finaldraftthatisliketwowordsdifferentfromsecond

Darlene McCoy
Margaret Amis
Writing 2
19April 2010
Oh, Irony!
When he founded The New Yorker in 1925, Harold Ross' aim was to please. He wanted his readers to enjoy a sophisticated humor magazine, full of amusing yet intellectual comments, sometimes vicious satire, and overall – things to make even the most snobbish aristocrat chuckle so heartily that his over sized wig would simply slip off his shiny bald head. To this day, the magazine has persevered through the test of time, and holds true to its founder's intentions. It is no wonder, then, that a witty and well-crafted article such as Judith Thurman's “Counterfeit Roth” would be found in the modern day New Yorker. It is also no wonder, then, that she would use a well-known, and well-loved literary technique, coupled with an amusing tone and other garnishing techniques, to craft a frighteningly funny piece. Irony, the main technique used to amuse, abounds in Thurman's article, and that irony serves to accommodate and bolster the magazine's main purpose – to simply entertain. Yet through the hilarity of it all – a second purpose, the article's own purpose, shines through, and that purpose further makes the article a more profound work.
Counterfeit Roth tells the tale of a man who wrote a piece of fiction – for a newspaper. What's wrong with that? The man, Tommaso Debenedetti, was a reporter, not an author; his misleading words were read as fact. He had reported that a well known American author, Phillip Roth, in an interview, had made some rather unpleasant comments about President Barack Obama; about how his rhetoric about hope and change was empty, comments about his banality, and his failure. Yet, in fact, when asked about his statements in another interview, Roth seemed confused, and said, “It is completely contrary to what I think. Obama, in my opinion, is fantastic” (Thurman 22). He denied the validity of all that Debenedetti had reported, and furthermore explained that those comments could only be a mere figment of Debenedetti's imagination – for he had never met the man, nor even heard of the newspaper he wrote for, Libero. Later, Roth did some research of his own. That research lead him to uncover another false interview, with the same false comments, written by the same man, but with comments attributed to another's mouth. John Grisham, another well known American author, was victim number two! He was also the last victim, for he plans to travel to Italy to sue Mr. Debenetti. And after his exposure, those interviews would be the last reports he wrote; for his career will soon come to a close.
A piece packed with as much irony as Thurman's cannot be considered anything but downright funny. First of all – the article is about a fiction writer uncovering and undermining fiction. It would be more of the norm to find a fiction writer encouraging another to continue writing, continue imagining, and to continue telling tales. Yet, what happens is quite the opposite, is unexpected, and is therefore comical. Another point of irony in the article is the newspaper that Debenetti wrote for sympathized with the Prime Minister of Italy, and his report, which would have been an attempt to make the Prime Minister appear to be less-scandalous, and more well-suited for his position, only made another newspaper, the Corriere della Sera, produce an article praising Roth's harsh criticism of Obama, and through that article, imply that the citizens of Italy should evaluate their own non-existent criticisms of their own national leader. Debenetti's intentions were anything but bringing the Prime Minister's administration and behavior into question. Now, it would seem more plausible for a reporter to make up disapproving comments under another's name if that other person was one who actually somewhat believed in those comments. In that case, he would just be exaggerating on a general distaste – but Philip Roth nor John Grisham believe that Obama is a failure. They are in fact, both democrats, who believe that Obama will do good for America. It is very amusing that Mr. Debenetti could pick two people to imposter, and find that they not only simply disagree with the words put into their mouths, but are both on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. Thurman's tone and structure is even ironic in the sense that it does not follow the traditional form of an essay. Generally, in a essay, only information important to the argument is presented. Thurman adds additional information, that is not necessarily dire to the explanation and understanding of her argument using parentheses, to create more of a comical effect. In one instance, she writes, “(The only Facebook page bearing the writer's name shows a bearded, curly-haired, young hipster with a goofy expression)” (22). This tone, and the use of the words “goofy” and“hipster,” contradict the usual formality of her article, and the aforementioned idea of only mentioning ideas that support an argument in an essay. Thurman uses dialogue to amuse her readers further, at the end of her article, she mentions that Roth was asked if Debenetti impersonated him well, like the character in his novel, Operation Shylock, to which he simply replied, “No, that was literature, this is merely life, and I certainly did a better job of imposturing” (23).
Through all of the irony and the other comical effects in the article, a more serious message peeks out from in between the lines. Throughout its entirety, Thurman uses Philip Roth to convey how she feels, and her article's point, “'You have to wonder what the guy was thinking.' Roth concluded” (23). She implies that he was not thinking, and that publishing essentially lies was probably not the best idea he had. She includes Roth's attempt to give reason to the man's idea, to be fair, “The best explanation I can find is that this obscure freelancer had hit upon a way of selling articles by attributing anti-Obama sentiments to famous American writers. It was a good gimmick, and he probably had fun. But I can't imagine what he'll do now – surely his career is over” (23). Thurman uses Roth's words to emphasize her point – passing off false work, or false words, as genuine and true only hurts one in the end.
All in all, “Counterfeit Roth” is a piece that adequately deserves its place in The New Yorker. It is amusing, well-written, and has a point to it besides its entertainment value. Without Thurman's addition of comical effects, especially irony, this article could have very well been just another news story that could have possibly bored its reader to tears, or even death! Yet, without her additional, more subtle message, this article would have been only a simple pleasure for the mind – and what snobbish aristocrat would want to read that?

Works Cited
Thurman, Judith. "Counterfeit Roth." The New Yorker 5 Apr. 2010: 22-23. Print.


Self-Assessment Questions:

What are the strengths of your writing? Which parts work well, and which
parts work best?
-- I feel like the main strength of my writing is my voice. I've been told time and time again that it really shines through in my essays, fiction, or even my God-awful poetry! I'm not really sure what parts work best, but I'm very fond of my introduction paragraph.

What heights did you reach for? How much did you challenge yourself in this
writing?
-- I tried my best to produce a paper of quality. I don't know if I especially challenged myself, but, I tend to always do my best when I write papers, so I sort of always challenge myself. I always want to write a paper that I actually like - and while this one isn't my favorite, I'm pretty content with it. I also don't especially find writing essays challenging anymore.

Which elements, devices, punctuation, or rhetorical effects from Gorrell did you
use?
-- Honestly - I couldn't say without looking them up in the text and dissecting my paper - but I feel like I use parallel structure often. And of course, I use dashes. They're my favorite. I think there is a hefty amount of alliteration in there, too! I write very unconsciously, and just type whatever comes to mind - then edit later.

Which parts did you have trouble developing?
-- I had trouble developing my actual argument, because I really don't feel like someone would contradict me saying "This article is legit!" I also found dissecting my article to be more work than I had expected. So putting in the time that I did could be considered "hard."

Which mental processes did you sue during the drafting?
-- I organize my ideas on paper; in somewhat of an outline form, then: I sit, I put on classical music, I relax, and I write.

How many hours did you spend on it? How did you allocate your time?
-- Argh! I don't really know how many hours specifically I spent on this paper, but it was probably more than other people. I think I spent about an hour to two just dissecting my article, and then I think I spent maybe a good three hours putting it all together. I can't really say - for there were of course, times of distraction. Each edit I spent probably about a half hour to an hour on.

Is there anything in particular you'd like me to attend to as I read?
-- Not really. It is what it is!

Whom would you acknowledge as helpers? Sources? Someone who gave you
an idea? Peer edited?
-- Nobody in my group of friends cares for or is as interested in writing as I am, so discussions with them about this class have been very limited, so I'd have to say that my peer editors were my best "helpers," even though I didn't always use their corrections or advise. I trust myself more than anyone when it comes to writing!

Hate Hate Hate

Sinking feelings.

Please, please, please, please.

Don't go away.

Please, happiness.

Stay?

It's Been Such a Long Time

...since I've made a legitimate blog post.

Let's see..

update on life:

Spring break was really awesome. Spent a lot of time with Jacob, and threw a pretty good party. Danced on a table with the best friend. Yep. ♥

I think I really like this guy named Logan, but some other interesting things have happened lately and I'm not 100% sure about that right now.

Other interesting things meaning... my friend Cameron...

I think I'll let you know that story later, dear blog, 'cause I dunno how I feel about it right now.

In other words -- Kick Ass is an awesome movie. The little girl is wtf bat shit crazy and it's kind of totally freakin' awesome.

Now! Back to boys and blahblahblah

I dunno how comfortable I am with putting stuff so personal on the internet anymore.

Mostly because now I really have no idea who reads it, and in which way they take it. I know my now ex-BFF Mark used to read this blog often, and honestly I don't know if he does anymore. He hasn't talked to me in like, 3 months. ~.~ Julia has also read this before, and while I hope to God we're still fairly good friends, sometimes I worry because I'm scared, sad, and still more or less mortified by Mark's abandonment of me. I just don't want to post anything to make either of them think less of me... though I don't know if that would affect how Mark feels about me, anyway.

When this was a blog about FFXI, and FFXI only, well shit, I honestly didn't give a fuck what people thought -- they lived usually over 1,000 miles away and if I never wanted to speak to them again I didn't have to. I didn't have to deal wih their bullshit, their criticism, or their judgmental eyes... passing them in the hall, pretending they are non-existent... urrrghh!
The other thing about a blog about FFXI was it was just a game. I feel like I'm more or less not only posting my story online, but my friends' too. I guess it was the same for FFXI, but who the fuck would care if you were a little bit of a dick in a video game in the real world, really?

At least I think so... kind of.

I dunno. I just don't feel like it's okay for me to post things about other people. Not anymore. I care far too much for Logan, and Cameron, and Kendal, and Tanner, and Julia, and even Allyson and Mark to make our lives here a text based reality TV show. But I also miss writing. I miss ranting. I miss not giving a fuck about so and so's reaction. Because I am me when I write, and God damnit, I am not a bitch when I write. I have a backbone and I am strong, and the itty bitty bit of rage that does live within me can be unleashed.

Argh. I'm just so aggravated. So confused. So grouchy 'cause I got yelled at 'cause I kinda fail at DotA. (lol)

Oh -- in other other words: got my first hickey. I think? And by first I mean set of four.

Think on that, muthafucka.

I'd like to think my personal reaction to finding them this morning was kind of priceless.

OH! and James, sweet gay guy who used to live with Robert, said that I should write for FRL! again.

That kind of made my night. He's such a sweetheart.

Shit's Been

Real intense lately.

Real intense.

lawlessaydraftishnumbertwo

Darlene McCoy
Margaret Amis
Writing 2
16 April 2010
Big-Wiged Readin'
When he founded The New Yorker in 1925, Harold Ross' aim was to please. He wanted his readers to enjoy a sophisticated humor magazine, full of amusing yet intellectual comments, sometimes vicious satire, and overall – things to make even the most snobbish aristocrat chuckle so heartily that his over sized wig would simply slip off his shiny bald head. To this day, the magazine has persevered through the test of time, and holds true to its founder's intentions. It is no wonder, then, that a witty and well-crafted article such as Judith Thurman's “Counterfeit Roth” would be found in the modern day New Yorker. It is also no wonder, then, that she would use a well-known, and well-loved literary technique, coupled with an amusing tone and other garnishing techniques, to craft a frighteningly funny piece. Irony, the main technique used to amuse, abounds in Thurman's article, and that irony serves to accommodate and bolster the magazine's main purpose – to simply entertain. Yet through the hilarity of it all – a second purpose, the article's own purpose, shines through, and that purpose further makes the article a more profound work.
Counterfeit Roth tells the tale of a man who wrote a piece of fiction – for a newspaper. What's wrong with that? The man, Tommaso Debenedetti, was a reporter, not an author; his misleading words were read as fact. He had reported that a well known American author, Phillip Roth, in an interview, had made some rather unpleasant comments about President Barack Obama; about how his rhetoric about hope and change was empty, comments about his banality, and his failure. Yet, in fact, when asked about his statements in another interview, Roth seemed confused, and said, “It is completely contrary to what I think. Obama, in my opinion, is fantastic” (Thurman 22). He denied the validity of all that Debenedetti had reported, and furthermore explained that those comments could only be a mere figment of Debenedetti's imagination – for he had never met the man, nor even heard of the newspaper he wrote for, Libero. Later, Roth did some research of his own. That research lead him to uncover another false interview, with the same false comments, written by the same man, but with comments attributed to another's mouth. John Grisham, another well known American author, was victim number two! He was also the last victim, for he plans to travel to Italy to sue Mr. Debenetti. And after his exposure, those interviews would be the last reports he wrote; for his career will soon come to a close.
A piece packed with as much irony as Thurman's cannot be considered anything but downright funny. First of all – the article is about a fiction writer uncovering and undermining fiction. It would be more of the norm to find a fiction writer encouraging another to continue writing, continue imagining, and to continue telling tales. Yet, what happens is quite the opposite, is unexpected, and is therefore comical. Another point of irony in the article is the newspaper that Debenetti wrote for sympathized with the Prime Minister of Italy, and his report, which would have been an attempt to make the Prime Minister appear to be less-scandalous, and more well-suited for his position, only made another newspaper, the Corriere della Sera, produce an article praising Roth's harsh criticism of Obama, and implying that the citizens of Italy should evaluate their own non-existent criticisms of their own national leader. Debenetti's intentions were anything but bringing the Prime Minister's administration and behavior into question. Now, it would seem more plausible for a reporter to make up disapproving comments under another's name if that other person was one who actually somewhat believed in those comments. In that case, he would just be exaggerating on a general distaste – but Philip Roth nor John Grisham believe that Obama is a failure. They are in fact, both democrats, who believe that Obama will do good for America. It is very amusing that Mr. Debenetti could pick two people to impostor, and find that they not only simply disagree with the words put into their mouths, but are both on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. Thurman's tone and structure is even ironic in the sense that it does not follow the traditional form of an essay. Generally, in a essay, only information important to the argument is presented. Thurman adds additional information, that is not necessarily dire to the explanation and understanding of her argument using parentheses, to create more of a comical effect. In one instance, she writes, “(The only Facebook page bearing the writer's name shows a bearded, curly-haired, young hipster with a goofy expression)” (22). This tone, and the use of the words “goofy” and“hipster,” contradict the usual formality of her article, and the aforementioned idea of only mentioning ideas that support an argument in an essay. Thurman uses dialogue to amuse her readers further, at the end of her article, she mentions that Roth was asked if Debenetti impersonated him well, like the character in his novel, Operation Shylock, to which he simply replied, “No, that was literature, this is merely life, and I certainly did a better job of imposturing. (23)”
Through all of the irony and the other comical effects in the article, a more serious message peeks out from in between the lines. Throughout the entirety, Thurman uses Philip Roth to convey how she feels, and her article's point, “'You have to wonder what the guy was thinking.' Roth concluded” (23). She implies that he was not thinking, and that publishing essentially lies is probably not the best idea he had. She includes Roth's attempt to give reason to the man's idea, to be fair, “The best explanation I can find is that this obscure freelancer had hit upon a way of selling articles by attributing anti-Obama sentiments to famous American writers. It was a good gimmick, and he probably had fun. But I can't imagine what he'll do now – surely his career is over” (23). Thurman uses Roth's words to emphasize her point – passing off false work, or false words, as genuine and true only hurts one in the end.
All in all, “Counterfeit Roth” is a piece that adequately deserves its place in The New Yorker. It is amusing, well-written, and has a point to it besides its entertainment value. Without Thurman's addition of comical effects, especially irony, this article could have very well been just another news story that could have possibly bored its reader to tears, or even death! Yet, without her additional, more subtle message, this article would have been a simple pleasure for the mind – and what snobbish aristocrat would want to read that?

I Really Wish!

...that you weren't so busy...

but hopefully, this weekend will be good...

and I'd like to think the "You're awesome" on my cork board came from you...

...but I know you can't get into the dorms...

D'aww :(

I really wish...

I wasn't so shy...

Blarrrgg!

RAGE

RAAAAAAAGEEEEEEEEEE

Bad Paper is Bad.

...but I've got to print it out at the computer lab, so on the blog it goes!

Darlene McCoy
Margaret Amis
Writing 2
13 April 2010
Oh, Irony!
When he founded The New Yorker in 1925, Harold Ross' aim was to please. He wanted his readers to enjoy a sophisticated humor magazine, full of amusing yet intellectual comments, sometimes vicious satire, and overall – things to make even the most snobbish aristocrat chuckle so heartily that his over sized wig would simply slip off his shiny bald head. To this day, the magazine has persevered through the test of time, and holds true to its founder's intentions. It is no wonder, then, that a witty and well-crafted article such as Judith Thurman's “Counterfeit Roth” would be found in the modern day New Yorker. It is also no wonder, then, that she would use a well-known, and well-loved literary technique, coupled with an amusing tone and other garnishing techniques, to craft a frighteningly funny piece. Irony, the main technique used to amuse, abounds in Thurman's article, and that irony serves to accommodate and bolster the magazine's main purpose – to simply entertain. Yet through the hilarity of it all – a second purpose, the article's own purpose, shines though.
Counterfeit Roth tells the tale of a man who wrote fiction – for a newspaper. What's wrong with that? The man, Tommaso Debenedetti, was a reporter, not an author; his misleading words were read as fact. He had reported that a well known American author, Phillip Roth, in an interview, had made some rather unpleasant comments about President Barack Obama; about how his rhetoric about hope and change was empty, comments about his banality, and his failure. Yet, in fact, when asked about his statements in another interview, Roth seemed confused, and said, “It is completely contrary to what I think. Obama, in my opinion, is fantastic.” He denied the validity of all that Debenedetti had reported, and furthermore explained that those comments could only be a mere figment of Debenedetti's imagination – for he had never met the man, nor even heard of the newspaper he wrote for, Libero. Later, Roth did some research of his own. That research lead him to uncover another false interview, with the same false comments, written by the same man, but containing comments out of another's mouth. John Grisham, another well known American author, was victim number two! He was also the last victim, for he plans to travel to Italy to sue Mr. Debenetti. That would be all he wrote.
A piece packed with as much irony as Thurman's cannot be considered anything but downright funny. First of all – the article is about a fiction writer uncovering and undermining fiction. It would be more of the norm, and expected, to find a fiction writer encouraging another to continue writing, continue imagining, and to continue telling tales. Yet, what happens is quite the opposite, is unexpected, and is therefore comical. Another point of irony in the article is the newspaper that Debenetti wrote for sympathized with the Prime Minister of Italy, and his report, which would have been an attempt to make the Prime Minister appear to be less-scandalous, and more well-suited for his position, only made another newspaper, the Corriere della Sera, produce an article praising Roth's harsh criticism of Obama, and implying that the citizens of Italy should evaluate their own non-existent criticisms of their own national leader. Debenetti's intentions were anything but bringing the Prime Minister's administration and behavior into question. Now, it would seem more plausible for a reporter to make up disapproving comments under another's name if that other person was one who actually somewhat believed in those comments, so in that case, he would just be exaggerating on a general distaste – but Philip Roth nor John Grisham believe that Obama is a failure. They are in fact, both democrats, who believe that Obama will do good for America. It is very amusing that Mr. Debenetti could pick two people to imposter, and find that they not only simply disagree with the words put into their mouths, but are both on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. Thurman's tone and structure is even ironic in the sense that it does not follow the traditional form of an essay. Generally, in a essay, only information important to the argument is presented. Thurman adds additional information, that is not necessarily dire to the explanation and understanding of her argument using parentheses, to create more of a comical effect. In one instance, she writes, “(The only Facebook page bearing the writer's name shows a bearded, curly-haired, young hipster with a goofy expression.)” This tone, and the use of the words “goofy” and“hipster,” contradict the usual formality of her article, and the aforementioned idea of only mentioning ideas that support an argument in an essay. Thurman uses dialogue to amuse her readers further, at the end of her article, she mentions that Roth was asked if Debenetti impersonated him well, like the character in his novel, Operation Shylock, he simply replied, “No, that was literature, this is merely life, and I certainly did a better job of imposturing.”
Through all of the irony and other comical effect in the article, a more serious message peeks out from in between the lines. Throughout the entire article, Thurman uses Philip Roth to convey how she feels, and her article's point, “'You have to wonder what the guy was thinking.' Roth concluded.” She implies that he was not thinking, and that publishing basically lies is probably not the best idea he had. She includes Roth's attempt to give reason to the man's idea, to be fair, “The best explanation I can find is that this obscure freelancer had hit upon a way of selling articles by attributing anti-Obama sentiments to famous American writers. It was a good gimmick, and he probably had fun. But I can't imagine what he'll do now – surely his career is over.” Thurman uses Roth's words to emphasize her point – doing it wrong only hurts one in the end.
All in all, “Counterfeit Roth” is a piece that adequately deserves its place in The New Yorker. It is amusing, well-written, and has a point to it besides a piece written for enjoyment.

Whoa!

I've made 400 posts!

This is post 401 :]

...that's a lot of freakin' blogging...

Deeeeeeeeeeeerp.

Derpderp.

'kay so,

Today:

"Why do my friends always run into the guys I like?!" D:

Oh Lord...

The drama is never going to end this year.

Why is college high school 2.0? =.=

But tonight,
tonight,
last night,
and the night before

were good nights.

Not perfect... but a few good nights in a row make me content-ish.

But grrr.... grrr at stupid roommates... not mine, of course, 'cause mine aren't stupid and I love them; but yeah, GRRRRR~!

EXCITED

YUUUUUUUUM ♥

Living Writers Crap

Darlene McCoy
dmmccoy@ucsc.edu
Living Writers – Aja Duncan & Deborah Earling
When Aja Duncan first started reading her alphabet poems, I was more or less very calmed by her words. She was also very good with her tone of voice. It was very even, and soft. Her pacing was wonderful. Even though I couldn’t understand some of the words in her poetry, I heard each syllable, and that was good enough for me. I really liked her idea of doing a series of poems using the alphabet. It’s kind of neat considering some of her words aren’t even English, so that could be playing on that fact. I remember she said that she wrote her best at 5 AM, and that she got up and wrote every day. Most of the writers we’ve seen haven’t been so precise in when and how they write. I really liked her details and imagery. Sometimes I found them a little odd, but I more or less appreciate those odd bits – the make her work different from someone else’s. Sadly, poor Ms. Aja Duncan got blown away by the crazy lady who came on next, Deborah Earling.
Deborah Earling proclaimed to us that writing was for her, a spiritual experience, and that she could feel Sacajewea speaking to her. Her writing channeled Sacajewea. She has fever dreams when she writes, sometimes. We also thought that she was a prophet. I had a lot of fun listening to this writer, because she was so excited and happy about her work that it would be difficult to not be excited about it myself. It’s also just really nice to see someone who actually enjoys what they do for a living. She gave me hope for the world! Yes! She also told us, with much excitement, that she adores writing. She was the only one in the entire series to just go out and say something like that. Most of the other responses from the other writers to whether or not they enjoy writing was, “It’s a love-hate relationship.” She was extremely outgoing, and proud of her work. Her voice projected really well. I don’t think anyone had any issues hearing her. I liked how she had the idea of writing history over, more or less, in the woman’s point of view. I think if history was written by primarily women, that it might’ve been recorded differently, and it’s neat to think about those differences. I also appreciated her sense of humor – humor always makes anything more enjoyable. Oh, and she is capable of writing for 6-18 hours straight. That’s just physically impressive. She even wakes her husband up to tell him just how awesome her recently worked-on work is!
They both talked about the power of concentration, and getting into that zone that allows for creative flow. They also both mentioned learning a new language is scary – and yes, it very much is. I don’t remember which one of them talked about feeling out words, and maybe scratching them out if they don’t work, but I thought that was a good idea, and I find myself doing that often. They talked about the power of voice – and that following your ideas with your voice was a very powerful thing. They told us that our own stories even have that power. But! I think the best thing they said was to make sure to enjoy working, and to be happy in life.
All in all – it was a wonderful living writers installment and I’m glad I was there to observe the craziness that was Deborah Earling!

LFG!

Hilarious web comic. Read like half of it last night. Yay 4 AM bedtime.

http://www.lfgcomic.com/


I ♥ Richard.

Work Today II

Ever since I was a little kid, I've loved the rain. It was always an odd little quirk of mine, and rather inexplicable. Inexplicable, even to me, and I'm the person with the odd obsession. I've always felt like rain gives the world a nice warm bath, it makes everything all new and fresh, it washes away the dirt, the grime, and the unpleasantness. I love the smell right after; it's just so sweet, so delicious. I've always figured that if it had a taste it'd probably taste somewhat like a fruit smoothie with a touch of peppermint. Crisp, fresh, pure. Because of this mass love of the rain, I've always ran outside, sometimes to jump in puddles and be silly- rolling like a five year old was sometimes my style -or just to hold still and listen to the soft rhythms the pitter-patters of the droplets create on the thirsty Earth's surface. The rain - so calm, so soothing, so the entire reason my life is anything but usual.
Yep. This is one of those stories.
Now-- because I do love the rain so much, and I do not exaggerate when I say I always ran out to enjoy it, one fine afternoon, a little after a sandwich from the local Delyani's even, I was out in the middle of a thunderstorm. What can I say? Lightning always sparks my imagination, and my imagination is my escape from anything and everything negative on Earth.
Anyway, this thunderstorm was one of those mini-hurricane type things that we got about once every five years back in Rancho Cordova, it was the sort that sometimes caused the power lines to crash, fences to blow over, and flags to be whipped around so furiously they could actually be considered whips. Intense stuff, don'tcha know.
I ventured out to the middle of my lawn, on to the weird metal box thing that had been there ever since me, my Mom, and my little brother had moved in. We'd been living there almost ten years and we still had no idea what it was for, but I found it to be a rather convienent seat for enjoying, in this case, the force of nature. I'd always enjoyed being in the front row, the person right at the tip of the action-- well, the person observing the tip of the action, because I didn't really do a whole lot besides usual life. Life just always had, kind of hit me, and I'd always been okay with that fact. What happens, happens. Once I was settled and comfortable, which took a second because I had to adjust to the little rivets that lined the box, I took deep breaths, so that my lungs would fill with that crisp peppermint feeling I adore so much. The natural rhythm of my heartbeat kept my breathing in line. Calm, peaceful, simple. I just closed my eyes and floated away, away to my own world. I didn't care that my butt was sopping wet or if I caught a cold. I'd get over it. My usual resentment toward wet denim was quelled by my imagination. I'd say I've always been a day dreamer, and at that moment in time, I had soon become so enveloped in my own thoughts, my own physical being, that I'm sure I was in some sort of a trance. I was away-- floating-- in clouds, space, or something. I don't even know what I think about half the time. It's just beautiful, fantastic, and much better than the usual world.
Of course, because I was in a nearest state I had ever been to Nirvana, the world, pretty literally, had to come crashing down on me.
Literally.
So, I kind of forgot to mention that sometimes I lack in the common sense department. Basically, the winds around me were picking up, and very well nearing extremley dangerous speeds- I could feel my wet hair slapping the sides of my near frozen face - but the cold slaps were completely irrelevant. I was just in such a state of bliss that danger was pretty much a concept as foreign as Scandinavia. Who the hell gets hurt in their daydreams? That's just silly.
I opened my eyes for a split second to notice a tree. A tree moving toward me. A tree, blown over by the winds, crashing toward me. Plummeting toward me. Me. Tree. Ow. I sighed and closed my eyes, and then it hit me. Boom. Blank.
Because this is one of those stories, I didn't just like, die, become horribly mangled, or get crippled for life or anything.
I kind of went to another world.
Sweet.
My eyelids fluttered open to reveal a winter wonderland, something like out of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Except it wasn't. Not that story. I figured that if I was hallucinating, in a coma, or otherwise trapped inside my own head, my world would be much more original, but maybe my mind had taken some ideas. That is, if I was in my mind. I fumbled around to find myself in a bed of snow, and a light blanket of soft snowflakes draped carefully over my body. I at first thought how odd it was that the frozen water was comforting, and how strange it was that I was not dying of hypothermia or uh, the recent collision with a tree. I wasn't shivering, I wasn't even cold. Was this frostbite? Were my toes going to fall off? Did they already fall off? Did the tree knock them off? How was I not dead, anyway? Why was there no pain, no broken bones, no minor sign of being injured whatsoever? What the crap? I blinked my eyes in utter confusion.
I shook off my blanket, and watched the cotton flakes reflect the minuscule amount of sun that was attempting to peek out from behind the white skies. I took a little gander around me, and took my surroundings in. It took a second for my brain to process them. I realized that I was in the middle of a giant pass surrounded by the white flurry that is a blizzard. Ice. Snow. Hail. Have I mentioned that I lived in California? In the Central Valley? Snow? What the hell? Why was there snow? I only even know what a blizzard was thanks to Little House on the Prairie.
My bafflement was soon interrupted by this new world hitting me.
Apparently, worlds make a sport of abusing me. That's fun.
A carriage, drawn by horses, or something that looked like horses, came around a bank and roared into my view. Its wheels ricketed and rattled and spewed snow absolutely everywhere. Against the blizzard, it looked like a giant white yeti, bounding toward me on all fours. Kind of terrifying. As it passed me, two figures abandoned ship, and conveniently rolled right into me.
Oh dear, I thought, rolling my eyes. Now I've got to deal with this. Fun fun fun. I sighed, and just hoped they were human and I could communicate with them. Communication is a cool thing. I really like words and stuff. Even though I wasn't freezing to death, which still confused the hell out of me, my stomach was telling me that I hadn't become immune to it's cries of "FEED ME!" so I had to find something to quell that little annoyance, and the sooner the better. Me without food is a demon that destroys all, consumes all, and that shall not be named. I was sure of myself to know that I could deal with people for long enough to "borrow" some food.
I peered over at the slumps on the frozen terrain, they had a humanoid shape, so I started to make my way toward them, crawling and creeping ever so slightly, until I could make out more distinct features. I noticed normal eyes, noses, ears, even facial hair. Men.
I breathed a short "Oh thank God" sigh of relief, and decided to make sure the more rigid and unhappy looking slump was still able to function. That damned stomach of mine was getting to be rather furious, and it's tone was nearing that of an abusive stepmother's more and more.
As my hand reached toward the neck of that unhappy slump, I felt my balance immediately usurped, and found myself slammed to the ground, with a knife conveniently placed about my neck. The only thing I could think, besides the sharp pain in my lower back caused by the impact, was, "Oh, it's going to be one of those days. Freakin' fantastic."
I stared into the eyes of the man who had pinned me down. Chilling ice daggers. Oh dear lord, what madness had I stumbled upon? All I wanted to do was enjoy the rain...
He grumbled at me, "Don't move."
I complied. Didn't really have an issue with his order, either. He was at least ten times bigger, and ten times more in shape than me. Was not going to fight that. Oh hell no.
The slump I'd attempted to check the pulse of came to and sat up awkwardly in the snow. He tilted his head, and glanced over at the scene next to him. He chuckled lightly, and spoke.
"Tobias."
"What..?"
The ice daggers released me. Phew. I didn't ever want to be in a staring contest that intense again...
"Do you always have to be so damn dramatic? Let the poor thing go."
Tobias, the big guy, grunted, retracted his blade, and picked me up by my shirt collar, which promptly ripped it, and I wouldn't say I was set, nor tossed, but I ended up sitting up on the ground somehow. My back still hurt. Ugh.
The other guy crawled over to me and waved at my face to make sure that I hadn't been too horribly mortified by his companion's "over-dramaticness". He had deep brown eyes. They almost seemed to smolder or ember, but their general luster gave off a presence of warmth and comfort. I liked him almost as immediately as I had been thrown on the ground just a minute earlier. He smiled a sheepish, cheeky smile at me, and asked my name.
I took a breath and told him that I was Amymone, but I much preferred to be called Amy, since Amymone was such an odd name. Odd name. Odd person. Amymone. Me.
"Where you from miss?"
"California."
"...what?"
"California!"
"What's that?"
"...what?"
I squinted my eyes at him, and he proceeded to do the same. We just sat there, and stared at each other, both dazed and confused by the other's words. He didn't know what California was...?
Tobias, who had been watching our little game of who can confuse the other more, grew sick of his free entertainment, and decided that the show would not go on. He proceeded to knock both mine and the other guy's heads together, like two balls in a Newton's Cradle. I would have found it more amusing if our heads had retaliated and collided again, because I've always liked those things, but, our reactions were more of the "Ow, damnit!" sort, with a side of head rubbing and grumpy glares at Tobias. Well, the other guy did, 'cause my feeble little grumpy glares would turn tail and run at the mere thought of Tobais' ice daggers. He picked us both up by the back of our clothing, and placed us upon our feet.
"Okay, so, um," I stuttered, "Where the hell am I?"
"You're on the border of Haggernon and Amanthia!"
"...what?"
I think I felt my jaw hit the ground. Kind of like how they do in a cartoon. I wasn't really all that amazing at geography, and God knows I didn't know all the countries of the world, but I'd never, ever, heard of Amanthia or Haggernon. Was I in some weird part of Russia or something? What the hell--
Ice daggers.
I stopped being confused real quick-like. I wasn't about to get my head hit again. Pain is too much effort, and I wasn't a fan of headaches, either. Why did Tobias have to be so big and grouchy...

Newton's Cradle

COOOOOOOOOOOOOL :]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TANNER!!

The day actually ended like thee hours ago, but..

Yeah, happy birthday! ♥

I Hope That...

You know how sad I am that our friendship is strained 'cause of this... crap...

:(

Work Today

Ever since I was a little kid, I've loved the rain. I've always felt like rain gives the world a nice warm bath, it makes everything all new and fresh, it washes away the dirt, the grime, and the unpleasantness. I love the smell right after; it's just so sweet. I've always figured that if it had a taste it'd probably taste somewhat like a fruit smoothie with a touch of peppermint. Crisp, fresh, pure. Yum! Because of this mass love of the rain, I've always ran outside, sometimes to jump in puddles and be silly, or just to hold still and listen to the soft rhythms the pitter-patters of the droplets create on the thirsty Earth's surface. The rain - so calm, so soothing, so the entire reason my life is anything but usual.
Yep. This is one of those stories.
Now-- because I do love the rain so much, and I do not exaggerate when I say I always ran out to enjoy it, one fine afternoon, a little after a sandwich from the local Delyani's even, I was out in the middle of a thunderstorm. What can I say? Lightning always sparks my imagination, and my imagination is my escape from anything and everything negative on Earth.
Anyway, this thunderstorm was one of those mini-hurricane type things that we got about once every five years back in Rancho Cordova, it was the sort that sometimes caused the power lines to crash, fences to blow over, and flags to be whipped around so furiously they could actually be considered whips. Intense.
I ventured out to the middle of my lawn, on to the weird power box thing that had been there ever since me, my Mom, and my little brother had moved in. Once I was settled and comfortable, which took a second because I had to adjust to the little rivets that lined the box, I just closed my eyes and floated away, away to my own world. I didn't care that my butt was sopping wet or if I caught a cold. My usual resentment toward wet denim was quelled by my imagination. I'd say I've always been a day dreamer, and at that moment in time, I had soon become so enveloped in my own thoughts that I'm sure I was in some sort of a trance. I was away-- floating-- in clouds, space, or something. I don't even know what I think about half the time. It's just beautiful, fantastic, and much better than the usual world.
Of course, because I was in a nearest state I had ever been to Nirvana, the world, pretty literally, had to come crashing down on me.
Literally.
So, I kind of forgot to mention that sometimes I lack in the common sense department. Basically, the winds around me were picking up, and very well nearing extremely dangerous speeds, but I was just so uncaring and happy that danger was pretty much a concept that was totally irrelevant in my mind. Who the hell gets hurt in their daydreams? That's just silly.
I opened my eyes for a split second to notice a tree. A tree moving toward me. I thought to myself, a rather simple thought, since it was one hell of an oak, "Man, are you serious?", and then it hit me.
Because this is one of those stories, I didn't just like, die, or anything.
I kind of went to another world.
Cool.
I awoke in a bed of snow, with a light blanket of soft snowflakes draped carefully over my body. I at first thought how odd it was that the frozen water was comforting, and how strange it was that I was not dying of hypothermia, or uh, the recent collision with an oak tree. How was I not dead, anyway? Why was there no pain, no broken bones, no minor sign of being injured whatsoever? I shook off my blanket, took a little gander around me, and took my surroundings in. My brain actually processed them this time. I realized that I was in the middle of a giant pass surrounded by the white flurry that is a blizzard. Ice. Snow. Hail. Have I mentioned that I lived in California? In the Central Valley? Snow? What the hell? Why was there snow? I only even know what a blizzard was thanks to Little House on the Prairie.
My bafflement was soon interrupted by this new world hitting me.
Apparently, worlds make a sport of abusing me. That's fun.
A carriage, drawn by horses, or something that looked like horses, came around a bank and roared into my view. Its wheels ricketed and rattled and spewed snow absolutely everywhere. Against the blizzard, it looked like a giant white yeti, bounding toward me on all fours. Kind of terrifying. As it passed me, two figures abandoned ship, and conveniently rolled right into me.
Oh dear, I thought. I just hoped they were human and I could communicate with them. Even though I wasn't freezing to death, which still confused the hell out of me, my stomach was telling me that I hadn't become immune to it's cries of "FEED ME!" so I had to find something to quell that little annoyance, and the sooner the better. Even though people nine times out of ten drove me minorly insane, I could deal with them to keep living.
I peered over at the slumps on the frozen terrain, they had a humanoid shape, so I started to make my way toward them, crawling and creeping ever so slightly, until I could make out more distinct features. I noticed normal eyes, noses, ears, even facial hair. Men.
I breathed a short sigh of relief, and decided to make sure the more rigid and unhappy looking slump was still able to function.
As my hand reached toward the neck of that unhappy slump, I felt my balance immediately usurped, and found myself slammed to the ground, with a knife conveniently placed about my neck. The only thing I could think, besides of the pain the impact caused, was, "Oh, it's going to be one of those days."
I looked into the eyes of the man who had pinned me down. They were about as chilling as our surroundings - they pierced me, like ice daggers.
He grumbled at me, "Don't move."
I complied. Didn't really have an issue with his order, either. He was at least ten times bigger, and ten times more in shape than me. Was not going to fight that.
The slump I'd attempted to check the pulse of came to and sat up awkwardly in the snow. He tilted his head, and glanced over at the scene next to him. He sighed lightly, and spoke.
"Tobias."
"What..?"
"Do you always have to be so damn dramatic? Let the poor thing go."
Tobias, the big guy, returned the glance, except with it, he added a little package of annoyance.
He grunted, retracted his blade, and picked me up by my shirt collar, which promptly ripped it, and I wouldn't say I was set, nor tossed, but I ended up sitting up on the ground somehow.
The other guy crawled over to me and waved at my face to make sure that I hadn't been too horribly mortified by his companion's "over-dramaticness". He had deep brown eyes. They almost seemed to smolder or ember, but their general luster gave off a presence of warmth and comfort. I liked him almost as immediately as I had been thrown on the ground just a minute earlier. He smiled a sheepish, cheeky smile at me, and asked my name.
I took a breath and told him that I was Amymone, but I much preferred to be called Amy, since Amymone was such an odd name.
"Nice name. Nice face. Where you from?"
"California."
"...what?"
"California!"
"What's that?"
"Um, how about I ask you a question first: where am I?"
"You're on the border of Amanthia and Haggernon."
I think I felt my jaw hit the ground. I wasn't really all that amazing at geography, and God knows I didn't know all the countries of the world, but I'd never, ever, heard of Amanthia or Haggernon. Was I in some weird part of Russia or something? What the hell?

I Also Hate

...the fact that I lost many, many friends...

I Hate

...that I gave up my spot in housing with Riley and Mark.

:(

The Group!

Guys:
Ryan
Riley
Tanner
Cooper
Pranov
Asher
Alec
Mark
Mike
Miguel
Dylan
Kyle
CAMERRROOON

Girls:
Julia
Kendal
Allyson
Me!
Casey
Liz
Maya

Awesome Girlfriends:
Brytanny
Rebekah

Others:
Phillip
Ginny

I THREW IT ON THE GROUND!

http://www.hulu.com/watch/99944/saturday-night-live-digital-short-on-the-ground

Yada Yada Yada

I want to make words dance!

Dance dance dance!

DANCE DANCE DANCE

Pourquoi?

'cause I feel freakin' awesome...

I want to make words dance 'cause like,

words are really good at conveying emotions,

and my emotion right now:

DANCEDANCEDANCE HAPPY YAY!

Abbey is coming to see me on Weds!

and my broski might be coming up to see me, too! ♥

AND AND AND

INTENSE SHIT HAPPENED!

but that intense shit,

shall be discussed later.

Much, much later.

Also, I love Mark.

Mark Delyani Sandwiches

WITHOUT MAYONNAISE!

oh and Riley.

Always love Riley.

MWAHHAHAHAHAHAHA ♥!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Don't forget today.

'Cause it was awesome,

and will continue to be awesome.

Fo'sho, yo!

Virgins: What the Fuck Do you Do?

Virgins in this day and age are quite the interesting creatures. Two types of virgins attempt to drown their misery in whatever fashion they can: there's the innocent, pink-cheeked crazy fucks who are, "Saving themselves for Jesus," and the poor bastards who have just yet to experience the utter joy that is being laid. Now-- I've always wondered what these people to do relieve themselves of their sexual frustrations.
I decided to start my investigation at Merrill College, better know to the UCSC community as "Sterile Merrill." I figured that I'd find a plethora of juicy virgins to satisfy my needs there.
Because physically moving is rather inconvenient, I decided to reward myself with a small meal at Tacos Morenos (the actual only legitimate reason for trekking up Cardiac Hill in the first place), which lead me to my first victim of the day. As I ordered my breakfast burrito, 'cause breakfast is always legit, I "bumped" into a resident of Merrill College and then started my investigation.
Our conversation, to the best of my recollection, went something like this:
"Hello, kind sir, and good day to you, I'm a member of the Fish Rap Live! Staff and I've got a few questions to ask, would you mind having a short conversation with me?"
He obliged, and we sat down at a nearby table.
"Sir, have you experienced the splendor that is sexual intercourse?"
I, of course, was actually that polite.
The Merrillite just stared at me with wide, blank eyes - I don't know if it was because I'd been so blunt (LOLWEED) or if it was the fact that my hand was ever creeping toward his genitalia (LOLDICKS), but he was quite startled.
His eyes sparkled, I think from terror, then he glanced my way for a split second, then almost inaudibly muttered a "Yes." He then stood up, and briskly walked away. I guess he was one of those "Saving myself for Jesus" types.
Anyway - besides the fact that the Merrillite was a-shakin' in his booties, I had picked up on the fact that he smelt like a dead wet dog, which I found rather peculiar, since he looked clean.
I strolled over to one of Merrill's dormitories and entered what I thought would be a rather normal place (it is Merrill after all.) My nose nearly exploded, and my poor abused nostrils begged me, on their knees (LOLBLOWJOBS) if they had them, to leave that foul-smelling world. I was subdued by my nose, and turned right the fuck around.
After wasting some time being completely lost around Merrill, I found myself at the housing office. I'd decided that the people in there might know why the hell the place smelt that bad.
They told me that they had no definite answer, but that recently the vacuums had been breaking down nearly every night. They had kept getting clogged, which caused them to blow circuits, and then, when pulled they'd leak a milky off-white substance, which conveniently left little race tracks of white goop around the dorm.
When I asked them if they had investigated, they told me that they were not paid to enter the land of a college dorm.
Their words may have also been, "Fuck that shit."
I decided that I needed to return to Porter to borrow a few "investigative tools" from a fellow Fish Rapper. I explained to him my predicament, and he promptly lent me his tools - Ganja, Smokey, and Chronic.
Mice equipped with video cameras are quite useful things.
I took my tools up that God-forsaken hill and let them loose.
I then proceeded to go back to Porter and do what we do best: smoke hella weed.
The next morning (2 PM), I rolled out of bed to view what my fabulous little detectives had found for me, and oh, the shock, the horror, and the luls, they were so intense.
Those little mice had discovered what the fuck was up with Merrill--
Dear readers of FRL!:
The virgins of Merrill College have been using the vacuums to relieve themselves of sexual frustrations.
The reason why the vacuums were clogged?
Some crazy fuck decided putting the vacuum on full power was a good idea, and now he doesn't have to "trim the forest" for a month.
The reason a milky off-white substance leaks from the vacuums?
Oh, I think you know.
(In case you're minorly retarded, it's jizz!)
Now, the reason why Merrill radiates a toxic stench?
Crazy virgins have been jacking off into vacuums, and then other residents, unaware of the situation, have been dragging jizz leaking vacuums around the entire dorm. And they can't clean it up because the vacuums don't work.
I suppose that this investigation has answered my original question of what do virgins do to get off, but it has only lead me to another, an all encompassing question to be asked for all eternity:
What the fuck is up with Merrill?

Living Writers Stuff

Darlene McCoy
dmmccoy@ucsc.edu
Living Writers Response - Beth Lisick
When Beth Lisick first approached the podium, I thought she was a student. I was very surprised to find out later that she is over 40. She pretty much embodies the idea of a older bod but a young mind. One of the firs things she mentioned was that she just writes. She writes about whatever she's interested in, and then later thinks about the "consequences" of her work. I really appreciated her saying that writing has no rules. I am very much happy with that concept. I find it neat that she sort of started writing at an open mic night. I guess that's why she and her work are so animated and fun. Her description of the "freaks" at the open mic night bar-place were quite spectacular. I can still remember the vampire people!
The novel she read from, Helping Me Help Myself, was quite hilarious for being a novel about more personal experiences. Her humor is just plain weird, yet somehow hysterical. I must say, I was not expecting to see two naked middle aged ladies. Though, the faces of the people around me made the experience a good time. I remember certain things from her reading, like, "It was just something uncomfortable to talk about, like sex, or Hitler," or her description of babies, "Babies are the ultimate paradox, they are phantom demons that when born, make you start to die." I also really liked the concept of the slef-help novel. Twelve things in twelve months is a wonderful idea. I'm probably not going to do it, but it sounds really nice, and is a lot more reasonable than most New Year's Resolution type-things. I also really appreciated that she told us how she ended up coming up with the idea for the novel, and how she did research by attending a bunch of self help workshops.
All the short stories she told were fantastic, because I could completely visualize a beautiful, brand new car rollin' down the street after her, and then the confusion hurry and hysteria that ensued. I could also imagine being one of her band mates and observing that chaos. I know I might've died laughing on the spot. The story about the towels was also quite amusing, because I've been in a situation where I don't want to use something nice because it just looks so wonderful that I think it'd be rude to mess it up! The story about Japan was just crazy. I loved Beth's personal interjections of thought in between the ridiculous action around her.
Beth's videos were something else. Even though most of them were only about a minute long, she and her partner do a great job creating characters out of thin air. Though, now that I think about it, her videos really remind me of Mad TV, which is okay, because I know I'm entertained, but I'm also entertained by 90% of all things in the world.
I loved how the except I read was from Santa Cruz. I loved how she could relate to us, and how close to home it felt. I'm really glad she was from Kresge too. Kresge is pretty sweet! I'm sure I could find Emily's Bakery downtown or the restaurant, or maybe even the place where the nuns held their charity thing. I wonder if the nuns have ever read her work! I'm just glad this writer took the time to come back to UCSC to visit and share her work. She was wonderful.

First FRL! Article

The person who read it last night said it was funny... but probably too long...

I'll type it up later and post it on here... if people comment on it that'd be swell!

I'm just really happy I actually wrote something. It's a lot more productive than uh... not writing something and just showing up at production weekend for like, 2 hours, or 3, or however long I was there...

It's about um, virgins, Merrill, and uh, vacuums, and it's pretty intense.

PS: if anyone in Santa Cruz reads this blog, the new issue is out and it's freakin' hilarious, so go read FRL! instead of CHP! Wooho! :]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY RYAN!

You know I love you dear! ♥

LAST NIGHT WAS HELLA DAYS AWEEESSSSOOMMME!

Now for recovery~!

Hope you had a blast, I know I did!

I Want to Go :(

http://www.ticketmaster.com/event/1C00438EA5C4588E?artistid=710165&majorcatid=10001&minorcatid=1

Muse

Oracle Arena

Oakland, CA
Wed, Apr 14, 2010 08:00 PM

Logan!

New friend! ♥

He's fabulous :]

...and he knows Marc

...and I ran into them both this morning

with a still very drunk Liz

oh dear

lol

XD

good times..?

VACUUMS!

What are the vacuums around campus always broken or malfunctioning?

'Cause crazy horny virgins are jackin' them off at night!

♥ ♥ ♥

WHAT?!

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

My First Article

What do virgins to do get off, etc.?

Fuuuuuuun. XD

Lady of the Waves

Oh brave adventurer,
man of the seas,
oh brave adventurer,
are you ready for me?

You will succumb to my song
A bee attracted to honey
Become entangled in my web,
Pitiful insect.

Oh brave adventurer,
man of the seas,
oh brave adventurer,
are you ready for me?

My eyes glimmer of the sea
Deep, blue, and all-consuming
Are they comforting your soul?
You're already under my control.

Oh brave adventurer,
man of the seas,
oh brave adventurer,
are you ready for me?

Skin of the oceans,
worn pebble-soft by only time,
Feel it, touch it, revel--
Your life shall be mine.

Not paying attention?
A little entranced, are we?
Oh dear, there goes your mind,
Your ship, your life, your time,
Nothing can tame me you see--
For I am a siren of the seas.

Stargazing

The tail of a shooting star
Could take us quite far,
We could explore the cosmos,
We could travel on a path of stardust
You've earned my trust.

Could you take me to the stars?
Could we visit Venus,
maybe fall in love,
And then venture to Mars?

Would you take me dancing among the galaxies?
If you did, I bet the heavens would sing,
Our own cosmic musical,
Now, wouldn't that be quite the thing?

Through a black hole we'd go,
where we'd end up - nobody would know.
It'd be just you and me--
and I'd love for you to see--
that this is the way
the universe
was meant to be.

Hollywood Musicals Stuff

Movies --

Applause ~ 1929
Director: Rouben Mamoulian
Stars: Helen Morgan, Joan Peers, Fuller Mellish Jr., Henry Wadsworth
Composer(s): Irving Berlin,
Plot: Kitty Darling tries to save good girl April Darling, Hitch is a freak!

Love Me Tonight ~ 1932
Director: Rouben Mamoulian
Stars: Maurice Chevalier, Jeanette MacDonald,
Composer(s): Richard Rodgers, Lorenz Hart
Plot: A tailor pretends he's important and falls in love with a "princess."

Night & Day ~ 1946
Director: Michael Curtiz
Stars: Cary Grant, Alexis Smith, Monty Wooley
Composer(s): Max Steiner
Plot: Cole Porter's life, no hint of his bisexuality

De-Lovely ~ 2004
Director: Irwin Winkler
Stars: Kevin Kline, Ashley Judd
Composer(s): Cole Porter
Lyrics: Cole Porter
Plot: Modern Cole Porter story, Linda is a little tougher

Swing Time ~ 1936
Director: George Stevens
Stars: Fred Astaire, Ginger Rodgers,
Composer(s): Dorothy Fields, Jerome Kern, Robert Russel Bennet
Choreographer(s): Hermes Pan
Plot: Lucky wants to marry girl, but needs $25 grand, goes to NY, meets Penny, falls in love.

Gigi ~ 1958
Director: Vincente Minnelli
Stars: Leslie Caron, Louis Jourdan, Eva Gabor, Isabel Jeans
Composer(s): Alan Jay Lerner, Fredrick Loewe
Plot: Gigi sent to "girl school." Becomes a lady and attracts a "royal" man.

People to Know --

Bob Fosse - choreographer, director, screenwriter, Cabaret, The Little Prince
Buzbee Berkeley - women and geometric shapes, like a crazy trip angles
Gower Champion - choreography/director
Fred Astraire - camera fixated on the dancers, like watching from 5th row, ballroom/tap
Gene Kelly - camera more free, using more space, connection between dancers and camera
Irving Berlin - composer and lyricist, hella days good!
George Gershwin - composer, died early of a brain tumor
Cole Porter - composer, lyricist, Night & Day, Linda

Types of musicals --
Backstage (Applause)
Fairytale (Love Me Tonight)
Folk (Annie Get Your Gun)

The Great Depression made musicals happy things.

ANOTHER CREATIVE WRITING FRIEND

NOW THERE'S TWO

OH MY GOD,

WOOHOO~!

CREATIVE WRITING FRIEND!

OMGYAYOMGYAYOMGYAY

Let's see what happens here, eh?

Let's have a fabulous time,

and hella days hope we rhyme

'cause the world just rolls a whole lot cooler

when things go well together

HEEEEEEY~O!

Yo.

XD

Woohoo :]

Creepy Kyle Doesn't Like Me

D'AWWWWWWWWWWWW

XD

Halloween

The night has finally begun
it's a little dark, a little creepy
a little spooky,
a little
eerie.

I'm ready for action - ready to make my move!
I'm waiting
waiting
to get into
my groove.

I am set free!
and I start to prowl,
I set out on my quest
to uncover leftovers of the night's conquests

I'm blinded by my signal,
the glorious full moon,
oh, I know I'll be there soon.

My mask fits just right
not too loose, nor too tight,
I'm the perfect criminal, the best theif
I'm a beast in the night

I'll steal your heart - then I'll feast.

I continue my venture over the furry terrain
Can you hear the soft pitter-patters of my feet?
'cause I'm tryin' to be discreet.
I'm tryin' to be silent
I'm tryin' to be sleek

For I am a bandit,
I'm no mink!

Arrival at last!
My loot, it is vast,
Shiny and crinkly,
oh it makes my eyes glimmer,
but hey, that's how it goes--
'cause I'm a bandit
and I'm always a winner!

Tastes like victory,
oh it's so sweet,
peanuts and caramel,
chocolate and nougat,
oh!

I believe
that my mission
is complete.

Listen to the Melody

Pulse. Pulse. Pulse.
Beat. Beat. Beat.

Can you feel that rhythm?
Can you feel it in your feet?
Are your toes dancing?
Are your fingertips prancing?

Can you? Can you? Can you?

Stop.

A minute.

Just listen,
Just breathe,
Close your mind,
Open your soul,
and just listen.

Listen to the melody,
The song within,
Listen to the melody,

Listen to each note's flawless flow,
Become enveloped in an ocean of sound,
Let the chords intertwine,
Let their waves crash into you,
Relax your mind.

Become one with the notes,
Become one with your own musical world,
Let it uplift you,
Let it carry you to the places
Where eyes are of no use.

Listen to the melody,
The song within,
Listen to the magic born,
Of only the human heart.

Close your eyes,
Embrace the harmonies,
And fade away.

Your symphony is calling.

The Name - Ms. Hinkle

The apple,
that fruit that hit Newton on the head,
The apple,
that fruit that is so unbelievably red,
it reminds me of Cordova - CHS
reminds me of the dear friends I've left.

Now there's one particular friend--
one crazy soul to compliment mine,
and I've not seen her in such a long time...

but hey!
This is where the apple comes in again,
it's on a spit,
sizzling and crackling, over a dancing flame.

That dance is how a friendship came to be.
Kinda neat, though I know it's hard to see.

and the apple,
even after it's smoldering waltz,
is still red
and it can still surely bruise Sir Issac's head.
but now,
the once soft skin,
the membrane encompassing the juices within,
is not so smooth, or thin.

Is a roasted apple still the same?
It sort of reeks of only
smoke and ash.
The once gentle crisp
now has a lisp.
Oh! The apple's speech is impaired!

Now, the skin is leather, a diminished red,
it resembles something like the top of a cowboy's head--
Now, the fresh crackles are gone -
the apple is dead.
The smell of sweet spring no longer exists--
and yet,
science,
still persists.

Cindy and I -
in compliance
murdered an apple
in the name of science.

First Rain Recap

So, like, um,

it's about uh,

a

few

months

since First Rain even happened,

and I've been meaning to write about it for a while, 'n stuff.

Yeppp.

ANYWAY.

First Rain.

Epic.

So, the morning of the planned "First Rain,"

I put on my shiny red underwear.

They've got sequins on them.

BWAHAHAHAHA :]

They're kinda awesome.

So, I wore those all day to try and prepare myself for the night.

THE NIGHT, THE CRAZY EPIC NIGHT THAT WAS TO COME!

Well, that worked.

I was debating if I was actually going to run First Rain all day,

but the red underwear

and Allyson

and Julia

and Ryan

all helped me decide that taking my clothes off and running around the forest in the rain at night

...was a good idea...

AND IT WAS.

...what?! XD

AWESOME!

Anyway, around, like, 10 PM,

it started raining again,

and good lord, it had been raining hardcore earlier that day,

so First Rain was def going down

down down down ↓

Yep!

SOOOO, I brought up a towel to the lounge,

...and left it there...

for later...

then, I got left behind...

XD FAIL!

So I ran downstairs, with my clothes still on and stuff,

and got out to the Porter quad,

where I saw masses of naked people

Oh, I love Porter.

I found Allyson, Ryan, Julia, and the other people we were running with: Casey, Rayne, Asher, and Cooper

They're all good friends of mine now. :]

So, uh, I took my pants off...
...and my shirt...
annnnnd

then I was standing in the Porter quad, half naked.

Cool.

I had Allyson take my bra off,

and then

it started.

HOLYFUCKNAKEDRUNNINGPEOPLEPARTSMOVINGWHOOOAAAA

...it was fun... :]

We ran up through Kresge, where we were joined by many people,
'cause Kresge is actually cool 'n stuff.

The streets were lined with those who wanted to see the awesomeness that was naked running people.

The awesomeness, it was so intense.

We continued running, and uh,
Vans
don't really have all that great of traction
so
um
I kinda
slipped
a few
times
and stuff

:(

The group actually moved fairly quickly, so uh,
I kinda couldn't breathe and stuff
and...

y'know

there was that uh

giant splint on my arm

'cause my hand was broken!

It was covered in a giant trash bag,
and Riley had wrote

"ARM CONDOM" on it :]

It's on my wall now, it's so awesome!

Anyway, that kinda slowed me down a bit

so I ended up at the back of the pack
with the chick with the viking hat on

She's from my hall. Really nice.

and we just kinda took
a shortcut or two
and enjoyed a naked stroll
through UCSC~!

It was freakin' fatabulous!

We caught up with the group and eventually ended up at Opers

which is the gym-type place
that has an Olympic-sized swimming pool

that a whole shit load of naked people might've jumped over a fence to swim in

Wet. Naked. People. Running. WTFFF

Then I lost my viking friend for a little, but ran into Liz!

Who was a little schwasted, but oh man, I think she was content with life.

After that we ran through the bookstore area, and got a little lost...

and I found Julia and Allyson again!

...then I lost them, again.

Deeeeeeeerp.

Uuuuhhh... then we were heading back to Porter

and I ran into my roommate!

and she was like HEEEEEEEEEEEY

and I was like HEEEEEEEEY

It was great.

Then we were in like a naked circle of awesome, chanting "Nudity is unity!"

and Ryan was there!

in his pea-coat

which I found to be oh so amusing.

Then

then...

I had a moment.

A wonderful, beautiful, amazing moment.

I felt free.

I felt beautiful.

I felt amazing.

I was amazing.

Being naked with a lot of other naked people is really fun.

Well, we finally got back to Porter,

and I got my towel from the lounge

and turned around to see Asher's GIANT FUCKING HORSECOCK

Then we had a shower party!

There's nothing better than showering with your new friends to learn how to be comfortable around them!

Woohoo~!

The shower was so warm.

We were in the handicap stall in B5 center... so we had like 6 or 7 people in there.

Someone had the shower head thing, and that person was all just kinda spraying us down.

It was. So. Awesome.

Then we went to the dining hall in our pajamas.

'Cause we could.

and we had a wonderful and amazing feast.

Then we all kinda passed out.

FUCK YEAH FIRST RAIN!

It was an amazing, awesome, and fantastic experience I'll never forget.

and daaaaaaaaaaaamn dude, I can't wait to do it again next year!

Labels Done-ish!

Horrraaaaay :]

...that was an odd look into the past...

and I'm so embarrassed that FFXI is still my largest label...

Meh....

I feel somewhat accomplished.

Working

...on labels for the blooooggg!

Darlene on the Radio!

...AWESOMEE!

That was so much fun, thanks for sending me the number, Stephen! ♥

I hope I made your show more or less entertaining :]

Creepy Kyle Likes Me!

D'AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Currently

I'm rocking out to Bad Romance

(Lady Gaga don'tcha know?)

N A K E D.

FUCK YEAH ROOMMATES ARE GONE FOR THE WEEKEND XD XD XD

:]~!

IT'S RILEY'S BIRTHDAY!!

OH SHIT
OH SHIT
OH SHIT
OH SHIT

P-A-R-T-Y~!

...except it's next weekend

'cause he's gonna go see his girlfriend this weekend (D'AWWWWWWW)

BUT WE WILL PARTY

AND IT WILL BE SUPER FUCKING INTENSE.

Especially 'cause I can throw down shitty vodka now...

XD YEEEEEEEEE!

I'm Awake

Right now.

...and I'm really happy. ♥

OH SHIT!

Smiling again :]

Breakfast today... was really good.

Teehee~! ♥

Now it's time to READ for this creative writing class of mine...

dodododododo

Urrrrghhh

I feel... really terrible tonight...

doing that... isolation... thing again...

...even VH1 didn't cure my feelings of... blah... tonight...

... n'est pas bien...

I dunno why I feel so bad anyway...

I just... kinda... do

and I've felt like throwing up again...

Mmmmm... I'm going to go to sleep soon...

Gonna get up at like... uh 9 or 10...

Eat... go to the bookstore... buy reader...

do homework...

go to physics...
go to Living Writers...
go watch musicals...
go to Late Night Noms...
and go to sleep...

Blaaarggg... I need something to cheer me up...

but I'm kind of in this rut, again

where I think that something is someone

:(

It's not Marc.

Marc is a thing, and a person, of the past now...

I still get kinda jittery around him, but mostly 'cause what happened between us was pretty freakin' awkward...

...and I've mostly given up on the guy from College 8...

I don't know if I ever really liked him anyway...

I feel really awful about Tanner, too, but I kinda know it was for the best.

I kinda wish I hadn't been so... quick about it... but he kinda asked for it, and I kinda told him what was up...

Now I've gotten a text

from a friend

whom I do like to be around quite a bit

"You're kinda cute."

Hm.

I dunno what I think about this yet...

'Cause, uh, the last time I went for something like this...

well,

um,

intense shit?

I dunno dude. I just dunno.

The only thing I do know right now is that it's about 1 AM, and I should really get some sleep.

Sleep... is beautiful. ♥

Random Thought:

I really want a freakin' lightsaber...

It's so Strange

...I think I'm going to be single this Valentine's Day...

*shrug*

<>< RAP!

I really, really, really, really, really

...need something to write about... :(

Article, come to me, come to meeee!

Collage Poem

Oh! Darling,
I will ask you this:
Can you spare a kiss?
Could you toss an embrace?
I'll be anything you ask and more

Oh! Darling,
I want to reconcile the violence in your heart
I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask
I want to exorcise the demons from your past
and oh!
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

Oh! Darling,
if you leave me,
I'll never make it alone,

and Darling,
This fear of lonely has got a hold on me,
So, Darling, I hope you see
by my broken phrases,
just how much you mean to me

My heart is under arrest again,
and I foresee no natural end

So Darling,
I'll live and I'll die
Hooked on you, my star,

and Darling,
I will be chasing your starlight
Until the end of my life.

Starlight - Muse
Undisclosed Desires - Muse
Oh! Darling - The Beatles
Semiotic Love - Blaqk Audio
Best of You - Foo Fighters
1901 - Phoenix
Death - White Lies

Repetition Poem

I smile
I laugh
I giggle
I glee

Then you notice me~

I'm confused
I'm shocked
I'm flattered

Then I agree~

Kiss.
Bliss.

Pause.

Think.
Think. Think. Think.

I frown
I cry
I'm scared
and I've got no idea as to why

I panic
I grow weak
No longer can I speak

Then it ends.

WOOSH.

Oh Hey,

I got a mouse yesterday.

His name is Smokey.

He's cuuuuute~! ♥

and by he, I mean she,

'cause it's a girl...

HOLYFUCKFINALLY

Done with new layout... which isn't really all that different...

but I like it so much more!

SO MUCH MORE!

:]

Also:

The Muse nerdy-ness is kinda consuming my soul,

but I just really like their album art, AND I really like their album!

...so whatever...

IT'S MY BLOG! MY PIECE OF THE INTERNET!

I Really Feel Like

This blog needs a makeover again...

It's.... kinda... too pretty... for my language...

it... needs to be more... crazy... :]

"Later"

Okaaaaaay~! This is a continuation from my last post~!

This. Is. Later.

Teehee~ :]

Okay, so, uh

Yeaaaah...

My birthday weekend was really awesome,

had a great time,

had a feast at 9/10

Ryan ate noodles covered in Mountain Dew

Kendal gave me PCP (YES, SHE GAVE ME STRAIGHT FUCKING PCP IN A CAN)

we played Apples to Apples

the paramedics were called 'cause SOMEONE got a little too schwasted... (not necessarily a good thing here...)

...and a lot more insanity...

funny shit dude... XD

then, after eating at 9/10, we went back and like,

listened to some jazz

I fucking love jazz....

*brief pause to take in the awesomeness that is jazz*

paaaauuuussssssse

... just a little more ...

...

..!

....~!!

OKAY!

Anyway, after a weekend of fucking awesome,

Well,

we had class 'n stuff

and after class

Tanner said he was going to lay down for a bit,

so being the good girlfriend I thought I should be,

of course I went with him

so we were just there, kinda like chillin'

doin' the whole laying down in bed thing...

and then he kinda fell asleep...

and I was kinda like...

"OH FUCK, I'M REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THIS"

Like... I don't know why, more or less, just

something made me not want to be there,

...it was weird... and mostly sad...

'cause, like, Tanner didn't really do anything wrong...

I just... tripped balls in that instant,

and well, he's kind of a persistent person,

and he woke up and was like

HEEEEEEEY! What the hell is wrong with you?

and of course:

"Nothing."

I... lie... too often...

but... I'm a bad liar, so, like...

If I say nothing... it more or less means, "Something you really don't want to hear."

... but persistent people are persistent...

:(

So, I ended up telling him what was wrong,

and like,

you can't really go back after you tell the person you're with you're uncomfortable laying in bed with them... ha D:

Anyway,

after a day of him moping and whatnot, or something

Er... hmmm...

I dunno, just, like, a few days later, maybe...

He came to get me for class...

and we had a little...

"It's officially over" conversation...

...so that's what happened there...

*shrug*

but see, darlings, that's some pretty intense shit...

except not.

DerpDeDerpDerp

I feel much better now.

SOLIKE, lots of shit has happened.

Like, lots, of, shit.

But Cameron is here being a dork.

'cause he's dorky and stuff.

Reading

this

stuff

stuff
stuff
stuff

MAYBE I should write a poem

using stuff

as my repeating word

'cause I kinda have to do that anyway

DAMN YOU POETRY

:)

Actually, I've got to write two poems,

and read some stuff

but I like the reading, the writers are good,

and it's not like, analytical reading, I can actually enjoy it!

But I think Cameron's bored now...

SO!

He will continue to do his work,

and I'll tell you, oh dear blogger,

what has been going on with my life

considering that, uh,

I kinda said there would be some INTENSE FUCKING POSTS after Jan 4th,

and it's um,

kinda

like

Jan 17th

...! Only a few days 'til Riley's birthday!

Oooooh~ That'll be so fun~! ♥

Oh, I'm 19 now.

Cool.

Right!

Only Dylan is older than me :/

Deeeeeer.

Music makes me really happy

Mark makes me really happy

LIFE MAKES ME REALLY HAPPY!

Cameron Cameron Cameron,

I see you there..!

OKAY, SO FINALLY,

INTENSE SHIT

Okay, so

over winter break:

I went to a party
and uh
kinda sorta
really
flirted with a guy who got punched in the face (better known as KB'd) by my friend, Katie Butler

Getting KB'd is kinda self-explicable now, don't ya think~?

I think so.

My friend Alex also went streaking.

Yep.

That was funny.

Like, really, freakin', funny.

I ended up staying the night that night,

at my friend's ex-boyfriend who got punched in the face's house..

We watched Up, that cute little Disney movie about an old man, a boy scout, and a dodo bird, and some other crazy stuff...

Yeah, well, that was kind of an interesting party.

Pretty good, I know I enjoyed myself.

KSO,

After that, that Sunday, I believe,

I went to Hooters to watch a UFC match with some of the Rancho guys,
and some of the Rancho girls, but mostly just Kaylin...

I'm really not sure if that girl even likes me... haaaaaaaaaaa~

Well, I ended up paying waaaay too much compared to everyone else,

SO

No more Hooters with Rancho kids.

Fuck. That. Shit.

Yeppity-yep-yep~!

OKAY, SO THEN,

I got home from Hooters, and went out with Rory, Aaron, Matt, and Jacob,

just the usual Denny's thing, it makes me really happy
Rory's ex-girlfriend was there, made it even more hilarious/awkward.

Good times, OOOOH good times.

Aaron left after Denny's..

So me, Matt, and Jacob ended up at Rory's house at like 1-2 AM somehow, and nothing really interesting happened...

just chillin'-ness

oh and he had a PURPLE VIOLIN

I'd of probably bought it off of him if it was a purple viola, though..!

oh and he played the Unicorns, which made me miss college more.

Good lord, I missed college so much over break

SOOOOO MUUUUCH!

Okay, so like,

for the actual intense shit.

:]

ONE DAY, I WAS ON FACEBOOK.

*dramatic intense shit pause*

*DUN DUN DUUUUUN*

Deeeeer... okay.

....

So yeah, I was on facebook, bein' a loser and chatting with people from college 'n stuff...

One of those people happened to be my friend at the time, Tanner

APPARENTLY, he liked me.

APPARENTLY, I was like

...wtf?

K so, see, this was an interesting concept for me,

'cause, like, my amazing friend Allyson had dated him before,

but... I said okay anyway...

'cause I figured it was worth a shot 'n stuff

and it was..!

So, he and I continued to talk quite a bit over break,

Actually, I think every night except for like, one...

I dunno, I don't remember all that well

Break mostly consisted of me trying to suppress boredom with freakin' Starcraft

(I totally beat it..!)

and, uh, music,

(Mark and Juliaaaa~ ♥)

and, uh, HOLYFUCKGOODLORDSOMUCHFAMILY,

and, uh, insane video chats

TokBox.... YEAAAAAAH BOYYY :]

K SO,

back to Tanner!

We decided it'd be fun to surprise the people in the lounge with our new relationship-type-thing...

and it would've been

...if the people in the lounge thought that the relationship-type-thing was a good idea...

....but they didn't.

THEN, I was a total jerk to my BFF in the whole wide world, Mark.

I like, cuddle-iled him...

Twice.

FUCCCCCCCCCCCCK I'M A BAD PERSON.

Ryan just got back from San Jose.

That makes me really happy!

WOOHOO

Ok, so

Yeah, I was a really bad person.

THEN, I went to the gym with the girls and we talked.

A lot.

A LOT LOT.

Intense talking, 'n stuff.

I ran a mile, too~!

(I love to work out :D)

Heeeeeeeeeey-o!

Anyway, after talking with the girls,

the most trusted, the best

the Kendal, the Julia, and uh, Mark was there

but most of the time he was just kinda... still mad at me for being a jerk

God, I felt so awful... :(

but!

Julia and Kendal said that it was probably a bad idea,

and I'd talked to Allyson earlier that night,

and she said it was a bad idea, too.

and I'm sure Allyson's a little biased, but I think she was just being straight up honest with me because we're friends

and that's kinda what friends do, 'n stuff.

I love her! :]

So, that was like, Thursday,

or something

then it was my birthday...

so I enjoyed the hell out of that

like, a LOT

Got hella days stoned with Ryan

went to College 9/10

and had a FEAST!

(More details lateeeeer!)

But anyway,

I'll say more later.

Later.

Yeppity-yep-yep!

Symphony of the Blue Roses

In the depths of my imagination
mystics do grow
they are blooms of a fantastical world
now tell me:
is there a reason
why
these dreams do not exist?

Oh blue roses,
on each petal hangs one of my hopes,
If you can be imagined
can you be created, can you be found?

Oh blue roses,
are you merely a fantasy,
a silly product of far too many daydreams?
Why is it that I cannot climb your stalks?

Each day,
I exhaust my strength,
I exhaust my mind,
I attempt to give life to my dreams,

I want nothing more than to see your petals,
soft and milky,
I want to see them whispering in the wind
whispering a sweet melody,
a melody of life, of love, of labor,
a melody of my world

I want to immerse myself in the symphony of the blue roses.

and so,
Each day,
I exhaust my strength,
I exhaust my mind,
I attempt to give life to my dreams,
and I'll be damned if I ever stop.

Fixing Things

Oh dang. This is gonna suck.

I feel bad but

I think after, I'm going to feel so much better.

...and a lot more comfortable with myself.

Intense Shit

Will be fixed..!

THEN maybe some epic posts?

Maybe.

It's the weekend...

Who wants to be writing a blog?

When they can party like a crazy bitch?

In-Class Assignment #1 - Creative Writing

Alienation
As joyous as puppies and cyanide
A poison that slithers into a soul
turning an optimist to a cynic
in only one night's whole

Alienation
As perplexing as the idea may be
A hypocrite I see
in a man who denies the experience
of the lonely

Alienation
A test for brittle hearts
A challenge for weak souls
Can a man survive
on his own?

OH!

Darling, I hope so.

ohGodohGodohGod

panicpanicpanicpanic

>.<

I feel dirty.

I Don't Know

...if I am okay...

Scottles

Long time friend and basically brother of my best friend, Cindy.

Going to the sandbox (Iraq)

Pray for him!

I will be..

Along with my uncle and cousin...

Oh Yeah...

Happy New Year everyone! Hellllloooo 2010!

Or as the sophomores liked to call it -

TWO-OH-OH-TEN

Bwahahahhaa XD ♥

Do I have any New Year's Resolutions?

Maybe work out a little more.

(For health reasons)

and keep up my grades.

...but that's about it.

Why try to change a life that's going so well~? :]

Ooooooh the Good News!

Two more days! Two more days! Jan 4th! TWO MORE DAYS!

:] :] :] :] :]

/dance/dance/dance

Going to get an interesting reaction.

But that's okay!

I Don't Sleep Anymore

I've pulled

so many

all nighters

in the last week

I think I may collapse

...but I don't feel tired...

'cause I do nothing

all day.

OHMYGOD, I MISS COLLEGE.