I'm Allergic to Indiana
It’s 84 degrees Fahrenheit. Outside it’s possibly 90. And yet my father continues on in the power struggle against our almost six feet under air conditioning unit. He supposedly fixed it days ago, but the effect is definitely not evident. Fans are blowing crazy. They remind me of dirty mops, no matter how much you swab the floor you’re only sloshing and spreading the filth. And thus this is also true for the diffusion of ungodly temperatures in the Gerth household. Oh and then I keep breaking out in hives…scary huh? Apparently, I’m super allergic to the metallic paint used at work. And then there’s the poison whatever on top of all that. Needless to say, my forearms are just one giant itch. Despite my leprous appearance and my almost constant state of hot flashes, life is pretty good. I finished my oil painting… and I’m working on a screenplay…and I only have 62 days left in hell… and life is so boring I think I might die if a Benadryl overdose doesn’t kill me first. Drowsiness is occurring.
Well, when you put it like THAT...
Guest Blogger
This is an excerpt from Diane Hardin's blog. A bit sad but very well written. For the rest of the post visit:Water from the
Moon
...Sometimes, even when you are younger, love finds you. Real love finds you, if you want to define such a thing. If fate finds you too, then things might work out. The two entangled make things work, but so rare is this. I think that I've seen love before. It's pain. It can be heaven, but only if marred with hell. You cannot be truly in love if it doesn't hurt sometimes. It's when it hurts too much that you have to let it go.
I knew a girl and a guy once. One would've thought the sun rose so they could be together. Was it that fate was just a moment behind? What happened? If there was love, real love, shouldn't it work? The beautiful fairy tales say so. Even through the fog of reality, this hope for happy endings still shines through. Now life throws them together sometimes. It hurts both of them. I want so badly to see one happy ending, but no matter what, I don't think it is possible for them. I love you, girl.So why? That is my question. Why when I was a little girl was I shown such unrealistic ideas of love? It was nice to give such happiness and hope to me, but it is fair to me? Eventually I have to understand painfully, that that isn't the way things really work...
Oh Gosh
I'm turning into one of those people who stops weddings...
Bad Kid
My dad headed out to IGA for the L and T while I held the fort in charge of the B. I only had 45 minutes till I was due in hell for another go at it…it being torturous weed eating, or whacking for those DC folk. So I tossed the bacon into the skillet and got crazy. After a 5 minute sizzle I wondered what the deal was. My bacon was still looking unattractively rare. I threw it onto the plate. Magically, it turned char. Seriously burnt like a Bob Marley fan. Round two: Same modus operandi, more attention to the rotation of individual pieces. My dad came home mid procedure. I laughed and explained,"If the world depended on my bacon-makin skills we’d all die." He looked in the sink at the pieces of meat turned Reggae-impersonators. Instantaneously I saw his jaw-tighten. Cue for he’s-gonna-make-a-scene. “You just threw away good bacon! And why did you leave this plate so close to the stove?!" He hurled the plate into the sink and looked at me all crazy-eyed. My expression turned fierce, “Oh, I’m sorry, Father. I was under the impression that objects made of ceramic could withstand high temperatures bearing in mind the process by which they are ultimately created. Ya know, in a kiln, temperatures reaching 1300 degrees Fahrenheit.” He backed down. Not five seconds later, totally in my face with, "WHY ARE YOU BURNING THAT BACON!!!!” Alright enough of this shiz. “PROBABLY, because SOMEONE was too busy with WORK or too busy LEAVING to teach me how to properly COOK IT!!!! Yes, parents-of-the-year award, to you and Mom yet again. Congratulations.” With that I grabbed a peach, ran to my room and cried for the rest of my lunch hour. I really wanted a BLT.
In Summer
To Do List:
1. Create an oil painting
2. Attend Lollapalooza!
3. Finish the Ender series
4. Write a decent short story
5. Lose 10 lbs.
6. Complete a Courier crossword puzzle (on my own)
7. Learn a complete song on the piano or guitar
This is it for now. Ambition the size of a 3 story house...
Virginia is for lovers...pretty much
CRAZY FUN like it's my job. For those missing me and my blogness, I'll be back in 3.14864769 (pi) days. Don't hit the cell cause nobody really knows where it is.
