Posts Tagged ‘augusten burroughs’

That’s why they call it a reHEARSEal!

February 25, 2010

I don’t even know where the title came from. If rehearsal today had been really terrible, maybe it would fit, but it wasn’t terrible at all do it doesn’t apply. The whole time was spent organizing the horrifically messy scenery room, and when we finished after over two hours of working, it was a marvelous feeling. The stage crew managers, Brittany and Sara, were skipping around, they were so happy. From what I’ve heard, the room hasn’t been so clean since… as long as anybody can remember. When we brought the drama department teacher, Ms. Lennon, in, she was THRILLED. She hugged us all. I felt so proud and delighted!

After Stage Crew, my father, Emma, and I went to Target and Home Depot, though I stayed in the car because I had homework to do. When I had finished my homework and we were in the parking lot at Target, I realized I had to go to the bathroom, so I went inside. Then, I couldn’t find my father and Emma, so I went rambling around the store, and then I found a package of Tim Tams, which claimed to be Australia’s favorite cookie, so I bought them. They’re pretty good.

When I got home from that whole deal, I was met with ten new college letters. How do they find me? I know the answer to that: College Board. It’s nice to get mail, even if it is just mostly boring college stuff. Also, the final Augusten Burroughs memoir I bought, also the first one I ever read, Running With Scissors, came in the mail.  ALSO, the new issue of Mental Floss came in the mail.  Exciting!  I’ve gotten mail all this week!

The only bad part of the day was when I found that my sister Emma stayed home from school today, and she used my laptop.  Not only did she use my laptop (which ordinarily wouldn’t  be that big of a deal), but she somehow got a HUGE scratch on it!  That’s permanent, buster!  Are you cruising for a bruising?  I wanted to ask her that, but this is a SERIOUS MATTER which calls for a SERIOUS RESPONSE.  “I’m really disappointed in you, Emma,” I told her.  Actually, I didn’t say anything.  I just told her I couldn’t believe she wouldn’t take better care of something I worked so hard to earn the money to buy.  I can’t believe she wasn’t more careful with it!

Quid pro quo

February 24, 2010

It was a good day. The week was going by slowly, but the knowledge that tomorrow is Thursday sends a shiver down my spine. Maybe it’s not been going by so slowly after all! It’s supposed to snow tonight, but I hope if it does that it’s only enough to warrant a delay- the first (I guess you could say) official meeting of stage crew is tomorrow, and I don’t want it to be canceled, especially since I won’t be able to go to set build on Saturday because of work (3- 8 pm).

Today was Wednesday Club, an extended version. Rachel had musical rehearsal so she wasn’t able to come until the very end (we stayed until 6:15 pm), but Wallie and I had a great time nonetheless. We finished our schedules outside (I’m actually going to take Independent Living instead of Parenting- I wanted to take a class that Wallie wouldn’t mind taking as well, and it seems like it would be more useful), and then it got even colder, it seemed, so we went inside. I felt bad because this guy with a laptop (Wallie calls him “the guy with a laptop and an attitude”) sat near us, as it was the only available place to sit, and we were kind of loud… I felt like we were distracting him. We did homework, anyway, though we both kept getting distracted and talking more instead.

At 5:20 ish, we went over to Giant for the second time and bought our dinners. Wallie and I each bought hot chicken sandwiches, as well as Odwalla drinks (Wallie had Orange Honey something, I believe, and I had Pomegranate Limeade) and a piece of fruit each (Wallie a banana, I an Asian pear, which I had never had before and was very good). We ate at the picnic table outside the library.

As soon as we finished our dinners and stood up to go back inside, Michael called, as per Rachel’s request, because Rachel had been looking for us. I told Michael that we were currently at the picnic table but were heading inside, for him to relay this information back to Rachel. I guess he didn’t hear the second part, though, because Rachel trekked through the snow on the hill to get to the picnic table to find us! I felt horrid about this, as Wallie and I were sitting down inside when Rachel came in, snow in her shoes, and finally found us. We then all headed back over to Giant for a third time in order for Rachel to buy something for dinner. It was a little after six at this time. I bought a package of cheese rolls for another day, and as we were just heading out of Giant my sister Emma sent me a text message to let me know that my father was there to pick me up. I gathered my things and headed back out. Then I went home.

I was greeted by another thick stack of college letters as well as a package, which turned out to be “Possible Side Effects,” another Augusten Burroughs memoir I had ordered. I actually ended up being more excited, however, by the 30+ paged booklet from American University! It’s really a wonderful thing. Is it bad that I’m basing my college choices mostly on how interesting the mail is that they send me? Runner-ups are one that looks very artsy, the brochure, I mean, and one that has my name spelled out in fireworks on the front. It’s beautiful enough to hang on my wall. In fact, I think I shall do so.

So there’s this album

June 10, 2009

called “Spaced Out: The Best of Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner,” and I am going to buy it. It is the best thing ever.

In other news, I now have many new books to read. Twelve, to be exact. These include six relating to Star Trek as well as Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger’s, a book by Augusten Burroughs’ older brother. (you remember when I was on that Augusten Burroughs kick, right?) I heard about it from Daniel’s blog, and then I saw it at the library and had to check it out. The other book I checked out is about the fabulous Francis Crick, who aided in discovering DNA. Also, Daniel is lending me a book called The Monsters of Templeton.

I have now begun reading William Shatner’s autobiography first off, and it is absolutely hilarious. I can’t help but laugh while reading it, especially the bit at the beginning when Shatner notes that DeForest Kelley, who plays McCoy, spelled his name wrong in cement on his Hollywood square, and in fact took up four squares rather than one square like Shatner and Nimoy. Shatner describes the incident as giving new meaning to McCoy’s quote, “I’m a doctor, not a bricklayer!”

Hilarious, completely hilarious.

I know I haven’t said much, but goodbye now. I have some reading to do…

BEDA Installment Twenty-Four: If it’s all the same, a new name, and a door frame

April 24, 2009

Firstly, just like the day before yesterday, I think it was, here is some handwritten goodness:

Okay, so listen to this: three of the major bigwigs at my father’s work suddenly up and left. The three of them are starting their own competitive company. IT’S EXACTLY LIKE ON THE OFFICE! It’s CRAZY COINCIDENTAL.

Today I reread the rest of Magical Thinking and just now I began to read Suite Scarlett. Oh, and the fourth book I checked out whose title I could not remember is Bliss, by Lauren Myracle. Courtney read it, and it sounded neat, so I’m going to read it as well.

I took a math quiz and it brought my grade down the exact amount that means it countered my 93%. It is awful. I got a 31%. That is now my new record in terms of horribleness.

It turns out my knees DO know boundaries. They have now begun to cooperate and the left one doesn’t hurt nearly so much.


I’m writing this so terribly early because Clara has a birthday party for her friends tonight, and so she’ll be in the sunroom the whole time, where the computer is located. Technically, I guess I could write this later, after everybody’s left, but I’d rather write it early than chance being way too tired to write anything of any value.

I am going to try to spend this weekend watching old horror movies and reading the remainder of the books I have checked out from the library.

Speaking of the weekend, I can’t believe it’s here already! It seems like it’s Monday, a very long Monday at that, for some reason…

By the way, I only chose the title like that because it all rhymes. The first bit has nothing to do with anything that I know of.

Oh, once I post my three hundredth post I will have a contest of some sort. There will be prizes involved. This is post two hundred eighty-seven, I believe, so it’s not that long away.

Though this is rather brief, I’ve run out of things to say, and so goodbye.

Happy Friday!

EDIT: I forgot to add a question!

Question Twenty-four: Generally, what is your favorite artificial flavor?

BEDA Installment Twenty-Three: I’m pretty sure my left knee is plotting to kill me.

April 23, 2009

About a week ago, I noticed a small twinge on my left knee. By twinge, I mean a small amount of pain on it when leaned on. Each day, it slowly started hurting more, and now if I lean on it for even a moment, of even if I accidentally brush my hand across it, it hurts most dreadfully. I have been wondering why on earth this is happening, and eventually came to the conclusion that my left knee is, in fact, plotting to kill me. Naturally, if it suddenly killed me all at once, somebody would notice. People would get suspicious and dig around. My knee doesn’t want that to happen. The only logical plan, therefore, is for me to die a slow, painful death. I expect by my birthday it will have schemed with various other joints and I will further begin to suffer. The really annoying (and genius on the knee’s part) thing is, bandaids don’t stay on knees. Not long after putting a bandaid on one’s knee, it will inevitably be pushed off. This is not mere coincidence. Have you not noticed that it ALWAYS happens on knees? There is something going on in this situation, something very fishy indeed. However, my knees are most likely reading this over my shoulder and will COOPERATE in the future. I am going to put a bandaid on each of my knees just as soon as I finish this post, to test this theory. If not, well… there will be severe punishment.

At this very moment, my knees are quietly arguing amongst themselves about how to treat this situation. I know their secrets. What will they do now? My left knee is joking to my right knee, “Don’t worry, she won’t punish us, she KNEEDS us,” and my right knee is slapping the left one right across the ligamentum patella furiously for the ridiculous and uncalled-for pun (you see, I’ve been studying for many long nights).

I don’t know what to do with them anymore. They’re like an old married couple, and seeing as they are part of ME I SHOULD be able to control them, and yet… here, they are, plotting to kill me…

Let me try and take my mind off this frustrating matter.

I read over half of Magical Thinking today, which is a memoir by–you guessed it–Augusten Burroughs. I actually read it last year or maybe the year before, without realizing who it was by, as I’ve mentioned before, but I couldn’t remember much of anything about it so, of course, I decided it was time for a recap. Now that I’m reading it, I am remembering it all, but sometimes it’s nice to read things twice, anyway. The sudden familiarities are comforting.

I also watched two and a half episodes of Twilight Zone. My favorite was one about an old woman who never opened her door for anybody for fear of letting Mr. Death in (as she called him). In the end, the woman unknowingly let him in, in the form of a young police officer who had been shot, and she ended up going with him willingly.

This afternoon near the end of school, I gave a picture of a trio of gnomes (taken at the grocery store and printed today in Photography class) to an extremely hyperactice kid named Michael who previously thought I hated him. It read-
“To: Michael
From: Hope
I don’t hate you.”

I hope the message was clear enough.

Well, now I need to go put bandaids on my knees. We have quite a collection of interesting bandages, and so it will be a tough decision. I’m thinking unicorns and caution tape.

Question Twenty-three: Which of your body parts seems the most sinister?

BEDA Installment Sixteen: Much Ado About Something

April 16, 2009

The title tells lies: I didn’t actually do much of anything today. Of course, if I try and remember all of the miniscule little details (redundancy!) then I might be able to write a decent amount. Here it goes!

[1]I woke up. It was approximately 5:45 am. I took a quick shower and then blow-dryed my bangs. Next, I dressed, in my purple pinstriped pants, striped green and navy shirt, and robot looking for love shirt. After that, I proceeded to put my shoes and socks on, then eat Apples & Cinnamon oatmeal and various other activities, such as getting my lunch ready. I started bringing my lunch yesterday. As today was day two, I must say this important lifestyle change is going quite well.

[2]After doing all that is necessary in getting ready for the school day, I waited for my bus for approximately one and a half minutes. Then, I went on to the bus, the first seat on the left, towards the bus doors (ensuring that I would be the first out in case of an emergency, or at least one of the firsts). On the way to school, I read some of Running With Scissors, though, as usual, I was mainly preoccupied with staring out the front bus windows at the sky, clouds, and other peaceful objects, which are extraordinarily pretty in the morning.

[3]The school day went by as it did yesterday, quick altogether yet slow in each individual class. In Photography, we had a substitute who seemed very angry at us all, from the very beginning. I don’t think she ever told us her name. After Photography was PreCalc, where I received the dreaded test back, the one that brought my grade down over ten percent. The grade was a thirty-nine percent. That’s the same percentage as the one I hung up on our fridge, jokingly, next to my brother’s one hundred percent Prefixes and Suffixes quiz. In Guitar, Sarah stole my book because I kept reading it when she was talking to me. Hey, it’s a good book. Eventually, I slammed both of her pinky fingers with my Biology textbook and she surrendered it back. Actually, I didn’t. I don’t even bring my Biology textbook to school.

[4]After school and a speedy goodbye to my friendlings, I went to my bus, on which I read more of Running with Scissors and also noticed that the Pixies guy got another haircut. Also, as he was getting off the bus he picked up a book that the person next to me dropped on the floor. That was the most human contact I have personally seen him commit to. The other two instances were when he was an anchor on our morning announcements (I missed that– my first class is so loud we hardly ever see them) and when he watched Wallie and others play Apples to Apples in their math class (there was also one other instance, perhaps about going to the restroom, but I’m lost on the details).

[5]Once I arrived home, at precisely 2:43 pm, two minutes earlier than usual, I vowed to watch a movie once I finished my homework. Before doing my homework, however, I read the rest of Running With Scissors. It may be my favorite of Augusten Burroughs’ memoirs, but it is by far the most horrifying. I felt like simultaneously laughing and crying at many parts while reading it.

[6]After the book was done, with a sigh, I did my homework. This involved a half hour of my time and two textbooks, Biology and PreCalc. It wasn’t that tortorous.

[7]By the time that was over and done with, and after I’d gone to the grocery store with my father (I love going to grocery stores), it was dinner time. We had barbeque chicken salad sandwiches.

[8]Once the table was cleared, I watched two and a half minutes of M is for Murder, a movie like I said I would watch. Then I got distracted and, after realizing the time, came in here to post this.

[9]The word of the day is carwichet, by the way. It is a pun, conundrum or perplexing question. Excellent, you think? So do I.

The end.

What the future holds: (or, rather, tomorrow) I’m immensely glad that tomorrow is Friday. Even with the shortened week, it seemed to drag on. Tomorrow is the Day of Silence, which I will be participating in as I did last year. I’m not going to the thing afterwards, for lack of a ride, but it will be a nice day, anyway, I think.

Well, I’m going to watch more of the movie. If I’m extremely good about staying on schedule, then perhaps I’ll finish it tonight.

“I don’t mean to sound – I don’t want it to come out funny, but I don’t like show business. I love – I love acting in films. I love it.”
-Gene Wilder

(doesn’t he sound kind?)

Question Sixteen: How do you explain the chilly, shivery feeling, I sometimes randomly experience?

BEDA Installment Eight: What did I do so far today?

April 8, 2009

I know that’s some kind of awful of an excuse for an interesting title, but you’ll have to excuse me for that bit of informality, as I’m more or less far too excited to post properly, as is evident by this neverending run-on sentence.

The source of this excitement is the Gene Wilder party, which, after many cancellations and non-cancellations, will be tonight! 

There was a bit of a scare earlier, when our computer became overloaded and stopped working.  I was sure I would fail BEDA, not even a third of the way through it, and was very disappointed in myself, even thought it wouldn’t have been my fault.

So, before I jinx it all– I read.  All day so far.  Actually, I did begin to watch more of Clean Slate, but after less than two minutes I stopped and came in here to write this.  What did I read?  More Augusten Burroughs, of course, in the form of the entirety of Possible Side Effects.  In the way that Wolf at the Table was more about Augusten’s father, this was more about his mother.  I can’t decide which I like better, though I definitely laughed out loud more while reading Possible Side Effects.  It was generally more lighthearted, anyway.

Besides reading, really all I did was a teensy bit of knitting, attempting to make a very long scarf but stopping and frogging it before it became so.

Now, since I have exhausted my list of topics (what I did today) with not even three hundred words under my belt, I am going to tell a story, a story from when I was young, if I can think of one…

For a short time, maybe months or maybe a year or two at the most, I shared a bedroom with my older brother, Jake.  We had bunkbeds.  He was on the bottom bunk, and I was on the top bunk.  Every so often, we would play a game before going to sleep, each of us in our respective locations, which involved throwing a stuffed animal up into my bed, then back down into his, and so on, in a circular motion.  It sounds so simple, nowadays, but back then I loved it so much.  Another game we played before bed, somewhat similar, was where Jake would try and pull my sheets down into his bunk, with me trying to roll up in them so he couldn’t.

When it came time for Jake to move upstairs into the newly remodeled attic, and time for my sister, Clara, to move into the room with me, I took my new position in the bottom bunk and she my old position in the top bunk.  Unfortunately, from then on bedtime was not nearly as fun.  Although, I did notice that there were an awful lot of stuffed animals between the bed and the wall.  Hmm…

Hey, did you know that there are 44,100,100 links that come up when one googles ‘twenty-five?’

Also, it is quite interesting to search your birthdate on Wikipedia.  On my birthday, in 1980, Alfred Hitchcock died.  So did Albert Hoffman, in 2008, the first known person to synthesize and ingest LSD.

Oh, joy of joys.

Well, I now need to shower and pack for the party, so I bid you farewell.  I’ll have lots to talk about tomorrow, once the party has ended and I am tired but full of new memories.

Question Eight:  What is a memory you have from a party you once went to?

BEDA Installment Two: How hard could it possibly be to find an interesting photograher?

April 2, 2009

For Photography class, we’re doing an in-class/out-of-class research project on a famous photographer of our choice.  I figured it wouldn’t be hard to find one I want to learn about; after all, there are trillions and billions of photographers out there, so there’s bound to be at least a hundred that I’m fond of, right?  Wrong.  I spent ages in class today, searching the web for a photographer whose work I admire/some of whose work is school-appropriate.  After many clicks, I found Elliot Erwitt, whose pictures made me want to smile.  That’s as good a reason as any, is it not?  He takes pictures of stuff like little boys riding on the backs of bikes

…young couples kissing in mirrors

…and people leaping in the rain.

He also has a fondness for dogs.  How could I not love him?

Well, after rushing downstairs back to the Photography classroom, my teacher informed me that somebody else was already doing a project on Erwitt.  What a bummer.  So, I rushed all the way back upstairs to the library and spent many minutes more searching for another photographer that so diligently captured my attention.  Am I the only one who decides that a now unattainable thing would have been absolutely perfect in every way?

Eventually, after oodles of clicks more, I found a second photographer, one that I am SERIOUSLY and DESPARATELY in love with, much more than with Elliot.  His name?  Gregory Crewdson.  His forté?  Surrealism photography, and how amazing surrealist pictures of American culture can be.  Ahem, for example:

Honestly and truly, this guy is AMAZING.  I get this mad burst of feelings when I look at his photos, all at once relieving, eerie, hopeless, and exciting.  It’s almost like they’re scenes from a bizarre old  movie, Eraserhead, perhaps, or Clockwork Orange.  It’s crazy talk.

After reading a couple of notches of Death Be Not Proud, I realized why it seemed to familiar and modern classic-like.  I checked it out last year, or perhaps the year before, but merely skimmed through it, not interested in it at the time.  Today, I finished reading Wolf at the Table, which was the best of the best, and maybe a third of Death Be Not Proud (not “Death Not Be Proud,” as I called it yesterday), which is thus far lovely but heartbreaking.  My mother said that she was told to read it in tenth grade for school (there are even Spark Notes on it– I checked), she thinks, but she never did.  I wonder why.

As for possibly more cheersome news, tomorrow is Friday, and what a joyous weekend it shall be!  I have no plans to do anything, but surely something will come up to tickle my fancy.  No, I am not joshing you.  I did indeed just say “tickle my fancy.” 

I was just reminded of how many books are on The List, the one I always meant to write down but never did, that I hope to read in the course of my lifetime.  Included on The List are many books that have movies based on them, movies I want to see but feel obligated to read the book before doing so.

One movie I did see before reading the book is The Golden Compass, and I have since felt awful about that.  It’s very nearly impossible to only see book-based movies after reading the book, these days, as a large percentage of new and newish movies are based on books.  It seems that the movie-making world is running out of creativity these days. 

I am very close to having written six hundred words, and so I leave you now, but not without a quote, as well as the obligatory question.


“China is a big country, inhabited by many Chinese.”
-Former French President Charles De Gaulle

Question Two: What are a few books you plan on reading in the future?

BEDA Installment One: How about some bound stacks of paper covered in words?

April 2, 2009

My goodness, I am so excited right now that I could dance, and I would dance, too, were it not for the sleeping younger brothers not twenty feet away and the possibility of my dancing prompting a fresh bout of singing as well.

Today was April Fool’s Day, meaning it began with an exploration of various popular websites in a search for April Fool’s Day-themed shenanigans.  This included Google, Gmail, YouTube, and… that’s pretty much it.

Nothing else of April Fool’s Day matters is of much significance, other than my obviously-not-legit Gameboy game, newly christened The Crucible with Gene Wilder.  If there were such a game, I would buy it straightaway, regardless of what game platform it employed.

Today I got, lemmesee, a grand total of two rows done altogether on my cardigan.  Not so swell, eh?

Now, now, now, how about the real stuff I planned to speak of?  Books!

Unfortunately, until recently I had somewhat stopped reading quite so often as I had wished.  The last two books I’ve read are Kiss Me Like a Stranger, the auto-biography of Gene Wilder, and Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, a memoir/auto-biography of David Sedaris.  Both were excellent, as boy do I love reading about other, more interesting, people’s lives!

Likewise, today I began (and got rather far in) yet another memoir, one of the brilliant Augusten Burroughs’ masterpieces titled A Wolf at the Table.  I noticed that Daniel was going to check it out at the library today and thought it looked both interesting and vaguely familiar.  After a quick surrounding shelf inspection of Burroughs’ other work, I realized the reason for the familiarity: last year I read another of his memoirs, Magical Thinking, and loved it just as much as I am loving A Wolf at the Table

When I went to check it out, it turned out somebody had put it on hold.  However, since I picked it up off the shelf the librarian let me bring it home anyway.  Their loss, my gain, she said.

In other, non-Augusten news, I also checked out Death Not be Proud, which I am pretty sure is a classic of some sort, or at least a meaningful-enough book that I’ve heard it referenced to multiple times in my life.  I’ve been meaning to read more classics, or contemporary non-fiction/fiction and whatnot, so I’m greatly looking forward to reading that as well.

Once I finish and return these two books, I plan to check out more memoirs and biographies, by Burroughs and others.  It’s so interesting for me to read about people I don’t know yet somehow feel connected to, especially when the narrator has such a winning voice.

Well, well, well, if I’m not already getting into a blogging about books groove.  Better think of something else to chatter about.

How about guinea pigs, since I was just reading a horribly sad story about a poor little guinea pig named Ernie in Augusten’s memoir (I feel dopey calling him by his first name but I kinda feel like I seriously know him and if I were him I’d rather be called Augusten than Burroughs– also, I love the name Augusten)? 

I love guinea pigs so very much.  That’s too bad for me, I guess, because I’m allergic to them.  It’s a pretty weird thing to be allergic to, but alas, that’s what showed up when I took an allergy test as a younger child than I currently am.  Also, I am allergic to a mysterious type of tree unknown to anyone.  No, seriously, that’s what the allergy people told me.  Am I silly to believe them?

Enough ridiculousness– back to the pure amazingness of guinea pigs.  I love them.  I had a little cream-colored guinea pig when I was seven or eight or nine or so, naturally with the name of Butterscotch.  When Butterscotch died from old age, or so I was told, we went through a series of other guinea pigs, large and small, long-haired and short-haired, each of them dying soon after because a pet store guy told us the wrong type of bedding to buy, bedding that is poisonous to guinea pigs if digested, which each of ours apparently did. 

Despite inadvertently murdering so many of them, I still have a mighty fondness in my heart for guinea pigs.

So, of course, I was horribly disappointed once I found out I was allergic to them.  I don’t care if I’m allergic, though, I still want one.

Enough is enough, and this day is nearly done, all eaten up, as is my time blogging.  This is a decent-sized post, I’d say. 

I’ve just decided that I’m going to make a question for each day of BEDA for the lot of you to answer in the comments.

Question One: Have you ever had a pet that you accidentally killed?