Who likes the Live Journal?
Me.
Emery's "THE QUESTION" raises some serious life questions and concerns.
I love it.
So there's this thing called Homecoming, right?
+ There's this parade that winds meaninglessly through neighborhoods of squirrelly children throwing candy. Kills the arms of those band kids who don't really work out that often.
+ A football game where all the alumni return and get drunk afterwards and the team is guaranteed to win (unless they're playing us). It's a fashon and popularity show. For one brief evening, the community's pride and companionship is tightened.
+ Night number three. Break out the gowns and the halters and the suits and ties and the pimp-hats (for the Smalls/Rob duo). One of the few illegitimate occasions to have a dance...prom's okay, but that's too far off now. Prepare for the shelling of the dough on pictures and dinner and limo (unless you're bad-ash and have friends in high places). Am I rambling? Of course.
What's the big deal?
I hate standing on ceremony...everything is too structured...my next year or so is already mapped out. What the heck? There's no spontinaity in my life anymore.
GRRRRRRRR. Venting.
Gotta love it.
Gotta love life.
Life has gotta be loved.
What have we been taught, anyway?
Political correct-ness? My foot.
"Don't say you're stupid, 'cause you're not!"
"Don't say you can't make music, 'cause you can!"
"Don't say you suck at life, 'cause you don't!"
Here's your wake up call. DON'T SUGAR COAT ANYTHING WITH ME.
That was a crazy tangent.
I'm in a mood that would kill the most ardent optimist.
If anybody wants to know what I want for my birthday...any shirt from here. Haha. I like the brown one A LOT. A group of you should converse about who's getting me which one.
I don't know why I don't ever really get to talk to Sarah. I need to.
Emery's "THE QUESTION" raises some serious life questions and concerns.
I love it.
So there's this thing called Homecoming, right?
+ There's this parade that winds meaninglessly through neighborhoods of squirrelly children throwing candy. Kills the arms of those band kids who don't really work out that often.
+ A football game where all the alumni return and get drunk afterwards and the team is guaranteed to win (unless they're playing us). It's a fashon and popularity show. For one brief evening, the community's pride and companionship is tightened.
+ Night number three. Break out the gowns and the halters and the suits and ties and the pimp-hats (for the Smalls/Rob duo). One of the few illegitimate occasions to have a dance...prom's okay, but that's too far off now. Prepare for the shelling of the dough on pictures and dinner and limo (unless you're bad-ash and have friends in high places). Am I rambling? Of course.
What's the big deal?
I hate standing on ceremony...everything is too structured...my next year or so is already mapped out. What the heck? There's no spontinaity in my life anymore.
GRRRRRRRR. Venting.
Gotta love it.
Gotta love life.
Life has gotta be loved.
What have we been taught, anyway?
Political correct-ness? My foot.
"Don't say you're stupid, 'cause you're not!"
"Don't say you can't make music, 'cause you can!"
"Don't say you suck at life, 'cause you don't!"
Here's your wake up call. DON'T SUGAR COAT ANYTHING WITH ME.
That was a crazy tangent.
I'm in a mood that would kill the most ardent optimist.
If anybody wants to know what I want for my birthday...any shirt from here. Haha. I like the brown one A LOT. A group of you should converse about who's getting me which one.
I don't know why I don't ever really get to talk to Sarah. I need to.