Ne'er do well
Pronunciation: nair-du-"wel
Function: noun
Date: 1736
Meaning: An idle, worthless person.
Thanks, Cyndi.
Saturday, November 30, 2002
Soiree
So strange. So, so strange.
I never thought I would run into those people again, but I did. ON PURPOSE. AT A PARTY.
And it was grand.
Let me explain.
I was supposed to go out with Jesse after work this evening, but he had to wake up at an ungodly hour the next (this) morning and wasn't really keen on the idea. So, I decided to take up Sarah Goldman's (and Matt Burris') offer to go to Matt's party.
These are people I was best friends with circa 1998-2000. They gave me the best childhood memories I'll ever remember. We lost touch over the years, mainly, I believe, because of my sexuality. They pushed me away because they were scared of me; I pushed them away because I was scared of myself. It was a bitter, uneventful farewell.
But, i wanted to see Sarah, so I attended Matt's party.
It was like a venture into the catacombs of my foggy memory--everyone I'd ever had some sort of fun/wierd/amazing experience with was there. It was like we were all in another CTE show together, and this was just another post-rehearsal shindig. I'll make a list:
Sarah
Best friend throughout middle school/freshman year of HS. We would call each other the moment we got home from school, chat until we had to go to rehearsal, chate all through rehearsal, and then phone each other following the aforementioned rehearsal. It was great. She was great, and seemingly still is. One of those friends you remember at the oddest and most comforting of times.
Everyone else
Everyone acted exactly the same as I remembered. Which is strange. I think we all pulled that CTE personality from the trunks in our attics, brushed the dust off, and wore them to the party. It was eerie, like nothing had ever changed.
What do people now look like?
Most of my fellow theatrical alums didn't change a bit. A bit of weight gain here, a different hairstyle there. Highlights include Tim N.(ess) becoming an intensely beauiful fellow, Katie K.(orby) struggling to come off as artsy and important (I shouldn't say struggling...jealousy perhaps), and Jacob A.(kemann) just growing taller and more awkward.
All in all, a surprisingly great evening.
I am writing shittier and shittier every post. Must get back in shape, linguistically-speaking.
Tomorrow: work forever and 23.5 hours, (hopefully!) lunch with another distant best friend, Laurne McLaurne, and an evening in Chicago (please?) with Theo.
Oh. Is it too much to ask for a "good deed" every once in awhile? I don't think so.
Another oh. Oh. Tara--that song is not good. At all. I'm sorry.
So strange. So, so strange.
I never thought I would run into those people again, but I did. ON PURPOSE. AT A PARTY.
And it was grand.
Let me explain.
I was supposed to go out with Jesse after work this evening, but he had to wake up at an ungodly hour the next (this) morning and wasn't really keen on the idea. So, I decided to take up Sarah Goldman's (and Matt Burris') offer to go to Matt's party.
These are people I was best friends with circa 1998-2000. They gave me the best childhood memories I'll ever remember. We lost touch over the years, mainly, I believe, because of my sexuality. They pushed me away because they were scared of me; I pushed them away because I was scared of myself. It was a bitter, uneventful farewell.
But, i wanted to see Sarah, so I attended Matt's party.
It was like a venture into the catacombs of my foggy memory--everyone I'd ever had some sort of fun/wierd/amazing experience with was there. It was like we were all in another CTE show together, and this was just another post-rehearsal shindig. I'll make a list:
Sarah
Best friend throughout middle school/freshman year of HS. We would call each other the moment we got home from school, chat until we had to go to rehearsal, chate all through rehearsal, and then phone each other following the aforementioned rehearsal. It was great. She was great, and seemingly still is. One of those friends you remember at the oddest and most comforting of times.
Everyone else
Everyone acted exactly the same as I remembered. Which is strange. I think we all pulled that CTE personality from the trunks in our attics, brushed the dust off, and wore them to the party. It was eerie, like nothing had ever changed.
What do people now look like?
Most of my fellow theatrical alums didn't change a bit. A bit of weight gain here, a different hairstyle there. Highlights include Tim N.(ess) becoming an intensely beauiful fellow, Katie K.(orby) struggling to come off as artsy and important (I shouldn't say struggling...jealousy perhaps), and Jacob A.(kemann) just growing taller and more awkward.
All in all, a surprisingly great evening.
I am writing shittier and shittier every post. Must get back in shape, linguistically-speaking.
Tomorrow: work forever and 23.5 hours, (hopefully!) lunch with another distant best friend, Laurne McLaurne, and an evening in Chicago (please?) with Theo.
Oh. Is it too much to ask for a "good deed" every once in awhile? I don't think so.
Another oh. Oh. Tara--that song is not good. At all. I'm sorry.
Friday, November 29, 2002
Thanks
Thanksgiving is always a sort of awkward holiday. I feel like we all have to put on this cheerful, content facade on holidays, and Thanksgiving is the epitome of that Marsha Brady-esque faux optomism. It's good to be thankful of things, but when exactly do we celebrate MyLifeSucks Day? Oh, that's right--it's called Valentine's Day.
I went to Waukegan for lunch/dinner with my mother's family, and then saw "Die Another Day" with Theo. Strangely enough, they both struck me as overrated, status quo, and droll. I just never got into family affairs/James Bond. It was kind of fun to see a film with Theo tonight though--last Thanksgiving, we had our second date ("Amelie") and our first kiss. It's so strange, to look back to a day that occured a YEAR ago and think, "Yep, that massive part of my life is still there, relatively unchanged, and I'm still happy about it."
Work all day tomorrow. Come visit me. It's going to be hellacious.
Thanksgiving is always a sort of awkward holiday. I feel like we all have to put on this cheerful, content facade on holidays, and Thanksgiving is the epitome of that Marsha Brady-esque faux optomism. It's good to be thankful of things, but when exactly do we celebrate MyLifeSucks Day? Oh, that's right--it's called Valentine's Day.
I went to Waukegan for lunch/dinner with my mother's family, and then saw "Die Another Day" with Theo. Strangely enough, they both struck me as overrated, status quo, and droll. I just never got into family affairs/James Bond. It was kind of fun to see a film with Theo tonight though--last Thanksgiving, we had our second date ("Amelie") and our first kiss. It's so strange, to look back to a day that occured a YEAR ago and think, "Yep, that massive part of my life is still there, relatively unchanged, and I'm still happy about it."
Work all day tomorrow. Come visit me. It's going to be hellacious.
Wednesday, November 27, 2002
Salvation, salvation
It changes every day. No, not my underwear, silly--my plans for next semester.
I came home from work an hour ago, and my parents told me that they want me to attend a university in Chicago, given that:
1. I see a psychiatrist regularly.
2. I get a debit card, so that I don't rack up their Gold Card every month.
3. I make a "good faith effort" to get along with ma famille.
4. I don't go to Columbia unless I really really have to.
So, I'm quite pleased. My life is on its way up! Have a great Thanksgiving, all.
It changes every day. No, not my underwear, silly--my plans for next semester.
I came home from work an hour ago, and my parents told me that they want me to attend a university in Chicago, given that:
1. I see a psychiatrist regularly.
2. I get a debit card, so that I don't rack up their Gold Card every month.
3. I make a "good faith effort" to get along with ma famille.
4. I don't go to Columbia unless I really really have to.
So, I'm quite pleased. My life is on its way up! Have a great Thanksgiving, all.
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
Die (yet) Another Day
Sometimes, I have these evenings where I just want to cease to exist. Tonight was one of those nights.
My parents make me wonder exactly how I grew up to be queer and liberal--they're so against anything different. It really bothers me.
I had to see C. Shannon tonight--she's a wonderful person, and I'm really glad she's "so happy," but for some reason, it just makes me feel even shittier about myself. Why does (seemingly) everyone else I used to be close to have the right to be happier than I am? I wrote pages and pages in my other journal about this tonight. When will my turn come?
I've been coerced into singing at a foreign church in Algonquin for Christmas. Not only am I in some octet, but I'm also being forced to sing "O Holy Night." I cannot sing anymore. This will be crap. Utter crap.
I'm in such an emotional rut right now...I feel like someone else is conducting my Life Train, and I'm just a helpless passenger. My parents are deciding my collegic fate; my peers determine my self-esteem. My job dictates my schedule; the weather tells my car what to do. (Which, lately, include very bad things.) I'm so helpless right now.
Theme song: "Die Another Day." I feel empowered when I'm listening to it--as if I cannot die today, because someday I'll escape this POW camp and reach the metaphorical end of the tunnel.
Sometimes, I have these evenings where I just want to cease to exist. Tonight was one of those nights.
My parents make me wonder exactly how I grew up to be queer and liberal--they're so against anything different. It really bothers me.
I had to see C. Shannon tonight--she's a wonderful person, and I'm really glad she's "so happy," but for some reason, it just makes me feel even shittier about myself. Why does (seemingly) everyone else I used to be close to have the right to be happier than I am? I wrote pages and pages in my other journal about this tonight. When will my turn come?
I've been coerced into singing at a foreign church in Algonquin for Christmas. Not only am I in some octet, but I'm also being forced to sing "O Holy Night." I cannot sing anymore. This will be crap. Utter crap.
I'm in such an emotional rut right now...I feel like someone else is conducting my Life Train, and I'm just a helpless passenger. My parents are deciding my collegic fate; my peers determine my self-esteem. My job dictates my schedule; the weather tells my car what to do. (Which, lately, include very bad things.) I'm so helpless right now.
Theme song: "Die Another Day." I feel empowered when I'm listening to it--as if I cannot die today, because someday I'll escape this POW camp and reach the metaphorical end of the tunnel.
Tick tick boom
I was going to be clever/kitschy and post on the glorious one year anniversary of my Blog. But, it's now 2:00AM on the day AFTER I published my first entry here, so the whole countdown thing was for naught. Sorry to let you down.
This past year has been quite...well, different from any of the other 18 years I've had. I found love, became a much more politically-oriented and independent individual. Like all of the other years I've forged through, I've had my share of accomplishments and letdowns--it just seems like those occasions were much more monumental and defining of who I am today.
Drivel...all drivel.
The best thing I can remember that has happened all year actually occured last night: for reasons unmentioned, I was outside of my house around midnight. Suddenly, I sensed some movement in the distance, and discovered a family of deer nonchalantly strolling through my backyard, not ten feet from where I was standing. It was very humbling, like I was less than all the things I thought I was and simply another animal, grazing on the Earth I've learned nothing about in Astronomy.
Tomorrow: photoessay and record of things that have happened since I last posted. Thank you for coming back. I missed you. Really. I did.
I was going to be clever/kitschy and post on the glorious one year anniversary of my Blog. But, it's now 2:00AM on the day AFTER I published my first entry here, so the whole countdown thing was for naught. Sorry to let you down.
This past year has been quite...well, different from any of the other 18 years I've had. I found love, became a much more politically-oriented and independent individual. Like all of the other years I've forged through, I've had my share of accomplishments and letdowns--it just seems like those occasions were much more monumental and defining of who I am today.
Drivel...all drivel.
The best thing I can remember that has happened all year actually occured last night: for reasons unmentioned, I was outside of my house around midnight. Suddenly, I sensed some movement in the distance, and discovered a family of deer nonchalantly strolling through my backyard, not ten feet from where I was standing. It was very humbling, like I was less than all the things I thought I was and simply another animal, grazing on the Earth I've learned nothing about in Astronomy.
Tomorrow: photoessay and record of things that have happened since I last posted. Thank you for coming back. I missed you. Really. I did.
Tuesday, November 05, 2002
One last thing before the static
This broadcaster will only be taking an extended leave of absence from his work. This hiatus may last three months, three weeks, or three days. I just have to resolve things within myself without my audience. I'm spending the next week reading, writing, and sleeping on the ocean's beach.
I don't normally do these. But this was entertaining.
Which Ani DiFranco Album Are You?
Brought to you by Tracie
"You've been through a lot, and all of that has made you a stronger person. You're kind, sensitive, loving...you've got a dark side though, and you've probably done a few things you aren't proud of, but hey, you've learned from your mistakes. Which is a lesson most people don't bother to learn."
How...appropos. I'll be seeing you.
This broadcaster will only be taking an extended leave of absence from his work. This hiatus may last three months, three weeks, or three days. I just have to resolve things within myself without my audience. I'm spending the next week reading, writing, and sleeping on the ocean's beach.
I don't normally do these. But this was entertaining.
Which Ani DiFranco Album Are You?
Brought to you by Tracie
"You've been through a lot, and all of that has made you a stronger person. You're kind, sensitive, loving...you've got a dark side though, and you've probably done a few things you aren't proud of, but hey, you've learned from your mistakes. Which is a lesson most people don't bother to learn."
How...appropos. I'll be seeing you.
Saturday, November 02, 2002
Au revoir
I don't think I'm going to continue posting here. I feel like my life is so utterly pointless, and sweeping around in a downward spiral. Why shall I market my mistakes and emotional distress for you all? I don't want pity, and I certainly don't want you to judge me based upon anything that has or will happen during my brief stay at Mizzou. Thank you all for supporting my journal by coming to it as many times as you may have come, and in turn, supporting me through everything I've been through for the past year. May my blog inspire you all to:
1. Start a journal of your own--be it online or on paper. It really is a great tool to have, for personal reflection and all that. I will continue to write in my own journal, because this experience has proven to be an effective means of getting it all out, Anne Frank-style. If and when you do decide to join the literally millions of Blog users, please E-mail me your link at Boyinbrownshirt@aol.com.
2. Learn from my victories and mistakes. Just...learn from it.
3. Most importantly, as cliche as this is, live life to the fullest, with no concern for what others think of you (with good intentions, of course). If you don't shed the gritty skin society cakes onto you, you'll never be able to see your real self. Exfoliate. It feels good.
Thank you all again. And, as Cyrol Connoly wrote, it is "better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."
Best regards,
Me
I don't think I'm going to continue posting here. I feel like my life is so utterly pointless, and sweeping around in a downward spiral. Why shall I market my mistakes and emotional distress for you all? I don't want pity, and I certainly don't want you to judge me based upon anything that has or will happen during my brief stay at Mizzou. Thank you all for supporting my journal by coming to it as many times as you may have come, and in turn, supporting me through everything I've been through for the past year. May my blog inspire you all to:
1. Start a journal of your own--be it online or on paper. It really is a great tool to have, for personal reflection and all that. I will continue to write in my own journal, because this experience has proven to be an effective means of getting it all out, Anne Frank-style. If and when you do decide to join the literally millions of Blog users, please E-mail me your link at Boyinbrownshirt@aol.com.
2. Learn from my victories and mistakes. Just...learn from it.
3. Most importantly, as cliche as this is, live life to the fullest, with no concern for what others think of you (with good intentions, of course). If you don't shed the gritty skin society cakes onto you, you'll never be able to see your real self. Exfoliate. It feels good.
Thank you all again. And, as Cyrol Connoly wrote, it is "better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."
Best regards,
Me
Friday, November 01, 2002
The morning after
"Drunk dialing" is soooo not cool.
Last night, Jen, Erin and I basically just ran around and were loud and stupid. Is anyone surprised? I wasn't.
Erin is relatively angry with me...or rather, she resents me. She wanted to go to a party in Mexico, Missouri, but didn't because Jen and I didn't want her to. So I imagine she's upset with me. I knew she wanted to go to the party, and sort of figured that she wouldn't want me going. I don't know how I feel about it, but it's over so whatever.
My stomach and brain are currently involved in an age-old debate over whether or not I shall vomit. My stomach insists that it has things in it that shouldn't be in there until I'm twenty-one years old, but my head is rattling on about the horrors of vomiting and such. What to do, what to do, they ask.
I'm going to leave my drunken rants posted, so that I may look back upon this fateful Halloween with nostalgic disgust. (Notalgic disgust is like thinking about the eighties: "I had such a great time, but honestly, did I REALLY need to wear all of those socks and that side ponytail? And parachute pants? Who would have thought...")
"Drunk dialing" is soooo not cool.
Last night, Jen, Erin and I basically just ran around and were loud and stupid. Is anyone surprised? I wasn't.
Erin is relatively angry with me...or rather, she resents me. She wanted to go to a party in Mexico, Missouri, but didn't because Jen and I didn't want her to. So I imagine she's upset with me. I knew she wanted to go to the party, and sort of figured that she wouldn't want me going. I don't know how I feel about it, but it's over so whatever.
My stomach and brain are currently involved in an age-old debate over whether or not I shall vomit. My stomach insists that it has things in it that shouldn't be in there until I'm twenty-one years old, but my head is rattling on about the horrors of vomiting and such. What to do, what to do, they ask.
I'm going to leave my drunken rants posted, so that I may look back upon this fateful Halloween with nostalgic disgust. (Notalgic disgust is like thinking about the eighties: "I had such a great time, but honestly, did I REALLY need to wear all of those socks and that side ponytail? And parachute pants? Who would have thought...")
Thursday, October 31, 2002
Surprise!
Erin fucking betrayted me. Shen went to a party that she said she wasn't going to go to , and I thought we wereg oing to spend halloween togeher becaue we're BEST FRIEWNDS but apparently she'd rather hang out with her gentlemenf friends. and she's going to parpparty that i was going to drive us to but she got me trashed and nowobviously uii can't drive so yeah. I'm mildly pissed. off. i wished i would have stayed in my room because then i could be angrty and not be drunk. Oh well. And so it goes.
Erin fucking betrayted me. Shen went to a party that she said she wasn't going to go to , and I thought we wereg oing to spend halloween togeher becaue we're BEST FRIEWNDS but apparently she'd rather hang out with her gentlemenf friends. and she's going to parpparty that i was going to drive us to but she got me trashed and nowobviously uii can't drive so yeah. I'm mildly pissed. off. i wished i would have stayed in my room because then i could be angrty and not be drunk. Oh well. And so it goes.
Holiday
It's Halloween, everyone. In case you were unaware.
I "dressed up" like Eurotrash for a good part of the day. I dried my hair with a hair dryer, which made it 1970s porn-star curly. I wore my Diesels, which were, for some reason, really loose around the waist today, and a tan-ish tunic-ish shirt-ish piece of fabric I purchased in Rome. Oh, and to identify that I was, in fact, not only queer today, but also Eurotrash, I made nametags and placed them on my body. It was fun. Sort of.
My glorious Astronomy professor, Dr. Angela Speck, dressed up like a mysteriously sexy witch. As a bit of backstory, Dr. Speck dresses up like a witch for Halloween every year because, well, she likes it. (I think she's a closet wiccan, but that's mere speculation.) So, of course, her outfit was quite intricate, and had that "I dressed myself in the dark" British flare. She passed by me during class, glanced for several moments at me and my "Eurotrash" nametag, and said that it was "inventive." I imagine she was being sarcastic.
Theo is writing in his Blog again, for those of you who would like to know.
I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing tonight, so when I wake up tomorrow (or rather, after class), I will update.
It's Halloween, everyone. In case you were unaware.
I "dressed up" like Eurotrash for a good part of the day. I dried my hair with a hair dryer, which made it 1970s porn-star curly. I wore my Diesels, which were, for some reason, really loose around the waist today, and a tan-ish tunic-ish shirt-ish piece of fabric I purchased in Rome. Oh, and to identify that I was, in fact, not only queer today, but also Eurotrash, I made nametags and placed them on my body. It was fun. Sort of.
My glorious Astronomy professor, Dr. Angela Speck, dressed up like a mysteriously sexy witch. As a bit of backstory, Dr. Speck dresses up like a witch for Halloween every year because, well, she likes it. (I think she's a closet wiccan, but that's mere speculation.) So, of course, her outfit was quite intricate, and had that "I dressed myself in the dark" British flare. She passed by me during class, glanced for several moments at me and my "Eurotrash" nametag, and said that it was "inventive." I imagine she was being sarcastic.
Theo is writing in his Blog again, for those of you who would like to know.
I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing tonight, so when I wake up tomorrow (or rather, after class), I will update.
Tuesday, October 29, 2002
Where do you stand?
Hopefully not on my foot.
I did not just type that. I promise. Go here to determine your position on the Political Compass.
My results:
Economic Left/Right: -5.62
Authoritarian/Libertarian: -5.85
(Liberal democrat/leftist)
Get back to me about what your test results were.
Hopefully not on my foot.
I did not just type that. I promise. Go here to determine your position on the Political Compass.
My results:
Economic Left/Right: -5.62
Authoritarian/Libertarian: -5.85
(Liberal democrat/leftist)
Get back to me about what your test results were.
Do yourself a favour...
...and puchase Christina Aguilera's "Stripped." It's surprisingly amazing. She's delved, and rightfully so, into the world of soul/jazz, where her voice can be utilized to its highest potential. I adore it/her. Bob and I determined that her look could be...revised. But, like a book shan't be judged by its cover, don't judge a performer by her Cruella DeVil hair and leather chaps.
...and puchase Christina Aguilera's "Stripped." It's surprisingly amazing. She's delved, and rightfully so, into the world of soul/jazz, where her voice can be utilized to its highest potential. I adore it/her. Bob and I determined that her look could be...revised. But, like a book shan't be judged by its cover, don't judge a performer by her Cruella DeVil hair and leather chaps.
Catharsis
While my mood change is not as drastic as Chris', I have experienced a wide scope of emotions these past twenty-four hours. Last night, upon returning from the car hospital, I suddenly felt trapped/imprisoned without my car. I never realized how much how I depended upon my ugly, beat-up old vehicle. In theory, it provides me with a bubble in which I can float around the city, county, state and just be myself, by myself. I can think, listen to music, and in essence, escape reality. I felt so alone and helpless last night; it was possibly the lowest of lows I've felt in this new stage of my life. I just wanted to cease from existing. It was terrible.
(Randomly: Do you all know that five-minute period of time after waking up that you simply cannot and do not remember anything horrible that hppened the day before? I love that. Those are my favourite five minutes of every day. I woke up this morning without remembering any of the radical thoughts I had last night.)
But then, this morning, I was awoken to a phone call from University Chrysler, telling me my car was all better and I can pick it up whenever. And so, walking back to my room from class (a twenty minute walk, as a non-sequitur), I actually started thinking about staying at Missouri. This idea will most likely fly away like an abandoned balloon, but it gives some indication to how content I have been today. Me and my car. What a perfect couple.
While my mood change is not as drastic as Chris', I have experienced a wide scope of emotions these past twenty-four hours. Last night, upon returning from the car hospital, I suddenly felt trapped/imprisoned without my car. I never realized how much how I depended upon my ugly, beat-up old vehicle. In theory, it provides me with a bubble in which I can float around the city, county, state and just be myself, by myself. I can think, listen to music, and in essence, escape reality. I felt so alone and helpless last night; it was possibly the lowest of lows I've felt in this new stage of my life. I just wanted to cease from existing. It was terrible.
(Randomly: Do you all know that five-minute period of time after waking up that you simply cannot and do not remember anything horrible that hppened the day before? I love that. Those are my favourite five minutes of every day. I woke up this morning without remembering any of the radical thoughts I had last night.)
But then, this morning, I was awoken to a phone call from University Chrysler, telling me my car was all better and I can pick it up whenever. And so, walking back to my room from class (a twenty minute walk, as a non-sequitur), I actually started thinking about staying at Missouri. This idea will most likely fly away like an abandoned balloon, but it gives some indication to how content I have been today. Me and my car. What a perfect couple.
Monday, October 28, 2002
Morte
My car is officially in an intensive care unit. Apparently, the "spindle" of my rear driver's side wheel broke or something...basically, from what I witnessed, little metal teeth were falling out of my wheel and that is bad or something. I don't understand cars, and I'm not going to pretend to. So, it's going to be at least three days until I can have my car back. Three days. This means I have to walk to class from practically St. Louis (priss, you think to yourself) and eat...shudder...by myself in public. After reading Orwell's "Down and out in Paris and London," I've decided that starving is not that horrible. I can do it. It'll be fun. Three days...and holy hell, I have lots of junk food in my room. I'm fine. Two bottles of water...I'm set. SET.
And no, I didn't make that up.
My car is officially in an intensive care unit. Apparently, the "spindle" of my rear driver's side wheel broke or something...basically, from what I witnessed, little metal teeth were falling out of my wheel and that is bad or something. I don't understand cars, and I'm not going to pretend to. So, it's going to be at least three days until I can have my car back. Three days. This means I have to walk to class from practically St. Louis (priss, you think to yourself) and eat...shudder...by myself in public. After reading Orwell's "Down and out in Paris and London," I've decided that starving is not that horrible. I can do it. It'll be fun. Three days...and holy hell, I have lots of junk food in my room. I'm fine. Two bottles of water...I'm set. SET.
And no, I didn't make that up.
Sunday, October 27, 2002
Headache
I have one. Do you? Did you drink a dozen bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade last night? Thought not.
My sister is SO reading this right now and getting angry/confused/upset.
While I trekked back from D-town to C-town, my car threw its iron arms up in rebellion. It began to murmur noises of utter pain, a grinding bellow. I know she was faking it. Or I thought she was faking it, until she started flailing around on I-54, making her owner look like he had consumed the aforementioned bottles of wonder minutes ago, not hours. Fearing my life, I pulled over a few times, kicked the tires and smelled them (just in case...it seemed like the right thing to do). I made it home, fortunately, but my car will have to go to the hospital tomorrow. That'll "learn" her.
Reoccuring thought of the weekend-all of my old friends/aquaintances are getting to be big boys and girls. Jenny Way has her own CD, two of my friends are getting married...everyone's graduating college and moving on into the big bad world. Where did it all go? The time, that is.
So tired.
I have one. Do you? Did you drink a dozen bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade last night? Thought not.
My sister is SO reading this right now and getting angry/confused/upset.
While I trekked back from D-town to C-town, my car threw its iron arms up in rebellion. It began to murmur noises of utter pain, a grinding bellow. I know she was faking it. Or I thought she was faking it, until she started flailing around on I-54, making her owner look like he had consumed the aforementioned bottles of wonder minutes ago, not hours. Fearing my life, I pulled over a few times, kicked the tires and smelled them (just in case...it seemed like the right thing to do). I made it home, fortunately, but my car will have to go to the hospital tomorrow. That'll "learn" her.
Reoccuring thought of the weekend-all of my old friends/aquaintances are getting to be big boys and girls. Jenny Way has her own CD, two of my friends are getting married...everyone's graduating college and moving on into the big bad world. Where did it all go? The time, that is.
So tired.
Weekend-ing
I am at Millikin University right now, waiting for the bathroom to be unoccupied so I can urinate. Lala...I haven't drank since Europe, and even though that should have meant my resistance was down, I didn't vomit or do anything illegal/stupid! I now have Jenny Way's CD and that makes me happy.
The football game yesterday was actually really fun. I had a great time, which surprised me. We (Missouri) played against kU, our arch rivals, for our homecoming game. After our brutal defeat of the Jayhawks, about 3.2 million people in the stands decided to rush the field and, you guessed it, tear down the goalpost. It took the mob a while to succeed in their quest--they just don't make goalposts like they used to. It was entertaining to watch the police officers running around and such.
I need to pee. Now.
I am at Millikin University right now, waiting for the bathroom to be unoccupied so I can urinate. Lala...I haven't drank since Europe, and even though that should have meant my resistance was down, I didn't vomit or do anything illegal/stupid! I now have Jenny Way's CD and that makes me happy.
The football game yesterday was actually really fun. I had a great time, which surprised me. We (Missouri) played against kU, our arch rivals, for our homecoming game. After our brutal defeat of the Jayhawks, about 3.2 million people in the stands decided to rush the field and, you guessed it, tear down the goalpost. It took the mob a while to succeed in their quest--they just don't make goalposts like they used to. It was entertaining to watch the police officers running around and such.
I need to pee. Now.