For this assignment, you must (1) post the monologue you’ve developed in your seminar AND (2) embed a self-portrait, which can be a photograph, an image, a cartoon, a drawing, or some other depiction of how you see yourself.
25 thoughts on “Post 2: Monologue & Self-Portrait”
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Hi I’m Jiyoung
First of all, I was happy when I got accepted from Baruch which was my goal in high school and also because I met some good friends. But one thing that I don’t like is that studying became so much harder and stressful than the high school because I have to care about my GPA not to be kicked out from school at the same time. I know It sounds like I’m complaining over nothing because everyone is doing well so I have to get used to it. That’s why I want to do better on every subject and I’m actually trying.
And any other things about myself are I like riding bicycle, watching TV and listening to music in my free time to relieve my stress that i get from school.
And the image of myself: http://www.google.com/imgres?hl=en&sa=X&tbo=d&biw=701&bih=614&tbm=isch&tbnid=9B27-pfx6IcxkM:&imgrefurl=http://www.ebsqart.com/Artist/Rebecca-Collins/1396/Art-Portfolio/A-Fancy-Bird/407424/&docid=81wJf5kPc9QR-M&imgurl=http://www.ebsqart.com/Art/Rebecca-Collins/Digital-Painting/407424/650/650/A-Fancy-Bird.jpg&w=650&h=433&ei=P1-dUJbGBerH0AHBmYGYBw&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=366&vpy=111&dur=182&hovh=183&hovw=275&tx=117&ty=91&sig=101062579095854166883&page=1&tbnh=135&tbnw=242&start=0&ndsp=14&ved=1t:429,r:12,s:0,i:125
Often in life, we find ourselves at pause and in need of guidance where there is none.
When all else no longer matters, and we find ourselves perplexed without due cause,
What then do we seek?
Henry rollins once said…“..The Iron is the best antidepressant I have ever found..
The Iron never lies to you…
The Iron is the great reference point, the all-knowing perspective giver..
Friends may come and go. But two hundred pounds is always two hundred pounds”
As we grow older and our perspectives evolve and change,
We ought to notice that the underlying reality that is ever constant.
So what is your point of reference?
When we come to understand our insignificance in this dark and empty expanse that is our universe, what then do we look for pleasure and understanding?
What do you seek?
What drives you when all else seems bleak?
Have you found your point of reference?
Portrait of myself, contemplating but more importantly confused
[IMG]http://i.imgur.com/nju38.jpg[/IMG]
Ugh why do I have to write this monologue? I so tired and sleepy. I think I need 1.21 gigawatts of energy in order to wake me up back to the future that I am planning. Then again Forest Gump once said “life is like a box of chocolates, you never what you’re gonna get”. ANYWAY BACK TO THE MONOLOUGUE.
Who made us write this monologue anyway? I am going to find this person because “what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career”. Just like Batman “merely adopted the dark. I was born in it, molded by it”. In the end, just like Bill and Ted, I will be “most triumphant” and just like Darth Vader I will say “I am your father!”.
This may all end is a negative note and then he or she will be like Gandalf the Grey and say “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!”…this course….and I will be like the terminator and say “I will be back”….next year….
Here is the picture: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/ae/Ursus_arctos_-_Norway.jpg/200px-Ursus_arctos_-_Norway.jpg
DANIEL’S MONOLOGUE:
Is my life related to almost everything that I do at school. I mean between the two I see many things to define myself with. Like in art class where the so-called distinguished professor acts like I am supposed to know everything. I wonder if when I get a new job or even when I get to a new class that I am supposed to automatically know what to do. Or that she actually thinks that I spent my time traveling the world to all the places that she has been to like 50 years ago. But not only in that class, but in English where the professor is constantly staring at me, waiting and pressuring you into saying something. She has the bug eyes that make you feel that like you are always being watched. Everything that comes out of my mouth seems to be right though, but is that really supposed to help me. I really question her because I am right, but the person next to me says the complete opposite thing and they are right too. With Communications I feel like the professor thinks that with each speech I give I am supposed to be perfect and if I mess up even once that I wont be able to get a certain job in the future because my boss or manager needs someone that can speak perfectly in public. No matter how many speeches I give I don’t think that I could just get up on the spot and deliver any good speech.
SELF PORTRAIT:
http://www.google.com/imgres?num=10&hl=en&tbo=d&biw=1280&bih=615&tbm=isch&tbnid=CC3dQ5lBjm7DQM:&imgrefurl=http://www.flashxml.net/blog/7-tips-for-a-successful-website.html&docid=EA8-PKjL_qt5UM&imgurl=http://www.flashxml.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/Success-Failure-Sign.jpg&w=3456&h=2298&ei=qPaiUPnnJafo0gHF4IGgAQ&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=192&vpy=211&dur=98&hovh=183&hovw=275&tx=123&ty=86&sig=111255315454038391401&page=1&tbnh=138&tbnw=224&start=0&ndsp=20&ved=1t:429,r:1,s:0,i:80
I don’t get how people can just stare at you for mad long but when you look back at them they just turn around. Like Shit! Act like you weren’t even looking at me. Six seconds later, they start staring right back at you. Like WTF Man, Either you come up to me and say Hi! Or you just curse the shit outta me and get it over with. “What if I stared at you? You think you’d like it?” I’d bet you would hate it too.
I would be happy if people just stopped staring and just did them and so that I could do me too.
http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://blausternschlonge.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/dalai-lama-quote.jpg&imgrefurl=http://blausternschlonge.wordpress.com/2012/07/30/dalai-lama-quote-about-humanity/&usg=__ul6LaOJmK0oDQv4ZEUGx3oglosA=&h=725&w=1065&sz=166&hl=en&start=1&zoom=1&tbnid=8-AmecdXqsm5BM:&tbnh=142&tbnw=209&ei=Oo6mUNvbDOa-0QGpk4CwDg&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dsuccess%2Bis%2Ba%2Bsacrificed%2Bbitch%26tbnh%3D143%26tbnw%3D210%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26tbo%3Dd%26sig%3D103657314554770129446%26biw%3D1366%26bih%3D650%26tbs%3Dsimg:CAQSEglid32tXoX55SHGrdkQ_10CBCw%26tbm%3Disch&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=2&vpy=156&dur=646&hovh=185&hovw=272&tx=105&ty=132&sig=103657314554770129446&page=1&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:0,i:47
Day 1: Am I Beyonce yet?
When will the day come where I am the amazingness that is Beyonce? I will not, cannot, rest until I achieve Beyonce-dom, perfection. But where to start? I’m a 4’11 Asian girl with a dream, the dream to become Beyonce. This might sound crazy, or perhaps borderline stalker, but let me break it down for you. Beyonce is a modest celebrity and does not take her talent for granted. She is beautiful and is celebrated across the world as one of the greatest female performers of all time. Next to the great ladies: Aretha Franklin, Tina Turner, Whitney Houston, Billie Holliday, Chaka Khan. She does not need to change her image or attempt to start an outrageous trend to be the highlight of Hollywood. She simply just needs to be Bey. Who wouldn’t want to be celebrated for being perfect? If you wouldn’t you’re a liar, and Queen Bey does not appreciate liars. We can all learn from Queen Beyonce. Be thankful for what you have, do not take what life has given you for granted. Beyonce doesn’t. All hail Queen Beyonce, we are all her loyal subjects, accept it. She’s also married to Jay-Z and is best friends with Kanye West. Who wouldn’t want to be best friends with Kanye West? It’s Kanye West
http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/558099_10151076593673630_1633585198_n.jpg
this is how i see myself, what i see in the mirror. plus harry styles
Okay, so I’ve been around the world, well not really, actually no. I’ve only been to New York and Florida, well I live in New York. Anyway, things I’ve seen, things I’ve done, things I’ve heard… I never knew people can be so funny, or that most of the things I have experienced could be either. Like halloween this year, I dressed up as a nurse, and spent the whole night with a bitch ass clown, a slutty supergirl. We got messed up! It was fucking awesome. Then, we went to go to this party, but we couldn’t get in since two of the girls we were with didn’t bring their id. Like what the fuck? You have to bring your fucking id if your going to club in NYC. Thats like common sense. Well that being, we ended up walking around and i eventually peed on a rehab center building. I never knew I would have the balls to do some stupid shit like that. Theres pictures by the way. Bad… They’re bad. Then we ran into a guy in a trench coat. And all of a sudden I see a fucking dick! That dude was literally naked under that shit! Damn that was crazy. It wasn’t even attractive…. it was just…. there. Then I got fucked up again and went to sleep with a pumpkin. Damn New York City life is funny.
So I don’t know what to write about for this monologue so like Facebook asks, “what’s on your mind?”
Hmmm, liars. Liars are on my mind. I hate liars but its hard to say that because everyone lies at some
point in their life so technically I hate everyone. Well not really, I just hate compulsive liars that stem their
lives off of a web of lies. Last night, I was watching this show called Lie to Me. It’s a show about a
scientist who believes he can tell what emotion someone evokes or when they are lying by studying the
muscles of the face and their actions. I only saw two episodes and now I’m hooked for life.
As I started watching it, it made me think about all the times that someone could have lied to me and
gotten away with it. So I’ve been trying to memorize the different techniques that he was using. For
example, a liar can’t tell a sequence of events backwards or if someone puts something to their chest or
folds their arms, it’s a way of them creating a barrier between you and them, so they may be lying. Also
if you ask someone a question and they break eye contact and look to their left, they are recalling a
memory, whereas liars would stare you deep in your eyes in order to believe their own lies.
So the next time anyone wants to try to lie to me, think again.
So my picture is something I drew last year. Basically everything in it represents who I am.
https://mail-attachment.googleusercontent.com/attachment/u/0/?ui=2&ik=c90f8dc96d&view=att&th=13b52e22a7258376&attid=0.1&disp=inline&safe=1&zw&saduie=AG9B_P9sFmAGGlGXqqX78e-i1E85&sadet=1354305448005&sads=x09w4mkyQwzNr_g7bKrZkcUsInk
I think this weather is so bipolar. First we had a pretty scary hurricane. But the pictures of the aftermath we saw people in canoes which made it look so chill and calming like dang I want to be in canoe. SORTA.
Then we had a snow storm. but there wasnt a lot of snow and that sucked a lot cause i really wanted to make a snowman.
self portrait
http://cdn.ology.com/bundles/ologysocial/up/img/post/post_large/post_4f5a97c0b46a26.03672363.jpg?v19
as i sit back relax think of blunts a babets think about the sexy singer that i want to sex id probably go to jail for fucking paty label oh ragina bell shed probably do me swell
Observing people has always been a hobby of mine. As a New Yorker I never run out of unusual people to observe. The subway is never disappointing. It is the main stage for freak shows in New York City. Anyone who has ever set foot in a New York City subway can agree. Performers are always flaunting their talents. Well, some are truly talented, others not so much. I have seen my share of crazy, unusual things in the subway. When I was a little girl there was always a man who danced salsa music with his doll for every ones amusement in the subway. Then there was this Chinese woman who sang in the Canal Street station. She sounded like a mixture of a gang of dying cats and the screeching sound the train makes against the tracks. One of my favorite people to see around the city is the Carmen Miranda man, as I refer to him. He wears a bright pink, ruffled dress with a huge fruit adorned hat on his head. All of these very odd and interesting people have captured my attention over the years, but none like one in particular.
Late nights in the city are my favorite. A relaxing night with my boyfriend, roaming around Times Square was even better. It was a pretty calm night. Times square was as it always was; Floods of people going in every other direction, the usual Hello Kitty and Spider-man imitators taking pictures with little children, and huge flashing lights that blinked on and off incessantly, making it look like 2 p.m. at midnight. After a long, tiring waltz around Manhattan, my boyfriend and I trotted down the subway stairs to return home. As we stepped closer to the platform the sound of harmonica playing inched closer and closer. It was just the usual performer playing some boring music, with some boring instrument, or so I thought.
As I turned the corner to make my way up the platform I saw the mysterious harmonica player. He was sitting Indian style on a big white blanket that was spread out covering, a substantial area of the platform. There were toys spread out all across the blanket. As I looked closer, I saw that these toys were mostly plastic little figurines. There was a variety of knock off Barbie dolls that were completely naked. Off to the far right hand side of the blanket was a small chalk board that sat on a small, square cardboard box. The man sitting on this blanket was thin and it was evident that he was tall, even though he was seated. He was wearing a black t-shirt that draped over his body loosely. His jeans were faded black and torn at the knees with the strings of fabric hanging on for dear life to the fabric. His stringy hair was dirty blond and looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. Different sections of his hair parted this way and that, much like grass when it is being blown by the wind. He looked like he hadn’t bathed in a while. He wasn’t wearing any shoes either, just some dingy white socks.
He stopped playing his harmonica and started to roll around all over the blanket. He did mini somersaults and then picked up his harmonica and played it while he rolled around. It was one of the most unusual things I had witnessed in a while. People looked, but only for a moment and continued on normally as if they had seen this before. My eyes wouldn’t look away. My boyfriend was speaking to me but his words entered in one ear and escaped out the other. I was too intrigued by this young man to pay attention to anything else. I saw him place two little plastic feet, two little plastic hands and a plastic baby head on his fingers. He glided his fingers across the blanket and made the baby come to life. He created the illusion that the baby was struggling to crawl. It was weirdly realistic. The finger baby crawled off the blanket and on to the dark grey concrete. A man stood about 3 feet from the blanket with his legs positioned wide apart. He seemed to be consumed in his phone as his thumbs moved violently across the screen. He had his headphones propped in his ears at the same time. The strange performer slowly crawled closer and closer to the man and made his finger baby crawl under him. Then he, himself started to crawl under the man. The performer had a trance like expression on his face. He barely blinked and moved his head in a snake like manner with a cynical smirk on his face. The phone zombie noticed nothing until the performer came out from under him. He quickly moved away and gave the performer a threatening look. He seemed to be unaffected. He kept making his way further away from his blanket and closer into the area of the platform where everyone else stood. By now, he had started to move closer and closer to me but I was caught in his trance. As much as I wanted to move, I was too consumed in this unusual act to react and tell my brain to move my body. My boyfriend grabbed me by the arm and pulled me as far away from the performer as he could, further onto the end of the platform. I snapped out of my paralysis, a bit startled. The performance was getting to be a bit too creepy for me. I wasn’t even sure if this was even a performance. What was this? Was he homeless and deranged? Did he have some kind of mental disorder? He seemed to be completely unaffected by anyone’s reaction to his performance. Maybe he thought this was art. What if he was completely sane and just wanted to put on this strange show to see people’s reaction for his own amusement? I wondered so many things about this eccentric being.
My curious staring took me back to when I was a little girl and I would stare at people with my mouth hanging open until my mother scolded me to stop. I couldn’t help it. As I continued to stare and wonder, I started making up stories about him and what could have happened to him, if anything at all. Maybe he had a rough childhood. I imagined that he was born with some sort of mental disorder and was bullied as a child. Then he grew up and his caring mother could no longer keep him safe in her arms. He grew to be the strange, deranged young man I saw in front of me. In my head his life was like that movie, Forrest Gump, except without all of the amazing achievements that Forrest had achieved. A disturbed stare from a strap hanger was the only achievement this “Forrest” had. As I wondered what could have gone wrong with him I stood there and stared. No one was looking anymore. All the confused faces had turned away and went on with their own lives, unaffected. Not knowing this man’s story and defiantly not knowing how to help him, (if he even needed help) all I could do to support him was watch his strange act. I watched him crawl back to his blanket still controlling the finger baby. He stopped in front of the black board and wrote “I’m Sorry” in big white letters. Then he put on a black gas mask and started playing the harmonica under it, again. What was he sorry for? Maybe he was apologizing for his weirdness. How many times had he apologized to someone for being himself? At that moment I realized that this man wasn’t a freak show or some creepy subway performer. He was himself. This is who he was and he was not afraid to show the public. As I watched “Forrest” for those fourteen minutes until my train arrived, I realized that he wasn’t creepy or weird. He was unique. In a city where everyone is walking around like a brain washed zombie, with their noses stuck on an iPhone screen, doing the same uniform thing, this man was the red crayon in a box of black crayons. New York City is a diverse city, but no matter what ethnicity you are, it seems like these days we are all doing the same thing: Wearing the same clothes, listening to the same popular song, flaunting the same electronic device. “Forrest” and all the other eccentric people we tend to see in this crazy city aren’t like the rest of us. They don’t flaunt their newest iPhone; they flaunt their personalities, something that most New Yorkers wouldn’t dare do in public.
Self portriat: I view my self as queen of my own castle! 😛
C:\Users\student\Pictures\1354843986442.jpg
Monologue
When I had to pick a topic for this monologue, I thought of something that extremely bothered me. So, being that I wrote this last night after I went out to vote. I decided to talk about the stupidity of some of today’s voter’s. A trend that I’ve particularly been noticing was that today’s voter’s didn’t really care about the policies of either candidate, but more about the color of their skin. On facebook and through word of mouth, I’ve been hearing people voting for Barack Obama simply because he has black, and choosing Obama over Romney simply because of the fact that he was rich.
In my opinion, voters should take time before voting and actually look at the two opposing candidate’s policies and what is expecting them for four years. That being said, I believe there should be some kind of quiz before people vote to actually see if they know the candidate’s policies. For example, those who are for nationalized healthcare probably don’t realize any of the changes that it will bring, like having to book an appointment with your doctor several months in advance.
http://www.google.com/imgres?num=10&um=1&hl=en&tbo=d&biw=1280&bih=709&tbm=isch&tbnid=nJfUf6mlUfSxuM:&imgrefurl=http://www.redclaysoul.com/%3Fp%3D475&docid=0vqbQ273ZDlCdM&imgurl=http://www.redclaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Dazed-and-Confused-Wooderson-Geeks-Red-Clay-Soul.jpg&w=624&h=340&ei=SobDUJzBI8Wy0AHf9IEg&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=4&vpy=135&dur=193&hovh=166&hovw=304&tx=66&ty=87&sig=106693503553472336626&sqi=2&page=1&tbnh=127&tbnw=220&start=0&ndsp=29&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:0,i:84
My life dramatically changed from the beginning of this school year I don’t even know where to start.
Drugs were so interesting to me, i thought it was such a successful way on achieving a new perspective on life. I wanted a new perspective because I wasn’t happy with my current one. To me this world and everyone in it seemed so bad and pointless. I thought people were so cruel and selfish that this world has no hope for a better future. I still do believe that people are so cruel and selfish but i no longer believe that this world has no hope. About a little over a month ago, I started to become very religious and now i believe that this world has one hope and that hope is God. I’m not sharing my testimony to convert anyone or anything like that. This monologue was assigned to be about yourself and the first and best thing I thought of writing about is God. Doing all those drugs in the past gave me a satisfaction that would come and go. All the drugs in the world couldn’t make me a happier person. It satisfied me and that was it but why would anyone settle for less? As I became more religious, i found and achieved happiness through God. This rapid change that i went through was the most dramatic change in my life. Honestly I do make the same mistakes now and then but never will i fall back into my old ways, never will i question the amazing future that God has planned for me, never will I settle for satisfaction, and never again will i settle for less.
how i see myself : http://www.skydive-dc.com/SunsetTandem.jpg
Commuting to school Ive had many strange experiences and generally I don’t have problems with people I tend to keep things to myself but recently people on the subway are starting to bother me more and more. Sometimes there are homeless people sleeping on the subway in my cart and they would literally just take a shit and piss everywhere. The smell is so unbearable that nobody in that specific train car can sit there anymore. There are always people asking you for money, putting on a circus act, playing music, and trying to sell you stuff. I’ve thought about this, and I’ve told myself I’m not going to spend any more money on these people because I’m not in a position to be giving out free money every day I don’t even have a job and plus it’s illegal to give people money on the subway. The second most annoying thing about commuting and subways are the people I call the crazies. I’ve had a person push me because “I bumped into her” but the subway is packed how you gonna get mad for people bumping into you, its unreal how some people get on a subway train and expect to have all the space in the world. Maybe you should buy yourself a car asshole. I also hate the assholes that take up two seats; people need to sit down you fucking bimbo and you taking up two / three seats? The same goes for people who bring their babies on their trains. One time I sat next to a baby and he was crying so loud throughout the whole train ride I thought I wasn’t going to make it to my stop because I swear I was going to have a stroke. I hate the extremely loud people who come on the subway in the morning on their phone and they talk so loud and won’t shut the hell up. Finally on the top of the list, when im going up those big gigantic escalators at grand central, I expected people to be smart enough to step aside if there aren’t going up the express isle. There is always one asshole that wants to block the entire express isle because he or she thinks thier Gandalf. People need to wait on the line like everybody else. People get the hint, please don’t do this. While im talking about assholes I don’t like, I like would like to mention the biggest asshole of all time, my scumbag landlord who wouldn’t give me heat in my house even if I lost 9 fingers and a pinky toe to frost bites. I’m thinking maybe he might give me some heat if hell freezes over. I hate commuting and I hate my landlord for giving me no heat.
Girls are just so annoying. However, the problem is that you cant live with them and you cant live without them. They just never leave you alone. Like they always want to know where you are at all times. Thats just so annoying. Like I want to play ps3 or go play basketball or just sit down and watch T.V peacefully for once. But NO NO NO. I have to text you right because if I don’t then your going to get mad. And if you get them mad then forget it. It really is the end of the world. The best is when they say “OH WHY ARENT YOU TEXTING ME?” and that is when I lose my mind because I just went to the bathroom to take a piss. SO ANNOYING………… BUT you also cant live without them. The single life is cool but only for a while. Like who are you going to have fun with when no one is home? and let me just say Birthdays are the best. Also going out with them to eat and movies and doing things like 6 flags is also cool. I guess guys just need their brakes sometimes. What are we going to do fellas?
Self Portrait
http://findwhatworks.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/50-cent.jpg
commuting to school is getting pretty old. i take the same crappy express bus everyday and it just blows. over an hour there and then back. literally wasting my life away on a bus. i always end up sitting next to some ass that always decides to snore. seriously it sucks. i wanna transfer from the school and hopefully that can happen. i really wanna wrestle in college so i wanna transfer somewhere i can do that. wrestling has always been a big part of my life and i dont wanna just let it go. i wanna wrestle in college and actually get a fun college experience.
self portrait
http://i.istockimg.com/file_thumbview_approve/8543697/2/stock-illustration-8543697-angry-cartoon-wrestler.jpg
Self protrait = eminem I cant copy paste on my phone
So there must be some sort of prerequisite to start a conversation with me on the train that you have the personality of a snail. People can and will make the silliest, stupidest, and most mundane comments possible. Some woman the other day was trying to tell me how much I looked like her daughter’s boyfriend. I have no idea what to say to that. Thanks? Sorry, I’ve never met him but I’m sure that means something to you. I just nodded and smiled. I figured that was polite.
I lost the piece of paper that it was on but i’ll retell the story. So it was my 13th birthday party. Much like any other girls 13th birthday party, I had a sleepover. At said sleepover were many girls not sleeping, rather watching movies and gossiping. this ,i will name her BITCH, kept complaining that my recliner chair wouldn’t open. So I was like, ok BITCH calm yourself ill help you out. I go to open it by putting my hand near the footrest and lifting up. It swings open and the gear closes on my pinky finger, slicing the tip of it off. I’m stupid and did not know this. It was also dark, so maybe it was that theory that if you can’t see the source of pain you wont feel it. So I sit back down on my couch for 20-30 minutes and continue watching Dodgeball (yes I remember the movie stfu) Then i’m like, wait, my finger feels wet. So, like the dunce that I am, i go into my hallway to get a paper towel or some shit and see that im COVERED im blood. COVERED. i start screaming and run to my mom, who is also a stupid bitch and thinks i’m playing some practical prank mom. Yes, these are oscar-winning tears and scifi movie quality fake blood. This is all an act. No, Lady, I’m fucking profusely bleeding. Needless to say I spent the rest of my birthday in the ER while my friends huddle in a circle and wondered if I died or not. The End.
Here is me:
http://images2.fanpop.com/images/photos/7500000/Zooey-in-GQ-2009-zooey-deschanel-7574326-266-400.jpg
I’m trying to get used to New York. I’m trying to be a New Yorker. I bought my very first umbrella the other day, of course I’m too afraid to use it though because I don’t want it to break. Next comes weather appropriate shoes, dirty hot dogs (ew), and bubble tea (weird). But there’s other things I’ll never get used to. For example, New Yorkers apparently don’t believe in grass. They don’t own lawnmowers. They don’t have bon fires in their backyards. That might be because they don’t have backyards. They don’t joke about going cow tipping, at least not with the possibility of actually doing it. They don’t make late night trips to WaWa, let alone know what WaWa is. And I’m almost positive there’s no “trucker row” in the parking lots of the local highschools. In New York, there’s no covered bridges, back roads or deer. Everyone I run into here tells me I’m country. One guy even said I have an accent, lie. I’m not country and I’m not from the country. I’m just Pennsylvania. Were a little hick sometimes, a little redneck, but that’s different. Only once have I ever sat down to watch Nascar with a can of bud light in my hand. But I am not country.
self portrait –
I’m trying to get used to New York. I’m trying to be a New Yorker. I bought my very first umbrella the other day, of course I’m too afraid to use it though because I don’t want it to break. Next comes weather appropriate shoes, dirty hot dogs (ew), and bubble tea (weird). But there’s other things I’ll never get used to. For example, New Yorkers apparently don’t believe in grass. They don’t own lawnmowers. They don’t have bon fires in their backyards. That might be because they don’t have backyards. They don’t joke about going cow tipping, at least not with the possibility of actually doing it. They don’t make late night trips to WaWa, let alone know what WaWa is. And I’m almost positive there’s no “trucker row” in the parking lots of the local highschools. In New York, there’s no covered bridges, back roads or deer. Everyone I run into here tells me I’m country. One guy even said I have an accent, lie. I’m not country and I’m not from the country. I’m just Pennsylvania. Were a little hick sometimes, a little redneck, but that’s different. Only once have I ever sat down to watch Nascar with a can of bud light in my hand. But I am not country.