8.30 The Senior Center

 

Per usual, kaleidoscopesnowflakes. 

Wall in studio.

Cause animals are terrible liars and beautiful creatures. 

One of our few rainstorms left us with a beautiful site on a trip to Home Depot. 

  

Here are people existing in their own realities and a shitty attempt to put 3 people in the same one. 

I built a lot of cat forts to instigate some friendly battles. 

This semester, I am interested in how everything exists within multiple realities and dreams as an expression of individual realities. I am interested in how the senses being activated or deprived through clothing and environment can affect our emotions, memories, and, vicariously, our actions. I believe that through these realities we can find truth in ourselves.

8.26

Oh Facebook,
I swear you are the downfall of our social structure. Your promotion of passive aggressive communication has killed any energy I had for action.
Today, I logged in to find a girl posting a complaint about someone being in love with her. That would be extremely embarrassing and count as bullying if viewed from the enamored human's stance.
and then I logged off.
because people are jerks.

8.21

The thing about school is that it is a bunch of shit.
I am finally able to take the classes I am interested in, and learn the things I actually want to learn and understand, but I only have a year. I guess I have taken a few other classes in previous years that I enjoyed but, for the first time, I actually want to know what my classes can teach me. I get why we have requirements but damn! I know that going through that shit is the only way I have matured to be able to realize this. I guess that is the catch 22 of growing up. Only after you have grown can you realize what you should have done.
But I am a pretty hesitant person.
Largely invested in feeling and emotions.
You telling me "what you wanted to happen" means nothing to me, and I must come to the conclusion myself. Since when did we believe forcing people to have similar shitty experiences as us would generate the same person. That is physically impossible on a universal level.
And the bullying?
Still?
Geez, guys!
and why are people still taking things personally? I know everyone has bullied. I know everyone has been the person to make another feel awful. Even if it was unintentional, we have all hurt each other's feelings in some way or another.
I'm not arguing that peoples feelings are invalid or worthless, but everyone should have a grasp of life's tragedies by this age. Yet, I feel celebrities come forward with these "I was bullied" claims to humanize them. These claims fail to humanize them because the rest of us "humans" were bullied and don't use it as an excuse.
Yes, teasing can be awful and snowball into larger, more serious issues.
No, there is not an excuse for being disrespectful and mean to others.
I'm saying that this is a part of being human.


I can't tell if she is saying things like it on purpose so that I have to guess, but by this point she can't hide it anymore. Her car pulls up the driveway, and I watch her collect her things and lower herself out of her car. As she approaches the door, I continue to stare through the window. My fingers trace the green velvet of the chair as she opens the door. I look at her, then at the dye work on my jeans. My heart cowers in my chest. She greets me and smiles sweetly when I don't respond. I watch her put a bag in the kitchen, and I try to memorize her hair style so I don't have to look at any other part of her. She tells me some thing about how lunch went with her mother, but my subconscious fills in any gaps in her story with a few "oh yeah?"s and "well, thats good"s. She sticks her head around the corner and smiles again. "Mom was really happy", she whispered smugly as if saying it loudly would disprove it's truth.
I smiled and my shoulders became lead.

7.11

Many apologies for my absence. I don't know what has come over me. I promise more nonsensical ramblings soon but for now please accept some photos as a post.

 These photos are mine and of my artwork, and they do not belong to you or anyone besides me, Lynn.

6.25

I am very tired. I don't really like Henry James. I know he is great at writing but damn, it sucked.
um.
bathroom art.
lots of getting sick.

I named him Waspy, and he attacked the light for an hour then rested on the printer. I wonder if Waspy is lonely, if Waspy feels pressure to make babies. I wonder if Waspy is scared to face the rest of his life with very little support from his friends. I bet Waspy was too embarrassed to talk to them. He probably works out everyday to impress the ladies, but is too ashamed of his greedy nature to talk to them. Instead, he just buzzes around, chillin. He keeps looking at me with some intent of conversation, but I keep trying to explain that I do not speak wasp. Its disappointing really. I bet we could have some good times, me and Waspy.

6.10

I think of all these beautiful things to tell you. and I always forget. Always.
I spend all my time doing homework, thinking about homework, eating so I can stay awake for more homework, and laying in bed "dreaming" of homework. It's more of a staring at the ceiling type dream.
I had a bad experience after making so much progress. My mind was more fearsome than I had imagined. When faced with a landscape of infinite creation my mind decides to spend its time proving what is reality and what is fiction.
I am always told I am a black n' white person. It either is or it isn't. In short, I am always told I am a bitch.
But how are things not what they are or are what they aren't? I either have a notebook or I don't. Now, I might go get a notebook. There is a 50% chance that I might go to the store and pick out the biggest and thickest notebook possible, but that doesn't mean I have 50% of a book. I still don't have the book.
If I feel sick then I am sick. I'm not kind of sick. If I am not well, I am sick.

I call this one, "I've lived in this apartment for two years. I'm an American."

I call this one, "I'd rather be murdered than do this again".

I call this one, "Spots on the nose go down to the toes".

I call this one, "If you steal this fucker, I will murder you".

6.5

So, I thought I would blog before my other class starts. I've deleted my last few idling blog submissions due to the fact that they might be read as personal attacks, and so I have come to a standstill.
I feel a great rush coming over me.
This blog used to be a secret, but I let my need for attention come over me and slowly told more and more people until a post on Facebook happened. Now, I can't shit-talk any of you fuckers.
I am still awaiting an essay that decides our fate. pate is a weird looking word. and the word slit has been bothering me more and more with each passing day. I love my literature class. I am blindly fumbling around my weaving class.
I think my isolation really fucked with my social skills. I am back to square one with eye contact abilities; too much staring- not enough during conversations.
But during that time I built a fort!

It was very womby.
Elk really liked it but kept trying to walk on the ceiling.
Lc was unimpressed.

 Shelby and I are learning how to sectionally warp the Jacquard loom. It's pretty ballsy.
HI SHELBY! You're pretty cool.

These are some men we saw.
They are building our studio spaces.
One's name was Sam. He wore Adidas.
Our architect wears really expensive shoes.
The other two wore hiking boots.
People's shoes tell a lot about them.

 This is how she looks at me when I eat.
Like, "are you really going to eat both of your pieces of bacon? Because sharing that jazz would be preferable."
To which I respond, "Who's a good girl!? You are! ohhhhhh ohhhh", just to piss her off.
Lc is not one for baby talk.

This picture is amazing.
And I love it.
I want everything about it.
yes.
please!

5.30

I was told A Clockwork Orange was my mother's favorite movie. I wanted forever to watch it by myself and was pleasantly surprised when I, also, enjoyed this obscure movie. I guess it is my favorite movie? I've probably seen it 20 times with in the past year and a half, and read countless articles about its sub-context. Cromwell would be proud. That's for sure.
I haven't read the book though. Kubrick's ending is just so much more enticing. I am also afraid that the book will let me down. How can it be better than this masterpiece of fantasy?
I know that the book places emphasis on growing out of these violent stages with the ending of adolescence; making the statement that all teenagers act like this and society should accept this the way ancient ones did. Male lions leave the pack when they come of age. Right, right? Right. Right.
School starts on Monday.
Here are some stuffs that I've been checkin, 

I couldn't decide if I should write things under each photo, or if that would be pointless and a waste of everybody's time. But then I'm like, "Well, they have come to read your blog Lynn..". To which I respond, "Is it weird that I talk to myself in 3rd person?", but then I counter with, "No. It is weirder that you write about it on a blog". 

What have you got back home, little sister, to play your fuzzy warbles on?

I'mma tell you a secret cause I'm bored. 

Nope. I wrote it out and decided against it. HA. 

suckers.

thinking I'd give up a secret all willy nilly.