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So I write these one hundred words every day about nothing. I make lists or describe the desk when I can’t think of anything else to write. I’m not making any sort of statement, not putting good, deep thoughts into this. I’m not in pain; wanting, yearning, needing to write as an outlet. I’m just rambling about nothing. My contribution won’t make anyone stop and think, it won’t make them look at things in a new way, it’s not particularly inspiring or profound. But maybe I can make someone smile. And perhaps that little bit is enough for just now.
The air was damp and hot, like every day, and Jean Baptiste absent-mindedly wiped the sweat from his brow with a damp kerchief. He leaned forward in his chair and strained to hear the voice through the static on the radio. His lit cigar was burning away to nothing in the ashtray, untouched, and its smoke sank into the long shadows cast by the oil lamp. The house creaked as his manservant, a native, moved about in the other room. Radio signals rarely reached him this far from Delhi, and he intended to savor every word of this one.
Today I've been going non-stop all day. We played King of the Mountain today as I was waiting for Dick to pick me up. Then he and I went to three art stores in three cities looking for the huge 120 pack of Prismacolor colored pencils for my mom's birthday, which is today. Got home, wrapped that in my favorite wrapping ever, plain paper bag and unbleached twine, then painted (watercolors) the card that I had drawn earlier in the day. Helped with dinner, ate, did some homework, and as soon as I finish this, I'm going to bed.
Tonight we went to the city to see this wonderful show called Dragapella! It was great. The show is five extremely talented and hilarious drag queens who sing acappella. They're crude and raunchy and call themselves the Kinsey Sicks, and man, can they sing. They even sang some of my favorite songs from their albums. The show was at the Hearbst Theater in San Francisco, which vaguely reminds me of the Opera Garnier in Paris, in a less flashy kinda way. Before the show we ate at a really good restaurant called Kites, where I gorged myself on Pad Thai.
I just crawled out of my room for the first time in 130 pages. Haven't done much yet today, but it's Saturday, and I'm okay with my lack of activity. Still need to get around to some homework, but I don't have much. Got a postcard from Liz today. She's in Santa Cruz, and in just a bit, I'm going to paint a card to mail back. And maybe later I'll finish the last forty pages or so of my book. Nice day, today. A little hot outside for my tastes, but I've got plenty to keep me busy indoors.
Today was so nice. We almost went to the fabric store instead of staying home, but I'm glad we didn't. It was hot, which was lame, but James and I hid away from it by getting milkshakes at The Shoreline. He ordered mocha and I had strawberry (but I forgot to make it a malt). We then sat for a long time at Wolves and drank Italian cream sodas and cold orange juice. We meandered down to Double Rainbow where I dangled my feet in the fountain. We finished with dinner at his house. It was a wonderful lazy day.
Dad and I went grocery shopping this evening, and on the way to get hamburger buns for our vegetarian sloppy Joes, I accidentally kicked some guy's basket (the little hand-held kind) that he had set on the floor. I sort of waved at him apologetically, but he looked away before I could. Dad consoled me with "Well, if he hadn't set it right in the middle of the road…" I replied that at least we hadn't run into it with the cart and spilled the contents. I imagined a loaf of bread caught in the wheel… fwap, fwap, fwap, fwap, fwap…
Sometimes one hundred words flow out of me with the greatest of ease and need but a word or two added or cut. But other days I struggle with it, editing and revising it time and time again, and I still come out with a product that I am unsatisfied with. Generally, these are the days when I can't think of something to write about, and they occur much more often than the days where I actually have something to say. I always love it though, when I can sit down with a story to tell, and just tell it.
Fall is finally approaching. This afternoon as John and I walked home, we noticed some cloud cover and general mugginess out over the straight. I didn't think any more of it until my dad came in and asked, "Sure a big change in the weather, huh?" So I directed my gaze out a nearby window and found that, hey! it was all overcast! Woo-hoo! Now a very chilly breeze is drifting in through the many open windows. Tomorrow is supposed to be rather cool, only about seventy-two. I'll finally get to wear pants again without dying in the afternoon. Yay!
I'm making this thing in my sculpture class that I refer to as the cat god. First I made a frame from wire, then I wrapped newspaper all around it for shape, and now I'm applying cloth dipped in plaster of Paris. The cat god is human-shaped, and he's crouching down on all fours, but he has a tail and cat-ears and a flat cat nose and big wings. The only thing is, he's absolutely enormous. He wasn't supposed to be so large…it just kind of happened that way. But I'm nearly finished plastering, and then I can paint him.
Wow. I discovered a shop that I didn't know existed, today. Kerry and James and I were walking down First St., looking for something to do, when we walked by that arts and crafts store. Kerry mentions that she used to go to the store in the back all the time. What store? It's a vintage clothing store. Soooo cool. She and I tried on this awesome pair of leather-soled black heels, with a really low ankle strap that made our legs look long. But they were super-difficult to walk in because the heel was very high and very wobbly.
Ahh! The afternoon is sneaking up on me and I haven't done any of the things I need to do today. Today was supposed to be homework and card-making and letter-writing and window-washing day. It's one o'clock, and at four I'm meeting Matt at the park for a bike ride. After the ride, I need to jam home, take a shower, and go out to dinner for my uncle's birthday. I don't have very much homework, so I can do that after dinner, and I can write the letter then, too. But I need to make this card by dinner.
Emo, emo, emo, all the world is emo. I hate it. But I like it. I like the overgrown hair in the face, I like the thick-rimmed rectangular glasses, I like the too-small shirts and Chuck Taylors. I like the dumb melodramatic music. But there's no meaning to it. But I'm a poser anyway, because I can't say that anything I wear or listen to has any meaning. I wear sweaters with collared shirts because I like them, and listen to music that sounds good. I'm not one certain thing; not punk, not emo, not a hippie...
Beautiful Chris Callorina died on Saturday, the twelfth of October. He had been doing so well. The doctors said that he was making amazing progress in an unusually short period of time. He wasn't talking yet, but he was smiling, and it we felt like we had him back again. But then he slipped back into the coma, and they said that he probably would never wake up. And he didn't. I remember him being in the show Noises Off, and I remember his great laugh, and I remember him taking me to Cliff's for grilled cheese sandwiches one day.
When we went out to Cliff's, we played phone tag for forever before we got it arranged. He kept calling me when I wasn't home, and I always got him when his cell phone was off. He was talking about cutting his hair, but I liked it the way it was. He always wore it in a ponytail. He drove a white car with maroon interior that his brother drives now. His brother looks just like him, and always smiles at me when he sees me, even though I don't think we've ever exchanged more than two words.
They did it. God, I wasn't expecting it. When she told me, I got that little shot of adrenaline that I get right in my gut. I didn't ask any questions, but now I'm full of them. We haven't done anything in forever, and I feel like I should have been there to see the things leading up to it. But we can talk. This weekend we will. And I just don't know how I feel about it. I'm certainly not happy, but I'm not necessarily disappointed or upset, either. I just don't want it to make things go downhill.
I love Wolves. Not the large wild animal of the
variety, although I love those too, but the coffee shop on First Street, fully titled In the Company of Wolves. I think the main reasons I favor it over our other coffee shops are that it has old hardwood floors and high ceilings and a brick wall and there is always art up. It just has a nice atmosphere. Seeing people I know come in is a plus as well. And that yummy over-priced pecan pie they sell is so tasty. And no one else makes banana slammers.
I found a writing prompt that said to tell how I feel about water. I am a huge fan of water. Rain and fog are my favorite types of weather. I thrive in them. I have this idealistic picture in my head of a super foggy day at the beach. Not sandy beach; good rocky, cliffy beach. Behind me are rolling hills with an occasional oak tree, but not far off down the windy road is the forest, the redwood forest to be exact. If only I could think of the name of the town that I am thinking of.
Man, I ate so much fish today. My grandparents are in town for the weekend, and my mom decided to host a little dinner party type thing. I think she was quite happy to be cooking for people again. She made chapino, a tomato-based stew that is filled with shellfish. They invited another couple over, and we ate. The only thing I didn't like about it, is all of the flavors kind of cooked together, so the mussels tasted like the clams that tasted like the scallops. But I liked the crab. It reminded me of eating crab in France…
Man…what is with all of this sleeping that I've done this weekend? Yesterday, Saturday, I slept until about nine, but read in bed until noonish. James and I went out for coffee and I had an espresso, and then as we walked home, I got really, really sleepy. After he left, I napped for a good hour and a half. Then today, after waking up at around nine again, I had to take another nap, because I was just falling asleep standing up. Perhaps I'm making up for the lack of sleep I got over the course of the week.
I was quite productive this evening. Did all of my homework like a good kid, even read ahead in my book and took extra notes. I finally typed up my letter to my host mother, which took forever, since every time I wanted to use an accent I had to go pick out a symbol. Figuring out the shortcut keys would have taken even longer. Now I truly know why the French have a different keyboard. That keyboard was so difficult to get used to. The ‘q' and the ‘a' were switched, and the ‘m' was where our semicolon is.
Ah, god, the weather is so gorgeous today! It's been foggy and overcast and cold all day long, and it's supposed to be colder tomorrow. It might even rain on Friday. That would be bliss. I miss the rain. I miss wearing warm clothes and thermal underwear. And the smell of rain. And big, fat, thunderstorms. Those are the best. Mmm, and warm drinks. I just put on some hot water with which to make tea and warm my hands on. Oh, but I wonder if we have any hot chocolate. Up, there goes the kettle. It's whistling at me.
God, what a great day. It's all overcast and cold again, which gives me lots of energy and makes me really happy. I got e-mails from Jake and Eddie, and Eddie sent me this wonderful observational writing, and it's so good! I didn't realize that he was such a writer. He has a really curious style, though, leaning towards bizarre, but I love it. Jake's letter was really sweet and great, and made me feel thoroughly loved. I brought my camera today and took a couple of pictures, one of which, a portrait-type picture of Kerry, I'm rather proud of.
I am not sick. I am not getting sick. I am not going to get sick. As much as my nose may tell me otherwise, I am not sick. It may have been stuffy all day, and given me a sore throat, but that doesn't mean that I'm sick. And it's perfectly normal for me to sneeze as many times as I did today. There could be something in the air aggravating my nose. When I wake up tomorrow morning, my nose will be clear, my throat won't hurt, and I won't have any more urges to sneeze. Not. Sick.
Today six of us piled into Kerry's car after school. Matt sat in front and got into the glove box, where he found the sacred fruit cup that has been in the car for forever. Kerry insisted that John take the fruit cup home, but he didn't want it, so we tried to dump it on his lawn and then drive away, but he ran and put it on the trunk before we could. When it fell off, we grabbed it and hurled it out the window onto his lawn and drove away as he shook his fist at us.
I love Berkeley. It's right up there with San Francisco and St. Malo and Morro Bay and St. Brieuc as my favorite cities ever. Dad and Jean and I went today to get bagels (salt bagel with cream cheese, tomato and purple onion) and coffee (espresso with some sugar) and go to REI, where I looked at bird books and backpacks and climbing shoes and cycling gear and could get happily lost in all day long. It was cool and overcast, and gorgeous, and we took a detour up through the hills, and looked at houses and the wonderful forest.
Today James and I spent the afternoon decorating caramel apples with multi-colored chocolate type stuff and little candies for the neighborhood kids. My first couple were okay, I made a Frankenstein, and a pink thing with coconut hair and we all got creative with the candies, but after about three or four, they started getting a little sloppy. The last one is absolutely plastered with jelly beans. James said that it will be the first to go, due to the abundance of candy. When we finished, we ate dinner and finished watching Lord of the Rings, which was sooooo cool.
Um…okay. Geeze. Well, I must have seen it coming. I’m sure I saw it coming. It still is a little weird just yet, though. My mom and Dick are getting married. Does that mean that she’s going to change her name to Dowling, now? Well, I’m sure it does, she has no reason to carry my dad’s name any more, and anyway, a while ago, she was thinking of changing it back to her maiden name, though she never did. Huh. It’s just so weird. I mean, I’m really used to Dick and all, now, but this is really it…
Oh, deary me. I was just mighty startled by the smoke alarm going off. I rushed downstairs, thinking I'd caught the stove on fire and trying to remember where the fire extinguisher was. I didn't catch the stove on fire, but I did forget my tea kettle, which I had failed to close, so it failed to whistle at me to remind me of its presence. Upon closer inspection, I found that the cause of the smoke was that the glue on the lower seam on the pot seemed to be boiling. I think it's time for a new kettle.
Hey jerkwad! Have some frikkin' decency! Stanley sent an e-mail to all of the Bay Area exchange kids, cause they're gonna have a reunion. He didn't have Amber's e-mail, though, so he asked if someone could forward it to her. However, Maya's e-mail was not on the list, nor did he ask for it to be forwarded. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I sent him an e-mail asking if he forgot she lived in the bay area, or if he had purposely left her off, but I suspect that it is the latter.
Halloween. All Hallows Eve. Samhain. Last day of October. Last day of this month's one hundred words. I'm at another loss as to what to conclude my month of one hundred words with. Shouldn't I go out with a bang? Leave you with some controversy? Or, I could just give you a quick movie review. I watched Insomnia this evening, and Al Pacino just made me want to go to sleep! But in a very good way. He can't sleep throughout the entire movie, and does such a good job of acting it out. It was a pretty good film.
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