Lol, if you haven't noticed my stat today, its: Sometimes the Fairy Godmother gets a bit tipsy, and you end up with blue hair and blonde eyes. Not very appealing or flattering, hmm? Anywho, my stat yesterday was: Free Shipping = Slow Shipping, which was not true at all because today I recieved my fabric and was WHOOT. Other things today that were NOT WHOOT AT ALL ARGHES BANGS HEAD ON DOOR. - awful mile + awful cramps - undecided weather - the fact that the fabric has to be washed, dried, and ironed before I can make any moves - the fact that my CM test is on the 21st and I have to hurry hurry hurry and practice practice practice because if I fail the test, I have to take the level six one over again and that will be the end of my sad, piano playing life - my Wicked accompaniment is wicked bad (haha, knee slapper -gets arthritis-) - the poor dead bird on the second tennis court who, apparently, either crashed into a pole or spontaneously exploded, showering the whole court with feathery and gutsy bits - bad posture - my bad habit of being very noncommittal: i.e. certain crafts, ideas, writing splurges, self hate, self idolization (very noncommittal), boys (not really my fault, I'm not old enough to be committed with that sort of shixz), food, organization, schoolwork, running, etc etc etc etc.
D: Yeah, pretty depressing, huh? But its a good thing that I've got this blog because then I would be off writing it into my depressing and soppy diary, except for the fact that when I am writing it it doesn't look depressing OR soppy. And then I get disinterested because who the heck is reading my diary anyway?? So I have this. Being on the dahling PC is lurvelier than writing in variant script, rather slowly, rather weirdly, rather not. Dunno if anyone is reading this at all, but Livia asked, and I rather owed her a little favor for...um... something long long ago that I forgot and don't have the heart to make up right on the spot. Oh yeah, this is where I spew my rantiness instead of plaguing everyone and pissing off my dad by chatting online.
Speaking of my dad, did I tell of my new "dating policy" according to dearest papa? Obviously not. Ok, here's the plan: I don't date until I'm twenty-three, period, and if I do, the guy must be more intelligent than I, taller than I, more masculine than I, and able to wield a pair of chopsticks with surprising agility and grace. I say: poop and pizza crust, no way am I going to be a 23 year old dating virgin. I'd probably divorce my first hubby in a span of three months, the way I'm going (refer to paragraph one, line... uh... second to last). So there. And don't give me any snowcones about being too young, twenty three is too old to start learning this particular subject properly and prone-free.
In going with my daily poem of choice, feast your eyes.
Memory Quilt I gaze upon my recollections, in patches of red, yellow, chartreuse. Each memory follows the other- And the stiches are not loose.
Little poem made up on the spot. Because guess what the forementioned fabric is for--- a quilt! Today's Book Read: Girl, 15, Charming but Insane by Sue Limb
Its funny. Lehao figured that out. Another funny thing-- Irene's book talks in one section about a woman who predicted that she would be burned in the Salem witch trials. When the people came to take her to the stake, she stuffed her dress full of explosives, so when they lit her on fire, the whole town was destroyed. Smart lady. If only our brains functioned so brightly.
To: Loyal followers of the written rant, spaghetti shape design graduates (I just KNOW that there must be people who do that), the poor dead 'ploding birdy, pervy eighth grade male degenerates (you know who you are), people on the "Have You Seen Me?" milk ads, and lastly, our friendly local hippo. I sympathize that you have all befallen the same fate as I, with a Fairy Godmother that obviously messed up when designing her latest human prototype.