Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Thursday, February 23, 2012

How I'd LIKE to look this summer.

Theater Theories

Theater is stupid.

There's no scale, no device by which you can measure your talent or potential. You can, as everyone does, compare yourself to everyone else, but everyone else has a skewed view of themselves so YOU must have a skewed view as well! I mean, if you think you have a good chance of succeeding, if you picture yourself on Broadway or in a movie, that's great. But so does the tone-deaf girl next to you and the one-legged dancer girl in the next room.


See what I'm saying? Theater is stupid. Subjective. Impossible to succeed.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Elementary: Elephants!

There's a mystery that needs solving.

What could the people who live directly above me possibly be doing all day, every day (and all night, every night)?
The evidence points to:

  • Three very large men practicing Tae-Kwon-Doe, while the other four large men play four-square with a bowling ball.
  • An army of midgets being forced to river dance by gladiators throwing stones at them.
  • Six sumo wrestlers tap dancing with cement shoes on.
  • They're massacring every living polar bear left on the planet.
  • Two ogres tirelessly having very rough sex on every surface of the apartment. 
  • Horse races. With Clydesdales.
  • One of those big magnet junk yard car destroyer machines hot wired and driven by monkeys. 
  • They're making a documentary: Fight Club 2-Fat People Fight Too.
  • They've invited the entire NBA to play basketball in their living room.
  • They're training six camels, four seals, and a small elephant for the circus. 
That's all I've got, and if the cause for the noise is none of these things, I will be sorely disappointed. 

But mostly angry.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

My version of an A.A. meeting

 Today I came to a drastic realization.

I own books. Lots of books. And I like books and reading and paper and authors.

I had forgotten these facts about myself.
Why? You're asking.

Because of these people

You see, there is a dangerous, probably hereditary genetic mutation going around American teens now-a-days.

I cannot help myself (probably because it's hereditary), I do not choose this life. I used to be a motivated, productive person, who cooked, showered, read, went to school, changed her underwear. But now I'm just...the opposite of that person. I look like fat Albert, sitting alone on my couch laughing and crying. . . .

. . . and slowly burning every social bridge I have ever struggled to build.

Cats came to my house today. They know, they know I'm a loser and destined to be alone.
I'm a nineteen-year-old cat lady. I just need to collect old newspapers and magazines and buy a blue bath robe. 

And that, dear friends, is becoming my Facebook status.

Because I have no reputation to preserve. It was burned with the bridges. ...The social bridges from earlier.

I feel like a creepy alcoholic at an A.A. meeting, "Hello, my name is Kaylie and I am an alcoholic. And, also, I watch excessive amounts of television-usually on the weekends when most people my age are out having fun or having sex or (the lucky ones) having both at the same time."

You know those gross sores old people who live in nursing homes get? The ones from lying in the same position for too long?

If I get anything even resembling one of those, I'm blaming these people.

 Basically, I'm pleading the eleventh amendment. Which, admittedly could either be about State's sovereign immunity or the right to bear arms. I'm not actually sure.

Probably because I spend my days decaying on a couch instead of reading my country's constitution.

But to be fair, it's a really long document.