(no subject)
Two nights ago, I had the apartment all to myself. So I grabbed a Harp, put on some PJ's and read Edgar Allan Poe's The Tell-Tale Heart. Oddly enough, I couldn't read it without thinking of the voice of Stewey from Family Guy. I was cracking up the whole time, even though it was all about this crazy guy's plot to kill an old man with an "evil eye".
Last night Clint and I recorded the song Rest (the country song I posted a while back). I felt really discouraged in every way, even though Clint seemed really excited about it. I liked what he did, I just hated hearing my voice. I think I'm probably too much of a perfectionist.
I feel...weird. Kinda like I'm just hanging in the balance. I don't like it.