Because I'm a G and that's what G's do.
TO EMILY:
Rhianon rings like a bell through the night and wouldn't you love to love her?
I woild.
I'd love her like I love the concrete of this city.
With the force of the wish I have to sleep in the woods. Gurilla-like, without a tent, and complete control of the weather.
But I'm under 18 and all mt friends are law abiding citizens.
Lack of supervision has yet to be introduced to my life.
Unless you count my complete freedom to roam within the bounds of curfew.
But what's there to do within curfew?
Supervision is in the traffic. The sunlight.
Though the sunlight hasn't been here lately. I've been stuck with the sports bra tan on my shoulders from my last rugby tournament. It peeled.
It peeled unlike the layers I've been building this past year or so. I've made progress, yes, but I'm also finding I don't know how to handle my sanity or deal with my actions.
Inward actions of course.
Pride was this weekend.
I walked around that corporate, political festival with a "homo" button pinned to my chest but I still can't get the balls to tell me friends, co-workers, family - that I'm gay.
Ga-ga-gah- GAY!
Like a daffodil. Freddie Mercury.
And currentely all I have to show for it is a shit ton of free condoms.
How ironic!
But I can get over it.
Like I can get over everything.
Except for my straight ass mother fucking hair!
Like, seriously. Everyone in the fucking world straightens their curls and I'm the only one stuck with this boring hair.
I see your dreads and I up you my aspirations to get dreads.
You win or course.
But sooooooome day! My hair will achieve greatness!
Just like my dearest Wilson.
She's great. But also 25.
And she thinks I'm straight.
Whoo!
Its gottta be the hair.
I think I'll continue to wear the "homo" button. Or at least carry it around with me at all times.
Like a swim suit and sharpie.
And hopefully if I get my shit together, my drawings specifically made to wheat paste the greenway.
Well, I'm running low.
Just like two markers did in the course of this letter.
You think I'm craaaaaazy!
But hye, and I expect you to sing this, we're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy.
Also, I thought this was better than the typical introduction stuff for thid.
The, you know:
Hello,
my name is Raquel,
I'm 16 years old.
My favorite color is green.
That way is scewed and unfinished.
This way I can sort of throw you into my life.
Well, I guess that's scewed too.
Ahhemm. Enclosed is a print I made because I'm a ham and I like making art for other people.
Been that way all my life.
All you're life you've never seen a woman taken by the sky. Would you stay if she promised you heaven?
I would.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
These Here Are My Desires
So, I've decided to start a blog.
And I've decided to start this blog like everyone else starts their blog, with that beautiful opening sentence that I've formerly laid out for you; because really, what other way it there to start a blog?
I have no thesis. No goals.
Though maybe an introduction would work. But that's quite unnecessary, seeing as no one will find this URL, and I, of course, already know who I am. The simple facts of who I am, that is."Hello, my name is Raquel, I am 16 years old, and I live in Minnesota". This, for some unbenounced reason, is what I often repeat to myself when I've been alone for too long. Joyous.
But maybe I do have goals.
Maybe to write more than three posts and one draft. Which most likely will not happen. I rarely accomplish things. Not because I am a failure. Just because most of the time I find I would rather spend my time aimlessly on Tumblr, Facebook, or my bedroom floor. And if history were any indicator of the future, which I think it is, one would see that I often do no finish anything I start. Like the Etsy I wanted to run this summer, the sketch book I wanted to fill as fast as possible (though maybe it would have not been possible to fill it yet. Aww, fate or excuses?) and many other things in my life, including former blogs, sports teams, homework and the like.
But maybe if I do find some way to actually continue this blog, than interesting content should be my next goal. Though those two are not really exclusive, so interesting content should be included no matter the quantity of actual posts. But this again is something I have a bad track record with. An example would be the "fashion" blog I started at the beginning of 2010 that included a detailed description of a terrible British tween film that I, for some reason, was excited enough to write about, which lead me to add the quotations. But interesting is sort of up for personal taste, so maybe bad movies is what gets you going. If that's the case, thn you should like this, because my life isn't full of too much action like most other American teenagers. I do not have a crazy sex life, drug addictions, an alcohol abuse problem, curfew tickets, or nuffin'. I do, however, have a habit of anticlimactic masturbation (not intentionally, trust me) and pimple popping (generally not at the same time) Who isn't fascinated by the white things that squirt out? Probably everyone but me.
And on a short tangent, I, as a result of chub rub, (which I think is the most clever name for anything, in this case chaffing) always have the most attractive and large puss sacks on my inner upper thighs which have the ability to spew out a plethora of puss and blood. And whats more; they never seem to drain, so I can continue to be entertained by squeezing them.
Ahhemmm, so back to the subject. I don't have an MTV worthy teenage lifestyle, and really who does? (Further, who honestly wants one. MTV either fucks up their shows or have weird ones about pregnant teenagers and shy boys) I'm beginning to think everything and everyone is lying. So thing blog will not be filled with accounts of my day because that's boring and no one, not even I, cares. Rather, I hope to approach this in a more analytical way. Use this as a tool to figure out problems in my life and what I think about different things.And in worst case scenario's, I'll just write random shit that not even I will have a clue about in two years. But it'd be great to get something out of this rather than embarrassment and a clear view on the effect this shitty society has had on me.
So, in conlusion, to stop this fucking rant, I hope to keep things simple. To do my best, be honest, use correct grammar (which I've already failed at) and not have high hopes. No Anne Frankness in this blogs future.
And right now, that is all I can really ask of myself. Also, by writing this blog, I naturally will improve on writing, which is a plus, and I guess I just like the romanticism of internet diary-ing. Feels very nineties to me, which is complete bullshit seeing as blogging wasn't much of a thing in the nineties, or a thing at all for that matter.
But I'm feeling rather romantic right now.
Its the dim lighting.
And the fact that its one thirty in the morning.
And the folk music.
And my current obsession to be in a cabin in the woods in the rain with a laaadyyyy.
But big twenty first century surprise: I must resort of blogging instead.
So here goes.
And I've decided to start this blog like everyone else starts their blog, with that beautiful opening sentence that I've formerly laid out for you; because really, what other way it there to start a blog?
I have no thesis. No goals.
Though maybe an introduction would work. But that's quite unnecessary, seeing as no one will find this URL, and I, of course, already know who I am. The simple facts of who I am, that is."Hello, my name is Raquel, I am 16 years old, and I live in Minnesota". This, for some unbenounced reason, is what I often repeat to myself when I've been alone for too long. Joyous.
But maybe I do have goals.
Maybe to write more than three posts and one draft. Which most likely will not happen. I rarely accomplish things. Not because I am a failure. Just because most of the time I find I would rather spend my time aimlessly on Tumblr, Facebook, or my bedroom floor. And if history were any indicator of the future, which I think it is, one would see that I often do no finish anything I start. Like the Etsy I wanted to run this summer, the sketch book I wanted to fill as fast as possible (though maybe it would have not been possible to fill it yet. Aww, fate or excuses?) and many other things in my life, including former blogs, sports teams, homework and the like.
But maybe if I do find some way to actually continue this blog, than interesting content should be my next goal. Though those two are not really exclusive, so interesting content should be included no matter the quantity of actual posts. But this again is something I have a bad track record with. An example would be the "fashion" blog I started at the beginning of 2010 that included a detailed description of a terrible British tween film that I, for some reason, was excited enough to write about, which lead me to add the quotations. But interesting is sort of up for personal taste, so maybe bad movies is what gets you going. If that's the case, thn you should like this, because my life isn't full of too much action like most other American teenagers. I do not have a crazy sex life, drug addictions, an alcohol abuse problem, curfew tickets, or nuffin'. I do, however, have a habit of anticlimactic masturbation (not intentionally, trust me) and pimple popping (generally not at the same time) Who isn't fascinated by the white things that squirt out? Probably everyone but me.
And on a short tangent, I, as a result of chub rub, (which I think is the most clever name for anything, in this case chaffing) always have the most attractive and large puss sacks on my inner upper thighs which have the ability to spew out a plethora of puss and blood. And whats more; they never seem to drain, so I can continue to be entertained by squeezing them.
Ahhemmm, so back to the subject. I don't have an MTV worthy teenage lifestyle, and really who does? (Further, who honestly wants one. MTV either fucks up their shows or have weird ones about pregnant teenagers and shy boys) I'm beginning to think everything and everyone is lying. So thing blog will not be filled with accounts of my day because that's boring and no one, not even I, cares. Rather, I hope to approach this in a more analytical way. Use this as a tool to figure out problems in my life and what I think about different things.And in worst case scenario's, I'll just write random shit that not even I will have a clue about in two years. But it'd be great to get something out of this rather than embarrassment and a clear view on the effect this shitty society has had on me.
So, in conlusion, to stop this fucking rant, I hope to keep things simple. To do my best, be honest, use correct grammar (which I've already failed at) and not have high hopes. No Anne Frankness in this blogs future.
And right now, that is all I can really ask of myself. Also, by writing this blog, I naturally will improve on writing, which is a plus, and I guess I just like the romanticism of internet diary-ing. Feels very nineties to me, which is complete bullshit seeing as blogging wasn't much of a thing in the nineties, or a thing at all for that matter.
But I'm feeling rather romantic right now.
Its the dim lighting.
And the fact that its one thirty in the morning.
And the folk music.
And my current obsession to be in a cabin in the woods in the rain with a laaadyyyy.
But big twenty first century surprise: I must resort of blogging instead.
So here goes.
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