tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41114834263265586822024-02-19T07:40:45.831-08:00About That...Cheesy names, true stories.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-59934520750051783882015-05-21T16:03:00.001-07:002015-05-21T16:03:20.083-07:00The BeachI am sitting on a heavy brown beach chair, my feet propped up on the stone wall in front of me. A white translucent bag sits on my lap, and inside of it sits a bag of yarn. I am sitting in friendly silence with several other people, and my knitting needles click slowly. I have been having a difficult time focusing on knitting, and I have gotten an inch of sock done in six days. That is not a lot for me (in an average weekend, I can get two thirds of a mid calf high sock done). I have been enjoying the beautiful sight of the ocean and the sunrises and sunsets above it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-48128969637575070942015-04-24T07:55:00.001-07:002015-04-24T07:55:09.447-07:00More Poems<div style="text-align: center;">
Red stretches around me,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
my fingers dig into the fine sand.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I am held by stone and mud,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a part of the silent forest. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The horizon ends at the edge of a crater</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I can hear my own breathing,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and the gratings of insects.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
All is below me,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
silent and still. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Far below, dirt has formed a miniature canyon</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A model of where I am. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The strain of muscles</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
my feet pounding grassy earth</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
blood pumps from my heart.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-89294729566089781422015-04-22T13:01:00.000-07:002015-04-22T13:01:35.358-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>What Once was Math Class</u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Grey lighting, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Too hot or too cold.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Boredom almost killing, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Slumping in uncomfortable chairs, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Away from the group, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Passing notes. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Silent laughter, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Shared smiles. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Fluttering stomachs,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Like the wings of butterflies. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Knowing,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Falling. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Limericks</u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There once was a child from Detroit.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
At fishing he was quite adroit.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He once caught a finger, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And then ceased to linger,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For his hands had been so maladroit. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There once was a pony from Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Who broke his foot on a log</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He had been a runnin'</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He was moved by a Djinn,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And found out that he was in a bog. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-70654145082087178422015-04-21T13:04:00.002-07:002015-04-21T13:04:17.210-07:00Free Verse Poems<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><b>Forest</b></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Trying hard to picture a day</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bright and warm</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Less windy than today.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In a place where the grass is long</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And fine and brilliantly colored. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Where moss coats the roots of the deciduous trees. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There is a stream, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Or a creek,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Flowing between the trees, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And it is crystal clear, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And it has been running for hundreds of years. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Somewhere where the foliage glows green where the sun rises.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There are no roads wide enough for a car. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Water from the creek falls</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Into a pool surrounded by granite.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The pool drains to the ocean, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Surrounded by tall grasses, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And pale, small, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Grains of sand. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><b>Sunburn</b></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The sky is brightened by the star the solar system orbits around.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The brightness shines down,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Turning the pale brown of my skin to pink. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When the pink fades, it leaves brown dots,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Freckles.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They are said to mar the human complexion, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But abnormalities, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Such as freckles,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Are simply aberrations in skin color.</div>
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-87756119853661887282015-04-16T13:00:00.000-07:002015-04-16T13:00:14.461-07:00Occasional PoetryThe wind was loud,<br />
The cannon hot,<br />
The first ship, Ranger<br />
Blackbeard got.<br />
The wind blew fast across the sea,<br />
The Jane pulled up beside.<br />
Adventure sprouted yellow<br />
Sulphur smoke poured hot and loud.<br />
The pirates boarded<br />
Sight unseen unto the deck of the Jane<br />
And when the hot summer wind swept aside the smoke,<br />
Blackbeard's life was took<br />
Twenty stabs and many shots,<br />
Took him to the deck.<br />
Two years, one beard,<br />
A man, one death.<br />
Legend, forever made.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-68920589502530322512015-04-16T12:46:00.002-07:002015-04-16T12:46:42.468-07:00Ode to the DogIn the middle of the night<br />
And my pillows have vanished<br />
You are there,<br />
Having pushed my other pillows off the bed.<br />
If I am sitting on the couch<br />
you are always there,<br />
holding your toy hippo<br />
Saying please take this out of my mouth<br />
And I say no, take your nasty toy away.<br />
And then I give in, grab it, and throw.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-75783354322676082972015-04-14T12:41:00.001-07:002015-04-14T12:41:34.912-07:00Haikus: Spring cycleVinka is blooming<br />Loud among the emerald leaves<br />Deep shadows beneath<br /><br />
Grapefruit with a bruise<br />It has no seeds inside it<br />No hope of new growth<br /><br />
The pinto bean grows<br />Out of a jar filled with dirt<br />Green vines; a dry sourceUnknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-22413232295568787432015-04-08T16:02:00.001-07:002015-04-08T16:02:34.847-07:00AllergiesThe pollen is in the air. It crawls up my nose and causes catastrophic sneezes and extreme eye itchiness. With the combination of eye rubbing and tiredness, my eyelids are a strange lavender color. My catastrophic sneezes start at my waist and then move up until they escape with a ridiculously enormous ACHOO! In the summer sagebrush makes my eyes turn as red as if I had pinkeye, and I can't go two minutes without sneezing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-51642992412134425982015-04-05T11:10:00.001-07:002015-04-05T11:10:18.342-07:00Tumble (3/31)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK_lbM3KKskM93YM6i1BACGlw5HJtDKr-Wg1P2HR_Z6eh2lUkvlXNfCxtrj5rFVvsgcesKXb7w7FXGc78qKOgWZZzBooUd1etP0ogtbj7dml5uBJcureROONUpLqmAQn44k3QmRYafpw8/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK_lbM3KKskM93YM6i1BACGlw5HJtDKr-Wg1P2HR_Z6eh2lUkvlXNfCxtrj5rFVvsgcesKXb7w7FXGc78qKOgWZZzBooUd1etP0ogtbj7dml5uBJcureROONUpLqmAQn44k3QmRYafpw8/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
I'm launching myself into the air, my arms and shoulders preparing to catch me. I forgot how much fun this was. Once my hands hit the ground, my muscles move automatically, and my feet are on the ground. My forward motion pushes my forward, onto my hands and knees, but I am smiling, and I get up and do it again. I feel powerful and strong. I do it again, left foot forward, hopping on it, swinging my right leg into the air. I bring it down, and jump forwards and up. I reach out my arms, my body in the air, stretching to the ground. My hands hit, and I do a shrug that helps my body spring off of the ground and into the air again. My feet come towards the ground, and my back bends as my feet hit the ground and my arms swing in front if me at a ninety degree angle from my torso. Front handspring.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-26684933669605435812015-03-29T09:51:00.001-07:002015-03-29T09:51:42.138-07:00Sick and Tired (29/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK-9RQfcQOkjOYxol40Tn90v8NMwlWP3Gfr8GBysjAAXOX6XRdMo9-LY1kRlIkvuJRmUl-s7A2yK_Wp5EnkW-lCO_xQ4rOfLC-6n574NbxOdqV1bgaqpq3r0oET8Zi2b99qYIAHT6E5ms/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK-9RQfcQOkjOYxol40Tn90v8NMwlWP3Gfr8GBysjAAXOX6XRdMo9-LY1kRlIkvuJRmUl-s7A2yK_Wp5EnkW-lCO_xQ4rOfLC-6n574NbxOdqV1bgaqpq3r0oET8Zi2b99qYIAHT6E5ms/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
I don't feel good. My stomach is hurting, and I have a killer headache. I feel like someone has stolen the first two layers of my skin. Everything hurts. I watch tv, because there really isn't anything else to do. I try watching while sitting upright, but it's not really working very well. I lie down, and that's uncomfortable so I sit back up. This means I get stomach bubbles and I run to the bathroom. Nothing. Ugh.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-61250874032211993512015-03-26T13:03:00.000-07:002015-03-27T07:49:34.249-07:00Being Etti (26/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXF4xiqZPzGHNALdAHNp_tgNpiGX4uL33RHU5U6KHD0jW4ZNLZazy61rAIuNpUatKCHRrYstXIoIqFyVWxcBqFUkma2N_VL_1aymUzEj3-JuOIxBoqu2APWqH0s1FyBrkjvicKFvMMVzs/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXF4xiqZPzGHNALdAHNp_tgNpiGX4uL33RHU5U6KHD0jW4ZNLZazy61rAIuNpUatKCHRrYstXIoIqFyVWxcBqFUkma2N_VL_1aymUzEj3-JuOIxBoqu2APWqH0s1FyBrkjvicKFvMMVzs/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
Ok. I am Etti. There are three questions to choose from as finalists. number 1: What is in the 4th dimension? Number 2: Are Eyebrows facial hair? and Number 3: My brother swallowed a fish!! How can I get him to puke it up? A very close race. But I'm Etti, so I will choose whichever one I can talk about lard and taters in. I have made my decision. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-8762568942691899912015-03-25T17:02:00.001-07:002015-03-25T17:02:29.364-07:00(25/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvYWerNpCDwOBEQodc1qHPrWR6TVl8IpzOg1AXsELlFRnyETMp-hS9kBd4mYcg1l_K5lJNsBhSd9p5BFqVw7g1d9cNr84jdrx9PzyzXpuCZCGe_2wlOBItezm9PV55DfPHidFsif9e3ro/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvYWerNpCDwOBEQodc1qHPrWR6TVl8IpzOg1AXsELlFRnyETMp-hS9kBd4mYcg1l_K5lJNsBhSd9p5BFqVw7g1d9cNr84jdrx9PzyzXpuCZCGe_2wlOBItezm9PV55DfPHidFsif9e3ro/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
I am dreaming. The forest below me are shrouded in thick mist that disguises all movement until it reaches the very uppermost limbs of the trees. I am on a large platform with a house like structure in the center of it. It is build around the tree in the middle of the platform, which is made of branches tied together with ropey vines. There is a ladder going down into the mist below me, and the mist evaporates around a shape coming out of the void. It is a combination of a mermaid and a zombie, long yellowed blonde hair stringy and hanging down it's mottled grey-blue back. It bursts up through the floorboards of the platform, hunched over, snarling, teeth barred, long fingernails curling over it's fingertips.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-36684308860761611912015-03-23T19:47:00.000-07:002015-03-23T19:47:14.716-07:00Failed internet. (23/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEVZsuNrzPeJ93iwCA4GqKKIWjlqxyLKP5NmcJ-zNoRB1HfjG1IDrGEAH7420z4GtNYw4AoNdFjcg8YyItzYzRHStduAu0aUdC7HO5v9URpCyqMTjDAFk9G2JDzRBzjMoPb9ABYEO_a8E/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEVZsuNrzPeJ93iwCA4GqKKIWjlqxyLKP5NmcJ-zNoRB1HfjG1IDrGEAH7420z4GtNYw4AoNdFjcg8YyItzYzRHStduAu0aUdC7HO5v9URpCyqMTjDAFk9G2JDzRBzjMoPb9ABYEO_a8E/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<span id="goog_1423293125"></span><span id="goog_1423293126"></span>I'm trying to record a song that I'm playing on my guitar. My webcam needs a high speed internet connection. Poop. Anyway, I'm listening to spotify on my phone. There is one thing I can listen to on there, which is the black widow album by In This Moment. It's great. It's sexy in the way Patti talks about, something interesting, cool, and new. I love it. The weird combinations of rap and metal. I don't like rap, and I only like some metal, but this album is awesome. In theory it is terrible, the songs don't go together at all, and the lyrics kind of suck, but the songs are so fun to listen to. I'm addicted to this (That was a reference Sloan, be proud of me).Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-52310365312652414032015-03-22T14:16:00.001-07:002015-03-22T14:16:02.864-07:00Pick a name; any name. (22/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHAUJEJVzLxImkVYw2WZ-SF3GnsbIZiLh2nlopp6hDes3u-ewKnkcXtrLu6dC4jXM68B6Eg2l8WZ_QwgDownbN7G2yU_eFBO3e-9MOR8Sv3xYDDWV0ci2ZFiwEJkE6XDjEt-iFcc4lS54/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHAUJEJVzLxImkVYw2WZ-SF3GnsbIZiLh2nlopp6hDes3u-ewKnkcXtrLu6dC4jXM68B6Eg2l8WZ_QwgDownbN7G2yU_eFBO3e-9MOR8Sv3xYDDWV0ci2ZFiwEJkE6XDjEt-iFcc4lS54/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
"Pick a name, and I will draw it," I said. My results are surprising, as are some of the names. I draw some one minute cartoon drawings, and one rough sketch of Gary Schwilldebertie's head. These drawings should be the cast of a cartoon horror movie, with Chumpkin at the forefront.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahT9ACYJibJ82ZdxfxZPvvV2VsIhPlIq7E9lwd8-SWybhUGMhQAoPnxR_sbxJBSmRhq5jVFBZqEBiElodSTFaUZNhfYG8AwVDVSmmPdlfjyt33WyPObyznEY7tK784HZstBVJKCucg34/s1600/IMG_0289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahT9ACYJibJ82ZdxfxZPvvV2VsIhPlIq7E9lwd8-SWybhUGMhQAoPnxR_sbxJBSmRhq5jVFBZqEBiElodSTFaUZNhfYG8AwVDVSmmPdlfjyt33WyPObyznEY7tK784HZstBVJKCucg34/s1600/IMG_0289.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Gary works at a paper distributing firm. He has chronic boredom. </div>
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Chumpkin just wants to be loved. He's very happy, but only if you come a little closer so he can give you a hug.</div>
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Tweezer is a professional cheerleader who is addicted to plastic surgery.</div>
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This is how we all feel inside. </div>
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Professional bodybuilder. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbelLJ97ihFUIvMmB-zpqbrnR9-fJ0j30THKckv0-EnPfzqcKv7kFq_IpA6lpY9XkhGSbi5i49WRcpMX8zyPMw_vofUAP0w2zjkO8UXw-8QJe-5wIIu1lj0Oqpz6qfDQaL1rDXxbSrT0/s1600/IMG_0294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbelLJ97ihFUIvMmB-zpqbrnR9-fJ0j30THKckv0-EnPfzqcKv7kFq_IpA6lpY9XkhGSbi5i49WRcpMX8zyPMw_vofUAP0w2zjkO8UXw-8QJe-5wIIu1lj0Oqpz6qfDQaL1rDXxbSrT0/s1600/IMG_0294.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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And this weird lady. </div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-5256397206830801362015-03-20T20:42:00.002-07:002015-03-20T20:42:54.198-07:00My weird friends. (20/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSqgfOhrjblfZvIjvtgWa3M4x8BEiiIBckVRHqOLwIDtVt48xduMMdBNrpkg0deBLZfysGAYmQVvnzF67BvjNK369ig-kS258lJA-5J_0YRvDpVl4frkDf-AN5-Otnl1qPivS6cP3GBxI/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSqgfOhrjblfZvIjvtgWa3M4x8BEiiIBckVRHqOLwIDtVt48xduMMdBNrpkg0deBLZfysGAYmQVvnzF67BvjNK369ig-kS258lJA-5J_0YRvDpVl4frkDf-AN5-Otnl1qPivS6cP3GBxI/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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I like my weird, special people. If you were ordering what was in the boxes and the separate airtight containers within, you probably would laugh very hard. </div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-8238008700446306612015-03-19T20:17:00.000-07:002015-03-19T20:17:32.555-07:00Thoughts. (19/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm having a good day. I ate a grapefruit, some pizza, and a frappucino, and all of my nails are painted christmas colors, because I wasn't paying attention. I've been thinking about next year. What do I want people to see me as? I don't want to be totally feminine, but I also want to wear pretty clothes, and look good and feel confident about myself. I am having many, complex thoughts. Th<span style="text-align: center;">e confused thought chameleon is confused also. No Elliot did not paint this, although this is the work of the architect. </span><br />
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The confused thought chameleon is fabulous. It is a complete accident, although it brings much joy to my heart. Jaykawb the chameleon, you are fabulous, may peace reign in your soul. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-36559596611034979152015-03-17T17:14:00.000-07:002015-03-17T17:14:14.718-07:00I love my dog. (17/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWBcyIzNRfefno2YWASAe_GZ4rOVFgwdaPD2NorOarP4xT2OyuP5b3QAdt7mKWRU9lLHS7piGxq1hYSwAcsHNKEG43NJqV4XZNdlKWsSeB4LAqiB72y4BPpjoP_nNyn7wCdSjBw-204A/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWBcyIzNRfefno2YWASAe_GZ4rOVFgwdaPD2NorOarP4xT2OyuP5b3QAdt7mKWRU9lLHS7piGxq1hYSwAcsHNKEG43NJqV4XZNdlKWsSeB4LAqiB72y4BPpjoP_nNyn7wCdSjBw-204A/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
My dog is my favorite sibling. He is like a much younger brother who wants to play fetch all the time, and always wants to bite me. When I come home from school, he is always there and thrilled that I am home. I usually sit down on the couch to take my shoes off, and he leaps onto the couch, tail stub wagging furiously. He will usually make cute awoo-woo noises, and then he will growl and sit on my lap. He will usually sniff my face, and then lick it twice, because he wants to make sure I haven't been cheating on him with other dogs. Then he will either go get a toy, or he will curl up on my lap and not allow me to move. My dog is the greatest.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-3566011653692500282015-03-16T15:22:00.001-07:002015-03-16T15:22:19.855-07:00Homework (16/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's sunday, and I'm exhausted. I am sick of being stressed and exhausted. There is nothing that can help me escape from this mire of math homework. I have been busy, and so unable to do any math homework this week. Now it is sunday, and I must do my math homework. I open my folder, a little scared of what lurks within. There are six assignments in the pocket. Wait a minute, I think- two of those are assignment sheets. You have nine assignments to do today. I sit down, angry. And I begin my homework. I work and work and work, until my brain doesn't work and I am once again convinced that math is hateful torture.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-60430556820402644132015-03-13T20:33:00.000-07:002015-03-13T20:33:02.346-07:00That Awkward Time to Drive to School (13/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_c3i4wnJwUXAwZRCCeLF70QAxCJz2hRNfPhyphenhyphenqAy8Fwn2eUjxj7LJIFDZz490jXVj6o6PHxuCV8QKmBEVraYTTOlwZu5rH-Rg-F5MUlP9COjjmbtQz9DjeWgH5j3w3eKqM8g5czvbQHUM/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_c3i4wnJwUXAwZRCCeLF70QAxCJz2hRNfPhyphenhyphenqAy8Fwn2eUjxj7LJIFDZz490jXVj6o6PHxuCV8QKmBEVraYTTOlwZu5rH-Rg-F5MUlP9COjjmbtQz9DjeWgH5j3w3eKqM8g5czvbQHUM/s1600/slice-of-life_classroom-image-black.png" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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We turn onto Colfax. There are cars parked in the outmost lane of the street, blocking oncoming traffic. There are lines of people coming out of the door of a pot shop, waiting their turn to get their portion of this drug. We drive further on down the street, reaching the small stretch containing a strip club and many, many, gross, sketchy motels. Groups of people stand in the center of the parking lots, talking, men in dark clothes and one woman to each clump. I sigh. It's five o'clock on a friday, time for the stereotypical side of Colfax to shine. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-59616004299892583932015-03-12T20:22:00.002-07:002015-03-12T20:22:58.104-07:00(Somewhat) Historically accurate garments (SOL 12/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is my most recent project, finally finished, and finally wearable. I have recently finished making Elizabethan stays, which are similar to a corset but less tight. I have spent a total of four days on these stays, and Now they have no purpose since I do not have an Elizabethan dress to wear with them. I have a lot of sewing ahead of me. Fabric budget, I will you to expand.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2RPuYrlrBP8Ivux2R8t0WzGQlruQnZGhstSAThgRIU0FlTG5vKAt9ZBbOc8nNsWT8eyarvfN1Ov133qBYfM2Sei_182Z1IVA_6MN8gzIZL9XgJBIKHAW9hQ40dZ04rQ0BitkSxdnMH6M/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2RPuYrlrBP8Ivux2R8t0WzGQlruQnZGhstSAThgRIU0FlTG5vKAt9ZBbOc8nNsWT8eyarvfN1Ov133qBYfM2Sei_182Z1IVA_6MN8gzIZL9XgJBIKHAW9hQ40dZ04rQ0BitkSxdnMH6M/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-25133413173915348272015-03-11T14:50:00.000-07:002015-03-11T14:50:03.546-07:00Workin' (11/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I had stagecraft for six hours yesterday, I have it for four hours today. It's exhausting, but it's fun. I have carried, scooted, redone, and fixed countless objects, and my hand are covered in tiny battle scars. In addition to having the ghosts of the injuries from last week, I have a paper cut on the pad of my left hand ring finger, a blood blister on my pinkie, a large splinter on the side of my hand, and a few more. I am tired, but I am having fun and that's all that matters to me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-19062739742476773332015-03-09T12:46:00.001-07:002015-03-09T12:46:27.554-07:00Wiggy (9/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I like wigs. They are a way about lying about what your hair looks like, and how long it is, without dying, cutting, or putting in extensions. They give the option of spending money on something that will last forever. There are fancy wigs, cheap wigs, ugly wigs, costume wigs, so many types of wig. Always wear a wig cap, it makes life easier. STEAM IS USEFUL FOR STYLING WIGS AS IS HAIRSPRAY!!! Exciting boring days result in excessive punctuation. Ta ta.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-16000844992096928182015-03-08T20:19:00.002-07:002015-03-08T20:19:40.375-07:00Horizons (8/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There is sawdust floating in the water of my computer's desktop image. One piece is orange, bright and irritating in the midst of water spreading out until it hits the horizon. No horizons are exactly the same. Some are on land, some in the ocean but always the horizon is the extent of what you can see. At school my horizons are the thoughts inside my head and the area surrounding me and the thing I am focusing on, whether or not this is actually my work. On the beach, the horizon is simply sky, going on and on until the end of the world. And that end is comforting, something I can lose myself in and something I can take as a sign of comfort. I can let the waves simply wash away all of my thoughts until there is nothing left but the sighing of the sea, and the feeling of grains of sand and time shifting beneath my feet.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-32663805456738797502015-03-07T18:41:00.002-08:002015-03-07T18:41:18.673-08:00Gardener (7/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/bcnIhzaDTd0" width="560"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4111483426326558682.post-48761894437848916822015-03-06T10:53:00.001-08:002015-03-06T10:53:31.218-08:00My Dog (6/31)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My dog lies on the couch, snuggling the green fuzzy blanket on the couch that is bathed in sunlight. He loss that blanket. When he isn't begging me to play fetch with him, he's sleeping on the couch. Right now, he's sad because he got bored when I was ignoring him. When he gets bored, he growls. If I'm doing homework and don't want to touch his gross chew toys, he sits next to and growls until he gets depressed and leaves to go sleep on the couch. When I go to take his picture, he pointedly ignores me until I leave and he repositions himself and groans. Silly dog.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6