go to a McDonalds in fancy clothing and use British accents. Have one person be a butler and put out fancy plates and cups on a table. Ask for the burgers medium well and ask if they have vinegar for the french fries. Put soda in the fancy cups and have the butler serve the meal. Talk about fancy things. Exclaim how flavorful the ketchup is.
2) Fake Identity Dinner
Two people go to a restaurant where they won’t know anyone. Make up characters and use fake names. Say really awkward things right when the waiter or server comes near your table. Talk about really dramatic things. Possibly ask the waiter for advice. Have one person storm out of the restaurant.
3) Bar Fun…in around 3.33 years
Go to a swanky bar with a friend of the opposite sex. Pretend you have never met. Use really stupid and cheesy pickup lines. Act like they worked. Make it loud and obvious. Leave together. Wink suggestively at everyone as you leave.
4) Driving Fun
Go for a drive with a friend. They are blindfolded. They choose directions as you’re driving. See where you end up.
5) Movie Epicness
Rent a movie you’ve never seen before with a friend. Set it on mute and improvise the dialogue for the whole movie.
6) Security Cameras
Walk around a city and perform short silent plays in front of security cameras.
I would specifically love to do # 1, 4 and 5 sometime in the near future. :)
I can’t imagine a single person in our grade that I wouldn’t feel sick to the stomach for if they suddenly passed away. In fact, I’d go as far to say that I would break down and cry just knowing I wouldn’t ever pass that face on my way to class again. That face I may never even have spoken to. That person I may even have sometimes disliked. I would still cry.
You search their name and look through the pictures of them, pictures of a stranger, and at all the fun they’ve had and all the connections they’ve made with other living people, smiling and laughing, and you can just feel a punch in your gut. It’s so strong that the question, “why? why would this happen?” hanging on the edge of your lips is choked back and unspeakable.
And this morning I was complaining about how I had this tremendous urge to write a poem. But I didn’t have any inspiration. Well now I could have so much inspiration but it would be too painful to write.
You can never go wrong with a onesie on a rainy day. Bonus points if you wear it in public. Mega bonus points if you bring your dog with you and have it run around an empty office building off leash. And if security tells you to leave: automatic A+. Not that I’ve done that or anything. Just hypothetically.
"No, I don’t like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don’t like work—no man does—but I like what is in the work,—the chance to find yourself. Your own reality—for yourself, not for others—what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means."
"You know I hate, detest, and can’t bear a lie, not because I am straighter than the rest of us, but simply because it appalls me. There is a taint of death, a flavor of mortality in lies,—which is exactly what I hate and detest in the world—what I want to forget. It makes me miserable and sick, like biting something rotten would do. Temperament, I suppose…Do you see the story? Do you see anything? It seems to me I am trying to tell you a dream—making a vain attempt, because no relation of a dream can convey the dream-sensation, that commingling of absurdity, surprise, and bewilderment in a tremor of struggling revolt, that notion of being captured by the incredible which is of the very essence of dreams…No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one’s existence,—that which makes its truth, its meaning—its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream—alone…"