***

how many chocolate kisses do i have to eat before someone confronts me and my 'problem'. at work intervention organized by me for me. coworkers will offer me time off w pay in exchange for not coming to work because my quiet depressing presence is rly depressing and they can tell i'm silently hoping for someone to rob the bank so i can go home early.

currently working at the drive-thru at the location near walmart. my coworkers are very pretty and young and have small children. i feel bad for them but they are happier than i am i think.

take me

"An eagle soars overhead, clutching a Confederate flag in its talons and chewing tobbaco in its rugged beak while simultaneously screeching the Price is Right theme song..."

my recurring day dream is interrupted by the actual theme song to the Price is Right, hosted now by a ghoulish Drew Carey, a skeletal gameshow host version of his former improv self. The TV perches in a corner, so Drew can watch me make deposits, withdrawals, and cash checks for Ipshemeg locals. Between customers I scowl at Drew, getting single moms and college students excited about the prospect of a new car, only to watch them lose at a challenge that is designed to have no wins. the only contestants that win are featured at the end of the show, and usually win living room sets or 3 day trip to New York. The players at the start of the game are still incredibly excited and literally jump up and down like children, squeeling at the opportunity to win (but more likely lose) a jetski on TV. The couples wear matching tee shirts with hopeful slogans emblazoned in Sharpie like 'it's our anniversary!!!!' or 'i'm feeling lucky!'.

The commercials for this brand of depressing daytime television include 'As Seen on TV' products, and different kinds of electric wheelchairs and hearing-aids.

I don't yet have the courage to ask for the remote. I'm not even sure there is a remote. The other tellers are all women, ranging in age from 22 to around 60. They all have children, and 3/6 take regular smoke breaks. These women are easily excitable and constantly reference ailing family members and low-profile gossip, which does little to brighten the predominantly gray and beige interior of the bank. I have little to contribute to their ritualized gossip, as most of my friends live 60 miles eastward in a Chicago suburb. Ginger, although I'm not sure this is her real name, frequently tells me about her ex-husband and latest sexual conquests. She is the closest to me age (her 22 to my 20), so I am obligated to feign interest in her most recent purchases and photos of her two year old son. She changes her hair frequently and wears jeans with rhinestones on days other that 'casual Friday'. I considered her attractive on my first day, probably because she was the only employee not significantly overweight (she's actually quite skinny). Her beauty quickly faded when she returned from a weeklong stay in Guadalejara, her olive skin suddenly a deep orange, and her normally brown curls now a stick straight jet black.


Wayne Brady has taken Drew Carey's place, and 'The Price is Right' is now 'Let's Make a Deal'. This gameshow is identically to the former, but it's evidently 'hip' and 'young' via a youngish black comedian host and more interactive challenges. Instead of flustered grandmothers guessing the price of canned soup, twenty-somethings in costumes participate in skits that somehow end in the acquisition of either luxury handbags or 'zonk' prizes, ie furry plates or a 10 foot long pencil. Unfortunately, contestants don't actually receive these faux prizes. The main difference between the two shows is that contestants that have won something can choose to trade that prize in and potentially win larger prizes.

The current challenge, an offensive skit about a turban clad fortune teller, is suddenly cut short. A hand clutching the remote, followed by an arm, extends past my head and shuts off the TV.
Clumsily, i spin my low quality office chair to meet my employer's tiny blue eyes. I cheerily offer a "hi!!!" and am met with a sterner than i'd like,

"Hello. Could you follow me to my office?"

I momentarily consider staying in my chair, pretending I've suddenly had a mini-stroke like Frankie Muniz.

I awkwardly climb the musty stairs, following him, unable to peel my eyes away from his flat 48 year old ass. His office is a cramped yet unusually clean nook in the corner of the second floor. Tucked behind the women's restroom and supply closet. Despite the location, the office has an almost fresh scent, and I find myself wishing it stank so I could more easily hate him. He is trying to contort his  round, pink cherubic face into a look of dissapointment (sp??? no spell check on this fucking computer).

"We're concerned about your internet usage. We need you to complete the assigned tasks before surfing the net. You could lose your computer priveleges if you continue abusing your inernet priveleges. I have been told you were even using the internet during your training."

He pauses, waiting for my explanation.
I consider slowly unbuttoning my floral chiffon blouse, like I saw in a film once. Maybe a mini-stroke after I take off my shirt. After a few seconds I retardedly reply,

"Hmmm. yes. I will...work on.."

"Just take some iniative. Ask the other tellers if they need anything. Even if you're only here for the summer, you need to keep up with the other employees."

"Ohh. Okay, yeah. Sorry about that."

I slowly get up, letting him know I'm leaving but he has time to say other stuff if he chooses to.
He doesn't.

I leave and feel like crying. Then I consider how much more 'trouble' people get into at real jobs and how I am doomed to poor work performances for the rest of my life. I leave hastily, before any actual tears.

I return to my 'desk' (really just part of a countertop at the 'drive-thru' section of the bank), feeling almosy angry at Drew Carey for contributing to my low productivity. In an effort to look busy, I recount bands of one dollar bills by hand, punishing myself.

prompt:

this is my 6th hour watching cbs.. all of the daytime programming is bordering unbearable. i think this is a government ploy to encourage people to get jobs since there won't be anything good on tv during the day. i am currently watching 'the talk' which is the 'the view' with darlene from roseanne on it. she's the angsty, gay(?) one. the overweight black lady is the black one and one of the funnier ones. sharon osbourne is the famous one. my feet really smell but i like it. i haven't showered since saturday but i think i like it. i'm stressed about this vanderbilt thing but i would also be stressed about going back to washu. everything stresses me out. i find myself very easily stimulated lately, which perhaps is a product of my increased introversion. i'm extremely unproductive in the company of friends, so the alone time is good for increasing my 'artistic' output ie sketchbooking and illustrator. whenever i see certain friends now i'm really animated and 'fun'. i'm convincing myself this is a good trade-off since i can develop my 'skills', assuming they exist.

i'm really bonding w my room. i think it's my favorite room that exists. i can't really think of any rooms i love right now though. i really like the art library. that's really just one large room. maybe that's my sercond favorite room.

oh no that wayne brady 'price is right' type show is on. i don't get it, wayne brady and drew carey(?) should quit being shitty gameshow hosts and have another improv special. wayne brady has a wonderfully shiny bald head. i remember having a lot of sexual fantasies about the bald comedian on  a hawaiian cruise w my family. the comedian seemed liked he hated his life a proportionate amount to being a cruise comedian. he was pretty funny and i really wanted to fuck him. i think i was 17 at the time. maybe 16. i ate a lot of pineapple on that trp and puked a really acidic pineapple puke. i think i was depressed at this point in my life.

i'm very stressed out about this semester and my writing and my art and i don't know how much to care about having friends or making new ones or even connecting with people i don't already know.

yung death

a couple days ago, dylan pitman killed himself.

dylan is one of those people that I see once or twice a year (since high school) and still get nervous and tight-chested around. my middle school crush on him has never ever ever subsided, and i've always been completely fascinated with him. i've literally never met anyone funnier in my life, and although that humour came from a very dark place, it brightened everyone around him. i don't know who failed dylan, if anyone. i don't know which institution could've worked harder to prove his worth to him. but it isn't that simple. david foster wallace uses a metaphor for suicide that reads something like, suicide is jumping out of a building that's already on fire. it is the less painful of two deaths. to choose life in such a situation is to choose a slower, more painful death. dylan hasn't wanted to be alive for a while, and maybe it would suffice to say the world wasn't ready for his spirit and sharpness.

tyler perry's escape from auschwitz

the opening scene begins in media res; camera pans into a bird's eye view of a dark cell being slowly vacated by gaunt prisoners. a few shots later, only one prisoner remains. tyler perry lies eskew, covered in excrement and sobbing quitely. '

doing things is hard!!!!

i'm trying to learn things and draw things and read things but i still spend more time watching things! i'm currently 'enrolled' in codecademy, an online html and css tutorial that is super well-designed and honestly sort of fun. After a few days of having it at least I can recognize code and set up a document. It's definitely a rush to finally have some exposure into the language, but i'm reallyjust looking forward to making my own webpages.

another lil project i'm thinking about (haven't started at all) is putting these here blog posts (i think there are 47 at this pt) into indesign and designing them into a book, with a front and back cover and w.e else. i'm not gonna illustrate it too much, but i'll add in captions with the photos. i really don't want to lose any indesign knowledge so i have to force myself to work in it.

i also have a good amount of drawings i want to put into illustrator and then upload onto my portfolio. i'm not sure how to present them or how to print them out so i have to look at some examples maybe.

also also also i looked up some design exercises online; a lot of them center around designing a logo for an imaginary company, but i have literally no idea where to start for that one.

a plastic bag filled with helium

recently i read an article about a brooklyn couple who hosted a self-help radio program together and subsequently committed suicide together. i read their individual biographies, and the seemed like a 'normal' creative couple, as in they fought, played in bands, went to shows, w/e. is there anything more romantic than committing suicide together? the implication is that neither of them can live without the other while also being unable to live at all. so it appears that the joint suicide is a compromise of sorts and through the romantic implications seems somehow less tragic than if only one had done it.

also the method of suicide employed is interesting, as it is a departure from the usual wrist-cutting, shooting, jumping, etc. it's less glamourous for one thing and seems 'safer'. no blood. no mangled parts strewn over the bathroom or intersection.

and so it seems i've found my preferred method of suicide if the time comes for it: helium in a plastic bag! yay!