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CoffeeRevolutionary
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Name: Ariel
Gender: Female
Interests: I like drawing, writing, coffee, music (original, right?), the French language, psychology and sociology, warm slippers, and people watching (in an only slightly creepy way)
Expertise: Writing on birthday cakes, nail polish, and of course, coffee
Occupation: Deerfield Bakery Employee
Industry: Bakery?
Message: message me
Member Since:
12/24/2006
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| Summer is great really, don't you think? None of my thoughts are really cohesive right now, so here's everything...
Signs that the guy I almost dated is flamingly gay:
1. When I call him, his ring-back is "Dancing through Life" from Wicked...the musical.
2. He is studying to be a nurse
3. I received this text message from him: "Whats up pussycat? Woah oh oh *sings*"
I could go on, but as they say, three strikes and you're out.
Friend zone. It's like the end zone, except you never score.
I've noticed that when you limit a guy's access zone to one area, he goes all out.
For instance, if you feel no attraction to him whatsoever and just let him touch your hands, he'll go overboard with the thumb circles, and sliding his fingers through yours. He's basically saying 'this is what I wanna do to your pussy/tits/various body parts'. Subtle.
If you make out with him, but don't want him to take off your clothes, eventually he always seems to start kissing your ear. This always creeps me out immensely and makes me self conscious of my ear hygiene. I dislike having tongue in my ear.
Does hating a five year old make me a terrible person? Cause I hate this one five year old, "Jose" at the camp where I work in the mornings. He always sits on me. He always tries to touch my boobs. He doesn't listen to directions. He flat out ignores requests to behave. I don't care that he's five! He's a pervy asshole!
Why would anyone think that texting is an appropriate medium for a serious conversation?
I saw Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and Steven Winwood on Wednesday. It was amazing. Mary Jane's Last Dance is my theme song. Oh the memories. Haha, I'm only eighteen, so that statement was amusing. Okay.
I have a long distance friend with benefits. Except the whole thing with long distance is that there aren't any benefits. So basically he's just a long distance friend, right? And also, can I say that phone sex is really really funny when you have bad reception......yeah, it is. And I have no clue what is considered good phone sex etiquette. Is it like real sex, where he's just allowed to pass out after he comes? If I can't really tell if he's come yet, am I supposed to ask, or just keep going till he tells me to stop? He can tell me what to do, but is there any way to tell a guy to jerk himself off without sounding utterly comical? There really ought to be a manual or something for this sort of thing.
Well...
I'm done!
Kike is back! I'm so happy!
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| The first week of camp counseling/ one-on-one aiding was pretty good. I can't say much about it due to confidentiality issues, but it was alright, just kind of tiring. I'm working about 35 hours a week, which is a lot for me! I keep going to bed really late too, which probably isn't helping. I can't seem to hang up the phone. I usually hate talking on the phone, but lately, I've been talking to a certain friend for hours...No, it's not love, I'm not that stoned off my meds.
I am depressedish at the moment because I am reading The Bell Jar by Plath, but it will wear off as soon as I get out of my house. I don't really understand why I choose to read depressing books or listen to sad songs. "High Days" by Bert Jansch, for instance, always makes me want to cry, but I can't stop listening to it. Maybe I secretly like being depressed.
Really though, I think that books and music appeal to me because they articulate feelings that are already present in the back of my mind. Very deep and shit.
What are some good depressing songs and books?
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| I woke up today around ten thirty, half in bed and half on the floor. My neck was really sore, and my feet were really cold, as they were basically chilling out in the air, about a foot above my pillows. I had a really weird dream too, that I was at a party but it was in my friend's basement and my math teacher from freshman year, Mr. Cho was there doing keg stands. We were doing the Curtis to yet another Death From Above 1979 remix, when suddenly we all started floating a bit and turning various shades of orange.
I'm really cheerful though, and it's starting to scare me. I think my meds are working way too well. It's like being stoned every morning. Yay Cymbalta and Vivance combos! My kind of cocktail.
I think I have the general horn today. I really just want to make love to everything! Even inanimate objects and stuff. It's definitely some side effect of the chemicals in my brain, but I kind of like it. I remember some stand up comedian saying "I try so hard not to treat women like objects that I end up having to treat objects like women." That made me giggle like a small child.
These are some current objects of my affection:
Red Tulip blooming in my front yard. I want to kiss it! I'm in love.
Kevin Barnes. He's crazy, I'm crazy. We could go out and throw rocks through windows or we could make sweet sweet love in a fitting room of a children's clothing store, haha, or both.
The bells at Stanford University. I love them, good vibrations.
Any window ever painted by Van Gogh. I especially love the one in his bedroom at Arles. Are the shutters going in or out? I can't tell, but it turns me on!
James Mercer, as always, the beautiful Kevin Spacey look alike. I love him!
Red paint. The texture, the color, I love it, I LOVE it. I'm fucking psychotic, I'm stoned or something, I'm IN LOVE!
So you see, I'm crazy, I'm crazy, but it's so much fun. I think this is what neurosyphilis feels like. Al Capone must have died a wonderful death. This is fantastic really.
I gotta go enjoy it, I can't fucking help myself!
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| So, in case you perverts were disappointed with the last post, here are some pictures of me from prom.
 
I didn't realize, but the dress kind of makes me look like I have no waist.
I do have a waist. I also look really pissy in the first picture.
So, it was my birthday yesterday. I'm eighteen, hoo yeah.
My friends and I went to the Blind Faith Cafe for delicious vegetarian cuisine.
Funny, cause they all got me books and music for my birthday- I love them! They know me too well, I'm a total lit nerd/ music nerd.
Anyhow, I am happy, and it is summer, and living isn't the only thing that's easy.
My job starts May 31st, and I am abstaining from all illegal substances until I know for sure whether or not I'm getting tested. Sober summer, oh yeaaaah.
It's still freezing in Chicago, but it will warm up soon, I have faith.
...I read this post again a few days later, and it's nauseatingly cheerful. What's happening to me?
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| Prom was good, got back home at four in the afternoon.
Can I just say that I dance like a total dork?
I either end up doing my comically exaggerated booty dance or my equally comical "indie-cred" dance (basically you hunch over your shoulders and sway back and forth, side to side, like you're having a seizure). Sometimes I break into lead-singer-dance impersonations to spice things up. I'm best at the Axl Rose, but Ian Curtis is fun too.
It's all good though. I've discovered that if you look comfortable with yourself, no one really notices or cares that you are dancing like a freak.
Anyhow, Tuesday is my last day of high school.
It's really weird, cause freshman year I didn't think I would ever make it to graduation, but now that I'm a week or so away, I'm kind of gonna miss everyone.
I guess I sort of found my niche after four years.
I'm still psyched for summer and for college though!
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