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[19 Jun 2009|11:27pm] |
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I hate everything.
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[02 Dec 2007|01:58am] |
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You know you're tired when you're looking at photos of Alan Rickman and he starts to look like Khai.
...he was very young in that picture. O.O
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[28 Sep 2007|10:28pm] |
Yes. You are obligated to watch this. :P
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[27 Sep 2007|10:49pm] |
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I wish I could see Hair.
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[23 Sep 2007|07:28pm] |
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mood |
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I needed that.
I feel better now.
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[26 Aug 2007|12:31am] |
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mood |
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 mischievous |
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You ought to dance with me. I'm starting to figure it out.
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[10 Jun 2007|04:32pm] |
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mood |
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 cold |
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My boyfriend graduates in three days.
...
...
I don't want to think about this, but there are reminders every ten seconds.
On the other hand, I sang "The Long and Winding Road" for finals and it went very well, so I'll probably sing it for the feature night.
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[19 May 2007|02:25pm] |
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mood |
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 irritated |
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Blargh.
I wasn't quite feeling well last night, and today I forgot that chili disagrees with me, so I think I'm a touch ill. No fun.
Also, Ms. Hansen is kind of killing "Imagine"... It's a fantastic song, and it's the only song in the concert based on an idea rather than solely for entertainment purposes...but Hansen wants it to sound like every other song in the concert.
Michael and I are rather annoyed. Of course, Katie and Tia don't give a damn, because they get the awful pop-esque improvised bits.
My inner anarchist says yaaarrrr.
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[13 May 2007|08:56pm] |
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mood |
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amused |
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The new love of my life: The Beatles LOVE! by Cirque du Soleil.
Is very trippy.
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[10 May 2007|03:00pm] |
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mood |
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nauseated |
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help.
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[06 May 2007|07:42pm] |
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mood |
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depressed |
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I hate when people force their religious views on others.
I hate when the way someone else thinks limits my freedom.
I hate social blindness.
I hate persecution.
I hate getting biblethumped.
I hate narrow-mindedness.
I hate food poisoning.
I hate choir retreats when I'm left at home.
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| Metaphors you will probably enjoy... |
[15 Apr 2007|02:24am] |
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mood |
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amused |
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Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides
gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a
guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one
of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country
speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar
eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was
room-temperature prime English beef.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes
just before it throws up.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because
of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a
formerly surcharge-free ATM.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a
bowling ball wouldn't.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled
with vegetable soup.
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie,
surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and
"Sex in the City" comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you
fry them in hot oil.
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had
also never met.
Even in his last years, Grandad had a mind like a steel trap, only one
that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil,
this plan just might work.
The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating
for a while.
"Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a Uni
student on $1-a-beer night.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but
real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine
or something.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg
behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as
if she were a garbage truck backing up.
She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword
She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to
the wall.
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[25 Mar 2007|02:44am] |
There has been a headache lurking in the back of my skull since four yesterday afternoon. I thought I got rid of it by going to sleep, but then I woke up at two and now it's back.
Grar.
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[20 Mar 2007|03:32pm] |
Hm. I don't feel well. I imagine lack of sleep and poor diet do that to a person.
I want a hug.
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[18 Mar 2007|01:17pm] |
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mood |
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blank |
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Alright. Since last update I
-fell in love with Battlestar Galactica
-developed an ungodly crush on one of the band girls
-rejoiced for that GUYS AND DOLLS IS OVER!
-remembered how much I hate stage makeup
-"think losing that much blood would be uncomfortable."
-am happy.
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[21 Jan 2007|06:35am] |
I really do think that my favorite part of the morning is the point at which my contacts stop being fuzzy and my brain snaps awake.
Except, then I'm expected to function.
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[04 Jan 2007|05:37pm] |
wtf?
i'mgoingmad.
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[01 Jan 2007|02:18pm] |
Um.
Wow, that really was one hell of a New Year's. Again. We had a small party at my house involving Roblii and a Bayne, and it was great.
Resolutions:
1. Vegetarian permanently.
2. Lose something like forty, fifty pounds.
3. Calm down.
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[21 Dec 2006|03:10am] |
Excuse me, friends. There has been an error.
IN MY SOUL.
Anyway. I started painting the other day, for the first time in a LONG, LONG TIME.
It was amazing. It made me happy. It made me really, really happy. E non ho amato mai tanto la vita.
I'm not happy anymore, though. My mother won't let me paint.
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