Fuck you guys,

I'm going to build my own army of friends


and when I am done with them I will grind the up and sprinkle their powder-fine carcases over my morning latte.

I never thought I would find a would find a worse biography/autobiography title than Lute Olson's




(That's his name with an exclimation point in the title and, in case you don't know, Lute! is a basketball coach at UA hence the 'seasons of my life' part) gag


...Until:






Bleh

Exactly what I've been thinking the past week.

edit
To clarify I mean this in only the most hilarious way and am in no way having doubts about my hair. It's like it's getting me one step closer to Lindsay Lohan this way.

Go me.

I should not be a blogger

Oh my god.

Somebody found my blog by googling a horrible misspelling.

Google: tracher

I should not be a tracher




I should stop blogging only when I'm drinking.







Nah.

A while ago my BFF for fucking ever and ever came to visit me in Iowa. You may remember her from such posts as Here is a list of reasons why visiting me is better than whatever the hell you are doing right now, Photojournalism, and Long Overdue. While she was here we attended the Sanctuary's very last ever half priced wine bottle night. (before I start this next part remember: it's the Sanctuary's very last ever half priced wine bottle night and you would have done the same thing) We get wasted.

On the walk home we pass by this highly stylized old house with a huge banner on the outside "The Sullivan Gang." Alana has been asking what that is all week and I have no idea. We walk by, I hear Alana declare "The light's on," and she hangs a hard left and marches into the house. I, naturally, blindly follow.

Now, I swear to god in the days leading up to this moment we really thought the Sullivan Gang was some kind of non-profit, grassroots activist organization. We get inside and here are three stoner kids with a pile of drums and guitars watching Elvis.

Alana demands to know, "What is this!?"

They play for us, I insist they watch Biodome instead of Elvis, and eventually we leave.

***

Lucky for me the Sullivan Gang is right on my walk to and from school/teaching/library/downtown/bars/coop. Yeah.

I manage to make it over a month before seeing the Sullivan Gang Kid again. I'm walking home from school and some speedy fucker passes me on the sidewalk. I see the back of his head (I am wicked good at recognizing hair styles). Oh shit. I don't say anything.

He gets about 15 feet ahead of me and turns around. I fiddle with my iZune. He totally knows who I am.

He continues walking and I recall the point in that night when Alana realized she lost her phone and we WENT BACK TO THE SULLIVAN GANG HOUSE. Alana ransacked the living room and I sat on the edge of the Sullivan Gang Kid's armchair watching the Elvis tape he apparently put back into the VCR. He pulled me down and then I was sitting in the Sullivan Gang Kid's armchair. This was fine until Alana came back and I got embarrassed so I said (I swear to god), "Alana is looking for her phone and I'm... I'm doing this."

Brilliant.

While I'm walking behind Sullivan Gang Kid I remember saying that and literally start LAUGHING OUT LOUD.

He hears me.

He turns around and here I am laughing out loud by myself in the middle of the day.

I stop.

He lingers at the corner where we should be turning up Bowery together. I charge ahead, through the traffic light and end up walking and extra two blocks out of my way because that kid must think

I AM

FUCKING

INSANE.




...and I never want to talk to him again.







...and this is all your fault Alana.

I hate facebook applications.

For some reason, as Chris has alerted me as well as a handful of emails (is it really worth the five minute loading time it has been taking recently to find out from an email that Internet is running slow? Is it really worth doing it three times?) Mediacom has been running slow the past couple days. No big deal, I'm a big girl, I can sit quietly and wait while Internet loads up old school style. I can even remember the noises it use to make and can do them quietly to myself while I wait.

So I got one of those facebook evites to a thing this Friday night and I go in to confirm that yes, I will be bringing my jazz hands to the Legion for karaoke-party-bar night-global event. I click attending. I wait for Internet to stick my little picture in the attending section. And I wait... And all the while there's this little request thing to take a quizzie that will tellme what breed of horse I am.

Normally I can resist that shit. Easily. I'm sitting here waiting for a page to load, however, and growing slightly bored. I start to wonder, what horse breed am I? I know a lot about horses. Maybe this quizzie isn't so bad. I should do it. I'm gonna do it.

...As soon as this page loads.

So the page loads and I'm ready for my horse breed quiz. It asks me how I would react if someone riding me (heh heh... I am clearly not mature enough for this quizzie) was giving me confusing signals, what do I do if someone startles me in a corn maze, and how do I handle a tense situation at work (interestingly enough make things worse for everybody wasn't an option).

I finish the hard hitting five questions, say 'no' to the 'send this quiz to your friends option' (you assholes can thank me later), and get this as a result:



WTF Facebook?



Really, W T F.

I walk out of my house two days ago and think I see something small and furry slither away from me. I jump and yell "ewww" at it before realizing that it's a squirrel. I feel bad for saying ew at it until I realize that it's back legs and tail are paralyzed and it actually was slithering about like some kind of squirrley little snake-walrus thing. So I tell him, You're so gross. And leave.

Two days later and the poor little guy is still hiding under my deck. I go out this afternoon and leave him some cat food, because Jesus Christ.

The cat follows me out and sees the squirrel for the first time.

This is how pathetic this little guy is:

First off my cat isn't even mildly interested in him as prey. Ransom walks over, looks at him, sits, walks away. He does this about three times and the poor little squirrel is about to pop an artery he's so freaked out. The fourth time Ranse gets a step too close and the little squirrel goes waddling out from under the deck and heads STRAIGHT FOR A TREE. Little pea brain squirrel instincts at work here. However, since his entire bottom half is paralyzed, he gets to the base of the trunk and can't do a damn thing. So he starts making frantic circles around the bottom trying to figure out a way up, but really all he manages is to get himself more worked up. Meanwhile, Ranse doesn't give a shit and is still under the deck inspecting something more interesting, like a leaf or juicy bit of newspaper clipping.



I watch both of them, for a bit but then go inside because the whole thing is too damn sad.

I recently attended a huge family party in Davenport, Iowa.

Early in the night I'm standing with my friend Santiago and I realize a little boy has come out of nowhere and is staring at me. So, naturally, I stare at him thinking he'll, you know, stop. He doesn't. I get uncomfortable.

Me: Hi.

Boy: Hi.

And he's still staring at me, not in a nice way either. I need backup.

Me: Santiago, there's a boy looking at me.

Santiago: (looking up from his iPhone(yeah)) What? Oh hey, there is a boy looking at you.

The kid doesn't move or look away.

Santiago: How's it going?

Kid:

I'm panicking a bit on the inside now. He's still looking at me. Trying to make him equally uncomfortable clearly isn't working. I think to myself (not kidding about this part) 'OK, Carina you can do this.' And I attempt to engage with him like he's a real person.

Me: I like your shoes.

The kid takes off running.

I turn to Santiago.

Me: I thought that went well, didn't you?

Santiago: Yeah

Sorry homeless man I can't spare a dollar today because I spent all my money on THIS:

Goodbye mullet

I should not be a teacher or be in charge of the care of small creatures

The very same day I told my student to prey upon his weaker classmates I was involved in this conversation:

My girl has just pitched her group's project idea which involves feeding her cat catnip.

Student 1:
What exactly does catnip do to a cat?

Student 2:
I hear it's effects are very similar to that of LSD in humans.

Student 1:
Wouldn't that be bad for the cat? Like, doesn't LSD kill brain cells?

Me:
Yeah, but think about it, how many brain cells does a cat really need?

Same student as below:
I can't believe you just said that.

...I really need to stop sitting next to this kid.

I should not be a tracher

I'm teaching the other day.

Student:
Has this class always required you to work in pairs?

Me:
Yes, always. And it's good for you.

Student:
Well, that should be in the course description because I have some projects I intended to work on in this class.

Me:
You have access to the equipment, do the project outside of class time.

Student:
They will take too much time. I was planning on having class time.

I swear to god this was my teacherly response...

Me:
Well then, choose somebody weak.

Student 2 (who was just casually sitting next to me):
I can't believe you just said that.

Where is my teaching medal?

I'm sorry, I can't engage with you now, I'm too busy creating meaning

Me:
Hey, if you or your girlfriend are interested in getting out of Iowa City and meeting some non-film/art people I volunteer and help people with disabilities learn to ride horses. I go Saturday mornings, you could come along.

Co-MFA:
Oh, we can't do Saturdays.

Me:
Well, I'm thinking of adding an extra day, I've been a little bored. Maybe that will work better for you.

MFA:
You're bored?

Me:
Uh.

MFA:
How could you possibly be bored?

Me:
Mostly I just want to add another day. I really like the volunteer thing.

MFA:
Why would you do that? Shouldn't you be making films during that time?

Me:
Well, you're right. I probably should be making art for art's sake instead of donating my time and skills to help less fortunate members of my community.

MFA:
...when you put it that way.

Let me introduce my stupid neighbors

My neighbors had a party a few days ago (you remember when it was warm, back before it dropped like 40 fucking degrees in one day). Right, so I woke up the next morning to discover it had been a beach themed party complete with tikki torches, Corona bottles, and a slip 'n slide. Fun, huh?

Here is a diagram of how much fun it must have been:




Dude.

2533 0e

The 'fn' b4tt6n 6n 0y 2eyb6ard 5s st4c2 6n.



And 0y 5nterent 5s br62en and n6t gett5ng f5xed 4nt53 sat4rday.




h6t 0ess.

Bleh...

How gross is it that Kitty and I have a cold at the SAME TIME?

Ranse planted himself by the fish tank for half an hour really thinking hard about how to get the fish out without getting his paws wet.

Tom Doniphon and Dutton Peabody and a snail named Doc Willoughby

Liberty Valance

Ransom

What's the deal ladies?

For the third semester in a row I only have one girl in a video production class.



WTF?



We can't get ladies into production courses, it seems.



Miracles has the same problem with men.



No boys want to hang out with disabled people.



I guess they're too busy fondling their six thousand dollar cameras and boom poles.

Waay ahead of his time.

It was my first day back at Miracles and also the big 20th anniversary celebration. Many of the students, volunteers, and community members came out for the lessons, demonstrations, and horse-face cake.

I helped out with the drill team demonstration, which basically meant I walked around with a lead rope for 20 minutes while the very independent students did their thing to some god awful music clearly picked simply because it had the word 'miracle' in the title.

Luckily, I got to stand with one of my favorite students who I haven't seen in months.

And, somehow, in those months he got waaay cooler.



Here's why he is cooler than me:


First he bleached his hair, not white-ish, but yellow. YELLOW, yellow.


Next, he was sporting some neon pink shades (almost famous sunglasses, but pink all over)


Matching stonewashed jeans and jean jacket which had been hand altered with neon orange, yellow, pink, and green signatures and drawings (I assume from his transition center comrades)


Black Chucks with neon pink laces


and, because he has to sit through the same drill team song every week waiting for his own lesson, he had choreographed his own dance which he performed just for the very few of us on top of one of the back tables.




Total rock star.

Cornhole, anyone?

I swear the guys in the house next to mine have been playing bags everyday for a week straight.


You might say, "Carina, you haven't even been in town for a good bit of the past week!"


I can tell though.






They're just that good.