Stephanie: "Can I go out with my friends?"

Parent: "No."

Stephanie: "Why?"

Parent: "Why should I? How would that benefit me?"

Stephanie: "..."

Stephanie: "So that forty years from now, when you're old, weak, and vulnerable, I won't leave you in an old-people slash invalid's home to wallow in lonely self-hate while suffering the consequences of your prior decisions to ultimately aggravate me during my childhood without reasonable excuse?"

Parent: "Ah, fair enough."

Ah, Kylie my dear, I miss you. We should hang out sometime; your '96 minivan sounds positively splendid: very childless-soccer-mommish.

What we absolutely should do together is set up a table/booth in some public area and brandish a sign titled "Free Conversations with Kylie and Stephanie, Will Talk About Anything With Anyone."
Talk about replenishing one's creative vocabulary (:





I'm very uninspired.
So I do one of these:


1. If you were a fly for a day, how would you spend that day? (You have your mind, but you're a fly.)
Eavesdrop on strangers. Eavesdrop on non-strangers. Find rude customers in restaurants or food courts and land in their food, leave something behind if I can. Hover around a couple having sex so that they get annoyed and start trying to swat me away until eventually one slaps the other across the face (an ordeal from which I will fly away, unscathed).

2. Make a virtual sandwich. What's on it?
Whole wheat bread, chipotle mayo, bacon, lettuce, and the dreams of children when they aspire to be something great so that they may grow up to be cynical and hopeless bastards.

3. What famous person have you found yourself attracted to that you were shocked upon realizing this attraction because that person isn't your type?
Natalie Portman. Yeeah, that whole "having a vagina" thing.. not really my thing. But come on. Have you seen her in Closer? or in V for Vendetta? or when she raps?


4. What unlikely thing breaks your heart?
Lonely and senile old people, especially the ones abandoned to die in convalescent homes by their children.

5. What's the most unpleasant mess you've ever had to clean up?
A relationship.

6. Are you a mod or a rocker?
Neither, I am the offspring of a three-nippled gorilla and a goat.

7. Describe the body of your perfect dream lover.
Legs, limbs, and good looks be not necessary, but two heads most certainly are. One for thinking, and one for, well, y'know. When neither of us are thinking.
I'm not a particularly picky person when it comes to looks. Good looks won't have interesting conversations with me or give me the happy, warm fuzzies.

8. What's the weirdest thing you've ever eaten?
Pressure-cooked oxtail and peanut butter served over rice with a side of smelly pureed-shrimp paste.

9. Remember that time you climbed that thing and were kinda high up? Tell me about that.
No.

10. How do you eat a small stack of Oreos?
I scrape the icing off of every cookie with a butter knife until I have this mushy pile of white lard accumulated in a bowl: half of which is then applied evenly over my face so that only the pupils of my eyes are the only part of my head that doesn't appear white, and the remaining half is used to style my hair into liberty spikes. Then, I find all the dirty and mismatched socks whose pairs have been devoured by my abysmal washer/dryer, fashion a knee-length dress out of the cloths, and put it on backwards. You will be able to tell that the dress is backwards, because it will be the fuzzy insides of the socks showing on the outside, and not the opposite. Usually, I end by stuffing as many of the black, icing-less cookies into my mouth as I can, chew without swallowing, and then run out onto the streets and flash black&white smiles to strangers while whispering Buddhist chants into their ears with my mouth full.
It is only after I have done this to seven people that I will proceed to finish the last of the cookies in a humane manner: with a spoon.

Or, y'know. I sometimes do just bite into the cookie and wash it down with a swig of milk. Fuck taking them apart and licking the creme before eating it. That's just weird.










There were twenty other questions to this survey, but I found something more interesting to do on the internet in another window, so I just stopped.

Have a nice day.

This staying-at-home-all-day-most-days ordeal is proving hazardly.

It's two in the morning.
I've got headphones on with someone shouting into my ears, and still my room feels so disgustingly quiet.
I feel like I should make some noise. I feel like I should shout. I should shout.

My restless legs don't seem able to settle down unless I close my eyes.
I think I'm tired.

I once told a friend that most of the wisdom I've attained on life as I see it has come not through experience, but through observation: the consequences of the mistakes my friends have made, and the rewards they've reaped from the opposite.
He told me that by doing so, I wasn't living life the way I ought to.

I argued by asking, "Then in what way 'ought' I to live? The trouble of using experience to navigate my way through living is that the effect of my decision-making comes first, then the lesson; not always will I have the ability to fix the first of the two."

He then responded, "Then, what right do you have to wish to exist as distinctly independent, if the life you choose to live is not your own?"