(no subject)
Time for a well needed major update.
While discussing Peter North, I had the opportunity to explain to my friends the concept of "gay white trash" and why I fit the criteria. Following that, a visit to a coffee house that makes Starbucks look like dandruff and maybe dirt particles that cling tenaciously to your shoe after walking on grass.
So I was at Lanferno with Jason and James and Sam and her boyfriend when all of a sudden everyone - everyone, as in, freakin' everyone - started going outside. Not totally interested in the action that the Steam loading screen brings, I followed. The group of Counterstrike fanatics were busy looking at a tornado touching down maybe 200 yards away. It wasn't a perfect funnel, meaning that it looked more like an extension of the black storm cloud reaching down into the carp pool that is Route 29. Then it moved to Dulles. Very dramatic. -_-
Although, they have been stretching out all over the area... I wonder if any of my Manassas or Chantilly dawgs were hitz tooz.
There's a possibility that I was a racist today in Government. Gee, that class seems to bring out the best in me.
(I swear, this girl, Sara, reads Republican Vogue. It's terrifying. What equals this terror, though, and in some way supplements it, is that I had a crush on her in kindergarten.)
Baring yet another titillating conversation with Mitchen, I am revising my... plan. Ugh. Such a dreadful word. Destroys spontaneity. Regardless, instead of trying so hard to condition myself to "do better", I am going to focus on other, more important matters, like those around me and my writing. I have a piece (tentatively called "Retro Dreams," although I can't pin down the day I was smoking marijuana when I came up with it) that I've been wanting to work on; there's a publication called "The Iconoclast" which I could write for. Exciting premise. And healthier, too.
And, with the rest of the free time, I can work on not being gay white trash. *flexes pudgy arms* So sexy.
Speaking of... the before hand thing... Ms. Palmer has disappeared. Just *poof*. I e-mailed her some more questions concerning the anthology. I find I need them. This college essay depends on information, apparently, and the less I have the less effective my veritable begging on my knees will be.
Summary bit: I failed to summon up the courage to restart the GSA.
Good news: my cat has found the leather computer chair to be something new and exciting, despite its age of two years. It's so adorable to see him in it. Little Kitten Fantastico CEO. :D
Bad news: I have a crush.
Nota bene: those that know, shush; those that don't, don't seek.
Why, then, put it in the public LiveJournal? Why, to entice a ramble of socialite gossip, of course.
Last reminder to self (for, yes, I do read my own journal. I find it relaxing to go over the notes of my life.): Find boy to go to Prom with. -_-
Last last note: The Selene in my "sleep" away message refers to Selene, the goddess of the moon and associated with sleep. Not the French-Canadian singer I coincidentally love oh so much.
While discussing Peter North, I had the opportunity to explain to my friends the concept of "gay white trash" and why I fit the criteria. Following that, a visit to a coffee house that makes Starbucks look like dandruff and maybe dirt particles that cling tenaciously to your shoe after walking on grass.
So I was at Lanferno with Jason and James and Sam and her boyfriend when all of a sudden everyone - everyone, as in, freakin' everyone - started going outside. Not totally interested in the action that the Steam loading screen brings, I followed. The group of Counterstrike fanatics were busy looking at a tornado touching down maybe 200 yards away. It wasn't a perfect funnel, meaning that it looked more like an extension of the black storm cloud reaching down into the carp pool that is Route 29. Then it moved to Dulles. Very dramatic. -_-
Although, they have been stretching out all over the area... I wonder if any of my Manassas or Chantilly dawgs were hitz tooz.
There's a possibility that I was a racist today in Government. Gee, that class seems to bring out the best in me.
(I swear, this girl, Sara, reads Republican Vogue. It's terrifying. What equals this terror, though, and in some way supplements it, is that I had a crush on her in kindergarten.)
Baring yet another titillating conversation with Mitchen, I am revising my... plan. Ugh. Such a dreadful word. Destroys spontaneity. Regardless, instead of trying so hard to condition myself to "do better", I am going to focus on other, more important matters, like those around me and my writing. I have a piece (tentatively called "Retro Dreams," although I can't pin down the day I was smoking marijuana when I came up with it) that I've been wanting to work on; there's a publication called "The Iconoclast" which I could write for. Exciting premise. And healthier, too.
And, with the rest of the free time, I can work on not being gay white trash. *flexes pudgy arms* So sexy.
Speaking of... the before hand thing... Ms. Palmer has disappeared. Just *poof*. I e-mailed her some more questions concerning the anthology. I find I need them. This college essay depends on information, apparently, and the less I have the less effective my veritable begging on my knees will be.
Summary bit: I failed to summon up the courage to restart the GSA.
Good news: my cat has found the leather computer chair to be something new and exciting, despite its age of two years. It's so adorable to see him in it. Little Kitten Fantastico CEO. :D
Bad news: I have a crush.
Nota bene: those that know, shush; those that don't, don't seek.
Why, then, put it in the public LiveJournal? Why, to entice a ramble of socialite gossip, of course.
Last reminder to self (for, yes, I do read my own journal. I find it relaxing to go over the notes of my life.): Find boy to go to Prom with. -_-
Last last note: The Selene in my "sleep" away message refers to Selene, the goddess of the moon and associated with sleep. Not the French-Canadian singer I coincidentally love oh so much.