(no subject)
ANDANDANDTHENTHENTHEN.
I need to reply to people's Lj's. I'll see them, read them, think of replys or things to say, and then I'll just never write them. Shit.
Party Friday. "Keep Wick and Megan out of jail"
Dear self,
Don't look like shit.
Thanks,
ZoeMark
then saturday my sister is coming to town. We're going prom dress shopping becasue she's been going to prom since 2nd grade, and I couldn't style my way out of a paper bag. So she's gonna help me.
Sunday, Peace protest against the war in Iraq. My church is joining after a prayer service to end the war.
You know you've found one fucking awesome Catholic church when your friend who is a lesbian and a Wiccan grabs your arm and says "I'm coming with you next Sunday too."
But anyways, before the party tomorrow I have to: Work, read "The theatre and it's double", get new video tapes, and get a top for my outfit.
I also have to finish Wicked and write a report on it by the 24th. And finish my fucking movie.
(and not be such a easily despiseable person around so-and-so.)
Not a lot really.
And then there's that whole, not blowing people off thing. Not on purpose, of course, But I don't seem to have a lot of time for a whole lot to give to you all.
But I want to.
I think dredg is coming back.
I saw they were and was all "I JUST saw them!"
In AUGUST.
What the fuck, Time? Why did you beat me up.
got accepted to Uhmcuhcuh. or oohmck. Or UMKC
Or the University of Missouri-Kansas City.
Shit fuck. College.
COLLEGE.
I don't DO anything. But it doesn't matter. I think our world is about to collapse.
But I want to grow old.
I want to be an old Whoaman, sitting on my porch, wearing purple and going, "damn, I saw a lot of shit go down."
I want to die from a stroke all of a sudden, sitting by the window in the morning, with my coffee and my newspaper, about to go work on my organic garden.
And my equally aged animals will wander around on my property until someone realises I'm dead. No one will quite know what to do with my shit.
I just really want long, grey hair. I want to live long enough for that.
Can you IMAGINE how much things would change if youthful outrage didn't just apply to the youth.
I need to reply to people's Lj's. I'll see them, read them, think of replys or things to say, and then I'll just never write them. Shit.
Party Friday. "Keep Wick and Megan out of jail"
Dear self,
Don't look like shit.
Thanks,
ZoeMark
then saturday my sister is coming to town. We're going prom dress shopping becasue she's been going to prom since 2nd grade, and I couldn't style my way out of a paper bag. So she's gonna help me.
Sunday, Peace protest against the war in Iraq. My church is joining after a prayer service to end the war.
You know you've found one fucking awesome Catholic church when your friend who is a lesbian and a Wiccan grabs your arm and says "I'm coming with you next Sunday too."
But anyways, before the party tomorrow I have to: Work, read "The theatre and it's double", get new video tapes, and get a top for my outfit.
I also have to finish Wicked and write a report on it by the 24th. And finish my fucking movie.
(and not be such a easily despiseable person around so-and-so.)
Not a lot really.
And then there's that whole, not blowing people off thing. Not on purpose, of course, But I don't seem to have a lot of time for a whole lot to give to you all.
But I want to.
I think dredg is coming back.
I saw they were and was all "I JUST saw them!"
In AUGUST.
What the fuck, Time? Why did you beat me up.
got accepted to Uhmcuhcuh. or oohmck. Or UMKC
Or the University of Missouri-Kansas City.
Shit fuck. College.
COLLEGE.
I don't DO anything. But it doesn't matter. I think our world is about to collapse.
But I want to grow old.
I want to be an old Whoaman, sitting on my porch, wearing purple and going, "damn, I saw a lot of shit go down."
I want to die from a stroke all of a sudden, sitting by the window in the morning, with my coffee and my newspaper, about to go work on my organic garden.
And my equally aged animals will wander around on my property until someone realises I'm dead. No one will quite know what to do with my shit.
I just really want long, grey hair. I want to live long enough for that.
Can you IMAGINE how much things would change if youthful outrage didn't just apply to the youth.