Lack luster.

Don't know what's been going on lately. But I have turned into a zombie these past few days.
I don't want to get out of bed, I don't want to do much of anything.
I mean, I am sick, but this is ridiculous. 
Even this feels mundane and draining.
I just don't care about anything.

In other news,
I made fudge today.
And I am going to the high school later to bring Samantha and Emily dinner and just kind of bum around.
I am also going to salvo. Because I can.
And it's on the way.
And I want heels.
Meh.

Fuck off, you idiot.

I just want it to be friday.

NaNoWriMo

Only a half hour into November, and I have nearly given up any hope of this.
Well, I absolutely have to participate in some way.
So I will be writing haikus or some other kind of something every single day.
Every. Single. Day.
This month.
Hopefully it will continue past this month.

I don't really have anything else to say.

All her shit in your apartment bothers me.
Just a smidge.
Can handle it.
Meh.
Weird.

END TRANSMISSION.

Well.

The other day, I was sitting on the couch with Brian.
He googled something about names, got nervous that he was googling my name. 
Not that I have something to hide.
Because I don't.
Not a single secret. 

But I got to thinking, what happened when I google myself?

So I did. 
With my name, almost nothing comes up. 
WOO!

But when GoatsJustKid is googled, 
it's pretty much five pages about me.
Which is interesting. 
Mostly Twitter. This blog comes up. That's about it.
But still.
Not actually interesting.
Not really surprising.
Or anything.
Pathetic, is what it is.
What am I doing with my life.

This is pathetic. 
And I do not care.

Huzzah!

Word.

Fucking asshole, cheated again. 
You don't deserve any shits.

This fucker has taught me so much about relationships, though.
 What not to do: 
1. Don't be an asshole.
 -Pretty self explanatory. 

2. Keep. Your. Fucking. Promises.
 - Seriously. Fucker.

That's pretty much.
Except, on a real note, this fucker made me sink back into myself further. 
Like, I feel if I give all of me to anyone, they'll just end up fucking me over. (Repeatedly.) 
He made me fear getting too close to people, which sucks so hard.
That is the real tragedy here.
That he was such an ass to me that I am afraid that everyone else in the entire world is like this.
Which I know isn't true.
But I can't get that feeling out of my head.

The flip side:

How's it going', Brian.
I Google a lot and assume others do too. But probably not. Meh.
Super cute. 

I keep wanting to grow out my hair, thinking it will look like Kimbra, kind of.
But it will just look like Micheal Jackson.
So that's not happening.

My Dalek dress is coming along nicely. Well, I have almost all the supplies for it, and about two weeks to finish it. So. Excited.
I will be putting pictures up throughout the process. 

One of the names I've always liked is Brian, because it is so close to brain.
In fact, nearly every time I type it, I have to switch the letters around. Herp.

I'm going out tomorrow to get baby food plastic containers, super glue, and black fabric. Hurray!
So close to actually having this dress.

I can't et my tablet to work anymore, so I wiped out the Walkman again today.
Gotta say, I really prefer this. 

Pandora really knows what I want to listen to right now. 
Such an awful end to a good day, really needed this.
Mh. 

I'm out of tea.

What was the point of this. 

END TRANSMISSION.

This is going to happen.

I have decided to do something simple.
Simple, but important to me. 
I am going to start walking.
Every morning. As in, I am going to get up at six tomorrow and go for a walk. 
Walk to main street, down spring street, down temple, and to the river. Just to sit and watch  for a little.
That's about a mile. Google maps tells me 1.4 miles.
So, three miles every morning.
I am downloading a Christopher Moore book right now so I can listen to that. 
So I will be 'reading' and getting health(ierish) at the same time.

About time to not just sit around all day.
Time to do something. 

Let's do this.

"Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?" - Douglas Adams

Here is something.

Now I know that Christopher Moore likes Dante Shepard and everything has come full circle.

Wish I ha something interesting to say.
So here is pretty graffiti in Nashua.

It's pretty neat, eh? 
I took it, so thanks to me for the picture. Good job, me.


This makes me want to read. So that is what I am going to go do now.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6G5JaicYuVU&feature=colike

Meow

I've kind of been getting into K-pop and stuff lately.
Notevenmad.

I don't actually have anything to say.
I have a pretty awful headache.
This past weekend I went to Maine with Emily.
I bought a dress for a dalek costume, eight books, and a carry two-pack of cards. 
It's neat.
All for $4.
And I'm making a hat for her. 
So that is good.

We seem together out of key.

I think every thing I do is the opposite of what people want me to do.
Notevenmad.

You say you're this person who is so different, that you're not "that kind of guy."
I've heard that from three different guys.
All three of them turned out to be exactly "that type of guy."
The cheating, lying, assholes.
(Come to think of it, the only guy I know who hasn't said that is the only guy I'm on good terms with right now. Hm.)
Any way.
Yeah. 
You say you're not that kind of guy, but you are. You so are.
You say you wouldn't cheat, but you clearly did that.
Yeah, good for you, you got a date with a girl you thought was pretty rad.
Well, she has a boyfriend. Even if it is "complicated."
That is kind of bullshit.
You say it was only a "potential date?"
So are you "potentially cheating?"
No. It's fucking cheating.
Nice job, bro.
Glad you're not who you say you are.
But what's new with you guys?
I am neutral about this, so fuck off.


Let's make some ratatouille.
 

Rock this bitch.

Let's start off with something that bothers me.
My sister has this recent awful habit of wanting to get any kind of attention that she can.
As in, she will laugh and then force a snort. 
Not like she has a snort in her laugh and that is just how she laughs.
She forces a snort several times in a laugh.
Not funny.
She also pretends she can't see.
A few weeks ago, she could read the tv listings just fine.
Now she leans in to read it.
Even though she doesn't need to.
It bothers me.
Meh.

Tomorrow I am going to Maine with Emily.
That should be fun.
Meow.

Twitter.

I've been on Twitter for a little while now.
For, a month now. 
A little more. 
And it's neat. 
I had one before, but never used it.
Right, get on the bandwagon once it isn't cool.
But that's the way to do things, isn't it?
That's my prerogative.
(@GoatsJustKid It's an animal pun hahahahaha shut up.)

I can't stop listening to Watsky.
Not a new obsession, but so worth mentioning.
As much as possible.
I mean, there are musicians and rappers, poets and lyricists.
But Watsky is on another page. 
He is just so.... incredible.
I can't explain it.
And I am missing his tour right now. Oh well.
Minecraft and Watsky.
Good enough for me.

My tongue hurts.
So, of course, I can't stop biting it.
Which isn't helping.

I am a bloodmobile.

A story of my cats.

Yup.

A little background info. 
I have two cats.
Ploarbear and Tony.  
I will refer to them by name.
Polarbear is my cat. The best cat. Not an exageration.
She is the best cat in the history of cats.
Tony is my sister's cat. 
She, like my sister, is a bitch.
Hates me and I hate her. 
Not the point of the story. Meh.
They do not really get along.
It's not that they hate each other, they just don't kill each other anymore.  
Keep that in mind during the story.

We live on a very very ground level apartment.
As in, some times people come to crouch down and sit to talk to the cats in the window.
It's short. Whatever.
Sometimes at night, other cats will come and look in the window. 
Tonight, both cats were sitting in different windows. 
Polarbear was sitting in the living room window and Tony was sitting in the bedroom next to it.
This cat goes over to the window where Tony was sitting.
She starts growling, as she does.
Polarbear perks up and runs to Tony's window.
Usually she just listens for a seconds and lets her be.
So I go over to watch how they react. 
The cats are together, growling and hissing at this other cat. 
The other cat freaks out and runs away. 
They gracefully look at each other and give, what I can only describe as a nod.
Tony gives a little meow and trots off to the next window to further the chase. 
Polarbear looks at me and falls asleep.
Good kitty.

It was more interesting at the time. 

34. 26. 38.

I've gained a little weight recently.
I try on things and I think 'this doesn't look good. Why can't I make this look good anymore?'
So I take my measurements and google them, thinking 'this might help!'
I got plus sized dresses.
Now, I don't see myself as a plus size girl. Because I'm not, really.
Plus size is 42-32-42. Roughly.
Runway models are 34-24-34. 

Catalog/commercial models are generally 36-26-36.

But what does this even mean?

Plus size models:

 

Runway models:

 

Catalog/Commercial models:

 

Now tell me, which one is most beautiful?

That is, how you say "A question wrongly put."

Who is to say 'This girl is prettier than that girl.'

What does that even mean?

Why does it matter?

Why am I worrying about it?

It's funny. 

I'm not worried about how I look. 

But why it makes my heart and head hurt.

I think of it this way. 

Say you have a cup.

No matter what you do, you can put whatever you want on the outside, make it as 'beautiful' as possible,

but if it is filled with poison, what does it matter?

Why do we put so much stock into our outsides, but we leave out our insides?

Meow

Sometimes I wish you would love me.
And then I laugh for about an hour. 
Because that is such a stupid wish.
I don't want you to love me.
That is so dumb. 
What even. 
Stupid dumb girl brain getting in the way of actual thoughts.

So what is going on? 
I bought a Mighty Wallet.
A while ago, but still love it so much.
Library concert tonight. 
Quite excited. Might end up alone, though.
No biggie.
(:

My paranoia.

I have this irrational paranoia. (Not a fear, there is a difference.)
I always think that people are just putting on a front with me.
But it goes further than that.
Let me explain. (Or try my best to.)
I always have this thought that people are always pretending to like me.
Like they just hangout with me just to have a laugh.
Like when I turn my back, they're giggling with other people about me.
I can't explain it. 
It's like people pretend to like me, just so they can hate me more. 
I really can't explain it. 
Something.

Men in Black 3

Last night a group of friends and I went to see Men in Black 3.
I love time travel.
Love thinking about it, talking about it, everything.
This movie completely messed with the Grandfather Paradox.
For those of you that don't know (there are people reading. 25 views today. Woo!) what the Grandfather Paradox is, let me explain it.
Say you wish you had a better life. So you go back and tell your father the winning lottery numbers. (Not that money buys happiness, but bear with me.)
So you go back in time and give your father the numbers.
He wins the lottery and his entire life changes.
Now you were never broke, so you didn't have a reason to go back in the first place, so you don't.
So your father didn't get the numbers.
On and on again, ever lasting.

Anyway, this movie failed to realize this.

Along with the time traveling paradox and surprisingly lack of aliens (come on, it's an alien movie! Have more aliens!), I'd have to give it two stars. 
It was a fun night, though!

So there.
 

Geronimo!

I've become mildly obsessed with seeing how many page views I get every day.
It is 11 in the morning and I have 19 views.
I don't think you understand. 
Daily, I might get one or two, usually none, no biggie.
But nineteen?
Yet zero comments. 
I'm really curious as to how many people are just cruising by, and how many are actually reading.
So if you are reading, just leave a little comment.
For science.

I'm not all 'oh I'm going to be famous, have everyone love me!'
No.
It's just interesting to me.

I did my first work of graffiti the other day.
Pictures next.

The getting of the cap and the gown and the nyeh.

Today the seniors went in to get our caps and gowns and have breakfast and stuff.
So we go in, told we are supposed to be there at 7 for breakfast.
Class doesn't start until 7:20, so there was no way we were starting until 7:45.
So we wait.
I didn't end up eating. But that's besides the point.
So we leave to go to the gym.
To line up.
How hard can lining up be?
The answer: not very.
So we stand there with people we don't really know/ don't really like for about an hour and a half.
Then finally, finally we go into the big gym.
Girls get all sad, they're playing Pomp and Circumstance. We aren't actually graduating right now. Calm down. 
We sat there and had bunches and bunches of awards. (For the juniors.)
Then the top 100 of the class.
It just went on and on and on. 
Then the lower classmen left.
We were all like 'yeah, it's over, hurray!'
Then we had to present the NH Scholars. 180 of them.
Then go get our caps and gowns. 
One line, half hour.
Just to get a slip for the next line.
Which we stood in for 45 minutes.

PLUS SIDE.
The nerd table got my number and have been texting me all day.
Oh gosh, you guys are awesome.  

Brain crack: Part 1.

Real quick:

I'm writing down some recipes.
Bagels, in particular. 
The recipe says to 'punch dough down,' as you do with bread-like products.
Instead of writing that, I wrote FALCON PUNCH dough down.

Here is the idea:
Nerdy cook book. Yeah, there are some out there.
But this one will be mine. 

ALL MINE.

Why I don't like mirrors.

Quite some time ago, a friend and I were in Walmart.
We were walking along, looking for candles. He walked down one aisle and I stopped in my tracks.
The aisle was filled with mirrors.
Big mirrors, little mirrors, mirrors of all shapes and sizes. 
I've never been a fan of mirrors.
Reflective surfaces in general.
Mostly in public, but even in private I don't like looking into them.
I rarely look in the mirror, straight in the eye.
And never, never naked.
Not because I don't like how I look.
I can not stress this enough, I do not give a shit what you think of my appearance.
Hell, even I only mildly care about my appearance.
So why should you care? Get to know me instead.
There is something about mirrors that just sucks all of my confidence away.
I don't like them. I just don't.


I was out with a friend the other day, in a comic book store.
I thought I looked all right. I surely felt all right.
Then I caught my reflection in the mirror.
For some reason, my mood plummeted. 
I don't think he noticed, but I surely felt it.
I don't really know why it happens.
But it does.
And I don't like mirrors.

Rest my case.

So we're going back to the whole 'only when it's convenient for you' bullshit?
Nice to know. 
Not a happy camper.

Starting on a bad note, then getting super better.
Potentially.

Last day of school EVER.
High school.
Then finals tomorrow. But still!
More than ready to be out of there.
It has been hell.
In fact, thanks to Greene, I've been through Hell twice. Wink.

What am I doing.
How about a song.
DFTBA that link.
http://dft.ba/-ThisIsASong

Shaping

There is merely one more day of class. After that, one day of finals. 
Then I never have to go back there again.

Ever.

That is the greatest feeling.

I've gone through so much shit in high school. 
In the public school system in general.
My parents divorced. 
I moved across the country, forced away from the few friends that I had. 
I made a few friends in Washington, but let's be honest.
Nobody liked me. I was the new kid.
The weird kid.
Then father won the custody battle.
I was ripped away from my mother and family.
That is one of the few memories I remember so strongly.
My father's mother pulling me out of my mother's arms.
My mother's father placing his hand on the window, matching mine, as we drove away.
My first plane ride.
One I didn't really understand.
I didn't see my mother again for two and a half years.
It wasn't her fault. It wasn't anyone's fault.
The only reason they were ever married in the first place: me.
I started school once in New Hampshire again. 
I made a friend or two. Nothing serious.
I was back to being the weird kid.
The person I would be for quite some time.
I made some friends in middle school.
They all left sooner or later.
I was never afraid to be who I was.
The awkward person didn't need to fit in.
I just needed to be whoever I was going to be.
I tried fitting in for a while. It just didn't work.
So I stopped trying to be that person.
I've had girlfriends, I've had boyfriends.
From Dan to Ryan, Dan to Ryan, Dan to Ryan.
It's been a vicious cycle of boys.
And, holy shit, I deserve to be treated better than that.
It was totally different each time.
The Dan I dated the first time was not the same person as the second time we dated.
Ryan changed drastically from the first to the second time. 
Totally different people each time.
It's crazy how much people change. Not always for the better.
I became homeless.
I moved twelve times in just a few months. 
We still don't really have a place.
No home.
Homeless.
My heart has been homeless since the divorce.
I think that is what has really effected my life the most.
Their divorce.
It would have never had to even begin, if it wasn't for me.
It shaped the way I view the world.

It lets me see all the bullshit for what it really is.


The world is shit.
But I just have to rule it.

I just beed myself.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLLz7O9Lf6k&feature=g-u-u

This should be watched.

And this is the inspiration for this video. Kind of.

The reason I didn't go to prom.

Tonight is prom night. And I am playing Minecraft, watching ZeFrank, and blogging.
"But prom is such an important part of high school! You will remember it forever!"
Wait. Just stop right there. 
That is why I'm not going.


I don't want to spend my life doing things so I can remember them later on. 
I want to do things for the now.
 

I am, in fact, all shook up.
Because of All Shook Up.
Hurray!

If this was a vlog, intro music would go here.
Lawl.

Well, the last two posts I have done got deleted somehow.
Who cares?
Not a single person.
Meh.

I've been feeling kind of blah lately. To the point where I don't want to blog.
I don't want to do anything, really.
Today started out great.
While walking into Alvirne with Chris, he asked if we were talking about the quiz we were supposed to have.
Our teacher is pretty good at saying we are going to have a quiz, then not giving us the quiz for, say, a month.
So we were talking about whether or not it was actually going to happen.
I said "It is Ms. Craig. So, we will probably not have it. We will probably do kennel."
We ended up doing kennel.
Which was fun.
I sometimes like doing kennel.
Because I like animals.
And even if it is just cleaning up their cages, I like doing it. Experience.
So that was fun.
Then I started thinking.
ot really about anything in particular.
Just.... thinking.
About what will only be known as 'the event.'
I don't really have anything to say about the event.
Just that it was an event. And it happened.
And that is really all I have to say about that.
I mean, really.
I don't have anything to comment on the event.
It happened. Then it ended.
And that is it.
But sometiems I think about it.

I started thinking about how little people actually need me.
And I mean need need me.
Like, with the drama club.
I am stage manager and I do all of the little things.
That make the show big.
I build the set, lights, curtain, call out lines, make sure people are where they need to be, etc.
Every rehersal. (I have missed one.)
I let everyone know where they need to be.
Everything.
But I never get a single thank you.
Never told anything.
Tonight at four, we are having the leads come in to do act 2.
And I quote: "Just leads."
Just leads.
And Spencer.

I was tempted not to go.
They don't need me. Why bother?
So I told Devon about it. He offered to swing by and pick me up after school.
I told him I can't.
I'm working in the shop. (Building sets for the show.)
I am too busy working on the show to be mad at the show.

Everything hurts.
Everything sucks.

And my techies keep bailing.

Heres for tomorrow.

Good Mythical Morning.

Alvirne has early release. Huzzah!
So I will be sitting ni the library for the next hourish.
Watching Youtube. Then I will probably redo my Spanish homework, rewrite it and whatnot.
Stupid Spanish.
More, stupid Barraford.
All right, she is not stupid.
But she can't teach.
She knows Spanish. She knows English.
But not enough of English to teach Spanish.
And none of us are getting it.
I am kind of understanding, but not nearly as much as I wish I was.

Now I will watch Minecraft videos for a long time.
Long time.
Long. Long. Time.

Weird day yesterday.
Wore a dress.
Painted while wearing tights. Got paint on the tights. Ah well, what can yah do.
Then I went to Hannaford for dinner.
Went to get a basket and there was a guy sitting there.
He said to me "Hello! Would you like a Peep?"
HE WAS A NERDFIGHTER AND IT MADE ME SO FREAKING HAPPY.
Then I got a pepper and a Sprite.
And had a nice little dinner.
Then had rehersal.
Went to Wendy's with Emily.
Went for a walk with Lia and Dan.
Then went to bed.
Huzzah!
It was a really, really good day over all.

Today, I have two classes.
Zoology and spanish.
So I will be leaving school fourth block to go to Salvation Army for shirts and whatnot.
Which should be lovely and fun.
And whatnot.
Blah.
This was pointless.
Sorry.
But not really.

This is it.

After this, this last blog post, I am totally and completely done with you.
(Please return Ender's Game to Zach and I will get it eventually. Although you will probably never read this. Which I am fine with, because you don't give a shit anyway.)

I am done feeling like shit.
So I decided to at least try and make myself happy again.
I relized 'Hey, you really do make me feel like shit more times than you make me happy.'
For every one time you would make me feel decent, there were a dozen times you would make me feel bad.
That I wasn't worth your time, that I didn't deserve you, that you had so many other better things to do, why did I even stick around?
Because you do. You have better things to do. Which wasn't fair to me.
You lead me on. And that isn't right.
You didn't give a shit.
I tried. I really did.
I said 'good morning' and 'good night' for weeks.
Then, one day, I stopped.
To see if you would notice.
You didn't.
Why didn't I notice then?
When we were together (which wasn't very often) it would be fun. But then you wouldn't really be there.
You never knew what was going on in my life. Never asked.
I went to find someone else, just for one day.
You didn't care.
My uncle died and I got really scared. Because you had a similar thing going on.
You promised me. You promised you would tell me everything.
I asked all day, and I got nothing. You promised you would let me know imediately.
It wasn't until late at night when you let me know you were home.
... You promised. But you left me freaking out all day.
I had no idea if you were even alive.
Can you just imagine for a second what that was like?
You knew how freaked out I was.
And I understand you were having a tough time, I'm not trying to make it sound like it's all about me.
But you promised. You could have had your mom let me know. Something. Anything.
You promised.
You kept bailing on me, last minute.
You left me sitting on a couch, alone.
With nothing.
Then we compromised.
One day a week, half an hour. A short, quick time together.
Once a week.
That lasted for about a month.
Then you started bailing out again.
For whatever reason.
You promised.
You can't even see me once a week. A damn half hour, that's all I asked for.
You promised.
Then you said you would text me 'good morning' and 'good night' everyday.
Every. Day.
That lasted for about a week.
You promised.
When I told you I was out, you didn't even fight it. You just let it happen. There was nothing you could have done, but in that you proved all of my points. That you didn't care. About me. About any of this.

You promised.
And you broke that promise.

I gave a woman a dollar.

Puff levels are high.
But in a good way.

Quick background information:
I am sick of everything. Everything sucks. Blah blah blah stupid girl stuff.
I freaked out at someone. But it was totally, totally worth it. Seriously.
But more on that next time. Because you deserve it. Take it as you wish. You wanted me to change (which isn't cool), so maybe you can take the next one  as advice on how not to be a total d-bag to someone who you 'like' or whatever.

ANYWAY.
Back to my story.
So Sunday, day after Saint Patrick's Day.
I was going to go to a little thrift store downtown with my sister.
We're getting ready and I asked her to pick her project up off the floor.
She went balistic, freaking out, giving attitude, whatever.
So she didn't end up going with me.
It ended up being closed on Sundays.
So I'm walking back and I notice this woman. I notice people when walking and generally think about them and wonder whate their lives are like, whatnot.
I'm standing on a corner, waiting for the light to change when she catches my eye.
She passes by and asks if i have a dollar to spare.
Without even hesitating, without thinking about it, I pull out my wallet and hand her a dollar.
She thanks me and goes on her way.
Then I get to thinking.
Why did I do it?
Was it the right thing to do? Yes, I believe so.
Did I have a dollar to spare? Yeah, kind of. I was only going to get hair dye, but that could wait.
But people have asked me for money before, friends and people on the street, but rarely do I do it.
Why this time?
Maybe I had so many things running through my head and I needed a nice moment.
Why this woman?
Maybe... I don't know. Something just made me do it.
I didn't think about it.
I don't consider myself a selfish person. I rarely ask for anything, I cook dinner for the family every night, I'd rather help someone do their work than do my own first.
I don't know why i've been thinking about this so much.
Weird.

Inspired by John Green.

I know how to do some things.

1. I know how to read:
I am awesome at reading. I mean, I do it a lot. And I really like doing it. I do it daily. It is good.

2. I know how to hate pennies.
I mean, HATE pennies. I have an unhealthy hate for the penny. And nickel. More so the penny. But, nickels suck too.
And Nickelback.
And Nicholas Cage.
ACK.

3. Make knots.
I am becoming better at this. I am a pro at Bowline knots. And Surgeon's knots. And square knots?

The male anglerfish is the smallest vertebrae.

4. (On that note) I know a lot about animals.
*I know a lot of weird things about weird things/animals.
The male anglerfish is the smallest vertebrae. It latches on to the female and lives on her for the rest of her/his life. Parasite love.
So there is that.

5. Haikus. I know how to write haikus. More importantly, I know how to write haikus that aren't technically haikus and how to tell the difference.
Haikus are three lines, 5 syllables, then seven syllables, then five again. They contain a season word.
Mine usually do not conatin a season word, but are about, like... zombies. And stuff.

6. Minecraft. I know how to Minecraft.
A LOT.

Get excited!

I am using Google Chrome currently.
It is cool. 
On a school computer, so there is that.


The bus went past me today.
So I did not get to go to Alvirne.
Didn't go at all last week either, thanks to finals here and there.


Things that I am happy about:
Being a nerd.
It just lets me excited about things.
That is something I hold onto dearly.
Being completely excited about something and just going crazy about it.
I love that.
When I see other people and they aren't excited about something, I want to punch them.
Just, when cool things happen, I want to tell people about them.
And others don't.
And I find that weird.
Meh.


I have nothing to be excited about right now, so I don't know why I felt the need to say that.
But it was necessary. 
GET EXCITED ABOUT THINGS, PEOPLE!

How you doin'?

It has been almost a month.
Finals time!
Hurray?
No.

I finished my Vet midterm. It was... all right. I think I did all right.
No Alvirne for the rest of the week. That is nice. Relaxing.

Jounrnalism final was... okay.
30-minute podcast came out half-way decent. No where near where it could have been, unfortunately, but it was done and turned in on time. So, woo!
3,000 word article came out to aroun 3,200.
I think it was pretty decent.
Greene sank down the wall when reading the first page.
Which felt good.
He says he was tired, but I will keep my moment.
Meow.
Then the practicum.
UGH.
Silly practicum.
Last post is due today, which will be a relief.
It was fun, though.
Learning how to cook and make videos.
He didn't tell us that the last part of out final- the Clip File- had to be pieces from our practicum.
So all I have are scripts and videos for the Clip File. Lovely.
Well, I can make it work.
Instead of applying for a book review blogger job, I will apply as a cooking blogger.
Easy enough.
Now I just have to type up a couple of scripts and I'm done.
Hurray!
The last video is currently uploading and it is sad.
Oh well.

I am going to Leeds/UK for two months after graduation.
I'm pretty excited. (:

Shake him off.

Guess who didn't finish his effing NaNoWriMo and gave it to me to edit?
Jerk.

How you doin?
I'm listening to Spoon.
And now I'm not.
It's a Gnarles Barkley kind of day, yeah.

Devon and I introduced Emily to adventuring this past weekend.
It was wicked.
We went to the mall and Wendy's and Wal-Mart.
It was good.
Word.

Update on this crazy journalism final:
The website is fine. Bag of doom comes out on Wednesday, in which I fear I will break my fingers.
Thanks for making me fear that, Greene.
I have roughly 1,500 words on my 3,000 word article.
I have one article written for the podcast due on Friday.
And I'm working on the second one.
I hope to have them recorded by Wednesday at the latest.
Recorded and edited by the beggining of class on Friday would be ideal.
I haven't even started the clip file yet. But I've already done that one before, so I can use most of what I did on that one for this one, seeing as not much has changed.
It's basically just a resume. I just have to update it.
As you would with any resume.
Greene, I hate you for this.
But thanks.
This has helped me learn time management.
And that I need to get better at it.
You make it so even if we don't want to go into journalism, we can do stuff we like.
You teach us tools that will help
somewhere. Eventually.
I will be learning to make crepes because of this class.
So, thanks.

The fans get up and they get out of town.

Well, I like Bayside.
Thanks, Zach. Meh.


I don't really have anything to say today. I need to get an article done.
Woo!


This class is killing me. Journalism.
Meow.
I still have a 3,000 word article to do.
A 30 minute podcast.
The website.
The clip file. 
Agggghhhh.


And as it turns out, I can not seem to make videos.


My phone charger broke. That's... news?
No, it's not. It's not even interesting.
I will be without a phone until I can get a new one.
That's fine. 


I got a watch for christmas.
I don't want to stop wearing my old one.
Resolution: Wear both. 


I'm making a mix CD for the next adventure Devon and I have. 
With Zach this time. Hurray!


I'm stressed and just want to nap.
To the corner!