Wednesday, November 09, 2005
There comes a day in every girl's life when she believes that, contrary to countless warnings and threats, it is actually a GOOD idea to cut her own hair. Of course she will be wrong. Of couse she will go ahead and do it and then run to her room and hide the scissors under the mattress so mom wouldn't realize what happened. I had one of those days when I was four years old.
And (lucky me) I had another one yesterday. Bangbangbang. Bang bang. Bangs.
I recently (semi)unintentionally found a dear friend's online diary. Whatever, he wanted me to find it. Perhaps I should come up with an equally loving nickname as American Kid a.k.a. AK47. I vaguely take it as the vague insult that it is. How about Mister Anachronistic Introvert? Anyhow, I'm not mad or even surprised. Amused, probably. I actually knew about my unwelcome presence and the masturbation and the roles of self (dis/per)ception at play. Never-the-less, I can't help but be a bit disturbed by things like, "I, well, I am not totally honest with her. That is, I act much more clueless than I suppose I really am. I refuse to play her little games. I observe much more than she knows. She is like an open book to me. It's too easy to see her little motives and everything!" (Novemver 6, 2005) I guess the best I can hope is that his opinion of me may have changed a bit over the past year. OR maybe I really am that stupid and shallow. For now I prefer the honesty, though, over any idealized account a man could offer. Too bad I had to figure it out via the internet.
ANYHOW, my favorite oral plosive is the voiceless velar stop. Avocados in Commons are cause for much excitement. Tomorrow I get to see Milwaukee up close and personal for the first time.
And (lucky me) I had another one yesterday. Bangbangbang. Bang bang. Bangs.
I recently (semi)unintentionally found a dear friend's online diary. Whatever, he wanted me to find it. Perhaps I should come up with an equally loving nickname as American Kid a.k.a. AK47. I vaguely take it as the vague insult that it is. How about Mister Anachronistic Introvert? Anyhow, I'm not mad or even surprised. Amused, probably. I actually knew about my unwelcome presence and the masturbation and the roles of self (dis/per)ception at play. Never-the-less, I can't help but be a bit disturbed by things like, "I, well, I am not totally honest with her. That is, I act much more clueless than I suppose I really am. I refuse to play her little games. I observe much more than she knows. She is like an open book to me. It's too easy to see her little motives and everything!" (Novemver 6, 2005) I guess the best I can hope is that his opinion of me may have changed a bit over the past year. OR maybe I really am that stupid and shallow. For now I prefer the honesty, though, over any idealized account a man could offer. Too bad I had to figure it out via the internet.
ANYHOW, my favorite oral plosive is the voiceless velar stop. Avocados in Commons are cause for much excitement. Tomorrow I get to see Milwaukee up close and personal for the first time.
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