wheels out in wheelchair wearing a dunce hat and swinging a cat
"I'm Emily and I'm the biggest idiot ever..."
Look, I'll be honest with you people because I care about the people who read this (well, MOST of the people who read this) and I think it's good to be honest and nothing beats honesty unless honesty beats you first...whatever that means.
So anyway, it happened over break with a man by the name of Colin Brady Donegan. And see, the thing is that he has a girlfriend (and not a fine one, may I add...) and Colin and I have a history...a history of quiet sexual banter, disturbing staring contests, sexual frustration stemming back a good six years. We are friends now and he's a really nice guy, college has really mellowed him out. But we still have all this sexual frustration and since we wanted to be friends, we decided that we had to "get it out of the way" so it wouldn't happen again. Okay, you can tell me I was stupid in doing that, and maybe I did it for a stupid reason. It kills me why I actually did it. Because I thought that since I'm dating Braden, I'm not going to be able to see unbridled lust and passion for a long time so I thought I should get all the ideas out of my head. I pictured my relationship for the first time with Braden as going down a long dark path where I wouldn't be able to be free again. You certainly shouldn't date someone if you believe dating them is like throwing yourself off the plank into shark infested waters.
After Colin's three minutes of "we shouldn't be doing this" ended...my brain began to think, "is Braden what I really want" or do I want to float from man to man like I did back in the day...and if ever getting a boyfriend, I would immediatly cheat on him. I should have learned my lesson in the Delta High School parking lot that it's not okay to cheat on your boyfriend but getting threatened didn't even stop me.
From someone with a fear of intimacy...how can I continue this reckless path!
I told Braden last night everything I'm telling you all now. And all I know is that I don't know anything. I am the biggest idiot ever.
So this weekend, when I watch Alex and his gun totin' gal smile in each other's arms...I'm going to shed some tears, because it seems that everyone can find happiness (even jerks like Alex) while I could find happiness but I keep fucking it up. I care about Braden, but it seems that I would rather have the path of the 2nd rate whore than to be the girlfriend of one of the smarest and most adorable boys I know.
Friday, January 31, 2003
Wednesday, January 29, 2003
Movin' on up...to the east side (of tremblay that is)
Yesterday was spent mostly in bed...not wanting to move. The heat of the left side of tremblay was not functioning right proper and so I slept till 1 under the warm blankets. Usually in tremblay the heat is up so high you feel tropical. So we saw Prudence and Lola at the campus center and they told us they wanted to move to the crappy side of tremblay and give us their smaller but quieter room. So for five hours, with the help of Jesse and Kate, we moved into Tremblay 108. It's a nice room, the bathroom is nicer, and at night, you can only here the sound of your own breath. No more acid flashbacks from stoners, no more loud obnoxious 80's music coming from Catherine and Julie's room. If I listen closely, I bet I can here the sounds of Colin and Ali have sex, oh excuse me "intercouse." Yep, it's going to be a good semester.
Last night, since Bard is stupid and doesn't have TV for all us kids, we gathered around Porter's alarm radio and listened to the State of the Union address on NPR. There's something really romantic and magical about the radio because it really helps you use your imagination. I pictured our ape of a president shaking his finger about "being deceived by Iraq" and having all these fat white Republicans stand and cheer for war. It was kind of fun. Now if only I could start listening to the radio more, then maybe it could be the new TV. Though all I could listen to would be NPR, and that would kinda suck sometimes.
I found out that Alex's "gun totin' gal" Maggie is going to be at the West Point formal this saturday. So I finally meet the girl that likes to go down on Alex. Let me ask this question: who would actually want to do something like that? Oh I know the "infamous cadet raggio" is going to comment and tell everyone I'm "frigid" and you know what, maybe I am...but I think it's important to be tasteful in discussing sexual matters with people. My friend Sekse's away messages are always chock full of innuendo and it makes me and my best friend Sean really disturbed. You will never see an away message from me that says, "Over at Braden's and we're fucking like rabbits" and I'm not going to boast to Alex or anyone else (unless they ask) about anything sexual ever. I never wanted to know about Alex getting sucked off...12 times for that matter. Some things should be kept to yourself. Although I told everyone about Johnny...but ironically, it was the only time I felt sexually stimulated. Now the story is a bit different. I don't tell every detail...every sordid disgusting detail. I haven't even told my therapist because I'm embarassed.
That's my problem and I'm going to admit it. I have a fear of intimacy. There, I said it. So Alex, laugh away...say "I told you so" and laugh some more. That's fine, you can laugh at my problem...I don't really care.
But I'm going to get that fixed...and stop pretending like I am some sexual goddess.
I'll admit it, I don't have any credentials...I'm a phony professor.
Yesterday was spent mostly in bed...not wanting to move. The heat of the left side of tremblay was not functioning right proper and so I slept till 1 under the warm blankets. Usually in tremblay the heat is up so high you feel tropical. So we saw Prudence and Lola at the campus center and they told us they wanted to move to the crappy side of tremblay and give us their smaller but quieter room. So for five hours, with the help of Jesse and Kate, we moved into Tremblay 108. It's a nice room, the bathroom is nicer, and at night, you can only here the sound of your own breath. No more acid flashbacks from stoners, no more loud obnoxious 80's music coming from Catherine and Julie's room. If I listen closely, I bet I can here the sounds of Colin and Ali have sex, oh excuse me "intercouse." Yep, it's going to be a good semester.
Last night, since Bard is stupid and doesn't have TV for all us kids, we gathered around Porter's alarm radio and listened to the State of the Union address on NPR. There's something really romantic and magical about the radio because it really helps you use your imagination. I pictured our ape of a president shaking his finger about "being deceived by Iraq" and having all these fat white Republicans stand and cheer for war. It was kind of fun. Now if only I could start listening to the radio more, then maybe it could be the new TV. Though all I could listen to would be NPR, and that would kinda suck sometimes.
I found out that Alex's "gun totin' gal" Maggie is going to be at the West Point formal this saturday. So I finally meet the girl that likes to go down on Alex. Let me ask this question: who would actually want to do something like that? Oh I know the "infamous cadet raggio" is going to comment and tell everyone I'm "frigid" and you know what, maybe I am...but I think it's important to be tasteful in discussing sexual matters with people. My friend Sekse's away messages are always chock full of innuendo and it makes me and my best friend Sean really disturbed. You will never see an away message from me that says, "Over at Braden's and we're fucking like rabbits" and I'm not going to boast to Alex or anyone else (unless they ask) about anything sexual ever. I never wanted to know about Alex getting sucked off...12 times for that matter. Some things should be kept to yourself. Although I told everyone about Johnny...but ironically, it was the only time I felt sexually stimulated. Now the story is a bit different. I don't tell every detail...every sordid disgusting detail. I haven't even told my therapist because I'm embarassed.
That's my problem and I'm going to admit it. I have a fear of intimacy. There, I said it. So Alex, laugh away...say "I told you so" and laugh some more. That's fine, you can laugh at my problem...I don't really care.
But I'm going to get that fixed...and stop pretending like I am some sexual goddess.
I'll admit it, I don't have any credentials...I'm a phony professor.
Tuesday, January 28, 2003
I look so good!
Today I took Braden for his "updating." I don't expect every boy I date to be up with the times but Braden needed a push in the right direction. And boy did he ever get a push in the right direction. My jaw almost hit the floor when he came out wearing that blue office shirt and those cord pants. That's my boyfriend? He's so attractive! It would seem a very shallow thing to say considering looks aren't everything but there was something sexually stimulating about Braden for the first time in my life...that I wanted to cast everything aside and throw my arms around him and push him into the dressing room. I'm sure he'd be terrified...but usually sexual whims don't happen everyday for me.
But as for everything...I say I had my doubts over break. See, I need passion...passion getting thrown up against a door, leaving with bruises...not S&M shit, that's freaky...but awkward, confused, knocking shit over passion...and I fear to say that Braden and passion do not go together. He might surprise me...dear God I hope he surprises me.
I saw Adaptation with the gang tonight. What a multi faceted movie. I enjoyed it to the fullest...and Streep doing green lines and having sex with a guy with no teeth...I mean that's just genius.
tomorrow is a day of unpacking, blondies...getting back to college...maybe showing Braden the ropes of sexual conduct.
Welcome to Passion 345...I will be your professor Emily Sauter. This class deals with the specifics of passion in context to real advanced sexual skill and tactics. The class will begin slowly with basic footwork and by the end, I expect the student to be at an advanced levels, with lots of hands on demenstrations.
I look forward to working with you...
Today I took Braden for his "updating." I don't expect every boy I date to be up with the times but Braden needed a push in the right direction. And boy did he ever get a push in the right direction. My jaw almost hit the floor when he came out wearing that blue office shirt and those cord pants. That's my boyfriend? He's so attractive! It would seem a very shallow thing to say considering looks aren't everything but there was something sexually stimulating about Braden for the first time in my life...that I wanted to cast everything aside and throw my arms around him and push him into the dressing room. I'm sure he'd be terrified...but usually sexual whims don't happen everyday for me.
But as for everything...I say I had my doubts over break. See, I need passion...passion getting thrown up against a door, leaving with bruises...not S&M shit, that's freaky...but awkward, confused, knocking shit over passion...and I fear to say that Braden and passion do not go together. He might surprise me...dear God I hope he surprises me.
I saw Adaptation with the gang tonight. What a multi faceted movie. I enjoyed it to the fullest...and Streep doing green lines and having sex with a guy with no teeth...I mean that's just genius.
tomorrow is a day of unpacking, blondies...getting back to college...maybe showing Braden the ropes of sexual conduct.
Welcome to Passion 345...I will be your professor Emily Sauter. This class deals with the specifics of passion in context to real advanced sexual skill and tactics. The class will begin slowly with basic footwork and by the end, I expect the student to be at an advanced levels, with lots of hands on demenstrations.
I look forward to working with you...
Friday, January 24, 2003
May I please present Miss Emily Sauter...
Today I bought a gown for the first time in four years. It was an odd feeling being in that dressing room again but there's something about trying on that gown...the one that you will wear that over 1000 people will see. It's yours...
Something about today was agonizing. Pharmacy work went slower than usual and was less exciting. It was a long five hours before I finally got home and into the car to the palisades mall to go dress hunting. You're all probably wondering why I, Emily Sauter...would need a ball gown. Well, on February 1st...I, Emily Sauter...will attend my first West Point ball.
I don't know how I feel about it. I want to be excited...but then I think about the beautiful women, the important people...it just seems so overwhelming for one insignificant girl to take in. How with the dean of West Point take my eyebrow ring? Will I get to waltz? Will the MP yell at me because of my emissions sticker? I still hate the place with a passion, but how beautiful will it all be when the general shakes my hand and assumes nothing about my actions...I am scared because as everyone knows, I am not a lady. But my dress, oh that could make anyone into a woman...hopefully it'll do something for me too.
Could the ugly duckling be the belle of the ball? With senators, heads of state, generals all dancing near me...what will become of me?
It's all just a matter of time before I venture into the world of military royalty.
Today I bought a gown for the first time in four years. It was an odd feeling being in that dressing room again but there's something about trying on that gown...the one that you will wear that over 1000 people will see. It's yours...
Something about today was agonizing. Pharmacy work went slower than usual and was less exciting. It was a long five hours before I finally got home and into the car to the palisades mall to go dress hunting. You're all probably wondering why I, Emily Sauter...would need a ball gown. Well, on February 1st...I, Emily Sauter...will attend my first West Point ball.
I don't know how I feel about it. I want to be excited...but then I think about the beautiful women, the important people...it just seems so overwhelming for one insignificant girl to take in. How with the dean of West Point take my eyebrow ring? Will I get to waltz? Will the MP yell at me because of my emissions sticker? I still hate the place with a passion, but how beautiful will it all be when the general shakes my hand and assumes nothing about my actions...I am scared because as everyone knows, I am not a lady. But my dress, oh that could make anyone into a woman...hopefully it'll do something for me too.
Could the ugly duckling be the belle of the ball? With senators, heads of state, generals all dancing near me...what will become of me?
It's all just a matter of time before I venture into the world of military royalty.
Wednesday, January 22, 2003
Four days left till Bardland...
There's something holding me back about going back to Bard. I've grown accustomed to Darien's shallow behavior, accustomed to television, Grieb's pharmacy hours, great food only a staircase away. I am truly spoiled rotten here in Darien. It's almost like I don't want to go back. Yet, I know that I want to go back, I need to go back...but then I think about all the negative things about Bard...
*Tremblay
*the cold
*Kline
*Leon
*10 AM classes with dewsnap
But there are a lot of good things about Bard
*the suite
*Jesse and all my friends
*Braden
*drinking a lot of alcohol
*Blondies and the psycho waitresses
Certainly I can think of more...but yet I'm torn about going back. Why is that?
It's sad that my life has gotten so lonely and pathetic...I have a routine that never changes. Except for my travelling to Wesleyan to see my camp buddy Ben, it's been the same routine everyday.
Wake up with cat
Shower
Watch "great hotels"
have lunch
work
more tv
go to sleep with cat
Wow, an honest lifestyle, nothing like a typical bard life...with is full of chaos.
I guess I have to figure out what is better: Structure and being bored? Or chaos and tremblay?
I'm starting a magazine I've decided with Jason as my assistant and Kevin agreed to help. We can't think of a title yet, but something that represents American disorder. It's going to be like the New Yorker but not as classy. With Jason's intelligence and my confusion and Kevin's intellect...anything is possible.
Good luck to myself.
There's something holding me back about going back to Bard. I've grown accustomed to Darien's shallow behavior, accustomed to television, Grieb's pharmacy hours, great food only a staircase away. I am truly spoiled rotten here in Darien. It's almost like I don't want to go back. Yet, I know that I want to go back, I need to go back...but then I think about all the negative things about Bard...
*Tremblay
*the cold
*Kline
*Leon
*10 AM classes with dewsnap
But there are a lot of good things about Bard
*the suite
*Jesse and all my friends
*Braden
*drinking a lot of alcohol
*Blondies and the psycho waitresses
Certainly I can think of more...but yet I'm torn about going back. Why is that?
It's sad that my life has gotten so lonely and pathetic...I have a routine that never changes. Except for my travelling to Wesleyan to see my camp buddy Ben, it's been the same routine everyday.
Wake up with cat
Shower
Watch "great hotels"
have lunch
work
more tv
go to sleep with cat
Wow, an honest lifestyle, nothing like a typical bard life...with is full of chaos.
I guess I have to figure out what is better: Structure and being bored? Or chaos and tremblay?
I'm starting a magazine I've decided with Jason as my assistant and Kevin agreed to help. We can't think of a title yet, but something that represents American disorder. It's going to be like the New Yorker but not as classy. With Jason's intelligence and my confusion and Kevin's intellect...anything is possible.
Good luck to myself.
Sunday, January 19, 2003
Whoring the Camcam for cash
The title is exactly what I did. For 80 bucks, a hot lunch, and a tank of gas...I drove to Ithaca, NY to drop Kendall Gilchrest at Ithaca College. Kendall and I aren't exactly friends because we really don't know each other, but when her brother complained at work...I thought, hey...I need 80 bucks...and I didn't do it just for the money, the drive on rt. 17 up to Ithaca is one of the most breathtaking views of New York State you can get.
Think about it, if i had stayed at home all day...I would have been watching MTV's "real life" like I was yesterday...the pathetic side of myself. I wanted to get out and do something for a change instead of watching good ole TV or staring at the monitor all day hoping for a glimpse of someone to talk to. I got up and did something and Kendall's pretty cool...so I felt like I did good. Though my lower back hurts a lot, but hey, you drive nine hours, you're going to be in pain.
Braden emailed me today with a so-called apology about not talking to me...it was full of excuses but with the signature Braden-esque tart honesty and humor, I was happy he had even thought about me these past days. Going back to Bard in six days is going to be strange, It almost seems like Suite F was a wonderful dream I had one night and when I woke up, I went to work at the pharmacy and ate conversation hearts all day. Jesse is just a voice on the phone like that of Charlie's Angels...Bard College seems like the past and Darien seems like it's always been the present and future. It's really messing up my sense of timing.
So sad really...they do give us too much time around here those Bard people. I need to learn something fast or else I'm going to turn out like those people to TRL...all shallow, pathetic, disturbed, no sense of what is good for them, growing old and being republican...good thing Joe Millionaire is on tomorrow night.
That show is chock full o' nowledge (knowledge spelled wrong because I'm proving that Joe Millionaire is trash for morons, yet I watch...what a great show)
The title is exactly what I did. For 80 bucks, a hot lunch, and a tank of gas...I drove to Ithaca, NY to drop Kendall Gilchrest at Ithaca College. Kendall and I aren't exactly friends because we really don't know each other, but when her brother complained at work...I thought, hey...I need 80 bucks...and I didn't do it just for the money, the drive on rt. 17 up to Ithaca is one of the most breathtaking views of New York State you can get.
Think about it, if i had stayed at home all day...I would have been watching MTV's "real life" like I was yesterday...the pathetic side of myself. I wanted to get out and do something for a change instead of watching good ole TV or staring at the monitor all day hoping for a glimpse of someone to talk to. I got up and did something and Kendall's pretty cool...so I felt like I did good. Though my lower back hurts a lot, but hey, you drive nine hours, you're going to be in pain.
Braden emailed me today with a so-called apology about not talking to me...it was full of excuses but with the signature Braden-esque tart honesty and humor, I was happy he had even thought about me these past days. Going back to Bard in six days is going to be strange, It almost seems like Suite F was a wonderful dream I had one night and when I woke up, I went to work at the pharmacy and ate conversation hearts all day. Jesse is just a voice on the phone like that of Charlie's Angels...Bard College seems like the past and Darien seems like it's always been the present and future. It's really messing up my sense of timing.
So sad really...they do give us too much time around here those Bard people. I need to learn something fast or else I'm going to turn out like those people to TRL...all shallow, pathetic, disturbed, no sense of what is good for them, growing old and being republican...good thing Joe Millionaire is on tomorrow night.
That show is chock full o' nowledge (knowledge spelled wrong because I'm proving that Joe Millionaire is trash for morons, yet I watch...what a great show)
Saturday, January 18, 2003
A little entry to close the day...
Pharmacy work today from 3-8 was hectic but fun. I worked with the cool kids, bet one of the pharmacists I could eat a Classic Triple from Wendys (he doesn't believe I can do it, but for those who have seen it...you know I can) and then a large man came into the pharmacy.
"Sweetie, what kind of cologne do you like?" No one has ever asked me that before...but I immediatly came up with an answer, "Sir, I'm an old spice girl."
Old Spice...take a hint gentlemen (cough Braden cough)...this smell can make any woman melt. There's something empowering about Old Spice, that a real man wears this...Old Spice brings me back to the John "blue couch" days where I would go home and smell like him...it just was a little token from the night that said, "you done good kid."
The large man eventually took a black bottle of Dakkar (or whatever it was) and confided in me that he was meeting his Internet girlfriend for the first time. I wished him the best of luck, he seemed sweet and witty, so I thought he had a chance. Pharmacy work isn't just about telling stupid quilted coated ladies to calm down and that we're not the insurance company but I think it's about helping people do their best. I helped the fat man smell good. Score one for Emily and Grieb's pharmacy and maybe even, score one for the large man.
After he left, the store was quiet. No one but me, lizzie, lizzie's friend who was picking her up, and Sandy the pharmacist. I pulled an Old spice deodorant off the shelf and opened the cap and took a smell. Oh the smell of passion, the smell of unbridled foul play, the smell of a thousand car rides home thinking out loud, "now Emily, what just happened?" I comtemplated bringing the deodorant home with me, but I couldn't. It was a special smell and I think I don't deserve to smell it all the time. Old Spice just reminds me of part of a poem I wrote senior year aptly entitled, "No means No."
You smell the way a man should
A thick musty forest…
A boat gliding through the salty fog…
Lumberjacks with axes in flannel
Cutting down giant redwoods
And sweating profusely
Thinking of their Fried Chicken dinner
*
My shirts reek of what was
And what could have been
And what will never happen
Oh and on another evil note...crite sheets came back. Now I know Mark Lytle hates me, James Chace called my term paper a "disappointment" and Mark Lindeman told me I "tried too hard." Hmmm...and here I was happy with my grades...maybe I should think again. Though on the upside, Liz Frank still loves me. And maybe Pulitzer prize winners have superpowers to make everything bad go away. I bet she does have superpowers. And with her on my side, my moderation board doesn't stand a chance. Super Liz with Pulitzer Power! Up, up and away!
Pharmacy work today from 3-8 was hectic but fun. I worked with the cool kids, bet one of the pharmacists I could eat a Classic Triple from Wendys (he doesn't believe I can do it, but for those who have seen it...you know I can) and then a large man came into the pharmacy.
"Sweetie, what kind of cologne do you like?" No one has ever asked me that before...but I immediatly came up with an answer, "Sir, I'm an old spice girl."
Old Spice...take a hint gentlemen (cough Braden cough)...this smell can make any woman melt. There's something empowering about Old Spice, that a real man wears this...Old Spice brings me back to the John "blue couch" days where I would go home and smell like him...it just was a little token from the night that said, "you done good kid."
The large man eventually took a black bottle of Dakkar (or whatever it was) and confided in me that he was meeting his Internet girlfriend for the first time. I wished him the best of luck, he seemed sweet and witty, so I thought he had a chance. Pharmacy work isn't just about telling stupid quilted coated ladies to calm down and that we're not the insurance company but I think it's about helping people do their best. I helped the fat man smell good. Score one for Emily and Grieb's pharmacy and maybe even, score one for the large man.
After he left, the store was quiet. No one but me, lizzie, lizzie's friend who was picking her up, and Sandy the pharmacist. I pulled an Old spice deodorant off the shelf and opened the cap and took a smell. Oh the smell of passion, the smell of unbridled foul play, the smell of a thousand car rides home thinking out loud, "now Emily, what just happened?" I comtemplated bringing the deodorant home with me, but I couldn't. It was a special smell and I think I don't deserve to smell it all the time. Old Spice just reminds me of part of a poem I wrote senior year aptly entitled, "No means No."
You smell the way a man should
A thick musty forest…
A boat gliding through the salty fog…
Lumberjacks with axes in flannel
Cutting down giant redwoods
And sweating profusely
Thinking of their Fried Chicken dinner
*
My shirts reek of what was
And what could have been
And what will never happen
Oh and on another evil note...crite sheets came back. Now I know Mark Lytle hates me, James Chace called my term paper a "disappointment" and Mark Lindeman told me I "tried too hard." Hmmm...and here I was happy with my grades...maybe I should think again. Though on the upside, Liz Frank still loves me. And maybe Pulitzer prize winners have superpowers to make everything bad go away. I bet she does have superpowers. And with her on my side, my moderation board doesn't stand a chance. Super Liz with Pulitzer Power! Up, up and away!
Friday, January 17, 2003
Ramblings
You see, It's been almost a month since I've seen the woodsy bubble of the Bardland...but back in CT, I've been learning a lot about myself, Darien, and the people around me. This is a demi list of ideas, notions, thoughts that have been going through my head over the month of no learning, just staring...
*Laser tag- if i can think of the only thing to represent the 1990's, it would be laser tag. Man, that game was the shit!
*Lemon Lime gatorade used to be gross, but now I can't get enough...it's just so fake, it's great!
*Vh1 is now my new favorite channel. Does that mean I'm old? And while we're on the subject of TV, I believe "Great Hotels" on the travel channel is the best show alive. Samantha Brown gets to see all these cool hotels, eat great food, and get massages wherever she goes and she's so COOL! Damn, I think I found a new role model. Sorry Michael Moore.
*Costco is so cool because it ruins Mom and Pop stores around America buy selling Americans big stuff for cheap. It's a warehouse of shit piled up and we go for it because we need to save money...I bought Amelie for 9 bucks on DVD! Hell yeah, go Capitalism!
*My cat is showing signs of age...plus he takes up the whole bed. I hate when he does that.
*I've been watching a lot of TV lately and I've noticed that people in America are skinny on television as opposed to real life where they are overweight. This has made me stop eating lunch because of the hyponotic stare of the television. Well, I was watching a documentary on Air Force One...so I was learning. All i had for lunch with a soft pretzel and a diet coke. I even thought about going to the gym (even though I don't belong to one here in CT...I just wanted to go to some gym)...that's not me...I don't "work out!"
*I talked to Alex today and I found out that he really does mean well. He's a sweet boy (though he doesn't want anyone to know that) who has a strong belief structure and we bardians and other such folk are just not used to that hellfire of Republican Middle American values. Alex and I just decided that hey, we're two different people and we're bound to do great things. He even told me I could do great with my writing...I always believed he hated my prose! So kudos Alex...
*I really hate that Dominos Dots commercial. "They're coming!" screams that perfectly American suburban boy...ugg and those stupid dots roll down the hill...how pathetic.
*Letting me loose in a barnes and noble is not good. I want too many books and I don't have the monies. I'm just thinking "birthday...birthday...birthday..."
*Babysitting has lost its paranoia and has gone into the sweet life. Alls i gotta do is drive some kids places, make a quick meal, watch a movie (this week's movie was Babe, a classic!) and huzzah...75 bucks American!
*hanging out with Colin Donegan is still as awkward as I remember...watching full house on the couch at 3 AM was like being a senior in high school again...a time machine back into what I call my "loose days" well not really loose but loose for me. Playing the "time game" (where you watch the clock and then when it changes to the next minute, whoever yells out the time first wins...ohhh yeah, we know how to party) was just as silly as ever and although he's a "nice boy" as my mother would say, he's still got that 25 percent sleaze from high school that still pangs my memory and makes me cringe. Poor boy...
*I haven't spoken to Braden in a good long while...my so-called "boyfriend" is no where to be found and I have a sneaking suspition that he's mad at me, though I don't know why...I adore the boy, i really do but being away from him is making me wonder how it's going to be when we get back to the suite life...
*Talking to Jesse on the phone has been my only joy, I love the kid dearly and being away from him for so long is torture. He's my best friend...what can I say? I set him up with one of my campers (sound dirty? Hardly...the kid's 17 and adorable...even I had the hots for him back in the day...) hopefully they'll hit it off and then we can all turn the suite into a sex den...ohh yeah!
*I have seen knock offs of the Burberry Quilted Coat everywhere...and they don't come cheap. The knock off jacket at "chou chou" (stupid expensive shoes) was 200 bucks. I don't pay more than 200 dollars for anything...that's just the Emily way...well maybe for a car and maybe for a house, whatever the Emily code is stupid. The coat has become a town icon that probably can been seen from space. It's like a plague that's spreading through town. Thanks to the stock market and the empty pocket books of the sauter ladies, we're not infected...
*Last night I had a dream that was at Bard, though there was a building named "raggio" (don't ask, it's just a dream) and I was being trapped by a woman in a tiara and a white dress and by fighting her in this large wooden room with soft white floors, was using Matrix techniques, swinging her around, getting stuck in the air. Death on was on my side and while we fought her, we recited poetry. I got free from her hold and ran down the grand staircase and into the Bard steamroom (it was very beautiful, encased in marble) where about 50 small kids in bathing caps were sitting. An old friend from high school stood up in her towel and started yelling about not being a victim...and everyone cheered. After we went to Raggio, an old office building that had neon lights on it that said the latest bard news and even stock prices. Inside was a mess of dark rooms and art studios. "I wish I could live here" someone said and it was quiet, unlike Tremblay...I agreed with these people and then i woke up...am I healthy?
Okay, that's enough for tonight...i'll add some more in the morning when I think about it while I dream...and while the snow falls here in Darien, I drink my gatorade in the darkness saying:
"Anna Nicole Smith is a moron..."
You see, It's been almost a month since I've seen the woodsy bubble of the Bardland...but back in CT, I've been learning a lot about myself, Darien, and the people around me. This is a demi list of ideas, notions, thoughts that have been going through my head over the month of no learning, just staring...
*Laser tag- if i can think of the only thing to represent the 1990's, it would be laser tag. Man, that game was the shit!
*Lemon Lime gatorade used to be gross, but now I can't get enough...it's just so fake, it's great!
*Vh1 is now my new favorite channel. Does that mean I'm old? And while we're on the subject of TV, I believe "Great Hotels" on the travel channel is the best show alive. Samantha Brown gets to see all these cool hotels, eat great food, and get massages wherever she goes and she's so COOL! Damn, I think I found a new role model. Sorry Michael Moore.
*Costco is so cool because it ruins Mom and Pop stores around America buy selling Americans big stuff for cheap. It's a warehouse of shit piled up and we go for it because we need to save money...I bought Amelie for 9 bucks on DVD! Hell yeah, go Capitalism!
*My cat is showing signs of age...plus he takes up the whole bed. I hate when he does that.
*I've been watching a lot of TV lately and I've noticed that people in America are skinny on television as opposed to real life where they are overweight. This has made me stop eating lunch because of the hyponotic stare of the television. Well, I was watching a documentary on Air Force One...so I was learning. All i had for lunch with a soft pretzel and a diet coke. I even thought about going to the gym (even though I don't belong to one here in CT...I just wanted to go to some gym)...that's not me...I don't "work out!"
*I talked to Alex today and I found out that he really does mean well. He's a sweet boy (though he doesn't want anyone to know that) who has a strong belief structure and we bardians and other such folk are just not used to that hellfire of Republican Middle American values. Alex and I just decided that hey, we're two different people and we're bound to do great things. He even told me I could do great with my writing...I always believed he hated my prose! So kudos Alex...
*I really hate that Dominos Dots commercial. "They're coming!" screams that perfectly American suburban boy...ugg and those stupid dots roll down the hill...how pathetic.
*Letting me loose in a barnes and noble is not good. I want too many books and I don't have the monies. I'm just thinking "birthday...birthday...birthday..."
*Babysitting has lost its paranoia and has gone into the sweet life. Alls i gotta do is drive some kids places, make a quick meal, watch a movie (this week's movie was Babe, a classic!) and huzzah...75 bucks American!
*hanging out with Colin Donegan is still as awkward as I remember...watching full house on the couch at 3 AM was like being a senior in high school again...a time machine back into what I call my "loose days" well not really loose but loose for me. Playing the "time game" (where you watch the clock and then when it changes to the next minute, whoever yells out the time first wins...ohhh yeah, we know how to party) was just as silly as ever and although he's a "nice boy" as my mother would say, he's still got that 25 percent sleaze from high school that still pangs my memory and makes me cringe. Poor boy...
*I haven't spoken to Braden in a good long while...my so-called "boyfriend" is no where to be found and I have a sneaking suspition that he's mad at me, though I don't know why...I adore the boy, i really do but being away from him is making me wonder how it's going to be when we get back to the suite life...
*Talking to Jesse on the phone has been my only joy, I love the kid dearly and being away from him for so long is torture. He's my best friend...what can I say? I set him up with one of my campers (sound dirty? Hardly...the kid's 17 and adorable...even I had the hots for him back in the day...) hopefully they'll hit it off and then we can all turn the suite into a sex den...ohh yeah!
*I have seen knock offs of the Burberry Quilted Coat everywhere...and they don't come cheap. The knock off jacket at "chou chou" (stupid expensive shoes) was 200 bucks. I don't pay more than 200 dollars for anything...that's just the Emily way...well maybe for a car and maybe for a house, whatever the Emily code is stupid. The coat has become a town icon that probably can been seen from space. It's like a plague that's spreading through town. Thanks to the stock market and the empty pocket books of the sauter ladies, we're not infected...
*Last night I had a dream that was at Bard, though there was a building named "raggio" (don't ask, it's just a dream) and I was being trapped by a woman in a tiara and a white dress and by fighting her in this large wooden room with soft white floors, was using Matrix techniques, swinging her around, getting stuck in the air. Death on was on my side and while we fought her, we recited poetry. I got free from her hold and ran down the grand staircase and into the Bard steamroom (it was very beautiful, encased in marble) where about 50 small kids in bathing caps were sitting. An old friend from high school stood up in her towel and started yelling about not being a victim...and everyone cheered. After we went to Raggio, an old office building that had neon lights on it that said the latest bard news and even stock prices. Inside was a mess of dark rooms and art studios. "I wish I could live here" someone said and it was quiet, unlike Tremblay...I agreed with these people and then i woke up...am I healthy?
Okay, that's enough for tonight...i'll add some more in the morning when I think about it while I dream...and while the snow falls here in Darien, I drink my gatorade in the darkness saying:
"Anna Nicole Smith is a moron..."
Wednesday, January 15, 2003
It was this dream I had last night...
Maybe it's the TV I've been watching...or the fantasies that Americans have with war...but I had a dream that when I woke up, I assumed I was dead.
I want you to picture army headquarters looking like Hogwarts from Harry Potter. West Point but with a whole old castle and fortified walls and a moat. I was skiing on the ski slope when I see two Apache helicopters come over the ridge. Holy shit, that's the navy! I ski back to tell my superiors yelling, "The navy is coming!" I was Paul Revere on Skis. We batten down the hatches and I run upstairs, not having enough time to go to my quarters and run into Alex's room, but he's not there. Everyone's running around screaming and yelling, trying to find guns, armour...this isn't a drill, the navy really has come to take the Army down. I find Alex's M-16 leaning up against a wall in his room and open the stained glass windows, Jason comes up next to me with his gun and there they are, in droves...dressed as Redcoats, The navy has come to take us down. The electricity dies and we're sitting in the darkness, looking through the action through the barrels of the guns. Jason says we better start firing and I agree. I've never shot an M-16 before. I pull the trigger and fall back and hit my head on the hardwood flooring. I feel blood at the back on my neck but manage to stand up and fire again. I can feel the bloodlust going through me...no one messes with my headquarters.
We ran downstairs to round up more ammo and the navymen are almost dead...piles of dead redcoats are seen everywhere. The army then breaks out into celebration. While the bodies are being burned, we retire to the dining room, some of us covered in blood, some of us missing...Alex was missing. We manage to not mourne about the dead but drink wine from goblets stored in the basement, eat bowls of mac and cheese, and party till 1 AM when I was called away from a special assignment.
The Army has requested that Jason and I become spies for Iraq. They give me a small flat panel monitor on a string and tell me to be careful...using my fighter plane, Jason and I fly on dangerous low level missions around the no fly zone...constantly being hit by enemy missiles. The small monitor around my neck keeps beeping, taking pictures...picking up radioactive materials. The Iraqis start to follow us and Jason loses ground and crashes on Iraqi rt.22...I manage to help him before he explodes and we're back to Army headquarters. The general congratulates me and Jason and lets us go skiing again.
this dream has a sort of "Lord of the Rings," "1984" "Harry Potter" feeling to it...but I don't know how to feel about myself when my imagination is coming up with these dreams...do I have problems?
Maybe it's the TV I've been watching...or the fantasies that Americans have with war...but I had a dream that when I woke up, I assumed I was dead.
I want you to picture army headquarters looking like Hogwarts from Harry Potter. West Point but with a whole old castle and fortified walls and a moat. I was skiing on the ski slope when I see two Apache helicopters come over the ridge. Holy shit, that's the navy! I ski back to tell my superiors yelling, "The navy is coming!" I was Paul Revere on Skis. We batten down the hatches and I run upstairs, not having enough time to go to my quarters and run into Alex's room, but he's not there. Everyone's running around screaming and yelling, trying to find guns, armour...this isn't a drill, the navy really has come to take the Army down. I find Alex's M-16 leaning up against a wall in his room and open the stained glass windows, Jason comes up next to me with his gun and there they are, in droves...dressed as Redcoats, The navy has come to take us down. The electricity dies and we're sitting in the darkness, looking through the action through the barrels of the guns. Jason says we better start firing and I agree. I've never shot an M-16 before. I pull the trigger and fall back and hit my head on the hardwood flooring. I feel blood at the back on my neck but manage to stand up and fire again. I can feel the bloodlust going through me...no one messes with my headquarters.
We ran downstairs to round up more ammo and the navymen are almost dead...piles of dead redcoats are seen everywhere. The army then breaks out into celebration. While the bodies are being burned, we retire to the dining room, some of us covered in blood, some of us missing...Alex was missing. We manage to not mourne about the dead but drink wine from goblets stored in the basement, eat bowls of mac and cheese, and party till 1 AM when I was called away from a special assignment.
The Army has requested that Jason and I become spies for Iraq. They give me a small flat panel monitor on a string and tell me to be careful...using my fighter plane, Jason and I fly on dangerous low level missions around the no fly zone...constantly being hit by enemy missiles. The small monitor around my neck keeps beeping, taking pictures...picking up radioactive materials. The Iraqis start to follow us and Jason loses ground and crashes on Iraqi rt.22...I manage to help him before he explodes and we're back to Army headquarters. The general congratulates me and Jason and lets us go skiing again.
this dream has a sort of "Lord of the Rings," "1984" "Harry Potter" feeling to it...but I don't know how to feel about myself when my imagination is coming up with these dreams...do I have problems?
Tuesday, January 14, 2003
Damnit, I want some fucking pancakes!
It's because Darien is sucking me dry, isn't it? Everyone from Darien who I can depend on to help me with pancakes are back at school...learning, doing something constructive. I am here watching "Craziest Game Show moments." I saw an IHOP commercial and it make me want fluffy pancakes. I could make them at home, but it's not the same...being me, I would mess them up.
My mother let me loose in Barnes and Noble today, a bad mistake on her part as a parent. I marvelled at the rows and rows of books, pulling countless books off the shelves, wanting every single book. I spent my 50 dollar gift card with pride:
Fierce Pajamas: An anthology of humor writing from The New Yorker
Purple America by Rick Moody
The Neon Bible by John Kennedy Toole
Now, Let me Tell you What I Really Think by Chris Matthews (one of the only Republicans I can stomach because he's so loud and he likes to yell at foreign advisors, that's so cool!)
My friend Jason told me that I was Thora Birch in "Ghost World" a few days back but she has sex with Steve Buchemi (who is kinda like Braden, but weirder...and I know Braden's a little on the strange side but God help me, I adore him) in that movie...I don't know how I feel about that. She's pretty cool and just like me, but she's in your face and I'm more indirectly in your face...but she's going nowhere (just like me so it seems), she's lost in trying to figure out how much life sucks and in the end, gets on that bus to nowhere because the shit has hit the fan. Jesus, if someone told me there was a bus to nowhere, I would of gotten on it a long time ago.
It's sad that my vacation is wasted in front of the television or the computer, in front of a number of glowing objects...but it seems to me that if I wanted pancakes, I could go the diner by myself...if I was that hungry...
but I'm a girl...we are used to doing everything in packs...we ladies have to pee in numbers.
13 days...13 days...13 days...till the suite life...and then I can curl up with Braden, watch a DVD...and everything can be "normal."
But when was I, Braden, the suite, Bard, life...ever normal?
It's because Darien is sucking me dry, isn't it? Everyone from Darien who I can depend on to help me with pancakes are back at school...learning, doing something constructive. I am here watching "Craziest Game Show moments." I saw an IHOP commercial and it make me want fluffy pancakes. I could make them at home, but it's not the same...being me, I would mess them up.
My mother let me loose in Barnes and Noble today, a bad mistake on her part as a parent. I marvelled at the rows and rows of books, pulling countless books off the shelves, wanting every single book. I spent my 50 dollar gift card with pride:
Fierce Pajamas: An anthology of humor writing from The New Yorker
Purple America by Rick Moody
The Neon Bible by John Kennedy Toole
Now, Let me Tell you What I Really Think by Chris Matthews (one of the only Republicans I can stomach because he's so loud and he likes to yell at foreign advisors, that's so cool!)
My friend Jason told me that I was Thora Birch in "Ghost World" a few days back but she has sex with Steve Buchemi (who is kinda like Braden, but weirder...and I know Braden's a little on the strange side but God help me, I adore him) in that movie...I don't know how I feel about that. She's pretty cool and just like me, but she's in your face and I'm more indirectly in your face...but she's going nowhere (just like me so it seems), she's lost in trying to figure out how much life sucks and in the end, gets on that bus to nowhere because the shit has hit the fan. Jesus, if someone told me there was a bus to nowhere, I would of gotten on it a long time ago.
It's sad that my vacation is wasted in front of the television or the computer, in front of a number of glowing objects...but it seems to me that if I wanted pancakes, I could go the diner by myself...if I was that hungry...
but I'm a girl...we are used to doing everything in packs...we ladies have to pee in numbers.
13 days...13 days...13 days...till the suite life...and then I can curl up with Braden, watch a DVD...and everything can be "normal."
But when was I, Braden, the suite, Bard, life...ever normal?
Sunday, January 12, 2003
And now commentary on America by Emily Sauter
"It's true...everything is bad for you...except war"
Chris Matthews this morning was saying that we pay 9 dollars to see a movie because we don't want to think of the three fears: "Sadaam, N. Korea, and the Stock Market." The commercial fifteen minutes back said that when you drive an SUV, you start wars, kill Americans, helped 9/11...at least they admitted that it all stems back to oil and gas comsumption in American culture.
TV has a big influence on us now...because we as Americans, believe everything the TV will tell us. A three year old came into the pharmacy and picked up a bottle of shampoo. "Can we get this mommy?" and the mother asked, "now why would you want that?" and the girl, without hesitation annouced "It makes your hair smooth, I saw it on TV."
We rely on TV for everything...and when the TV says that you shouldn't eat cheese...subconsciously you will look at cheese and think that you really shouldn't eat it because of what the TV said. Now men should drink 2 cocktails a day to keep heart disease at a distance...but if women drink 2 cocktails a day, breast cancer is on the way...how do I know this? By sitting in a burger king on the Garden state yesterday and listen to some woman on headline news tell me. We're a fear based society because George likes it that way...it elevates his power. When he said after 9/11 to "buy things," Americans went out and bought shitloads. Now that we're going to war (no smoking gun...oh whatever pull the trigger anyway) the news is full of heartwrenching pictures of wives kissing their husbands goodbye, maybe forever...pulling the heart strings is a good way to get support. Of course becuase of the war machine, we'll never see any real action of the war...just a smarty dressed correspondent talking while the green bombs light up the night sky. No one in America saw anyone die on television during the Gulf War...
Will Gulf War II be different then its elder? It only seems like the only thing that the TV is saying is actually good for us is war. And I'm smart enough to know when to turn the TV off.
"It's true...everything is bad for you...except war"
Chris Matthews this morning was saying that we pay 9 dollars to see a movie because we don't want to think of the three fears: "Sadaam, N. Korea, and the Stock Market." The commercial fifteen minutes back said that when you drive an SUV, you start wars, kill Americans, helped 9/11...at least they admitted that it all stems back to oil and gas comsumption in American culture.
TV has a big influence on us now...because we as Americans, believe everything the TV will tell us. A three year old came into the pharmacy and picked up a bottle of shampoo. "Can we get this mommy?" and the mother asked, "now why would you want that?" and the girl, without hesitation annouced "It makes your hair smooth, I saw it on TV."
We rely on TV for everything...and when the TV says that you shouldn't eat cheese...subconsciously you will look at cheese and think that you really shouldn't eat it because of what the TV said. Now men should drink 2 cocktails a day to keep heart disease at a distance...but if women drink 2 cocktails a day, breast cancer is on the way...how do I know this? By sitting in a burger king on the Garden state yesterday and listen to some woman on headline news tell me. We're a fear based society because George likes it that way...it elevates his power. When he said after 9/11 to "buy things," Americans went out and bought shitloads. Now that we're going to war (no smoking gun...oh whatever pull the trigger anyway) the news is full of heartwrenching pictures of wives kissing their husbands goodbye, maybe forever...pulling the heart strings is a good way to get support. Of course becuase of the war machine, we'll never see any real action of the war...just a smarty dressed correspondent talking while the green bombs light up the night sky. No one in America saw anyone die on television during the Gulf War...
Will Gulf War II be different then its elder? It only seems like the only thing that the TV is saying is actually good for us is war. And I'm smart enough to know when to turn the TV off.
Friday, January 10, 2003
Nothing important has happened to me...nothing important has happened to me...
Tonight I would like to explain to you the joy that is the music of Sonic the Hedgehog
Whoever came up w/ these tunes has to be some sort of musical genius, because they spark something in my mind of innocent behavior, of reaching your goals...fighting robotnik...figuring out that in helping Sonic, you indeed help yourself.
I have downloaded all the levels (except Green Hill, it's downloading right now) and it invokes something that I have only wanted to grasp, a feeling of what it was like when I had sega genesis...I was 10 and I was just figuring out what it was like to be growing up, to understand that I can't be the way I am...and still today, as I listen to the Star light Theme (my favorite level if you must know), it makes me remember when I would hear this melody after school and cry because I just thought it was so beautiful. I had a really hard time in fifth grade because I couldn't be who I was. In Darien, showing your true personality resulted in making you the meat in a locker sandwich. My laid back style of tomboyish attitudes had a few teachers telling me I would'nt amount to anything...that it was important to "be a girl"...wear pink, look pink, think pink...I just wanted to play video games.
Now that I'm at Bard...I realize that nothing has changed. You can be who you are at Bard, but with a price...Bard's a sheltering environment...where the kids who were the meat of the locker sandwich converge and discuss...and being around their own kind is comforting...but when it's time to pack up and go into the real world...will Bard be ready?
As for Sonic the hedgehog...he was different too, and he fought Communism (come on...with a name like robotnik?) and he didn't have any friends except in the 2nd one when they gave him tails (who i thought was a wuss) and then they gave him knuckles (who i hated). Sonic was a loner like me...who had great theme music and the will to go it alone. So Bard kids, be Sonic...just don't try to roll yourself in a ball and roll down hills like Sonic did.
Wow Emily, that was very meaningful...somewhat
Tonight I would like to explain to you the joy that is the music of Sonic the Hedgehog
Whoever came up w/ these tunes has to be some sort of musical genius, because they spark something in my mind of innocent behavior, of reaching your goals...fighting robotnik...figuring out that in helping Sonic, you indeed help yourself.
I have downloaded all the levels (except Green Hill, it's downloading right now) and it invokes something that I have only wanted to grasp, a feeling of what it was like when I had sega genesis...I was 10 and I was just figuring out what it was like to be growing up, to understand that I can't be the way I am...and still today, as I listen to the Star light Theme (my favorite level if you must know), it makes me remember when I would hear this melody after school and cry because I just thought it was so beautiful. I had a really hard time in fifth grade because I couldn't be who I was. In Darien, showing your true personality resulted in making you the meat in a locker sandwich. My laid back style of tomboyish attitudes had a few teachers telling me I would'nt amount to anything...that it was important to "be a girl"...wear pink, look pink, think pink...I just wanted to play video games.
Now that I'm at Bard...I realize that nothing has changed. You can be who you are at Bard, but with a price...Bard's a sheltering environment...where the kids who were the meat of the locker sandwich converge and discuss...and being around their own kind is comforting...but when it's time to pack up and go into the real world...will Bard be ready?
As for Sonic the hedgehog...he was different too, and he fought Communism (come on...with a name like robotnik?) and he didn't have any friends except in the 2nd one when they gave him tails (who i thought was a wuss) and then they gave him knuckles (who i hated). Sonic was a loner like me...who had great theme music and the will to go it alone. So Bard kids, be Sonic...just don't try to roll yourself in a ball and roll down hills like Sonic did.
Wow Emily, that was very meaningful...somewhat
Thursday, January 09, 2003
Jesse called me last night...and he was freaking out...I asked him what was wrong and he told me to look at my email.
Judge this for yourself...
jesse aylen- you are quite possibly one of the worst individuals we know. how
can you be so mean spirited? what in the world did megan fishmann ever do to
you? we know , believe me, we know that megan can be a bit overwhelming
sometimes, and her choices in clothing are anything but understated, but she
is one the sweetest, most kind- hearted girls we know. why would you slander
her so? you of course are entitled to your opinion, but we don't really think
that it's necessary to berate her where the world can read it. you have no
idea how much what you wrote will hurt her. we know that she thinks no ill
will of you.
sincerly,
minka marcom-rehwald (her equally slutty friend, in case you don't know me)
and oliva flynn (her biggest fan and admirer of her writing)
For those who don't know, everyone hates the Fishmann, so Jesse wrote about her and apparently Minka (her equally slutty friend, jesse recants) read it and freaked out...should we feel bad for hatnig fishmann? No way man! I say this means we're going to have a very interesting 2nd semester...
Judge this for yourself...
jesse aylen- you are quite possibly one of the worst individuals we know. how
can you be so mean spirited? what in the world did megan fishmann ever do to
you? we know , believe me, we know that megan can be a bit overwhelming
sometimes, and her choices in clothing are anything but understated, but she
is one the sweetest, most kind- hearted girls we know. why would you slander
her so? you of course are entitled to your opinion, but we don't really think
that it's necessary to berate her where the world can read it. you have no
idea how much what you wrote will hurt her. we know that she thinks no ill
will of you.
sincerly,
minka marcom-rehwald (her equally slutty friend, in case you don't know me)
and oliva flynn (her biggest fan and admirer of her writing)
For those who don't know, everyone hates the Fishmann, so Jesse wrote about her and apparently Minka (her equally slutty friend, jesse recants) read it and freaked out...should we feel bad for hatnig fishmann? No way man! I say this means we're going to have a very interesting 2nd semester...
Wednesday, January 08, 2003
The New and Improved Blog of Emily!
Thanks to Kevin, my blog will be beautified (soon to be complete with picture)...and I thank him heartily for his actions. Kevin republished my archives, so now they extend back to April, when I first started the journal. I reread the old posts, noticing how obsessed I was with our old pal Johnny Garrison (Alex tells me he's too low on the chain of comand to go to Iraq to die...so damnit)...I didn't realize how much of a rut I was in until I looked at proof square in the face. Thank God that I have some semblance of a life back (though Alex assures me I don't...but the thing is I am not all secure like he is and that's fine with me). Baby steps Alex...remember I am not as big and as strong with good Midwestern values as you are...I am only a stand-offish shallow New Englander...with much to learn (please, note sarcasm)...
Today my uncles took my mother and I out to eat at the Culinary Institute of America or the CIA...A man in a suit took my coat, pulled the chair out for me, and a man kept pouring me iced tea after iced tea. I had my own personal waiter at the French restaurant who served me food hidden under those silver tray covers (I thought those only existed in cartoons). I had the lamb chops, dipped in a chicken based batter with red wine sauce...it was heaven on a plate. For dessert, I had chocolate mousse, swimming in sauce with a chocolate leaf pointing out of the top. The food was so beautiful, I wanted to take a picture of it before I ruined it with my fork. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was important, like these people were serving me because I was me. I know that's not the case, but I wish it could be. I long to be important in someone's eyes...
After I left the CIA, I wanted a hot dog. I figure it was because I had been treated like a queen for three hours, I wanted to get back onto my level by eating something 2nd rate.
A 2nd rate meat for a 2nd rate girl...
Thanks to Kevin, my blog will be beautified (soon to be complete with picture)...and I thank him heartily for his actions. Kevin republished my archives, so now they extend back to April, when I first started the journal. I reread the old posts, noticing how obsessed I was with our old pal Johnny Garrison (Alex tells me he's too low on the chain of comand to go to Iraq to die...so damnit)...I didn't realize how much of a rut I was in until I looked at proof square in the face. Thank God that I have some semblance of a life back (though Alex assures me I don't...but the thing is I am not all secure like he is and that's fine with me). Baby steps Alex...remember I am not as big and as strong with good Midwestern values as you are...I am only a stand-offish shallow New Englander...with much to learn (please, note sarcasm)...
Today my uncles took my mother and I out to eat at the Culinary Institute of America or the CIA...A man in a suit took my coat, pulled the chair out for me, and a man kept pouring me iced tea after iced tea. I had my own personal waiter at the French restaurant who served me food hidden under those silver tray covers (I thought those only existed in cartoons). I had the lamb chops, dipped in a chicken based batter with red wine sauce...it was heaven on a plate. For dessert, I had chocolate mousse, swimming in sauce with a chocolate leaf pointing out of the top. The food was so beautiful, I wanted to take a picture of it before I ruined it with my fork. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was important, like these people were serving me because I was me. I know that's not the case, but I wish it could be. I long to be important in someone's eyes...
After I left the CIA, I wanted a hot dog. I figure it was because I had been treated like a queen for three hours, I wanted to get back onto my level by eating something 2nd rate.
A 2nd rate meat for a 2nd rate girl...
Monday, January 06, 2003
Dear Mr. Sadaam,
First of all, I would like to ask you how you feel right now…you aren’t sick or dying, you have a clean bill of health? I always thought for a man of your stature that you always looked healthy and in control but when I watch American news, it seems like you have no idea what’s going on. Is that because the American war machine is making me think you’re a bad person or is that you really are? I wish I could know the real Sadaam without all this Iraqi and American bias. You know, understand how you really are, without making you think that you’re the next Hitler. But, of course, Hitler did build the Autobahn and fed the poor. So can’t there be a good side to everyone?
As an American, I warn you that I’m objective about the whole war thing because as most Americans, I’m ignorant about what’s really going on. Mainly I’m ignorant because everything is classified. Do you make everything classified in your country? Because I think it really sucks to have it all be classified. I want to know because I believe I have a right to know. I’m sure you don’t tell your countrymen much. Hell, you won’t even tell people where your nuclear reactors are (not that accusing you of having a nuclear reactor, we Americans just assume you do…so why can’t you just come out and tell us you do…I think that pulling Mr. Dubya’s chain is a pretty stupid idea).
The main purpose of this letter is to warn you to cut the shit. That’s about it, I’m being blunt. I see all the news in America about you claiming all this crap, and it makes me sad that we have to go to war because of this. I’m not blaming you because it’s more America’s love of the black gold and corporate foul play that’s making this war possible. I just think that we wouldn’t have to have anyone die if you said something. I want to know what you think, not what a correspondent in Washington says you think. So Sadaam, please help me out and tell me what you think. I am tired of using my imagination.
I also want to apologize for my country’s involvement with your country. You see, right now in American history, we’ve reached a time where we’re all a little paranoid and we’ve begun to point fingers. It so happens also that our president and his little white (Colin Powell is white, but everything thinks he’s black, just so you know) are pretty ideological that they can stop terrorism single-handedly, which is pretty much, never going to happen. I’m sure you’ve figured out that America is a hole and we need to get out, so we’re pointing the finger at you, Daddy’s nemesis from the Gulf War.
This letter is just to warn you that you might want to change your policies a little. I am not a supporter of pro-American beliefs; I am strictly against the Republican regime, which I am forced to live under. I am just warning you because I believe that everyone must have a chance to run and change their course before they meet their end. If we go to war with you Mr. Sadaam Sir, you will die and your country will become just another McCountry under a ruling of Pro American businessmen. Please change your tune before you end up whistling ‘God Bless America’ in a cell before you are killed off by an American made bullet, made by one of our illegal immigrants.
I only wish you luck because you will need it…and I am sorry.
Fondest wishes for a quick death by a serviceman,
Emily Steele Sauter
First of all, I would like to ask you how you feel right now…you aren’t sick or dying, you have a clean bill of health? I always thought for a man of your stature that you always looked healthy and in control but when I watch American news, it seems like you have no idea what’s going on. Is that because the American war machine is making me think you’re a bad person or is that you really are? I wish I could know the real Sadaam without all this Iraqi and American bias. You know, understand how you really are, without making you think that you’re the next Hitler. But, of course, Hitler did build the Autobahn and fed the poor. So can’t there be a good side to everyone?
As an American, I warn you that I’m objective about the whole war thing because as most Americans, I’m ignorant about what’s really going on. Mainly I’m ignorant because everything is classified. Do you make everything classified in your country? Because I think it really sucks to have it all be classified. I want to know because I believe I have a right to know. I’m sure you don’t tell your countrymen much. Hell, you won’t even tell people where your nuclear reactors are (not that accusing you of having a nuclear reactor, we Americans just assume you do…so why can’t you just come out and tell us you do…I think that pulling Mr. Dubya’s chain is a pretty stupid idea).
The main purpose of this letter is to warn you to cut the shit. That’s about it, I’m being blunt. I see all the news in America about you claiming all this crap, and it makes me sad that we have to go to war because of this. I’m not blaming you because it’s more America’s love of the black gold and corporate foul play that’s making this war possible. I just think that we wouldn’t have to have anyone die if you said something. I want to know what you think, not what a correspondent in Washington says you think. So Sadaam, please help me out and tell me what you think. I am tired of using my imagination.
I also want to apologize for my country’s involvement with your country. You see, right now in American history, we’ve reached a time where we’re all a little paranoid and we’ve begun to point fingers. It so happens also that our president and his little white (Colin Powell is white, but everything thinks he’s black, just so you know) are pretty ideological that they can stop terrorism single-handedly, which is pretty much, never going to happen. I’m sure you’ve figured out that America is a hole and we need to get out, so we’re pointing the finger at you, Daddy’s nemesis from the Gulf War.
This letter is just to warn you that you might want to change your policies a little. I am not a supporter of pro-American beliefs; I am strictly against the Republican regime, which I am forced to live under. I am just warning you because I believe that everyone must have a chance to run and change their course before they meet their end. If we go to war with you Mr. Sadaam Sir, you will die and your country will become just another McCountry under a ruling of Pro American businessmen. Please change your tune before you end up whistling ‘God Bless America’ in a cell before you are killed off by an American made bullet, made by one of our illegal immigrants.
I only wish you luck because you will need it…and I am sorry.
Fondest wishes for a quick death by a serviceman,
Emily Steele Sauter
Blitzkrieg in Massachusetts
My trip to MA was short, and therefore I was jumping from place to place in a very rapid fashion...but still, it was a good time. My first stop was the cute white house in Milton that belonged to Casey. Casey had just woken up from sleeping when I arrived...so in her signature "Go to Jail" slippers, she greeted me. We went into Boston, ate a bagel...browsed the shops...saw Avril Lavigne was playing at one of the theaters on the 8th and giggled like school girls that "if only we could go..." I was a day of good times, cold weather. We went into the DSW shoe place and I tried on a pair of very feminine shoes, with pointy toe and tall heel...but alas, I cannot wear anything of that nature. I felt like a 6 year old in her mother's stilettos...
After saying goodbye to Casey and all the fun, I drove the 45 minutes to Topsfield to have dinner with Blake Spencer Holt. Blake and I spent a night of passion together under a tree near the CCS building during a thunderstorm while the moon was red during the hottest day of the springtime in April. It's been almost a year since I saw him...Blake, now clad with a gotee and cute little glasses, looks great. He's just a really nice guy, who...unlike some people, actually took the time after our little tryst to get to know me...and I really respect him for just the incredible person he is (and he's still a hottie!). His family also is adorable...Blake says they liked me, so I'm happy about that. Hopefully, I can visit him again soon...
After I left Topsfield, I went to see my old pal Chelsea. We watched Ice Age (what a great movie!) and then, Clarrisa Explains it All was on the "n" channel (whatever that is...we don't get it here, but it looks like my childhood) and it was the great flu episode where Clarrisa and Ferg face have to take care of their sick parents and there's a blizzard and no water...classic sitcom complete with laugh track and adorable characters.
But now I'm home in CT, ready for an afternoon of babysitting, watching "Richie Rich" (my favorite movie of ALL TIME, no joke...what a classic story of money and love) and driving the little critters to swimming, all for a pretty sum of 75 dollars American.
Thanks to all who contributed to my blitzkrieg of Massachusetts: The Spirit of America
My trip to MA was short, and therefore I was jumping from place to place in a very rapid fashion...but still, it was a good time. My first stop was the cute white house in Milton that belonged to Casey. Casey had just woken up from sleeping when I arrived...so in her signature "Go to Jail" slippers, she greeted me. We went into Boston, ate a bagel...browsed the shops...saw Avril Lavigne was playing at one of the theaters on the 8th and giggled like school girls that "if only we could go..." I was a day of good times, cold weather. We went into the DSW shoe place and I tried on a pair of very feminine shoes, with pointy toe and tall heel...but alas, I cannot wear anything of that nature. I felt like a 6 year old in her mother's stilettos...
After saying goodbye to Casey and all the fun, I drove the 45 minutes to Topsfield to have dinner with Blake Spencer Holt. Blake and I spent a night of passion together under a tree near the CCS building during a thunderstorm while the moon was red during the hottest day of the springtime in April. It's been almost a year since I saw him...Blake, now clad with a gotee and cute little glasses, looks great. He's just a really nice guy, who...unlike some people, actually took the time after our little tryst to get to know me...and I really respect him for just the incredible person he is (and he's still a hottie!). His family also is adorable...Blake says they liked me, so I'm happy about that. Hopefully, I can visit him again soon...
After I left Topsfield, I went to see my old pal Chelsea. We watched Ice Age (what a great movie!) and then, Clarrisa Explains it All was on the "n" channel (whatever that is...we don't get it here, but it looks like my childhood) and it was the great flu episode where Clarrisa and Ferg face have to take care of their sick parents and there's a blizzard and no water...classic sitcom complete with laugh track and adorable characters.
But now I'm home in CT, ready for an afternoon of babysitting, watching "Richie Rich" (my favorite movie of ALL TIME, no joke...what a classic story of money and love) and driving the little critters to swimming, all for a pretty sum of 75 dollars American.
Thanks to all who contributed to my blitzkrieg of Massachusetts: The Spirit of America
Friday, January 03, 2003
The Burberry Quilted Coat
Working in the pharmacy has made me remember all the interesting characters that enter the pharmacy for their medications. The old dandies of rich men who live out on Contentment Island with their large white houses...they stroll into the pharmacy wearing bowties and chasmere sweaters, itching for their Nexium, Viagra, Lipitor...what keeps them alive. The young moms enter, picking up the zithromax liquid that comes in the purple box with the Zithromax Zebra smiling from behind the Z...the Amoxil colored bright pink so children will actually take it, the adderall for their confused ignorant teenager, and for themselves...a nice big bottle of Zoloft, prozac, wellbutrin, valium...to forget the awful lives they lead. And these women come in droves all wearing the same thing: The Burberry Quilted coat. It's a nice all weather coat, with the Burberry plaid at the cuffs and the collar. It comes in many colors, at busy times at the pharmacy, a rainbow of Burberry coats can be seen...I'm helping the tan woman, my boss is helping navy blue, the pharmacist is explaining dosages to red...It seems to me that women in Darien were issued this coat by the mail and that is why everyone has one. A government issue, like the Army..."you live in Darien, have this coat so you can be a Republican conformist..." all it needs is a pin with a blue wave on it, the proud Darien symbol...or maybe an arm band...and it truly would be a uniform.
I asked my mother why she didn't have a Burberry quilted coat and she sighed. "I don't have 325 dollars for a coat Emily..." My mom is the Darien mom, moreso than any of the women that sport that stupid coat...so I'm trying to start a fund so my mom can really be a true darien mom, complete with the uniform...and she already has that sexless woman haircut.
The ice has been coming down all day and I lay in bed looking at the ceiling for an undisclosed amount of time with the cat resting its head on my stomach...I don't know if I fell asleep, but I was dreaming about Bard and Braden and how I wish we really could make America smaller so I could see him again and not have to wait so damn long until I can be back at Bard. When I opened my eyes, it had been 90 minutes. I don't know if I fell asleep, but it doesn't matter. I have nothing to do anyway...I'm just wasting away here in Darien...thinking about that damn Burberry coat.
Working in the pharmacy has made me remember all the interesting characters that enter the pharmacy for their medications. The old dandies of rich men who live out on Contentment Island with their large white houses...they stroll into the pharmacy wearing bowties and chasmere sweaters, itching for their Nexium, Viagra, Lipitor...what keeps them alive. The young moms enter, picking up the zithromax liquid that comes in the purple box with the Zithromax Zebra smiling from behind the Z...the Amoxil colored bright pink so children will actually take it, the adderall for their confused ignorant teenager, and for themselves...a nice big bottle of Zoloft, prozac, wellbutrin, valium...to forget the awful lives they lead. And these women come in droves all wearing the same thing: The Burberry Quilted coat. It's a nice all weather coat, with the Burberry plaid at the cuffs and the collar. It comes in many colors, at busy times at the pharmacy, a rainbow of Burberry coats can be seen...I'm helping the tan woman, my boss is helping navy blue, the pharmacist is explaining dosages to red...It seems to me that women in Darien were issued this coat by the mail and that is why everyone has one. A government issue, like the Army..."you live in Darien, have this coat so you can be a Republican conformist..." all it needs is a pin with a blue wave on it, the proud Darien symbol...or maybe an arm band...and it truly would be a uniform.
I asked my mother why she didn't have a Burberry quilted coat and she sighed. "I don't have 325 dollars for a coat Emily..." My mom is the Darien mom, moreso than any of the women that sport that stupid coat...so I'm trying to start a fund so my mom can really be a true darien mom, complete with the uniform...and she already has that sexless woman haircut.
The ice has been coming down all day and I lay in bed looking at the ceiling for an undisclosed amount of time with the cat resting its head on my stomach...I don't know if I fell asleep, but I was dreaming about Bard and Braden and how I wish we really could make America smaller so I could see him again and not have to wait so damn long until I can be back at Bard. When I opened my eyes, it had been 90 minutes. I don't know if I fell asleep, but it doesn't matter. I have nothing to do anyway...I'm just wasting away here in Darien...thinking about that damn Burberry coat.
Wednesday, January 01, 2003
Drinking Champagne in a dixie cup...
My New Years was not filled with glamour like the all Gershwin gala at Lincoln Center (I watched it on TV, asking myself why I wasn't there?) I was sitting eating a double cheeseburger with Kevin at the kitchen table, cheese dripping everywhere. My new years meal last year was chicken fingers in a deserted Arbys on the side of the road in Muncie so I think this year's dinner was a little better. I remember this bell in the Arbys at the side of the door and if you liked the service, you rang it on your way out and every employee chimed out "Thank you!" in perfect togetherness. I believe I rang the bell on my way out.
My New Years this year was an intimate affair. Ironically, the only alcohol I consumed was a dixie cup of champagne while I was working at the pharmacy. It was quite classy, all of us behind the counter and underaged...drinking champagne and helping customers. Yes, it was only a dixie cup, but it was enough alcohol for one day.
So there we were, in my den drinking sparkling cider and watching "Zoolander." The movie was pretty stupid, but it was really good and really funny. All those cameos in the movie are amazing.
The ball dropped and everyone hugged each other. I kissed my cat Spoo, hoping he would have a pleasant new year. I've only kissed two people for the new year...Alex and Johnny.
But we came to an epiphany at work yesterday with my friend James. If Johnny is a recruit, then he might have to go off to war if we have the war in Iraq...well if I don't have the war in Iraq, then it'll be Korea. The smell of war is in the air and it smells like popcorn and fireworks. But if Johnny goes off to war, then he might die! I don't want to wish death on people, that's not very nice. But if Sadaam kills him first...then maybe Sadaam isn't that bad after all.
As for my resolution in the New Year, I have several. The one I care least about is the "losing 10 pounds" one. The one I care most is learning to be happy with who I am and not what some asshole on TV says is popular (though as an American, I believe there is an implant in a woman's brain that MAKES her care...and cry during romantic comedies when she gets the right man)...but I don't know how that'll pan out.
Tonight I'm going to see Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers because I haven't seen it and all my friends have but they said they'd see it with me again. Isn't that nice?? Jen also said she'd watch "Joe Millionaire" with me every monday because those women are so stupid, it's great to yell at the TV and throw shit too, even though they can't hear you. Stupid women make me laugh.
Well loyal patron's of Emily's World, Happy New Year and
My New Years was not filled with glamour like the all Gershwin gala at Lincoln Center (I watched it on TV, asking myself why I wasn't there?) I was sitting eating a double cheeseburger with Kevin at the kitchen table, cheese dripping everywhere. My new years meal last year was chicken fingers in a deserted Arbys on the side of the road in Muncie so I think this year's dinner was a little better. I remember this bell in the Arbys at the side of the door and if you liked the service, you rang it on your way out and every employee chimed out "Thank you!" in perfect togetherness. I believe I rang the bell on my way out.
My New Years this year was an intimate affair. Ironically, the only alcohol I consumed was a dixie cup of champagne while I was working at the pharmacy. It was quite classy, all of us behind the counter and underaged...drinking champagne and helping customers. Yes, it was only a dixie cup, but it was enough alcohol for one day.
So there we were, in my den drinking sparkling cider and watching "Zoolander." The movie was pretty stupid, but it was really good and really funny. All those cameos in the movie are amazing.
The ball dropped and everyone hugged each other. I kissed my cat Spoo, hoping he would have a pleasant new year. I've only kissed two people for the new year...Alex and Johnny.
But we came to an epiphany at work yesterday with my friend James. If Johnny is a recruit, then he might have to go off to war if we have the war in Iraq...well if I don't have the war in Iraq, then it'll be Korea. The smell of war is in the air and it smells like popcorn and fireworks. But if Johnny goes off to war, then he might die! I don't want to wish death on people, that's not very nice. But if Sadaam kills him first...then maybe Sadaam isn't that bad after all.
As for my resolution in the New Year, I have several. The one I care least about is the "losing 10 pounds" one. The one I care most is learning to be happy with who I am and not what some asshole on TV says is popular (though as an American, I believe there is an implant in a woman's brain that MAKES her care...and cry during romantic comedies when she gets the right man)...but I don't know how that'll pan out.
Tonight I'm going to see Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers because I haven't seen it and all my friends have but they said they'd see it with me again. Isn't that nice?? Jen also said she'd watch "Joe Millionaire" with me every monday because those women are so stupid, it's great to yell at the TV and throw shit too, even though they can't hear you. Stupid women make me laugh.
Well loyal patron's of Emily's World, Happy New Year and
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)