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Sven and Jerry
Sep. 18th, 2004 11:30 pmI wonder what goes through other people's minds when they are doing things that have become so routine they are virtually involuntary. Today during the floor section of jazz warm-up, I was thinking about the significance of my life so far. Guess what. It's not.
Nonetheless, comme d'habitude, a little spiral of citrus zest brightened up my wilted pasta salad. Whatever sick kind of imagery that is. Looking at the other bodies splayed out across the marley, it was not much of a challenge to imagine some of the ongoing mental processes: ((would be in hot pink, curly font)) OMG i wanna go buy shit at t3h mall <3333 and totely scr00 my hawt boyfreind XD r0x0rzz and like lissin to sum crunked rap musick!!!!1!. A girl with a bra-strap choker necklace on.. illegal.. a girl with four "sex" bracelets.. those skinny plastic obscenities... also extraneous jewelry... a girl with a tight maroon t-shirt on... contraband apparel.. although later, when she took it off, to reveal copious cleavage spilling out of a leotard, which she later pulled to her waist to reveal more flesh cresting a white sportsbra... I rather missed the t-shirt. What are all these fashion statements? Dance is communism. Regretfully, several comrades hadn't even bothered to show up this morning, for the nth time in a row. So that was nice. I also never discovered the art kids' opinion of the cheese cookies I had baked in the wee hours of morning last. My mother certainly ate enough of them...
Am I a cantankerous old woman inside already? I don't feel the "teen pep" or whatever my grandma misses. However she also said she doesn't understand why MY generation is so messed-up. Apparently, back in her day, all teen-agers were perpetually respectful, amazingly diligent, trustworthy, modest, pious, "together" and "hep." Whatever. She's voting for Dubya. ::wince::
--Reminds me of a call I answered at work-dungeon on Friday. "Back when the city was young, before everyone moved here and things were done right." I actually preferred the call from crazy ol' wheelchair Jerry. When I finally understood what he was saying, it was pretty funny. Guys with nothing better to do than whine to strangers. *looks at lj, shakes feeling off*. I gathered that where he lives is not his own place, it's his sister's. She's been getting on his nerves and "she's soooooooo VinDictivvve." A blond man with a scraggly beard got mad at him because he took a long time to count out his money, only to provide the fetchingly generous tip of 0 dollars and 0 cents. The scraggle-man slammed the door which is "I mean, umm... just rude. People shouldn't umm.. do that sort of thing. Its... rude." So basically he orders food every week, calls three to four times to complain, and gets one more driver prohibited from delivering to him. Not that they miss it: he doesn't tip. Anyway, the day will come when we can no longer deliver to him. I feel bad for him. I also wonder why he lost his legs. Poor Jerry.
I had everything when I was five. I didn't know anything.
It was ridiculous. Sure, I was smarter than all the other five-year olds and I could read and draw unicorns and skip bars on the monkey bars... but I was so trusting, so naive to the order of the world. I was cute. I could play on the playground without receiving poorly-disguised sideways stares. I didn't have to do much, and I didn't know how stupid my parents were. They could still hide the fact that some things they did weren't good.. minor example= racism. I didn't really have any friends, but at least I thought I did. I thought everyone was my friend. I was happy. Looking back, I regret all the time I didn't sleep. I wanted to be up and see the world. I wanted to read during naptime, little books with rosy-hued outlooks similar to my own. Still, I was blunt and tactless. I probably would have laughed at a dead baby joke. I envy the little kids, and I dread the day they too open their eyes to all of the suffering that is Earth. By that time, however, they'll probably deserve it, already be locked into a niche of drugs and gambling and periodic murder sprees. It's terrible. Stupid peer pressure television, advertising, etc.
Sometimes I wonder whether blond people are Scandinavian or German. Hans is a german name, right? And Sven Scandinavian?
Nonetheless, comme d'habitude, a little spiral of citrus zest brightened up my wilted pasta salad. Whatever sick kind of imagery that is. Looking at the other bodies splayed out across the marley, it was not much of a challenge to imagine some of the ongoing mental processes: ((would be in hot pink, curly font)) OMG i wanna go buy shit at t3h mall <3333 and totely scr00 my hawt boyfreind XD r0x0rzz and like lissin to sum crunked rap musick!!!!1!. A girl with a bra-strap choker necklace on.. illegal.. a girl with four "sex" bracelets.. those skinny plastic obscenities... also extraneous jewelry... a girl with a tight maroon t-shirt on... contraband apparel.. although later, when she took it off, to reveal copious cleavage spilling out of a leotard, which she later pulled to her waist to reveal more flesh cresting a white sportsbra... I rather missed the t-shirt. What are all these fashion statements? Dance is communism. Regretfully, several comrades hadn't even bothered to show up this morning, for the nth time in a row. So that was nice. I also never discovered the art kids' opinion of the cheese cookies I had baked in the wee hours of morning last. My mother certainly ate enough of them...
Am I a cantankerous old woman inside already? I don't feel the "teen pep" or whatever my grandma misses. However she also said she doesn't understand why MY generation is so messed-up. Apparently, back in her day, all teen-agers were perpetually respectful, amazingly diligent, trustworthy, modest, pious, "together" and "hep." Whatever. She's voting for Dubya. ::wince::
--Reminds me of a call I answered at work-dungeon on Friday. "Back when the city was young, before everyone moved here and things were done right." I actually preferred the call from crazy ol' wheelchair Jerry. When I finally understood what he was saying, it was pretty funny. Guys with nothing better to do than whine to strangers. *looks at lj, shakes feeling off*. I gathered that where he lives is not his own place, it's his sister's. She's been getting on his nerves and "she's soooooooo VinDictivvve." A blond man with a scraggly beard got mad at him because he took a long time to count out his money, only to provide the fetchingly generous tip of 0 dollars and 0 cents. The scraggle-man slammed the door which is "I mean, umm... just rude. People shouldn't umm.. do that sort of thing. Its... rude." So basically he orders food every week, calls three to four times to complain, and gets one more driver prohibited from delivering to him. Not that they miss it: he doesn't tip. Anyway, the day will come when we can no longer deliver to him. I feel bad for him. I also wonder why he lost his legs. Poor Jerry.
I had everything when I was five. I didn't know anything.
It was ridiculous. Sure, I was smarter than all the other five-year olds and I could read and draw unicorns and skip bars on the monkey bars... but I was so trusting, so naive to the order of the world. I was cute. I could play on the playground without receiving poorly-disguised sideways stares. I didn't have to do much, and I didn't know how stupid my parents were. They could still hide the fact that some things they did weren't good.. minor example= racism. I didn't really have any friends, but at least I thought I did. I thought everyone was my friend. I was happy. Looking back, I regret all the time I didn't sleep. I wanted to be up and see the world. I wanted to read during naptime, little books with rosy-hued outlooks similar to my own. Still, I was blunt and tactless. I probably would have laughed at a dead baby joke. I envy the little kids, and I dread the day they too open their eyes to all of the suffering that is Earth. By that time, however, they'll probably deserve it, already be locked into a niche of drugs and gambling and periodic murder sprees. It's terrible. Stupid peer pressure television, advertising, etc.
Sometimes I wonder whether blond people are Scandinavian or German. Hans is a german name, right? And Sven Scandinavian?
