tie game...minute 8 left in the super bowl
Getting ready to go back to the city. I can only stand the suburbs for about 36 hours before getting totally loopy.
Weekends are wonderful...I can't wait until I'm done with school. That whole homework-and-responsibility thing is lame. Today was really mellow. I woke up and my parents had gone off to hear the teachings of Cathol. Finally listend to Patrick Park's and Starsailor's cds. These were definitely good buys. And I'm definitely going to mess my pants hearing Starsailor live. ack.
Sometimes I feel like I've taken a break from thinking. I haven't, really. My mind's been running all day, but it seems frivolous. I've got this running commentary in my head all the time. Even if I'm listening to music and trying to hear the words, I'll respond to them to myself. I care what I think, apparently, because this has been going on for almost twenty-three years. I don't know, however, how long my interview has been going on. I constantly think as though I'm responding to an interviewer's questions. Kind of like I'm going to be featured in Rolling Stone or Premiere. Is this totally weird? I generally do this when I think of a song or a movie or something and then start describing to the unknown journalist how I was "discovered" by this artist or actor. These interviews usually occur when I'm walking about and have lasted up to about a mile's walk. I'm so weird. I guess I'm getting ready for my big break. Not that I have the balls to do anything about (New England got a field goal with 4 seconds left. Sweet.) breaking. I'll be discovered. That's easier.
I'm often interviewed by James Lipton while onstage at the Actors Studio.
Ah, well, we all have our quirks, eh?
My middle school teaching sister has turned in my book order and I shall soon have my forty dollars (egads!) of middle school reading level books. What the hell, Meghan? On that note, I really should take my remote controlled dragon up to the apartment. It would freak the hell out of that damn cat. Cue malicious laughter.
That's about it...gotta go pack up the clean clothes for the trek to the city. Will have pictures from the Travis concert very shortly. Woo!
t shirt:
fumble me
to do:
-resume for Messages
-copy Elizabeth's notes
-pay rent
-be receptive
Weekends are wonderful...I can't wait until I'm done with school. That whole homework-and-responsibility thing is lame. Today was really mellow. I woke up and my parents had gone off to hear the teachings of Cathol. Finally listend to Patrick Park's and Starsailor's cds. These were definitely good buys. And I'm definitely going to mess my pants hearing Starsailor live. ack.
Sometimes I feel like I've taken a break from thinking. I haven't, really. My mind's been running all day, but it seems frivolous. I've got this running commentary in my head all the time. Even if I'm listening to music and trying to hear the words, I'll respond to them to myself. I care what I think, apparently, because this has been going on for almost twenty-three years. I don't know, however, how long my interview has been going on. I constantly think as though I'm responding to an interviewer's questions. Kind of like I'm going to be featured in Rolling Stone or Premiere. Is this totally weird? I generally do this when I think of a song or a movie or something and then start describing to the unknown journalist how I was "discovered" by this artist or actor. These interviews usually occur when I'm walking about and have lasted up to about a mile's walk. I'm so weird. I guess I'm getting ready for my big break. Not that I have the balls to do anything about (New England got a field goal with 4 seconds left. Sweet.) breaking. I'll be discovered. That's easier.
I'm often interviewed by James Lipton while onstage at the Actors Studio.
Ah, well, we all have our quirks, eh?
My middle school teaching sister has turned in my book order and I shall soon have my forty dollars (egads!) of middle school reading level books. What the hell, Meghan? On that note, I really should take my remote controlled dragon up to the apartment. It would freak the hell out of that damn cat. Cue malicious laughter.
That's about it...gotta go pack up the clean clothes for the trek to the city. Will have pictures from the Travis concert very shortly. Woo!
t shirt:
fumble me
to do:
-resume for Messages
-copy Elizabeth's notes
-pay rent
-be receptive