(89) 遊んでくれてありがとう！
* Busy, busy, busy. OH MAH GAH /Matsumoto Jun.
* My legs really hurt! I've been trying to run two miles a day (treadmill, guys, and not so much running as walking quickly), and yesterday after dragging around children who were clinging to said legs I went ice skating. Not a good idea.
* Speaking of my bbs, four of them graduated from the kindergarten to the first grade yesterday! おめでとう、ケビンくん、ザカールくん、になちゃん、なおくん！ I'm going to miss the kids that are gone (although they'll be just one room over), but I'm excited for the new kindergardeners that'll be coming in! So far I know about a Rei and an Arisa.
The class gave me THIS. :'))) ♥
* Tumblr is my vice right now.
* I am writing a fic for astrangerenters! Very slowly. And waiting for summer when I can write as much as I want, for as long as I want, with probably more opportunities at gaining inspiration...
* tears are salty; i use them to flavor the hamburger mamma gave me enough money to buy. the little diner is full of passengers - direction of new york, albuquerque, raleigh, chicago, bahamas. they are not travelers. they passage their passenger ways in a metal tube, in a pipe going to one place for which they have plans or obligations (learn hula, honeymoon [have sex mmmmmm], visit the nephews and nieces and their annoying new parakeet, go to school), and then come back to the place from which they left. judging them is not my place; after all they are not judging how my hamburger is being bathed in tears that make my eyes sting. we are all strangers.
out on the tarmac, a part-time worker gets her hand crushed in a freak accident by luggage that consists of a wealthy woman's fastidious collection of china. she will likely lose the hand; no one will hear about it.
the woman is sitting two seats up and to the left of me. she is laughing at something her husband has said. they are middle-aged and well-established and flying first class. she is wearing heels to fly. she donates to charities. when the part-time worker attempts to sue she will feel terrible, but she will pay her off in legal terms with money that barely covers the medical costs. we are all strangers.
the man sitting to the left of the couple looks discontent. maybe he is annoyed at the softness of his french fries, maybe he is annoyed at how the woman is wearing heels. i feel an affinity with him because he seems to be going back to school. he is actually caught up in a fling with a distant friend of mine. they met in a small class on philosophy and liked each other's words. now he dislikes her but has no idea how to say it. he went home to figure it out, but now he has to come back.
i still think my distant friend is with the boyfriend from one year ago. i haven't spoken to her in nine months.
my distant friend is in a terminal one over, sitting on the tarmac in a flight going to the man's hometown. she's fallen in love with him. some distance away a part-time worker's hand is crushed in a freak accident by luggage that consists of a wealthy woman's fastidious collection of china. my friend doesn't see it, and even if she did it would not be a negative reflection on her if she did nothing. we are all strangers.
the hamburger is too salty now. airports have terrible diners.
* dream: a big car where the singular front wheel is actually a crumpled ragged bicycle wheel moves through a frosted-iced silent landscape lined with whited-out trees (not silent completely, crunch of ice) down a hill through small animal tracks, hands tight tight tight on the wheel, passing a clean limestone bust of an unnamed man (unnamed eyes, unnamed lips, unnamed collarbones) (died with a pasty in his stomach/committed suicide/was murdered); driver wonders if it isn't sad enough that for this man, whether he was terrible or good with the upmost moral convictions, remaining unnamed is the only judgment he has received. (wiki: the taman shud case.)
... So. Actually I write/scribble down a lot of things like this whenever I'm bored in class (unfortunately, fic doesn't work this way for me). I don't really want to spam my LJ with writing unrelated to fandom, but I like people reading what I write. This is an odd question: but if any of you don't mind reading my random, fumbling writing, would you like to be on a filter for whenever I want to post some?
* My legs really hurt! I've been trying to run two miles a day (treadmill, guys, and not so much running as walking quickly), and yesterday after dragging around children who were clinging to said legs I went ice skating. Not a good idea.
* Speaking of my bbs, four of them graduated from the kindergarten to the first grade yesterday! おめでとう、ケビンくん、ザカールくん、になちゃん、なおくん！ I'm going to miss the kids that are gone (although they'll be just one room over), but I'm excited for the new kindergardeners that'll be coming in! So far I know about a Rei and an Arisa.
The class gave me THIS. :'))) ♥
* Tumblr is my vice right now.
* I am writing a fic for astrangerenters! Very slowly. And waiting for summer when I can write as much as I want, for as long as I want, with probably more opportunities at gaining inspiration...
* tears are salty; i use them to flavor the hamburger mamma gave me enough money to buy. the little diner is full of passengers - direction of new york, albuquerque, raleigh, chicago, bahamas. they are not travelers. they passage their passenger ways in a metal tube, in a pipe going to one place for which they have plans or obligations (learn hula, honeymoon [have sex mmmmmm], visit the nephews and nieces and their annoying new parakeet, go to school), and then come back to the place from which they left. judging them is not my place; after all they are not judging how my hamburger is being bathed in tears that make my eyes sting. we are all strangers.
out on the tarmac, a part-time worker gets her hand crushed in a freak accident by luggage that consists of a wealthy woman's fastidious collection of china. she will likely lose the hand; no one will hear about it.
the woman is sitting two seats up and to the left of me. she is laughing at something her husband has said. they are middle-aged and well-established and flying first class. she is wearing heels to fly. she donates to charities. when the part-time worker attempts to sue she will feel terrible, but she will pay her off in legal terms with money that barely covers the medical costs. we are all strangers.
the man sitting to the left of the couple looks discontent. maybe he is annoyed at the softness of his french fries, maybe he is annoyed at how the woman is wearing heels. i feel an affinity with him because he seems to be going back to school. he is actually caught up in a fling with a distant friend of mine. they met in a small class on philosophy and liked each other's words. now he dislikes her but has no idea how to say it. he went home to figure it out, but now he has to come back.
i still think my distant friend is with the boyfriend from one year ago. i haven't spoken to her in nine months.
my distant friend is in a terminal one over, sitting on the tarmac in a flight going to the man's hometown. she's fallen in love with him. some distance away a part-time worker's hand is crushed in a freak accident by luggage that consists of a wealthy woman's fastidious collection of china. my friend doesn't see it, and even if she did it would not be a negative reflection on her if she did nothing. we are all strangers.
the hamburger is too salty now. airports have terrible diners.
* dream: a big car where the singular front wheel is actually a crumpled ragged bicycle wheel moves through a frosted-iced silent landscape lined with whited-out trees (not silent completely, crunch of ice) down a hill through small animal tracks, hands tight tight tight on the wheel, passing a clean limestone bust of an unnamed man (unnamed eyes, unnamed lips, unnamed collarbones) (died with a pasty in his stomach/committed suicide/was murdered); driver wonders if it isn't sad enough that for this man, whether he was terrible or good with the upmost moral convictions, remaining unnamed is the only judgment he has received. (wiki: the taman shud case.)
... So. Actually I write/scribble down a lot of things like this whenever I'm bored in class (unfortunately, fic doesn't work this way for me). I don't really want to spam my LJ with writing unrelated to fandom, but I like people reading what I write. This is an odd question: but if any of you don't mind reading my random, fumbling writing, would you like to be on a filter for whenever I want to post some?