of New York again.

What else is hard about this is that you can't get away from anyone here. You can't get away from your family at all, you can't get away from the town, and you can't get away from the kids. The other kids are everywhere and they're super-annoying, faculty kids where my mom is teaching. I'm always a faculty kid. It's part of my identity. I feel like I should have a superhero name. Watch out, America, it's the Perpetual Faculty-Kid-Girl, with laser-beam vision into the deepest, darkest faculty room lairs. Because believe me, I've seen it all, from a crappy computer room with a coffee machine and a single armchair to an air-conditioned lounge with three Xerox machines, a fridge and a microwave, and a consistent spread of donuts.

Well, I have to go now--my mom's done teaching. Time to put on my leather leggings and become...


Sunday, July 6, 2008


Hi everyone, I'm at nerd camp, so I can't be on the computer until roughly July 20th or so. My dad's visiting, so we're at a diner and I'm using his laptop's wireless.

I am very full. So now we're blowing this popsicle stand to go check out the WalMart Superstore (which is super depressing, with all its fat people and cheap stuff) so I can stock up my dorm room.

When I get back from camp, I promise I will write you a scathing story. I'm already writing character analyses based on my hallmates and classmates. Meanwhile, while you're waiting for me to return, check out this article.