A sleep-time revue
Well well well online journal. We meet again. Looks like I have another chance to randomly say things to you again. Your just like me, never really giving, only really taking. You see, we're fairly similar, guess that's why we hang out eh? Well, as much as I'd love to preten to be capable of raving inchoerently in bobbing poetic sentinces with wit and skill, I have niether the wit nor the skill nor the awakedness to do so. So with that I shall resume the usual format and in the usual style say little more than an account of my day.
Today I woke up late, and went to school. I saw nathan and james and brittany and nicky and brad and sean and talked to my team captain mellisa about techno. And fiddled with brdiges and fdilled in worksheet, and decided on my topic, and pisssed off miss crawford, and went to work, and calaculated my weekly income and ate a lot of junk and was sad and was sadder and and and. Try telling me I did nothing, I made a gross income of $51.50 today. JOURNAL!!!!!! I'm giving up swearing. Even text swears. I'm also never eating heated things, my mouth is burnt so bad. Alright, let's try to think of a deep though so that I have something philosphical to say.
I'v noticed everybody always picks something over something. Style over speed, power over style, efficency over looks, melee over magic, anything. People just form bonds with things, with properties. Maybe they just pick what=cool. Maybe they have a pattern that results from what they secretly wish for, or what is already true of them. Me, I am never the same. Sometimes I MUST be the magic wielding woman, that goes back to the days of Jerrauld and myself playing Golden Axe 2. Sometimes I have to be the muscles like in D&D with the gang. But other times, which I like best by the by, is the middle ground. I love to pick the middle. Iget my cake and eat it too. Balance= good. High strength low-alloy bars are awesome. MId-grade gas is awesome. Half-elves are the coolest. Half-drow.... How crazy.
My thought was total crap. I blew it journal. Let's just move to shout outs.
Brittany: Your my best firend, I'm sorry I always hurt your feelings.
James: You write a lot of poetry. Way to go!
Brad: DEATH THROWS!
Sean: keep up the coolness.
April: Have a good senior year.
Nathan: Your a good, good man. Make the sword handel I invented.
Drew: You sir, equal awesome. I want to sees you agains
Tiff: let's plan and plot. Then tan and rot, ohhhhh!
Today I woke up late, and went to school. I saw nathan and james and brittany and nicky and brad and sean and talked to my team captain mellisa about techno. And fiddled with brdiges and fdilled in worksheet, and decided on my topic, and pisssed off miss crawford, and went to work, and calaculated my weekly income and ate a lot of junk and was sad and was sadder and and and. Try telling me I did nothing, I made a gross income of $51.50 today. JOURNAL!!!!!! I'm giving up swearing. Even text swears. I'm also never eating heated things, my mouth is burnt so bad. Alright, let's try to think of a deep though so that I have something philosphical to say.
I'v noticed everybody always picks something over something. Style over speed, power over style, efficency over looks, melee over magic, anything. People just form bonds with things, with properties. Maybe they just pick what=cool. Maybe they have a pattern that results from what they secretly wish for, or what is already true of them. Me, I am never the same. Sometimes I MUST be the magic wielding woman, that goes back to the days of Jerrauld and myself playing Golden Axe 2. Sometimes I have to be the muscles like in D&D with the gang. But other times, which I like best by the by, is the middle ground. I love to pick the middle. Iget my cake and eat it too. Balance= good. High strength low-alloy bars are awesome. MId-grade gas is awesome. Half-elves are the coolest. Half-drow.... How crazy.
My thought was total crap. I blew it journal. Let's just move to shout outs.
Brittany: Your my best firend, I'm sorry I always hurt your feelings.
James: You write a lot of poetry. Way to go!
Brad: DEATH THROWS!
Sean: keep up the coolness.
April: Have a good senior year.
Nathan: Your a good, good man. Make the sword handel I invented.
Drew: You sir, equal awesome. I want to sees you agains
Tiff: let's plan and plot. Then tan and rot, ohhhhh!