(no subject)
Reasons for therapy and/or the plan of becoming a writer:
born to conservative, strict catholic parents in columbus, ohio in 1977. dad is a gun toting federal agent and mom is a young mother from a small country town that only has one stop light. I’m not allowed to even say the word “stupid” in the house.
move with family at the age of 1 to a little suburb, known as Grosse Pointe, located outside of Detroit. question the fucked up surrealness of living in a racist stepford suburb. Be able to count the black kids in my school on one hand (two). be the miserable obnoxious fat girl till about 14. suffer from this fact. Share room with older sister who is known as a “stoner” (circa 1986). Have a sister who wears feathered hair and dark eyeliner and who has hung up a black velvet naked pic of Robert Plant in our shared room, painted pink. Be conflicted as to what the “body of Christ” on my lips really truly meant. Hang it all and dress up like the Pope for a school project. rent roger corman's "rock n' roll high school" starring the ramones. Tape whole series of twin peaks. Have dirty dirty thoughts about agent cooper. be forever changed.
at 14, move to the equally fucked (but in a much better way) central florida with family. lose a whole bunch of weight and have braces removed. Become frightened and pissed at new found attention of boys, staying a virgin until 22 (when virginity is lost during a game of strip trivial pursuit). meet people like andrew and sarita and joey fat-one of n’sync. Influenced by first boyfriend who really knew what was once “indie” music.
Leave Orlando for college in Tallahassee, Fl. Become a dj at college radio station. a bounty hunter named Carlton, who dresses as a Vietnam vet (was he really one? I don’t know) and carries a taser, calls in and requests Motorhead’s Ace of Spades at least twice a week. Said bounty hunter also threatens to “spank” me. Study in London for a semester, learning the art of being an ugly American. Throw parties where individual make out booths are constructed from shower curtains. Become obsessed with jello wrestling. Graduate from college. Take meds to for my anxiety of dealing with the real world, beginning the journey through meds and therapy and neurosis.
Move to los angeles after college. Spend at least a year living alone in the ghetto of a sweaty nameless part of LA. Be the only white, English speaking woman for blocks. With people sleeping on my lawn, I realize just how good I have it. meet one of my closest friends, who likes to dress as Rerun from Whats Happening.
Work in the asshole industry of reality tv. Make shit up for a living. Wear pleather undies to work. eat andrew's fried turkey for this upcoming spanksgiving.
write luke warm entries on an online journal.
born to conservative, strict catholic parents in columbus, ohio in 1977. dad is a gun toting federal agent and mom is a young mother from a small country town that only has one stop light. I’m not allowed to even say the word “stupid” in the house.
move with family at the age of 1 to a little suburb, known as Grosse Pointe, located outside of Detroit. question the fucked up surrealness of living in a racist stepford suburb. Be able to count the black kids in my school on one hand (two). be the miserable obnoxious fat girl till about 14. suffer from this fact. Share room with older sister who is known as a “stoner” (circa 1986). Have a sister who wears feathered hair and dark eyeliner and who has hung up a black velvet naked pic of Robert Plant in our shared room, painted pink. Be conflicted as to what the “body of Christ” on my lips really truly meant. Hang it all and dress up like the Pope for a school project. rent roger corman's "rock n' roll high school" starring the ramones. Tape whole series of twin peaks. Have dirty dirty thoughts about agent cooper. be forever changed.
at 14, move to the equally fucked (but in a much better way) central florida with family. lose a whole bunch of weight and have braces removed. Become frightened and pissed at new found attention of boys, staying a virgin until 22 (when virginity is lost during a game of strip trivial pursuit). meet people like andrew and sarita and joey fat-one of n’sync. Influenced by first boyfriend who really knew what was once “indie” music.
Leave Orlando for college in Tallahassee, Fl. Become a dj at college radio station. a bounty hunter named Carlton, who dresses as a Vietnam vet (was he really one? I don’t know) and carries a taser, calls in and requests Motorhead’s Ace of Spades at least twice a week. Said bounty hunter also threatens to “spank” me. Study in London for a semester, learning the art of being an ugly American. Throw parties where individual make out booths are constructed from shower curtains. Become obsessed with jello wrestling. Graduate from college. Take meds to for my anxiety of dealing with the real world, beginning the journey through meds and therapy and neurosis.
Move to los angeles after college. Spend at least a year living alone in the ghetto of a sweaty nameless part of LA. Be the only white, English speaking woman for blocks. With people sleeping on my lawn, I realize just how good I have it. meet one of my closest friends, who likes to dress as Rerun from Whats Happening.
Work in the asshole industry of reality tv. Make shit up for a living. Wear pleather undies to work. eat andrew's fried turkey for this upcoming spanksgiving.
write luke warm entries on an online journal.