You made me pee a little.
I'm doing some last-minute research about downtown revitalization projects for this crap gen-ed course, and I found this comment posted to the Times Dispatch discussion on downtown:
Once again, Richmond is contemplating "revitalization projects" for Downtown, eh? I'm usually an optimist, but we've heard this all before and saw what became of one of the last "revitalization projects"...namely, the 6th Street Marketplace which suffered from poor "marketing" in the first "place". Now who will benefit from these new found projects? I've hardly heard any new plans which involve attracting masses of decent- paying jobs so the "citizens" of Richmond can partake in its new wonders.
This invites obnoxious "punctuation" for the remainder of this "post."
Last night on my way home from "work," I found myself "singing" along to the song "Expressway to Your Heart" ("I was wrong/took too long/I got caught in the rush hour/And fellas started to shower/you with love and affection/Now you won't look in my direction/on the exPRESS-WAY/to YOUR HEART/that exPRESS-WAY/that's the BEST WAY"). So I thought, "Wow, this is one of those shit love songs with awkward extended metaphors." Then I remembered "Backfield Emotion" ("Backfield emotion/I'm gonna have to penalize you/oooooh/Backfield emotion, baby/You know that's against the rules"). I decided the latter was much worse.
So it ties in to the "time" I was driving back from work listening to country "music" and thinking, "God, if these songs weren't so sweetly twangy (I typed "tangy" first because it seemed to fit after another flavorful word), they would probably by regarded as the works of clever genius that many of them are." Not many songs have successful "wordplay" anymore, but the ones that do are all country songs.
When I got home I parked and sat in the rain singing along to "Bridge over Troubled Water" because I create cliche movie moments for myself when I'm alone and then laugh at how dumb I am.
Technically, I have to move out, because I gave myself an ultimatum regarding the installation of the new blinds for the window by the computer desk (which I now can't remember as having ever been in another location), and I have yet to figure out what went wrong when I took them out of the box.
Ha. My parents were at the cabin, and my father left from there to go to the beach while my mom headed back to Martinsville. They have the same phone model, and Daddy took Mommy's. They didn't realize 'til they were too far apart to make a switch, so now she's calling on his phone and he's calling on hers, and "there's already a few days' worth of confusion." So when she called it said Daddy was calling, but it was my mom, and she felt the need to say, "This is your mother. Not your dad." I was actually really relieved, because Daddy apparently has the job of introducing the practical matters, so whenever he calls it's all about stuff I haven't done yet.
Some gay boy called me "buddy."
Thanksgiving dinner will include pumpernickel groin.
I've already taken the necessary steps to transforming the living room into "exam day" living room. Papers are strewn about, cast off to the damaged hardwood once I've gotten everything down about smart growth or whatever the hell. Housing is so boring. There's this girl in my class who, after taking Intro the City, has realized that her goal in life is to spearhead a revolution in sustainable living that mixes practical housing with an environmentally conscious agenda. I can't help but give a little brow furrow each time she mentions this to our guest speakers who can't be serious about how much they love their jobs formulating new plans for mixed-income/mixed-use housing.
Obviously, my career path should include a part where I'm a critic. Of EVERYTHING. God.
I wonder if Dr. Winston would be my advisor and not hate me. I didn't raise my hand during attendance today because normally she knows if I'm here or not, and I think there's another Jennifer in the class. It seemed like we were more toward the beginning of the list, so I assumed it was the other Jennifer, and a scarring episode from my first grade stint as an SCA representative made me overly tentative to assert my presence when there are multiple Jennifers. So she said, "I thought I saw you. Oh, there you are, hiding in plain sight. Let me know! Speak up!" I kind of said, "Ah...?" I think if she were my advisor she'd do something annoying like ask me what I felt like doing with my life. She says some words that are really fun to write in cursive. A lot of my other classes use the same words over and over, but she has some rare non-latinates that I like to squiggle. I think I've chosen that class as the one where I care about showing up more because I don't want to offend, less because it affects my grade. Also I like hearing Rachel say nothing but completely right things all the time and making everyone else shut up. Sometimes I feel like clapping. I keep forgetting she's leaving next semester. I wonder if I've learned anything in there.
Callie's beautiful even when I don't know why. Especially when I don't know why?
Once again, Richmond is contemplating "revitalization projects" for Downtown, eh? I'm usually an optimist, but we've heard this all before and saw what became of one of the last "revitalization projects"...namely, the 6th Street Marketplace which suffered from poor "marketing" in the first "place". Now who will benefit from these new found projects? I've hardly heard any new plans which involve attracting masses of decent- paying jobs so the "citizens" of Richmond can partake in its new wonders.
This invites obnoxious "punctuation" for the remainder of this "post."
Last night on my way home from "work," I found myself "singing" along to the song "Expressway to Your Heart" ("I was wrong/took too long/I got caught in the rush hour/And fellas started to shower/you with love and affection/Now you won't look in my direction/on the exPRESS-WAY/to YOUR HEART/that exPRESS-WAY/that's the BEST WAY"). So I thought, "Wow, this is one of those shit love songs with awkward extended metaphors." Then I remembered "Backfield Emotion" ("Backfield emotion/I'm gonna have to penalize you/oooooh/Backfield emotion, baby/You know that's against the rules"). I decided the latter was much worse.
So it ties in to the "time" I was driving back from work listening to country "music" and thinking, "God, if these songs weren't so sweetly twangy (I typed "tangy" first because it seemed to fit after another flavorful word), they would probably by regarded as the works of clever genius that many of them are." Not many songs have successful "wordplay" anymore, but the ones that do are all country songs.
When I got home I parked and sat in the rain singing along to "Bridge over Troubled Water" because I create cliche movie moments for myself when I'm alone and then laugh at how dumb I am.
Technically, I have to move out, because I gave myself an ultimatum regarding the installation of the new blinds for the window by the computer desk (which I now can't remember as having ever been in another location), and I have yet to figure out what went wrong when I took them out of the box.
Ha. My parents were at the cabin, and my father left from there to go to the beach while my mom headed back to Martinsville. They have the same phone model, and Daddy took Mommy's. They didn't realize 'til they were too far apart to make a switch, so now she's calling on his phone and he's calling on hers, and "there's already a few days' worth of confusion." So when she called it said Daddy was calling, but it was my mom, and she felt the need to say, "This is your mother. Not your dad." I was actually really relieved, because Daddy apparently has the job of introducing the practical matters, so whenever he calls it's all about stuff I haven't done yet.
Some gay boy called me "buddy."
Thanksgiving dinner will include pumpernickel groin.
I've already taken the necessary steps to transforming the living room into "exam day" living room. Papers are strewn about, cast off to the damaged hardwood once I've gotten everything down about smart growth or whatever the hell. Housing is so boring. There's this girl in my class who, after taking Intro the City, has realized that her goal in life is to spearhead a revolution in sustainable living that mixes practical housing with an environmentally conscious agenda. I can't help but give a little brow furrow each time she mentions this to our guest speakers who can't be serious about how much they love their jobs formulating new plans for mixed-income/mixed-use housing.
Obviously, my career path should include a part where I'm a critic. Of EVERYTHING. God.
I wonder if Dr. Winston would be my advisor and not hate me. I didn't raise my hand during attendance today because normally she knows if I'm here or not, and I think there's another Jennifer in the class. It seemed like we were more toward the beginning of the list, so I assumed it was the other Jennifer, and a scarring episode from my first grade stint as an SCA representative made me overly tentative to assert my presence when there are multiple Jennifers. So she said, "I thought I saw you. Oh, there you are, hiding in plain sight. Let me know! Speak up!" I kind of said, "Ah...?" I think if she were my advisor she'd do something annoying like ask me what I felt like doing with my life. She says some words that are really fun to write in cursive. A lot of my other classes use the same words over and over, but she has some rare non-latinates that I like to squiggle. I think I've chosen that class as the one where I care about showing up more because I don't want to offend, less because it affects my grade. Also I like hearing Rachel say nothing but completely right things all the time and making everyone else shut up. Sometimes I feel like clapping. I keep forgetting she's leaving next semester. I wonder if I've learned anything in there.
Callie's beautiful even when I don't know why. Especially when I don't know why?