Art-O-Matic


One of the best things Madison, WI has revealed to me.

Little chunks of wood roughly the size of a pack of smokes come flying out of an old cigarette machine.

There is something so satisfying about pulling a lever.

You know me and handles, levers and buttons.

I’m the one who emptied out the Galleria in Philly at the mere age of 6.

You should know to keep me away from such things. Every elevator I step into I have a hard time not hitting every single button just to watch the board light up like a freakin’ Christmas tree.

I’ve actually been kept quite busy on my trip to the heartland. Lots of things in my brain still need to settle. While the drama of my arrival into Minnesota is still somewhat heavy in my heart, I’m letting go of it piece by piece. I’ve never dealt well with knowing that someone in this universe hates me. I don’t know why this childish need to be liked by everyone is still somewhat prevelant in my chemical makeup. I simply hate being misunderstood, but sometimes it’s best to walk away and stop explaining yourself because no matter what you do or what you say, the other person has their mind made up. Their opinion of you is not open for debate. They know. And they don’t like you. And you’ve got to be okay with it.

Lovely psychobabble, I know.

And with this, my sees-ter is taking me to the ‘gina monologues tonight. I wonder if this is an interactive ordeal. I know it probably isn’t, but how awesome would it be if I raised my hand and asked to do one.

My ‘gina has been quite pleased with itself these days and may have a lot to say.

Large groups of women sometimes scare me. Too much estrogen in a room and I feel myself start to shrink into my own being, wanting to hide. Maybe because the last time I was surrounded by a gaggle of girls I was at a Melissa Ferrick concert.

*oooooh*

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