Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Jesus does not go in the dishwasher
I have this mug that used to have an image of Jesus, Our Lord and Savior, clipping coupons, with the saying, "Jesus Saves." When you put a hot liquid in it, the image of Jesus would become clean-shaven and the saying changed to, "Jesus Shaves." One day, my roommate, Sara, accidentally put Jesus in the dishwasher. As I was unloading the dishwasher, I noticed that Jesus had been disfigured. "Dammit Sara! You crucified Jesus!"
Friday, May 27, 2011
Art Class #3
Valerie Vanderkolk
3-D Form
Project 3 Response
Professor
April 14, 2009
01. In your own words / from your own understanding, what was the purpose of this project?
The purpose of this project was to use language as a starting point for a piece of work and also to work with wood. It is important to be able to take language (a word) and be able to translate it into a visual. We also get to spend some quality time with Walt where he teaches each of us how to take the blade out of the scroll saw.
02. Describe your work (critically, visually, and conceptually).
For this piece, I decided to use a plywood that would splinter and break better than the much more processed MDF. Plywood, which is not pressure treated will take paint much easier than the MDF because it does not have a smooth surface, it has rough surface and will be absorbed into the wood.
03. Explain the staging of your work. How is it presented to the viewer and what makes it appropriate in this context?
For this piece, I wanted to create a sense of gravity, so I staged to work to hint that the piece had fallen off of the wall and fractured on the floor. I had one single letter nailed on the wall, while the rest of the letters where either lying flat on the floor or propped up against each other, tacked together with glue. Each of the letters had been broken and wired back together with a large “staple.”
04. What terms did you find essential in maintaining a critical dialogue with the project, and…
04. how does your project make use of this vocabulary?
When I looked up the word “fracture” in the dictionary, I pulled more inspiration for the piece from the second definition which talked about the fracture of bones and I wanted to treat each of the letters like a bone which needed a pin to put it back together.
05. In what way or ways is your project successful?
The performance of reading the definition from the dictionary was very successful and people were able to guess the word without knowing the word ahead of time.
06. In what way or ways is your project unsuccessful?
The splintered could have been bigger and I wished it had won when I took it out to races last week.
07. Are you satisfied with your work?
If you were to recreate your project, what, if anything, would you do differently? If I were to recreate this project, I would break the pieces after I had painted them. I broke the pieces before I painted them, and the paint softened the fractures on each of the letters.
08. If you were to alter your work outside the parameters of this assignment, what would you do differently and why?
I would not have use a flat color, I would have painted the letters to look like bones.
09. What did you learn during the execution of this project?
I learned how to take the blade out of the scroll saw and I love Scotch. Scotch, Scotch, Scotch.
10. Do you have any personal thoughts that you would like to share with regard to this project?
When I was right out high school, I worked for two summers as an intern at Heritage Theatre Group in Grand Rapids, MI. We spent the majority of the time building scenery for all of the plays and there I first learned how to use most of the power tools we used in this project (except that most of the saws did not safety guards on them). When I first learned how to use a table saw, the scene shop foreman/ set designer told a horror story about how one of his workers in the past almost cut his fingers off while using the table saw, and then he had me cut roughly 20 different pieces for the set, after he scared the crap out me. To this day, I am still morbidly afraid of table saws and I do believe that the most terrifying thing in the world is a table saw with snakes on it.
One tool that I am glad we did not have to use in this project, is my arch nemesis, the pneumatic staple gun. Three years ago, I had to take an intro to scenery and lighting class and as students in the class, we had to work hours in the scene shop on the shows. One day, my friend Erin and I were stapling plywood around a curved plastic pool and I almost shot her with a staple, several times in a row. We’ve been friends ever since.
3-D Form
Project 3 Response
Professor
April 14, 2009
01. In your own words / from your own understanding, what was the purpose of this project?
The purpose of this project was to use language as a starting point for a piece of work and also to work with wood. It is important to be able to take language (a word) and be able to translate it into a visual. We also get to spend some quality time with Walt where he teaches each of us how to take the blade out of the scroll saw.
02. Describe your work (critically, visually, and conceptually).
For this piece, I decided to use a plywood that would splinter and break better than the much more processed MDF. Plywood, which is not pressure treated will take paint much easier than the MDF because it does not have a smooth surface, it has rough surface and will be absorbed into the wood.
03. Explain the staging of your work. How is it presented to the viewer and what makes it appropriate in this context?
For this piece, I wanted to create a sense of gravity, so I staged to work to hint that the piece had fallen off of the wall and fractured on the floor. I had one single letter nailed on the wall, while the rest of the letters where either lying flat on the floor or propped up against each other, tacked together with glue. Each of the letters had been broken and wired back together with a large “staple.”
04. What terms did you find essential in maintaining a critical dialogue with the project, and…
04. how does your project make use of this vocabulary?
When I looked up the word “fracture” in the dictionary, I pulled more inspiration for the piece from the second definition which talked about the fracture of bones and I wanted to treat each of the letters like a bone which needed a pin to put it back together.
05. In what way or ways is your project successful?
The performance of reading the definition from the dictionary was very successful and people were able to guess the word without knowing the word ahead of time.
06. In what way or ways is your project unsuccessful?
The splintered could have been bigger and I wished it had won when I took it out to races last week.
07. Are you satisfied with your work?
If you were to recreate your project, what, if anything, would you do differently? If I were to recreate this project, I would break the pieces after I had painted them. I broke the pieces before I painted them, and the paint softened the fractures on each of the letters.
08. If you were to alter your work outside the parameters of this assignment, what would you do differently and why?
I would not have use a flat color, I would have painted the letters to look like bones.
09. What did you learn during the execution of this project?
I learned how to take the blade out of the scroll saw and I love Scotch. Scotch, Scotch, Scotch.
10. Do you have any personal thoughts that you would like to share with regard to this project?
When I was right out high school, I worked for two summers as an intern at Heritage Theatre Group in Grand Rapids, MI. We spent the majority of the time building scenery for all of the plays and there I first learned how to use most of the power tools we used in this project (except that most of the saws did not safety guards on them). When I first learned how to use a table saw, the scene shop foreman/ set designer told a horror story about how one of his workers in the past almost cut his fingers off while using the table saw, and then he had me cut roughly 20 different pieces for the set, after he scared the crap out me. To this day, I am still morbidly afraid of table saws and I do believe that the most terrifying thing in the world is a table saw with snakes on it.
One tool that I am glad we did not have to use in this project, is my arch nemesis, the pneumatic staple gun. Three years ago, I had to take an intro to scenery and lighting class and as students in the class, we had to work hours in the scene shop on the shows. One day, my friend Erin and I were stapling plywood around a curved plastic pool and I almost shot her with a staple, several times in a row. We’ve been friends ever since.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Break up Notice
Look, this clearly isn’t going any where. The only thing that is keep whatever you would call what we have going is the fact that you are the first person to get me off and that’s about it. Yeah, you’re fucking amazing in bed, but that doesn’t mean that this is any sort of healthy relationship or that it even qualifies as a relationship. It feels like I have been putting in a lot more effort into whatever we have and I just feel like you are leading me on. We are never going to be able to have a sustainable relationship as long as we both happen to be career oriented. You clearly are not ready to be emotionally available for me, so I don’t feel like crying over you any more. Seriously, I’m sick of this shit. This, never responding to my texts. This, not talking to me, is bullshit. When I was working 18 hours a day on a film, I still managed to have cyber sex with you. It seems really lame to me that you can’t do the same. Well, maybe you’re not emotionally ready, or maybe you can’t juggle a career and sex. Or maybe you are really horrible at you job. I don’t know. All I have to say is, I don’t want to waste my time any more. Seriously, I’m sick of this shit. I have deleted you out of my phone and blocked you on Facebook and Gmail. Have a nice life, you.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Final Art Class
Valerie Vanderkolk
3D Form
Professor ---------
April 22, 2009
Project 4 Response
1. In your own words / from your own understanding, what was the purpose of this project?
The purpose of this project, first of all is to work with plaster, and second to start with a found object as oppose to nothing. In theatre production we do this a lot, we search through second had stores and find a garment with we can add to or change to make a costume.
2. Describe your work (critically, visually, and conceptually).
The figurine I drew already had a very dynamic and interesting silhouette that I felt that the details just needed to be smoothed out and blobbified. For color I created a shiny iridescent color on the figurine by using four different colors and layering the colors over each other and leaving small sections to show the other colors underneath.
3. Explain the staging of your work.
How is it presented to the viewer and what makes it appropriate in this context? The piece was presented on a pedestal draped in an iridescent fabric. I considered placing the figurine on its side, but I liked how the figurine already had a dynamic sense of movement and form and I wanted to keep that. The fabric was puckered around the base of the figurine to hide how it did not sit flat on the pedestal where the figure had chipped while I was adding the plaster to it. When I first got the figurine, I was nervous about dropping it breaking it, so that apprehension did spill over into the presentation, because I am afraid of breaking it.
4. What terms did you find essential in maintaining a critical dialogue with the project, and… how does your project make use of this vocabulary?
Blobject – a blobby object, by having the project entitled this it automatically sets restrictions for the piece: 1) it has to be abstracted because it cannot be an identifiable object and 2) it has to be smooth, texture is very limited on this piece because blobs are not prickly.
5. In what way or ways is your project successful?
The piece is successful in the surfacing; it is very smooth and people went up to the piece after critique and touched it.
6. In what way or ways is your project unsuccessful?
I don’t know if I was able to abstract the figurine enough.
7. Are you satisfied with your work? If you were to recreate your project, what, if anything, would you do differently?
After I set up the figurine, I did want some more fabric to extend the space. If I had had more time I would have sanded down more of the paint to show more variation on the paint. I tried to do as best as I could with the spray paint but I would have like to do more with the surface.
8. If you were to alter your work outside the parameters of this assignment, what would you do differently and why?
I think it would be neat to do an entire blobject Nativity scene.
9. What did you learn during the execution of this project?
I learned how to mix and work with plaster. I learned the word blobject.
10. Do you have any personal thoughts that you would like to share with regard to this project?
I once rode a camel at the zoo. Ben (classmate) got more sleep last night than I have all week. I normally try to tell a funny story in this part to get you to laugh when you are reading it, but I running low on material.
3D Form
Professor ---------
April 22, 2009
Project 4 Response
1. In your own words / from your own understanding, what was the purpose of this project?
The purpose of this project, first of all is to work with plaster, and second to start with a found object as oppose to nothing. In theatre production we do this a lot, we search through second had stores and find a garment with we can add to or change to make a costume.
2. Describe your work (critically, visually, and conceptually).
The figurine I drew already had a very dynamic and interesting silhouette that I felt that the details just needed to be smoothed out and blobbified. For color I created a shiny iridescent color on the figurine by using four different colors and layering the colors over each other and leaving small sections to show the other colors underneath.
3. Explain the staging of your work.
How is it presented to the viewer and what makes it appropriate in this context? The piece was presented on a pedestal draped in an iridescent fabric. I considered placing the figurine on its side, but I liked how the figurine already had a dynamic sense of movement and form and I wanted to keep that. The fabric was puckered around the base of the figurine to hide how it did not sit flat on the pedestal where the figure had chipped while I was adding the plaster to it. When I first got the figurine, I was nervous about dropping it breaking it, so that apprehension did spill over into the presentation, because I am afraid of breaking it.
4. What terms did you find essential in maintaining a critical dialogue with the project, and… how does your project make use of this vocabulary?
Blobject – a blobby object, by having the project entitled this it automatically sets restrictions for the piece: 1) it has to be abstracted because it cannot be an identifiable object and 2) it has to be smooth, texture is very limited on this piece because blobs are not prickly.
5. In what way or ways is your project successful?
The piece is successful in the surfacing; it is very smooth and people went up to the piece after critique and touched it.
6. In what way or ways is your project unsuccessful?
I don’t know if I was able to abstract the figurine enough.
7. Are you satisfied with your work? If you were to recreate your project, what, if anything, would you do differently?
After I set up the figurine, I did want some more fabric to extend the space. If I had had more time I would have sanded down more of the paint to show more variation on the paint. I tried to do as best as I could with the spray paint but I would have like to do more with the surface.
8. If you were to alter your work outside the parameters of this assignment, what would you do differently and why?
I think it would be neat to do an entire blobject Nativity scene.
9. What did you learn during the execution of this project?
I learned how to mix and work with plaster. I learned the word blobject.
10. Do you have any personal thoughts that you would like to share with regard to this project?
I once rode a camel at the zoo. Ben (classmate) got more sleep last night than I have all week. I normally try to tell a funny story in this part to get you to laugh when you are reading it, but I running low on material.
More Art Class
Valerie Vanderkolk
Project 2 Written Response (yarn and wire sculpture)
3D Form
Professor ------
March 22, 2009
01. The purpose of this project is to explore how line can be created and used in space to create a dynamic form. It shows how lines on paper can be transformed into 3D forms.
02. This piece gives a sense of gravity and plays off of what the container was based on, a pill bottle.
03. The piece is suspended from the ceiling and is just below head height.
04. Over spring break, the piece and I talked a great deal about cross contour lines.
05. One of the successes of the piece is the surfacing material and how it added even more form and color to the piece.
06. I am not sure whether or not the surfacing supports the overall point of the assignment because I went about surfacing the piece differently than the examples.
07. I feel that this piece is complete and that there is not another element that I can add to it that would continue on in the same vein of the work. If I were to re do the work from scratch I would make the container unit larger.
08. I would not alter the piece outside of the assignment, because I feel that this idea has gotten to its stopping point and I am ready to abandon it, but I did enjoy working with the surfacing material (perhaps a little too much) and also figuring out a way to systematically work with the wire.
09. Coat hanger wire is actually a much stronger gauge of wire that I thought, even the light flimsy coat hangers. While writing this critique, I learned that buttermilk is not a good substitute for milk in coffee.
10. I dyed some yarn that I had, which originally was a mixture of baby blanket colors all puked together on one skein. I dyed the yarn an orange pumpkin color and while I was dying it, I was reminded of the hamsters my old roommate’s boyfriend had. He would spend more time at our house than his own apartment, but he had two hamsters that lived at his place. After coming home after being at our house for a couple of days, he walked in on one of the hamsters eating some strange stingy matter that was once the other hamster. Ironically, the cannibal hamster died shortly after this because it had gotten so fat that it got stuck trying to come out of its hamster house.
Project 2 Written Response (yarn and wire sculpture)
3D Form
Professor ------
March 22, 2009
01. The purpose of this project is to explore how line can be created and used in space to create a dynamic form. It shows how lines on paper can be transformed into 3D forms.
02. This piece gives a sense of gravity and plays off of what the container was based on, a pill bottle.
03. The piece is suspended from the ceiling and is just below head height.
04. Over spring break, the piece and I talked a great deal about cross contour lines.
05. One of the successes of the piece is the surfacing material and how it added even more form and color to the piece.
06. I am not sure whether or not the surfacing supports the overall point of the assignment because I went about surfacing the piece differently than the examples.
07. I feel that this piece is complete and that there is not another element that I can add to it that would continue on in the same vein of the work. If I were to re do the work from scratch I would make the container unit larger.
08. I would not alter the piece outside of the assignment, because I feel that this idea has gotten to its stopping point and I am ready to abandon it, but I did enjoy working with the surfacing material (perhaps a little too much) and also figuring out a way to systematically work with the wire.
09. Coat hanger wire is actually a much stronger gauge of wire that I thought, even the light flimsy coat hangers. While writing this critique, I learned that buttermilk is not a good substitute for milk in coffee.
10. I dyed some yarn that I had, which originally was a mixture of baby blanket colors all puked together on one skein. I dyed the yarn an orange pumpkin color and while I was dying it, I was reminded of the hamsters my old roommate’s boyfriend had. He would spend more time at our house than his own apartment, but he had two hamsters that lived at his place. After coming home after being at our house for a couple of days, he walked in on one of the hamsters eating some strange stingy matter that was once the other hamster. Ironically, the cannibal hamster died shortly after this because it had gotten so fat that it got stuck trying to come out of its hamster house.
Art class
While I was in college, I decided to take some art classes to broaden my horizons as a costume designer. Here are some of the written reports I had to turn in as part of the class.
Valerie Vanderkolk
Project 1 Written Response (building a geometric wall sculpture out of card board)
STA 114
Professor ----------
February 25, 2009
1) The purpose of this project was to build a structure from a model instead of building the structure right out of the final materials. The model was to be “sketched out” through taping together cubes, pyramids, and tetrahedrons to create a dynamic structure. There are many different ways to work through the process of designing a 3 dimensional structure. One way to sketch out the design is on paper, however, this process is limiting because the sketches are only 2D instead of 3D like the final piece will be. One way of solving this problem is to build a scale model of the structure to work out any composition issues before it is built to full scale. Additionally, this project helped me use some of the card board boxes that I had been saving for some unknown purpose until this project was assigned.
2) When the project was first introduced, I was intrigued by the tetrahedron shape as it is the triangle version of a cube. The model used more tetrahedrons than cubes and pyramids combined. Color is always very important and using a white bubble gauze and nearly white netting to surface the piece was intended to create the greatest amount of color contrast (that is possible with a single color) with the shadows created on the piece.
3) This piece is presented to the viewer above the average eye level mounted on the wall. The piece was specifically designed with this presentation style in mind. The subtle pink color of the netting allowed a slight distinction between the piece and the wall it was displayed on.
4) The piece and I didn’t really talk much, but I’m sure if asked, it would describe how much it appreciates the use of the units into modules and modules into an overall dynamic structure.
5) The piece was successful in its subtle use of color and the reuse of cardboard. The netting on the surfacing helped create a softer, more delicate feel to the piece despite the strong lines of the form.
6) The piece was unsuccessful with the netting on the surfacing helping to create a softer, more delicate feel to the piece despite the strong lines of the form. I have not decided whether or not I like the choice I made.
7) What I would do differently is take more time to carefully consider what material to surface the piece with as that is the element which will make or break the piece. I do not know how to feel about this piece.
8) If I were to alter the work I would probably create multiple forms and surface them with different materials to see how surfaces can drastically change the mood and tone of the piece.
9) What I learned through the execution of this project is that 1) some people will pay for materials that others are giving away for free, 2) Walt probably has the best job in the entire art department, and 3) making models in ½ scale are much easier than making models in 1/4” = 1’ scale.
10) When I was in high school, I dated this guy who hated the sound of cardboard rubbing against itself. Taking the card board out to the dumpster was always an anxiety ridden experience for him, so I dedicate this project to him.
Valerie Vanderkolk
Project 1 Written Response (building a geometric wall sculpture out of card board)
STA 114
Professor ----------
February 25, 2009
1) The purpose of this project was to build a structure from a model instead of building the structure right out of the final materials. The model was to be “sketched out” through taping together cubes, pyramids, and tetrahedrons to create a dynamic structure. There are many different ways to work through the process of designing a 3 dimensional structure. One way to sketch out the design is on paper, however, this process is limiting because the sketches are only 2D instead of 3D like the final piece will be. One way of solving this problem is to build a scale model of the structure to work out any composition issues before it is built to full scale. Additionally, this project helped me use some of the card board boxes that I had been saving for some unknown purpose until this project was assigned.
2) When the project was first introduced, I was intrigued by the tetrahedron shape as it is the triangle version of a cube. The model used more tetrahedrons than cubes and pyramids combined. Color is always very important and using a white bubble gauze and nearly white netting to surface the piece was intended to create the greatest amount of color contrast (that is possible with a single color) with the shadows created on the piece.
3) This piece is presented to the viewer above the average eye level mounted on the wall. The piece was specifically designed with this presentation style in mind. The subtle pink color of the netting allowed a slight distinction between the piece and the wall it was displayed on.
4) The piece and I didn’t really talk much, but I’m sure if asked, it would describe how much it appreciates the use of the units into modules and modules into an overall dynamic structure.
5) The piece was successful in its subtle use of color and the reuse of cardboard. The netting on the surfacing helped create a softer, more delicate feel to the piece despite the strong lines of the form.
6) The piece was unsuccessful with the netting on the surfacing helping to create a softer, more delicate feel to the piece despite the strong lines of the form. I have not decided whether or not I like the choice I made.
7) What I would do differently is take more time to carefully consider what material to surface the piece with as that is the element which will make or break the piece. I do not know how to feel about this piece.
8) If I were to alter the work I would probably create multiple forms and surface them with different materials to see how surfaces can drastically change the mood and tone of the piece.
9) What I learned through the execution of this project is that 1) some people will pay for materials that others are giving away for free, 2) Walt probably has the best job in the entire art department, and 3) making models in ½ scale are much easier than making models in 1/4” = 1’ scale.
10) When I was in high school, I dated this guy who hated the sound of cardboard rubbing against itself. Taking the card board out to the dumpster was always an anxiety ridden experience for him, so I dedicate this project to him.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Wow, I suck
Because times are tough, I, like most people, are constantly looking for work and are constantly on the look out for the perfect job. Well, rather, the perfect job that may lead to what they really want to do, and they happen to be qualified for. Finally, on one of the websites that I check daily for jobs, there was posting for job that I was qualified for, but also would allow me to do what I really wanted to do. I edited my resume and cover letter and emailed it feeling that I had a good chance of getting it. A few hours later, I got an email back. I had forgotten to change the name in salutation of the cover letter, which the producer kindly pointed out to me that there was no person by that name who worked for that company.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Intervention
My best friend's roommate recently gained 80 pounds. Everyone in our circle of friends agree that we need to have an intervention. We have all chipped in a bought him a Chia pet and as he unwraps the present, a note will be revealed as wrapping paper is removed that says: "This is an intervention: Stop eating. We may only care about you as someone who pays rent, but you don't see any of your family members here, do you?"
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Heatstroke in Wriglyville
While I was volunteering at theatre festival in Chicago, I got heat stoke. I spent a couple of hours resting in the air conditioning, before someone was able to give me a ride north over to the red line train stop. As I am riding in the car, I feel all right, as soon as I get out of the car, the heat hits me and I instantly feel nauseous. I empty the entire contents of my stomach on to the pavement of a back alley in Wriglyville, and my companion reassures me, "It's okay, there's a Cubs' game going on."
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Take Me Out To The Ballgame...
I had this brilliant idea to take my parents out to a Detroit Tigers game. After I bought the tickets I realized that I may have made a huge mistake. Detroit is about three hours from where we live, neither of my parents travel very well or get out of the greater Grand Rapids area very often, so it was going to be a test. I remember one time I had my mother drive me to the Detroit International Airport and after being in the car with her for three hours I wanted to strangle her.
"Lynn, you're driving me nuts constantly changing the radio while you're driving," She'd say.
"You're driving me nuts nagging at me while I'm driving!" Don't get me wrong, after my mother finally got through menopause she was not as much of a raging, nagging bitch, but holy crap she is one of the worse back seat drivers I have ever seen in my life, aside from my father's mother who would constantly nag at my grandfather to slow down to 25 miles in a 50 mph zone. It wasn't too big of a surprise when my dad found him trying to fashion some sort of noose out of twine, I'd be trying to get away from that woman too, if I were him.
Anyway, we had not even left yet, and my mother was fussing over getting the car loaded with snacks and getting on the road. The game starts at 4pm. If we left at 1pm we would have plenty of time to get there, but because my mother has been a mother for most of her life now, she has to have everything absolutely together and ready to go. I remember as a child missing out on doing things with my friends because it "was too spur of the moment." Needless to say I did not have too many friends growing up. I am not in a hurry to get on the road at noon, because we will be in the car for six hours.
The drive over to Detroit goes by relatively well, but we did miss our exit because my mother did believe me when I told her to what exit to take. We find the lot I have already paid for the car to sit in and we go into the ball park and find our seats. I have realized that I need a drink at this point. When I was in college and my parents would come to visit on Sundays, I would pre drink before they came over so I would be in a better mood. My parents don't drink; growing up, I could count on one hand the number of times I had seen them drink. This contrasts nicely with my dad's brother (everybody's got a druncle) who is president of his AA group.
My only regret during the game is that I did not get another beer. No matter, the Tigers won and it was a beautiful day.
The only annoying part was that on the way home, my dad was convinced that I had directed my mother the wrong way on the freeway. There's a reason he always has to ride in the back seat.
"Lynn, you're driving me nuts constantly changing the radio while you're driving," She'd say.
"You're driving me nuts nagging at me while I'm driving!" Don't get me wrong, after my mother finally got through menopause she was not as much of a raging, nagging bitch, but holy crap she is one of the worse back seat drivers I have ever seen in my life, aside from my father's mother who would constantly nag at my grandfather to slow down to 25 miles in a 50 mph zone. It wasn't too big of a surprise when my dad found him trying to fashion some sort of noose out of twine, I'd be trying to get away from that woman too, if I were him.
Anyway, we had not even left yet, and my mother was fussing over getting the car loaded with snacks and getting on the road. The game starts at 4pm. If we left at 1pm we would have plenty of time to get there, but because my mother has been a mother for most of her life now, she has to have everything absolutely together and ready to go. I remember as a child missing out on doing things with my friends because it "was too spur of the moment." Needless to say I did not have too many friends growing up. I am not in a hurry to get on the road at noon, because we will be in the car for six hours.
The drive over to Detroit goes by relatively well, but we did miss our exit because my mother did believe me when I told her to what exit to take. We find the lot I have already paid for the car to sit in and we go into the ball park and find our seats. I have realized that I need a drink at this point. When I was in college and my parents would come to visit on Sundays, I would pre drink before they came over so I would be in a better mood. My parents don't drink; growing up, I could count on one hand the number of times I had seen them drink. This contrasts nicely with my dad's brother (everybody's got a druncle) who is president of his AA group.
My only regret during the game is that I did not get another beer. No matter, the Tigers won and it was a beautiful day.
The only annoying part was that on the way home, my dad was convinced that I had directed my mother the wrong way on the freeway. There's a reason he always has to ride in the back seat.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Business cards
I have two sided business cards, on one side I have all my information on it with my name, mailing address, phone number, email, and website. On the other side, the printer suggested that you put some sort of personal saying or slogan, and I just put my website address on the back of it. Honestly, what the hell am I going to put on the back of my card? Fucking shit up since 1985? A costumer that can dress herself? I don't have herpes...yet?
Fucking shit up and making bad choices
I am originally from a small town in Michigan. Michigan, if you have never had the opportunity to visit, is the Great Lakes State and very beautiful to go boating on the fresh water lakes during the summer. However, during the winter, it is a cold snowy miserable place. The economic status of Michigan has been shitty for several years now. I decided upon graduation from high school to go to public state university in Michigan that had a wide range of academic programs, the premier land grant university, and numerous study abroad programs to every continent, and had started out as an agricultural college. I moved onto a campus of over 40,000 students from a small of less than 4,000 people. It was a little hard for me to adjust. The summer after my freshman year, I decided to go to the west coast to find a job and a change of scenery.
In Los Angeles, I was running away from my boyfriend. Why Los Angeles? It seemed like the most distant place I could be at the moment I chose to leave. And I had heard that it didn’t snow there and I fucking hate snow. Cold miserable crap. A good place to go; nothing at all like where I was from, and so there fore, the men should be nothing like my ex boyfriend. They should be extremely attractive and absolutely unwilling to bring up the word marriage in any sort of context. I’m 19 years old at the time and I do not want to think about marriage in any way, shape, or form.
My first year at college was a hard transition for me. Before I went away to college, I had never lived any where except for my home town. I had never been out of the country. I had never been to a city larger than Grand Rapids. I had just broken up with my best friend and when we graduated from high school, we were not speaking to each other. It was a hard time for me, I felt completely alone. And so, the solution to my loneliness was to start up a relationship with someone I did not really find attractive, but liked me, and I liked people that liked me.
My clingy, needy ex boyfriend, who really meant the best, but, did not remotely understand me, not that I really ever gave him a chance. And to be fair, at the time, I don’t think I remotely understood myself either. I had no idea what I wanted or what I needed or what was the best course of action for me at the time. I just had no fucking clue. So a relationship is a great solution for this.
I never really truly opened up to him and shared my innermost deep and dark secrets. I simply did not feel like sharing. I don’t know if he knew that I had never had another serious boyfriend but him, but then again, I can’t ever remember having it brought up. He was always more than willing to talk about his past relationship with girls, but I never had much to say. Maybe he liked it that way, I don’t really know. Maybe he was merely waiting for me to finally open up and say everything that I was thinking and feeling and all of my deepest darkest desires, like being screwed on the kitchen table first thing in the morning. I kind of tried. But not really. It was my first really serious relationship and I had no idea what I was doing. When it comes to relationships, I still have no idea what I’m doing.
I had a serious relationship with this guy for nine months. He would come and visit me every weekend that he didn’t need to work. He worked two jobs averaging around 65 hours per week. He was older than I was and seemed to know what he wanted and I was floundering around, not sure I was any where near where I really wanted to be. He brought up marriage more than I ever care to think about. It made me uncomfortable. I wanted to go out and see the world, and do things that I couldn’t do in my home town. And he seemed more content to just do what ever I wanted. Despite all this, he was the first person that I said, “I love you” to.
After a very hot and heavy make out session on my floor, we were curled up together against the January cold.
“I have been thinking a lot about this lately,” he said. I was too subdued from the recent release of endorphins to really think too hard about what he could have been thinking about, so I merely gazed up at him. “I love you,” he said. I was caught so off guard that I didn’t know what to say so I just said a filtered version of what I was thinking.
“That’s so endearing.” If I finally got to the point where I was so hyped up on emotions that I was going to tell some one that I loved them and they responded with, “How endearing,” my confidence in our relationship would be shaken. Looking back, I’m amazed he didn’t just leave me then, but maybe he knew that I would come around.
A couple of days later, I called him on the phone, my heart was racing. He answered the phone.
“I have something to tell you,” I said.
“What?”
“I love you.” It was the biggest rush I have felt to this day.
However, did I really mean it? No. I merely did it to spare his feelings because as a woman, I felt that I needed to reassure him that he was wanted. Or rather, I did it because I thought that it was the sort of natural development that people have…oh fuck, I really don’t know why I did it and played along with it for so many months. I think it was mostly because I felt so insecure in myself that here was some poor soul who was willing to not only spend time with and say that he enjoyed my company, but that he loved me.
What was wrong with me? After I had a boyfriend that loved me and I grew discontent. For some reason I had this idea that as a person in your late teens and early twenties that you are supposed to have sex with people you barely know and you come out of each situation wiser and hipper and cooler. Which is complete bullshit. None of that happens, you just feel like a chewed up piece or gum and feel embarrassed to tell anyone what happened. While you are riding in the car with this person that you have just had sex with, you politely listen to him tell you about this prostitute that he did cocaine with and then had sex with, and this should have been a tip off that you are probably going to have to make a trip to the drugstore for some thing to get rid of crabs. It then occurs to you that if anyone in the world knew more of your secrets that you do not want leaked to the media when you running for a public office, it would be your pharmacist, the guy who is ringing up your order of feminine itch cream and lice shampoo.
Any way, the real reason you sleep around is because you are so confused you don’t know what you want and so you throw away completely good, secure opportunities while you still can. This man, who wanted nothing more from me than what I absolutely couldn’t give him with out murdering him in his sleep several years later, just wanted what any normal, sane person wants: a spouse and children. Children, who would carry on our likeness into the future generations, which is absolutely terrifying. Children are terrifying. The future president is shitting himself as we speak.
Poor man. He was nice guy who meant well, but either way, I broke up with him. All of the dinners, gifts, weekend trips, and hours on the telephone were all wasted with one final goodbye. A week later I had a one night stand with a man who never told me his name and then I moved to California. It made perfectly logical sense at the time, just like drinking an entire bottle of Canadian Whiskey right after I ate a Big Mac.
In Los Angeles, I was running away from my boyfriend. Why Los Angeles? It seemed like the most distant place I could be at the moment I chose to leave. And I had heard that it didn’t snow there and I fucking hate snow. Cold miserable crap. A good place to go; nothing at all like where I was from, and so there fore, the men should be nothing like my ex boyfriend. They should be extremely attractive and absolutely unwilling to bring up the word marriage in any sort of context. I’m 19 years old at the time and I do not want to think about marriage in any way, shape, or form.
My first year at college was a hard transition for me. Before I went away to college, I had never lived any where except for my home town. I had never been out of the country. I had never been to a city larger than Grand Rapids. I had just broken up with my best friend and when we graduated from high school, we were not speaking to each other. It was a hard time for me, I felt completely alone. And so, the solution to my loneliness was to start up a relationship with someone I did not really find attractive, but liked me, and I liked people that liked me.
My clingy, needy ex boyfriend, who really meant the best, but, did not remotely understand me, not that I really ever gave him a chance. And to be fair, at the time, I don’t think I remotely understood myself either. I had no idea what I wanted or what I needed or what was the best course of action for me at the time. I just had no fucking clue. So a relationship is a great solution for this.
I never really truly opened up to him and shared my innermost deep and dark secrets. I simply did not feel like sharing. I don’t know if he knew that I had never had another serious boyfriend but him, but then again, I can’t ever remember having it brought up. He was always more than willing to talk about his past relationship with girls, but I never had much to say. Maybe he liked it that way, I don’t really know. Maybe he was merely waiting for me to finally open up and say everything that I was thinking and feeling and all of my deepest darkest desires, like being screwed on the kitchen table first thing in the morning. I kind of tried. But not really. It was my first really serious relationship and I had no idea what I was doing. When it comes to relationships, I still have no idea what I’m doing.
I had a serious relationship with this guy for nine months. He would come and visit me every weekend that he didn’t need to work. He worked two jobs averaging around 65 hours per week. He was older than I was and seemed to know what he wanted and I was floundering around, not sure I was any where near where I really wanted to be. He brought up marriage more than I ever care to think about. It made me uncomfortable. I wanted to go out and see the world, and do things that I couldn’t do in my home town. And he seemed more content to just do what ever I wanted. Despite all this, he was the first person that I said, “I love you” to.
After a very hot and heavy make out session on my floor, we were curled up together against the January cold.
“I have been thinking a lot about this lately,” he said. I was too subdued from the recent release of endorphins to really think too hard about what he could have been thinking about, so I merely gazed up at him. “I love you,” he said. I was caught so off guard that I didn’t know what to say so I just said a filtered version of what I was thinking.
“That’s so endearing.” If I finally got to the point where I was so hyped up on emotions that I was going to tell some one that I loved them and they responded with, “How endearing,” my confidence in our relationship would be shaken. Looking back, I’m amazed he didn’t just leave me then, but maybe he knew that I would come around.
A couple of days later, I called him on the phone, my heart was racing. He answered the phone.
“I have something to tell you,” I said.
“What?”
“I love you.” It was the biggest rush I have felt to this day.
However, did I really mean it? No. I merely did it to spare his feelings because as a woman, I felt that I needed to reassure him that he was wanted. Or rather, I did it because I thought that it was the sort of natural development that people have…oh fuck, I really don’t know why I did it and played along with it for so many months. I think it was mostly because I felt so insecure in myself that here was some poor soul who was willing to not only spend time with and say that he enjoyed my company, but that he loved me.
What was wrong with me? After I had a boyfriend that loved me and I grew discontent. For some reason I had this idea that as a person in your late teens and early twenties that you are supposed to have sex with people you barely know and you come out of each situation wiser and hipper and cooler. Which is complete bullshit. None of that happens, you just feel like a chewed up piece or gum and feel embarrassed to tell anyone what happened. While you are riding in the car with this person that you have just had sex with, you politely listen to him tell you about this prostitute that he did cocaine with and then had sex with, and this should have been a tip off that you are probably going to have to make a trip to the drugstore for some thing to get rid of crabs. It then occurs to you that if anyone in the world knew more of your secrets that you do not want leaked to the media when you running for a public office, it would be your pharmacist, the guy who is ringing up your order of feminine itch cream and lice shampoo.
Any way, the real reason you sleep around is because you are so confused you don’t know what you want and so you throw away completely good, secure opportunities while you still can. This man, who wanted nothing more from me than what I absolutely couldn’t give him with out murdering him in his sleep several years later, just wanted what any normal, sane person wants: a spouse and children. Children, who would carry on our likeness into the future generations, which is absolutely terrifying. Children are terrifying. The future president is shitting himself as we speak.
Poor man. He was nice guy who meant well, but either way, I broke up with him. All of the dinners, gifts, weekend trips, and hours on the telephone were all wasted with one final goodbye. A week later I had a one night stand with a man who never told me his name and then I moved to California. It made perfectly logical sense at the time, just like drinking an entire bottle of Canadian Whiskey right after I ate a Big Mac.
Roommates
Home. The place I was raised, but had never really gone back to live. I mean, home is comfortable because I know it. However, there is nothing I really want there. I moved back in with my parents after six years of being away from home. Months before, I had ranted to my friend Alex:
“I don’t want to move back in with my parents! I haven’t lived with my parents for years!”
“I don’t want to move in with my parents either, but I’m going to have to,” he said.
“Holy shit, I fucking hate this! I have two degrees and I don’t have a job! What am I going to do?”
“Move in with your parents.”
“But then I would have to quit smoking.”
“Quit smoking and move in with your parents already!” I had other friends who did not have the option of moving in with their parents, and wish that they did and when I finally moved back in, after skipping out on paying the last month’s rent at this house that I had rented (without any formal written lease), I realized that it wasn’t so bad.
In the past year, I had had 14 roommates. I had brought in the year by living alone in a single dorm room on the north side of my college’s campus. It was a cute little room; however, it was also over 900 dollars a month and had a community bathroom. When you live in a dorm that has a community kitchen and bathroom, it’s like have 30 roommates all at once. Once, I was pulling another all nighter, and I made a trip back to my room only to find that someone had vomited in the hallway. Holy shit people!! There are 15 toilets in the bathroom! How hard is it to make it into at least one of them?
I then went and lived in the west, in a small crappy apartment that none of the windows would open, with eight different roommates. Out of the eight, there was only one that was insane and did not get along with anybody, which is pretty good considering the odds. Our apartment came with steel frame beds in each of the tiny bed rooms and there was also a built in desk and closet. The entire interior was white, except for a rust colored sofa which sat against one of the walls in the living room. As an artist, I hated how sterile the apartment was, so under the built in desk in my room, I did a painting. I spent a great deal of time painting at my desk when I was not at work. It was one of the most productive times of my life.
and I moved into a house off campus with four roommates. Here it was great and we all had a lot of fun, even though our dead beat land lord left his dog with us, while he moved to the east coast to celebrate his mid life crisis. The poor, unloved dog got fleas and they infested the whole house, and so we had to bug bomb the entire house. Two roommates moved out, two new ones moved in, and life went on. Finally, I had run out of luck and money. I finished up my classes early, and moved out of there to Saint Louis.
I lived with a lot of friends and different people, but I never lived with one of my lovers. I feel that is one experience that I am missing out on and perhaps is a good reason to go out into the dating world again, despite the fact that I don’t want to.
After dealing with roommates that were psychotic, neurotic, and just plain disgusting, I moved back in with my parents. And I realized, after all the insanity, I was back with the cool and collected sanity of the people who had raised me. And it was good.
“I don’t want to move back in with my parents! I haven’t lived with my parents for years!”
“I don’t want to move in with my parents either, but I’m going to have to,” he said.
“Holy shit, I fucking hate this! I have two degrees and I don’t have a job! What am I going to do?”
“Move in with your parents.”
“But then I would have to quit smoking.”
“Quit smoking and move in with your parents already!” I had other friends who did not have the option of moving in with their parents, and wish that they did and when I finally moved back in, after skipping out on paying the last month’s rent at this house that I had rented (without any formal written lease), I realized that it wasn’t so bad.
In the past year, I had had 14 roommates. I had brought in the year by living alone in a single dorm room on the north side of my college’s campus. It was a cute little room; however, it was also over 900 dollars a month and had a community bathroom. When you live in a dorm that has a community kitchen and bathroom, it’s like have 30 roommates all at once. Once, I was pulling another all nighter, and I made a trip back to my room only to find that someone had vomited in the hallway. Holy shit people!! There are 15 toilets in the bathroom! How hard is it to make it into at least one of them?
I then went and lived in the west, in a small crappy apartment that none of the windows would open, with eight different roommates. Out of the eight, there was only one that was insane and did not get along with anybody, which is pretty good considering the odds. Our apartment came with steel frame beds in each of the tiny bed rooms and there was also a built in desk and closet. The entire interior was white, except for a rust colored sofa which sat against one of the walls in the living room. As an artist, I hated how sterile the apartment was, so under the built in desk in my room, I did a painting. I spent a great deal of time painting at my desk when I was not at work. It was one of the most productive times of my life.
and I moved into a house off campus with four roommates. Here it was great and we all had a lot of fun, even though our dead beat land lord left his dog with us, while he moved to the east coast to celebrate his mid life crisis. The poor, unloved dog got fleas and they infested the whole house, and so we had to bug bomb the entire house. Two roommates moved out, two new ones moved in, and life went on. Finally, I had run out of luck and money. I finished up my classes early, and moved out of there to Saint Louis.
I lived with a lot of friends and different people, but I never lived with one of my lovers. I feel that is one experience that I am missing out on and perhaps is a good reason to go out into the dating world again, despite the fact that I don’t want to.
After dealing with roommates that were psychotic, neurotic, and just plain disgusting, I moved back in with my parents. And I realized, after all the insanity, I was back with the cool and collected sanity of the people who had raised me. And it was good.
Growing a "Beard"
My brother, when was in his mid twenties, decided to grow a fully beard. I, however, being a woman, cannot grow facial hair. However, I do not want to miss out on growing out some sort of hair, so rather than try to unsuccessfully grow facial hair; I decided to grow out my pubic hair. Ever since I hit puberty, and noticed that I had hair in my pubic area, I have shaved it. Over the years I have tried several different trim patterns, but not until I was 24 did I ever try to grow it out as long as it could go.
I did not shave for a month. I would admire my pubic hair. It had grown in quite full, just like a beard. A magnificent patch of blonde pubic hair that would make the dirtiest, unshaven hippy spit in jealous anger. I could comb into different styles, however, it was still not quite long enough to braid it and tie ribbons in it. Anyways, after a couple of weeks of a full pubic area of hair, I couldn’t take it any more, and I shaved it all off. It was fascinating to watch as I shaved the hair away, how it thinned out and eventually washed down the drain of the shower.
I did not shave for a month. I would admire my pubic hair. It had grown in quite full, just like a beard. A magnificent patch of blonde pubic hair that would make the dirtiest, unshaven hippy spit in jealous anger. I could comb into different styles, however, it was still not quite long enough to braid it and tie ribbons in it. Anyways, after a couple of weeks of a full pubic area of hair, I couldn’t take it any more, and I shaved it all off. It was fascinating to watch as I shaved the hair away, how it thinned out and eventually washed down the drain of the shower.
The Stink Off
In Russia, during the summer time, the hot water is shut off to certain apartment buildings at different times during the summer so that maintenance can be performed on the hot water pipes. This leaves certain apartments without hot water for weeks. When I first arrived at my host family’s house in Russia, the hot water was turned off after two days. So, in order to make light of the situation, I and another student in my class had a competition to see who could go the longest without showering. I lasted a little over a week, however, the other student won only by four hours. On Saturday night, all of the students in our group went to a night club, and after dancing in a hot sweaty club all night, I couldn’t take it any more, and I begged one of the engineering students to let me use his shower. It was the best shower I had ever had in my life.
Sex in the Bible belt
My brother, whether he will admit it or not, has always been bitter about the fact that he never received a sex talk from our parents while growing up. In fact, he will probably deny animatedly that he is bitter. Then again, I never got one either, unless you count my mother saying, “Don’t do it.”
I am reasonably sure that I am the person in my family with the most sexual partners. But then again, my parents are in firm denial that that could be true, seeing as I have never been married. Some people constantly live in a state of denial, and that would be my parents. They must have some sort of clue though, because a medical bill for an HIV test was accidentally sent to their house, and of course, my mother just happened to open it.
I am reasonably sure that I am the person in my family with the most sexual partners. But then again, my parents are in firm denial that that could be true, seeing as I have never been married. Some people constantly live in a state of denial, and that would be my parents. They must have some sort of clue though, because a medical bill for an HIV test was accidentally sent to their house, and of course, my mother just happened to open it.
It's a free country...
George W. Bush was president. I don’t remember the details about what happened while he was president; however, I do remember looking into and seriously considering immigrating to Canada.
There are times that all I want is to have a good satisfying fuck. I sometimes get to the point where I am just like; I want to be fucked long and hard and to the point. I just want to be fucked. Could I say it any other way: I just want to be fucked. Fuck me dammit. All I want is to be fucked on the kitchen table, up the stairs, down on the floor…that’s all I want. I have no interest in an exclusive relationship where I reveal all of my deepest and darkest feelings and fears. Fuck that. All I want is for you to fuck me hard against the wall. I don’t care if you hang out post coitus, in fact I would prefer if you left right after and didn’t have this cuddling bull shit… but I mean, it’s a free country.
I am almost perfectly certain, that I did not truly become a functioning human being until I was twenty – three. When I was twenty three, I was able to hold conversations with people I barely knew and I was able to have phone interviews with people that I had never met. I was able to connect with people that I had never in my life met.
I am a blundering idiot. I am almost certain that I will tell any one I meet that I love them when I am drunk.
There are times that all I want is to have a good satisfying fuck. I sometimes get to the point where I am just like; I want to be fucked long and hard and to the point. I just want to be fucked. Could I say it any other way: I just want to be fucked. Fuck me dammit. All I want is to be fucked on the kitchen table, up the stairs, down on the floor…that’s all I want. I have no interest in an exclusive relationship where I reveal all of my deepest and darkest feelings and fears. Fuck that. All I want is for you to fuck me hard against the wall. I don’t care if you hang out post coitus, in fact I would prefer if you left right after and didn’t have this cuddling bull shit… but I mean, it’s a free country.
I am almost perfectly certain, that I did not truly become a functioning human being until I was twenty – three. When I was twenty three, I was able to hold conversations with people I barely knew and I was able to have phone interviews with people that I had never met. I was able to connect with people that I had never in my life met.
I am a blundering idiot. I am almost certain that I will tell any one I meet that I love them when I am drunk.
Sex, Sex, Sex
I want to have a screaming orgasm. I want to have and asthma attack during sex. I want to bang against the walls and scream while I am having sex. Fuck dammit; I just want to have sex already! God, do me already. The hardest part, I find, is getting a man who will do you, because, I mean, it is not like as a woman you can go down to the shadiest part of town and pick up a male prostitute. Many times, there are not male prostitutes available, so you have to settle for a sleazy Arab guy, if you can find one. Men are hard to come by.
Smoking marijuana is quite possibly the greatest think ever. You can also bake it into brownies, even though I have never tried it before. Getting high is better than having sex. Well, to be honest, I have gotten high a lot more than I have had sex. Sex is a different type of high. The extra good kind that makes you feel extremely guilty for sleeping with people you barely know, but getting high with people you barely know is a completely different story.
Drinking, the best and most socially acceptable activity of them all. Drink, Drink, Drink! All I really want out of life is to get fucked, get high, and get drunk. I don’t want to get pregnant; I don’t want to have a family. I just want to have a good time all the time. Fuck me harder dammit.
Sometimes, when I am really horny and desperate, I think about calling up old boyfriends and seeing if they would fuck me. Afterwards, I would totally hate myself for fucking these old losers, but, it is a moment of weakness that has to pass. I just use my vibrator and get over it. I like to think about all the kinky things I want to try out. Like being tied to the bed and fucked in the ass, and hot candle wax dripping all over sensitive parts. Yes!
There are times that I feel like I have no interest in sex at all, and then there are moments like this, when all I want is someone to pin me down on the kitchen table and fuck me good and long.
Smoking marijuana is quite possibly the greatest think ever. You can also bake it into brownies, even though I have never tried it before. Getting high is better than having sex. Well, to be honest, I have gotten high a lot more than I have had sex. Sex is a different type of high. The extra good kind that makes you feel extremely guilty for sleeping with people you barely know, but getting high with people you barely know is a completely different story.
Drinking, the best and most socially acceptable activity of them all. Drink, Drink, Drink! All I really want out of life is to get fucked, get high, and get drunk. I don’t want to get pregnant; I don’t want to have a family. I just want to have a good time all the time. Fuck me harder dammit.
Sometimes, when I am really horny and desperate, I think about calling up old boyfriends and seeing if they would fuck me. Afterwards, I would totally hate myself for fucking these old losers, but, it is a moment of weakness that has to pass. I just use my vibrator and get over it. I like to think about all the kinky things I want to try out. Like being tied to the bed and fucked in the ass, and hot candle wax dripping all over sensitive parts. Yes!
There are times that I feel like I have no interest in sex at all, and then there are moments like this, when all I want is someone to pin me down on the kitchen table and fuck me good and long.
Hair Crimping
It was not until I was in my early twenties that I realized that I did a lot of things purely because my parents didn’t like it. My mother did not want me to visit Russia, so I majored in Russian and went on study abroad in 2006 to Russia and had a blast. My parents also hated the Beatles, premarital sex, drinking, drugs, hair crimping, French people, and Californians; I thoroughly enjoy all of these things, probably, and mostly because my parents do not.
One would think that once I had gone away to college, I would have out grown the rebelliousness and settled down, like my brother had, but that was not at all the case. There was one moment, while I was visiting my friend Margaret in Scotland that I realized, that I simply love doing things that people tell me I shouldn’t do. Don’t mix liquor and beer. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t have sex with strangers. Don’t climb on the wall. Don’t get tattoos and do drugs. Stay away from the biker that looks like a pirate. Don’t drink in the morning. All of these don’ts lead me to want nothing more that to DO! Most of my life I had grown up hearing no, or don’t, and therefore it is reasonable to assume that I had a very repressed childhood.
One would think that once I had gone away to college, I would have out grown the rebelliousness and settled down, like my brother had, but that was not at all the case. There was one moment, while I was visiting my friend Margaret in Scotland that I realized, that I simply love doing things that people tell me I shouldn’t do. Don’t mix liquor and beer. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t have sex with strangers. Don’t climb on the wall. Don’t get tattoos and do drugs. Stay away from the biker that looks like a pirate. Don’t drink in the morning. All of these don’ts lead me to want nothing more that to DO! Most of my life I had grown up hearing no, or don’t, and therefore it is reasonable to assume that I had a very repressed childhood.
My Wedding
From as early as I could remember, I never wanted to get married. I remember being twelve years old and one of my fellow girl scouts asked me if I ever wanted to get married.
“No.”
“Well, do you want to have kids?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
I frequently imagine want my wedding would be like.
“Hey Val! Do you wanna go to Vegas?”
“Hell yes! I love Vegas! What did you want to do when we get there?”
“I was thinking we would get married.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Just drink this drink I made you.” I wake up naked in a hotel room in Vegas wearing a strange ring on my left ring finger and wonder why there is a naked man demanding to have sex with me. Sounds like what every little girl dreams of.
The strangest parts of weddings are class affairs. I am particularly speaking of the South of the United States. There, little children are taught etiquette and how to dance and all the weddings are entirely formal affairs. No wedding buffets in sight. In the South, when a girl reaches puberty, she is given a gun and tiara, and has a microchip implanted in her brain that will make her think that she must be married by the time she is 22 years old. It seems like the feminist movement and liberation stopped when it hit the Mason- Dixon line.
I just hate weddings.
“No.”
“Well, do you want to have kids?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
I frequently imagine want my wedding would be like.
“Hey Val! Do you wanna go to Vegas?”
“Hell yes! I love Vegas! What did you want to do when we get there?”
“I was thinking we would get married.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Just drink this drink I made you.” I wake up naked in a hotel room in Vegas wearing a strange ring on my left ring finger and wonder why there is a naked man demanding to have sex with me. Sounds like what every little girl dreams of.
The strangest parts of weddings are class affairs. I am particularly speaking of the South of the United States. There, little children are taught etiquette and how to dance and all the weddings are entirely formal affairs. No wedding buffets in sight. In the South, when a girl reaches puberty, she is given a gun and tiara, and has a microchip implanted in her brain that will make her think that she must be married by the time she is 22 years old. It seems like the feminist movement and liberation stopped when it hit the Mason- Dixon line.
I just hate weddings.
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