Elephants are Different to Different People
* I am a beautiful woman of God.
* I am Haines, and you are Steven Dedalus.
* I am Harriet the Spy.
* I believe in possibilities.
* i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
* I dance in my car.
* I fall in love every time.
* I know my vampires.
* I make allusions to everything you don't know about.
* I never pass up an excuse to wear a costume.
* I sing along with the songs playing in department stores.
* I will always come home.
* I'm gonna fly higher than I ever, ever could.
* I am Haines, and you are Steven Dedalus.
* I am Harriet the Spy.
* I believe in possibilities.
* i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
* I dance in my car.
* I fall in love every time.
* I know my vampires.
* I make allusions to everything you don't know about.
* I never pass up an excuse to wear a costume.
* I sing along with the songs playing in department stores.
* I will always come home.
* I'm gonna fly higher than I ever, ever could.
Jul 26
Jul 23
When people tell me to write I don’t want to anymore.
Jul 11
» Now using my original tumblelog
I’ve now begun using my original tumblelog as I intended it—to put up photographs of my notebooks along with short excerpts of each notebook’s content. (Click the title of this post to see it.) I’m excited.
Jun 23
EN 219, fall semester '08 -- WALDEN discussion
- Instructor: Why did he go to the woods?
- Student: To spare the rest of us.
Jun 22
Blogs
I have all these blogs all over the Internet on different sites (and even sometimes under different usernames). And the problem is, I don’t know what to do with them. I really want to organize them, but I can’t.
And then there’s this other problem—kind of ridiculous, maybe, but it’s a problem nonetheless—I never actually intended anyone to read them.
And then my family did.
And for some reason I just don’t want them to.
…
As if that makes sense.
There’s where I have problems being a writer—if zillions of people I don’t know read my stuff, I can’t care less. But people who know me—sometimes even the people who know me best—that bothers me. That’s wrong. That makes me want to stop writing (…on blogs, at least).
Weird.
Jun 16
This is apparently a screenshot from True Blood.
From the commercials I’ve seen, I’m sorry, but this looks horrible.
I may be wrong. I have yet to see it and won’t until I rent it or someone I know does because we don’t have HBO. But… ugh. It’s just, I’ve read all the Sookie Stackhouse books that are out in paperback (i.e., all but the latest), and this is not how I pictured the show.
In my head Sookie looks a little older, and the vampires all look different. I’ve only seen glimpses of them on commercials, but really.
And it kind of ticks me off when I’ve been following and enjoying a series for a while and then it suddenly gets popular and they start making a TV show and then they start changing the book covers. ZOMG, it makes me so mad. I don’t know why, but I’m just really irritated by it.
Like…
Oh, I don’t know.
I have this love/hate relationship with pop culture. There’s no predicting what I will or won’t like or when I will develop an opinion about such things. ^^;
NCIS.
Gah, I freakin’ love this show. I’m addicted to it. And it doesn’t help that USA network shows THREE episodes every weekday afternoon (at least… may be weekends, too, but I don’t need to know about that) (ha ha).
I’m partial to Ziva instead of Kate, so I had trouble finding a large image that I didn’t find weird/poorly put together of the Ziva-cast.
Running from things
That’s what I’m doing.
By not finding a job/applying at enough places/going to ask if places are hiring, I’m avoiding rejection. Also avoiding actual WORK.
By going to coffee with this bad attitude, I’m keeping myself from having to think about things I don’t want to consider.
By sleeping all day and watching NCIS, I’m keeping myself from reading and writing like I should be (and submitting to journals and all that).
By hanging out with my brothers, I’m pretending I’m not growing up.
Jun 11
Dating
It’s not seldom that I sit back and wonder what’s wrong with me that no one asks me out or apparently wants to date me.
And then it comes to me that, the last time someone was interested in me (and came into my dorm room, escorted by my currently-unavailable roommate who, by the way, sort of had a crush on him, and had concocted an elaborate scheme to woo me with Scrabble and songs on the guitar), I stomped around in rainboots packing my car and then went and hid in the computer room with The House of the Seven Gables until I was sure he was gone.
Not that that makes me feel any better.
May 26
Customs form
So on my customs form, I was asked to list the things I had bought/acquired abroad and their approximate value in U.S. dollars. The form read as follows:
Misc. souvenirs: $200
Clothing: $220
Books: $380
