Ick.
That's exactly how I feel right now. Just... ick.
That's why I haven't been updating. Because the ick would have consumed all the happiness that is my lovely LJ.
I thought I'd just condense all ickness into a single entry so that it's, you know, quarantined.
All right.
The Saturday before Easter, I went to a party, which I guess should be a good thing, only it was a Spanish Easter party (because my uncle is Spanish), so everyone was cracking confetti eggs on everyone else's head. And had the sickest headache you could possibly experience this side of death, so I spent the entire three hours we were there hiding from cousins I'd never met before (not to mention the torment that is my brother) who were all out to confetti me.
Of course, I tripped up at the very end, in the last five minutes of the party. Literally. Like, the dog, Brock, grabbed my pant leg and bodily DRAGGED me to where my brother was waiting with the egg. And even after everyone got pictures of me wrestling with the dog with confetti in my hair and my glasses falling off, Brock wasn't finished. Oh no. He had to drag me around some more by my shoelaces.
And yet, I still love him. Tuh.
I guess, looking back, it's really funny, but you had to have been me to know the ickiness of it... Either that, or I'm just too lazy to cut this part out of my "Ick" journal entry.
Then we went to visit my great-grandmother, who was in the hospital, which was sad. She was really sick and miserable there, and I don't even remember what she was like when she was well. I'd only met her when I was a baby and at my great-great-grandmother's funeral (which she was sick at).
She died two days later, and it was nothing like my great-great-grandmother's funeral. This was really, really depressing, and everyone in the family was fighting over her stuff when we got back to the house.
It was a pretty sad day, in which the entire family was against itself.
We'd been planning to go to this Bluegrass Festival thing for a few weeks, and everyone felt like they needed a moral booster, so we went.
At this point, we'd driven over six hundred miles, including the drive to the funeral.
I was sick the entire festival, and I kept messing up on my autoharp because this really, really cute banjo player was there (I know you're laughing, but he was the best one at the festival) and he kept wowing us with his mad banjo skills (LOL). Like, his fingers moved so fast that they blurred.
... I'm completely serious.
In addition to embarassing myself in front of him, I forgot to ask for his name x.x
Then I was too sick to go to school on Monday. And when I went to school for the rest of the week, I was so miserable that I failed my Spanish test, which sucked majorly. And everyone in my choir class was all, "Oh, we need an alto to try out for the solo in the show, so let's force Bianca up there because she says yes to everything!"
... I'd rather not recount how that try out went.
And THEN this weekend, I was told that I would be accompanying the "band" consisting of my father, grandfather, my brother, and myself to a nursing home to play for a real audience in TWELVE HOURS. Can we say SHORT NOTICE? We most certainly can. I bit my fingernails to the quick that night.
And... I guess this isn't so bad, but I kind of became a bluegrass version of a rock star for the old people. Like, if the nurses would have allowed them to mosh, they would have. All because I sang Amazing Grace and managed to eke it out on my autoharp.
Then it took me two weeks to finish this entry because it's so freaking LONG and icky, and because the Internet computer at home is being all "GRR" at me.
And as the cherry on top: I have to go to the chiropractor today so that I can be adjusted again. My back and neck are out to get me, I tell you.
Forgive the ick. I'm finished.
That's why I haven't been updating. Because the ick would have consumed all the happiness that is my lovely LJ.
I thought I'd just condense all ickness into a single entry so that it's, you know, quarantined.
All right.
The Saturday before Easter, I went to a party, which I guess should be a good thing, only it was a Spanish Easter party (because my uncle is Spanish), so everyone was cracking confetti eggs on everyone else's head. And had the sickest headache you could possibly experience this side of death, so I spent the entire three hours we were there hiding from cousins I'd never met before (not to mention the torment that is my brother) who were all out to confetti me.
Of course, I tripped up at the very end, in the last five minutes of the party. Literally. Like, the dog, Brock, grabbed my pant leg and bodily DRAGGED me to where my brother was waiting with the egg. And even after everyone got pictures of me wrestling with the dog with confetti in my hair and my glasses falling off, Brock wasn't finished. Oh no. He had to drag me around some more by my shoelaces.
And yet, I still love him. Tuh.
I guess, looking back, it's really funny, but you had to have been me to know the ickiness of it... Either that, or I'm just too lazy to cut this part out of my "Ick" journal entry.
Then we went to visit my great-grandmother, who was in the hospital, which was sad. She was really sick and miserable there, and I don't even remember what she was like when she was well. I'd only met her when I was a baby and at my great-great-grandmother's funeral (which she was sick at).
She died two days later, and it was nothing like my great-great-grandmother's funeral. This was really, really depressing, and everyone in the family was fighting over her stuff when we got back to the house.
It was a pretty sad day, in which the entire family was against itself.
We'd been planning to go to this Bluegrass Festival thing for a few weeks, and everyone felt like they needed a moral booster, so we went.
At this point, we'd driven over six hundred miles, including the drive to the funeral.
I was sick the entire festival, and I kept messing up on my autoharp because this really, really cute banjo player was there (I know you're laughing, but he was the best one at the festival) and he kept wowing us with his mad banjo skills (LOL). Like, his fingers moved so fast that they blurred.
... I'm completely serious.
In addition to embarassing myself in front of him, I forgot to ask for his name x.x
Then I was too sick to go to school on Monday. And when I went to school for the rest of the week, I was so miserable that I failed my Spanish test, which sucked majorly. And everyone in my choir class was all, "Oh, we need an alto to try out for the solo in the show, so let's force Bianca up there because she says yes to everything!"
... I'd rather not recount how that try out went.
And THEN this weekend, I was told that I would be accompanying the "band" consisting of my father, grandfather, my brother, and myself to a nursing home to play for a real audience in TWELVE HOURS. Can we say SHORT NOTICE? We most certainly can. I bit my fingernails to the quick that night.
And... I guess this isn't so bad, but I kind of became a bluegrass version of a rock star for the old people. Like, if the nurses would have allowed them to mosh, they would have. All because I sang Amazing Grace and managed to eke it out on my autoharp.
Then it took me two weeks to finish this entry because it's so freaking LONG and icky, and because the Internet computer at home is being all "GRR" at me.
And as the cherry on top: I have to go to the chiropractor today so that I can be adjusted again. My back and neck are out to get me, I tell you.
Forgive the ick. I'm finished.