hmmmm.

i look forward to going home all week, and i get back, and it's nice at first- a LUXURIOUS shower and real food and such. but then it's pretty much a let down because either nothing is going on or people don't call me back. 

at camp i've learned a LOT about myself as er... campy as that sounds. like: i can get over latrines full of spiders, i can handle lots of children, i can climb rock walls and do high ropes courses, i don't want to own a horse as nice as they are, i can be pretty patient. i feel like i've overcome a lot of things, at camp i am REALLY patient and never really *really* angry.... but i get home and AS;DLKFJ;ALSDKJFL;p(*&()(&^*(^%%^^*()&*(_&^$##$#$#%#%!!!!!!!!! so i still need to work on some things. apparently.

i actually like camp now., these kids are annoying but hilarious and really sweet sometimes. and frazzle is pretty much the coolest counselor ever because i don't know the rules. like: hmm are they allowed to have ipods?
mustang: i... don't know
me: probably not. but oh well. i'm going to go chill with the kids and listen to their ipods with them.

ella ella ella ehhhhhhh ehhhhhhh ehhhhhhh

blah blah blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
blah blah blaaaaaaaaaaaaah blah blah

not going anywhere with life

don't care

fuck it

going to do some quality reading tomorrow

dramadramaneedmoredramaplease

blahblahblahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

blah

if i take what other people think about me into account, say things that i want people to hear and consider what they're going to think about it, or mutter things to myself and know that people are still going to hear it so i still consider what's going to be thought about it, it's not any different from if i say things that are not necessarily intended for other people to hear, but still they hear them and think they are thought about slightly more than they necessarily are. so i don't know why i think so much about the interpretation/misinterpration of anything i say, it's all misinterpretation, and i'm misinterpreting anything anyone else says to me, so i don't know why we bother trying to figure it all out. it's kind of like frankenstein, and zimboes? i'd like to think it all comes back to zimboes. my hands always look like i've been punching brick walls. fucking fancy norwegian formula fancy moisturizer, 200 applications my ass, i am a corpse, and i paid at least a solid 4 dollars for that. 

if i start an artist colony, i wonder if anyone would join me, or if i would just run around in the woods tending my garden half naked by myself with the squirrels and... badgers, which i don't think i would really mind. or i could go to alaska and be Olivia of the Wolves and read young adult novels. 

the nice thing about being 15 minutes late to class is you miss the rush on the buses. yesterday i was one of the people that couldn't fit on a bus home because those fuckers didn't move back enough, but i'm glad they didn't, i walked my lazy ass home and it wasn't that cold and i listened to the lion king and i love listening to disney when nobody knows and i'm trying really hard not to dance down the sidewalk to "i just can't wait to be king"

i wish we could all stop saying the word drama.  unless it's in reference to other people's lives.  but not mine, ha.  i wish i could be less honest most of the time, but more honest when it actually matters. i wish i could be a lot of things actually, like.... motivated. or more alive or more dead. one or the other not in between.

why do dakota fanning and animators have to ruin my childhood? if you ever watch Totoro, watch the old VHS version, not the new anime bullshit. 

i have to write an essay about allen and their uniqueness. i think there are a lot of zimboes living in allen. i like sweeping generalizations.

ATTENTION

IF ANYONE IS GOING TO CHAMPAIGN ANYTIME BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS

LET ME KNOW

AND TAKE ME WITH YOU

Thank you.