no stone lions for me

The (original) Haunting is one of the first movies I remember watching when I was tiny. Okay I wasn't TOO tiny when I watched it, I think I was six. But still, it's very creepy for that age. It's sucha a good one though I still adore it, so my mom and I rented it tonight and watched it after the Trick Or Treaters were done.

As for my day: I can't help but notice no one got shot. Or that I have the boringest classes and the lovliest friends around.



MOP
TIL YOU
DROP

For some reason I just thought of that day at the end of week four when we mopped the lodge twice over. It was the horriblest work but I was willing to do it, I freakin love Camp. And when I grow up I want to be like Kaffrin Wevohbee (so what if she's two years younger?)

performance art

So I was carving a pumpkin when Amber called. She called to complain about and ask for ideas for this installation piece she has to do for a class on Saturday, but we ended up talking for over an hour. We talked about applications and portfolios and scholarships and art schools vs. liberal arts. I find comfort in the fact that I'm not the only one who's scared or confused or completely and totally undecided. We brainstormed to come up with something for her installation and during that I thought of a couple pieces I might try.

But sometimes art is just a joke.

You can draw something in a matter of seconds and it could get oohed and aahed or you could spend days or weeks and the thing won't get a second glance. You just have to know when and where to stop and you need to stop right at the least amount necessary to get the reaction you want. So am I so great for knowing when to stop? Or does everyone have this knowledge?

The same tools and materials are available to everyone in this world so how can I use them in a way that's different and exciting?

This summer at the Pre-College Prog, this girl made a huge square out of oyster crackers, then filmed herself walking on them. And this is art. But where does it get you?


/////////////////

Then I get off the phone, read for a little bit, then get on MySpace and I have a new message, copied from a message that was sent to a friend:

[Subject: uhhhhh okay
Body: And I'm not the only one who thinks you and carly are straight up bitches together.
Its pretty much everyone.
And I'm letting you know that in the nicest way possible.]


Why can't the people I love and love me live closer? And the ones who think it's no big deal to call their friends "bitches"..... why can't they be the ones three hours away who I only talk to every other week on the phone?

shakin' it for some paper

Right about now I think Money Maker is the best song in existence. And every time I turn on the radio hoping it will come up next it totally does which just makes my life each time.



Summaries of a couple important letters:

"Dear Carly
Your portfolio is progressing well, with strong foundations of photographic skills. The photographic work showed strong personal visions. I encourage you to apply at this time. I think you would make a wonderful addition to our community of artists."

"Dear Carly,
Please note that if you follow up with this provisional offer, a further review of your portfolio, essay and resume will not be required.
Congratulations on your successful portfolio review!"

a.k.a. I'm not horribly un-gifted. Not horribly un-gifted at all.


This past weekend was too busy for my liking. We had a four-day weekend because of a teachers' convention, but I spent Thursday and Friday morning at school making (crappy) props for Seussical the Musical.
"Why did we volunteer to do this?" (kyra)
"For a picture in the yearbook. And a t-shirt." (me)
"This sucks" (ky)
"Picture. T-shirt. Picture. T-shirt" (me)
And Wednesday Friday and Saturday nights were spent at Enchanted Forest. Outside. In the freeezing outside. But we got hot appley cider and that makes up for it.

It went late on Saturday and I had the Man House Halloween to go to. So I take everyone home, get gas, go home and change into my costume, and by this time it's almost 11. When I finally get there I see Boosh outside and say hi for a minute, then go inside................... and the lights are off and there's a black light a smoke machine and rap playing. I know THREE people inside. Okay maybe more but only three are people I'm friends with / people I'd expect to be there. It was just the most awkward feeling ever. And I caught Boosh just before she left,then I was by myself, called Bolivia, bailed, and after talking to her for about an hour, I picked her up and we went to Perkins. So the night wasn't horrible.



Through all the changes of everyone I know, one thing remains constant. One feeling that'll probably never go away.

I know I shouldn't hate the fact that things aren't what they used to be because I'm someone who gets bored very easily by routine.

Since last writing in this I'm not a totally different person. I'm still myself, maybe more so.