I Hate When My Entries Don't Have Titles
I've been really girly lately. I was doing my nails (To paint or not to paint? That is the question.) and then Gravy Train!!!!'s "Hella Nervous" came on and I started jumping around like a maniac and then doing my crazy "Everyone dance like there's ass in your pants." dance, complete with a permenant pucker and flailing limbs. I honestly hope there are cameras installed somewhere here, because I am fucking cool as hell. I'm also a pathetic geek. I left a particularly amusing facebook comment on Iris' wall and then squeeled and clapped at my own ability to generate humour.
There are SO many things wrong with the previous statement.
On a more serious note, I worry that I'm getting dumber. I haven't read anything non-music related since I got to McGill. I'm all like Lisa Simpson and breathing into a paper bag and flipping out about how I'm losing my perspicacity. I'm not saying that I want to be surrounded by pretensious douchebags/couchetards all the time, but I'd like to have some more conversations that allow me to "flex my head" so to speak. I also feel like I'm getting lazy with my sense of humour somehow. I've fallen into a rut with my thugisms and net speak. Don't get me wrong. It's funny as fuck to yell "OH EM GEE" when something's not right or to point out how "this shit is bananas" once in a while, but I feel like I've painted myself into a corner somehow by using it as the bread and butter of the informal comedy routine which is my life. (See? I'm dumb. I'm not sure whether it's "which" or "that." I knew it!) I need a new act.
The thing is, I know I'm a smart girl. A lot of why I can come off as kind of air headed is that I have spent most of my formulating years turning off my brain, trying to look on the bright side and succeeding admirably. It's a defense mechanism, but now I'm in Montreal and at McGill and among wonderful friends, but I can't shake acting like a dipstick on purpose. I don't think it's engrained in my personality just yet, but it very well might be. In a way, it's like how I used to like "Gasolina" by Daddy Yankee on a purely ironic hipster-y level, but now it's one of my top played songs and I'm not even sure how that happened. I really just need mental stimulation badly. Being in improv and writer's craft kind of forced me to turn on my brain and think both on the spot and over time. If I didn't know how bad of an idea it would be, I'd take an english or religious studies class next semester. You know, because I need a 9 class course load. That would be a smart move.
Now I'm talking to one of my best friends from grade 9 and 10. I miss that kid something fierce. Luckily, I'm pretty sure that my exam schedule permits me to go home for his big birthday affair. The whole ESA musical theatre "gang" will be there (purely in the West Side Story pas de bourre, pique, grand jete way), so it'll be a lot of fun, and a quality study break. He was the Jack to my Karen back before Will and Grace started to suck. Or maybe it always did suck. I'm not sure.
Anyways, I've got to go shower (again, because I'm a neat freak) and get ready for Savoy and then perhaps head out for a little while after depending on how late it goes and who I can wrangle.
I feel very, very lucky to be alive.
There are SO many things wrong with the previous statement.
On a more serious note, I worry that I'm getting dumber. I haven't read anything non-music related since I got to McGill. I'm all like Lisa Simpson and breathing into a paper bag and flipping out about how I'm losing my perspicacity. I'm not saying that I want to be surrounded by pretensious douchebags/couchetards all the time, but I'd like to have some more conversations that allow me to "flex my head" so to speak. I also feel like I'm getting lazy with my sense of humour somehow. I've fallen into a rut with my thugisms and net speak. Don't get me wrong. It's funny as fuck to yell "OH EM GEE" when something's not right or to point out how "this shit is bananas" once in a while, but I feel like I've painted myself into a corner somehow by using it as the bread and butter of the informal comedy routine which is my life. (See? I'm dumb. I'm not sure whether it's "which" or "that." I knew it!) I need a new act.
The thing is, I know I'm a smart girl. A lot of why I can come off as kind of air headed is that I have spent most of my formulating years turning off my brain, trying to look on the bright side and succeeding admirably. It's a defense mechanism, but now I'm in Montreal and at McGill and among wonderful friends, but I can't shake acting like a dipstick on purpose. I don't think it's engrained in my personality just yet, but it very well might be. In a way, it's like how I used to like "Gasolina" by Daddy Yankee on a purely ironic hipster-y level, but now it's one of my top played songs and I'm not even sure how that happened. I really just need mental stimulation badly. Being in improv and writer's craft kind of forced me to turn on my brain and think both on the spot and over time. If I didn't know how bad of an idea it would be, I'd take an english or religious studies class next semester. You know, because I need a 9 class course load. That would be a smart move.
Now I'm talking to one of my best friends from grade 9 and 10. I miss that kid something fierce. Luckily, I'm pretty sure that my exam schedule permits me to go home for his big birthday affair. The whole ESA musical theatre "gang" will be there (purely in the West Side Story pas de bourre, pique, grand jete way), so it'll be a lot of fun, and a quality study break. He was the Jack to my Karen back before Will and Grace started to suck. Or maybe it always did suck. I'm not sure.
Anyways, I've got to go shower (again, because I'm a neat freak) and get ready for Savoy and then perhaps head out for a little while after depending on how late it goes and who I can wrangle.
I feel very, very lucky to be alive.