March 3, 2009

potpourri blog.

this is going to be kind of long because i have a lot of ideas for some reason, k.

so i've been on a banana binge these last few days for some reason. it's really weird. since sunday i've had like six bananas. including the one i'm eating right now. hahaha. nomnom. then i wondered if it had to do with the fact i want a banana tattoo, but i haven't been thinking of that lately. i just got the sudden urge to eat a banana and they've been so good that i keep eating them. i told carrie and she said that something's wrong with me. she's on acid though so whatever. and the best part is eating this banana with a coke from mexico. in a glass bottle. that i had to open with a knife. mmmmmmm platasi. you get it!?! only mayra and derek will really get it. anyway next subject...i rediscovered my love for art/museums yesterday because i was looking at random ass shit online and somehow ended up being sad that i haven't been to my dad's work in...forever. i was seriously against that place for the longest time cuz i've been there like a million fucking times. but now i wanna go. so spring break? we're going. and by we i mean everyone. i don't care actually. as long as i go i'll be happy. it's like i'm retarded for having a dad who works at the getty museum and i don't wanna go. :| and you know it's not like it's the same thing everytime. i feel like i need to dedicate myself into going more often and just sit there and stare at something. i should go on acid! that would be insane actually so nevermind. i haven't even been to the getty villa! and that disappoints me now. i just never wanted to go with my family cuz they're so boring sometimes. not you mayra, you're cool. the point is, it's something that i've appreciated for a longlong time. and it's not only because my dad has worked there for ten damn years. it's because it's the first really interesting thing i learned in elementary.which leads me to my next subject, GATE. i bonded with samantha via text for a little bit over this. GATE was this kick ass program i started in third grade and kept doing until ninth grade. actually i still did it ninth grade. anyway, it was the Gifted And Talented Education program. and basically all the kids with brain power got to leave school in the middle of the day and go to another school and learn about random ass relevant to life shit. like one year it was all art where we learned about monet and renoir and van gogh and degas and kahlo. and learning about space and color and strokes and canvas. and one year it was all architecture about buildings and bridges. and one year it was all crime solving. it was so cool! and i fucking loved going to it. during winter break i was looking through all my old papers in a filing cabinet my dad has, and i found a bunch of GATE folders. everything we did was so creative and shit that it made me sad i don't do things like that now. we got to play with flubber stuff once. actually it was oobleck. from dr. seuss. you know? that green stuff and it's all sticky and crazy. anyway, we had to build a spaceship model out of limited certain supplies and it had to be able to land on the oobleck and stay floating for like 30 seconds or something. and my partner was yen! idk how i remembered that right now. anywho, you basically had to figure out that it couldn't be too heavy so it should have lots of parts. and that it had to have flat stand things because a stick would just be swallowed. and that aluminum didn't stick to it as much as paper. it was genius. and ours totallyyyy floated and we passed and we were awesome. and one time we had to build a suspended bridge that would hold hot wheels. the more cars it could hold the better. and one time there was a "murder" and we had to figure out who done it. kinda like clue but not as cheesy. in all, GATE was probably one of the best experiences of my childhood. even though a lot saw me as some lame skinny girl i was still happy to be better than everyone. because i was better than half the student population. i take that back, i still am better.

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