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Cluck old hen, cluck I said…

…You the best hen that ever laid an egg. Sometimes one, sometimes two. Sometimes enough for the whole crew…

What’s a girl to do when she’s never where she wants to be? And then when she is, she knows it’s only temporary and she’ll soon have to return to the stale, over-priced country she came from? Don’t get me wrong, I love England. It’s so familiar and beautiful in its own old and British way. But when can I have my house in New England, with a porch! Where I can watch storms! And drink fucking Butterbeer!

That’s only one life I want to live, by the way. I have several others that I want to act out. I could go into detail, but I won’t. Perhaps I am thinking to much about future plans that aren’t important yet. I can’t help daydreaming! Or night dreaming, for that matter. I think I’m addicted to dreaming which is why I find it difficult to wake up, because I dream every-single-night. I really ought to be getting on with the pressing matters at hand right now, not researching the cost of hiring a jumbo jet…why, you ask? That is another secret plan.

Here are some photos of good things/old things/new things/good things/good things.

Ricky and I went out at some ridiculous hour when the campus was asleep and put these posters up for Tota’s birthday. When we woke up the next morning, they were almost all gone. Apparently he had taken as many as he could down, but we took comfort in the fact that several of his friends had also taken some as souvenirs. I think he offered beer to those who returned them to him, but I don’t know how successful he was. I hope not very.

What’s good in Maine? Nothing, if you’re going there on a day trip. Except this cat that what be looking angry.

Hi, Bhaff.

An example of a New England storm. They’re always sexy.

Chase is the fattest dog I ever did see. He will eat everything. He ate an entire jumbo bag of Reeces White Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups while we were all sleeping. Wrappers and all. He reminds me of a turkey in this photo, because he’s too big to have his legs underneath him, so they stick out at the back. Aw.

Ricky’s Aunt gave me this book, The Act of Marriage: A Christian Guide to Sexual Love. It’s very informative. Particularly on homosexuality (sexually deviant behaviour, over 100,000 recruiting in California alone!…it was published in 1976.) And masturbation (wrong, a waste and it defrauds your wife) And what to do if your wife is frigid (pray, then try doing her anyway.)

Sorry, Tota. I had a paper due in a few hours, so naturally, I had to procrastinate.

A gift for Ricky. It’s the closest he’s come to having a threesome. I think.

It’s always good to end on a high note.

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This plane is all I got, so keep it steady now.

I’m home.

It’s strange to me that I’m still familiar with the layout of my house in the dark - light switches; the number of steps on the stairs; sharp corners to avoid etc.

I anticipated that people would ask me if I was happy to be home, nevertheless it’s a question I don’t know how to answer anymore. I mean…I do know how to answer it, I just don’t like repeating myself so much.

I am excited to see my English friends and I especially can’t wait to see Special K and Kyle. And I’m excited that I have Shivani’s wedding to distract me, but then what?

When I don’t have any of these things to occupy my time I just don’t want to move an inch. I feel like if I do it’s just going to be a cascade of sadness that will make me want to collapse because it hurts so much. As I result I feel like I’ve been avoiding talking to certain American people. Which is awful because I don’t want them to think that I’ve forgotten about them already. I just can’t think about them right now for very long. Just sitting in the departure lounge waiting to board was so traumatising. I know Ricky and I would sit in the courtyard in the early hours of the morning and discuss how we’d cope with this - because we knew it was coming. I don’t think either of us came up with any solutions. Skype isn’t a solution, it’s a very shitty compromise.

Oh, and please don’t say anything - I think my accent was to be expected.

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formspring.me

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/chetski

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formspring.me

I WANT TO DO IT, TOO! http://formspring.me/chetski

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From tea to shining sea.

Hello.

I’m drinking British tea out of a mug that reads, God Bless America. Irony, perhaps? Or simply my way of expressing my love of both cultures? Like one of those cliché photographs of a black hand shaking a white hand? You know, but with tea?

Maybe the black hand and the white hand should both be holding mugs of tea.

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It was the second result.

Alright.

For the record, I am well aware that the music I am listening to is probably contributing to this very slow and contemplative mood that I am in. As well as the fact that we have just come back from a wonderful long weekend on the Cape - where I wish I still was - eating an excess amount of bagels and cream cheese “bought” from the ECC.

I am having that feeling of nostalgia again, but this time for situations that have not occurred as yet? I don’t know. I’m having very vague, fuzzy memories of places I haven’t been (at least not in this lifetime?) They remind me of a photograph you take of a room or a place, but with the sun facing you, so that the whole image becomes orange and warm and romantic. But I can’t quite make out the surroundings in order to give the place an actual name.

I don’t know.

Anyway. Why is it people are so easy to accept that others can change for the worst, yet not the better? No specific occurrences have led to me asking this, by the way. I was just thinking about it as I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair yesterday. Does it have something to do with the idea that people are all (apparently) inherently evil? I can’t accept that.

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A-a a-a-a-a, a bird? Yeah!

Good day to you.

I’m sitting in the Permanent Collections Gallery in the art building waiting for people to come and submit their art for the BRIDGEWATER STATE COLLEGE 46TH ANNUAL STUDENT ART EXHIBIT!!!!! !! ! There are lots of lovely paintings on the walls, and two giant gold statues of Buddha and other sculptures that quite honestly, I wouldn’t be appreciating had I not come here and taken a class introducing me to art outside of photography. So now I actually enjoy going to galleries, and seeing a painting/drawing/sculpture etc excites me more than seeing someone’s photos. I see this as a good thing. It helps me understand art on, I guess, a deeper? level. Plus, it makes me giddy to see art work or an artist that I might have studied in class. I suppose, I’m starting to ‘get it’ now.

Anyway.

I have not yet been to bed, as I stayed in the art building all night. I wish Manchester was open all night. I’m only ever motivated to do work after midnight.

Oh, and Riz shaved Andrew Patota.

Toodles.