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)
Sunday, January 19, 2003
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)