(no subject)

 So, I'm pretty much where I was last month: stuck at home with my nose buried in endless piles of research and essays. Luckily, Math has always been pretty easy for me, so i'm flying through that class. I must say that my teacher is actually pretty hot. This teacher is a guy, slightly odd, and actually has red hair (I think). You know, I think i just find the dork in him adorable. He's REALLY into math, like freakishly excited about it. 

Finals are coming and I'm already freaking out because there's five I have to worry about, but I've got a new play: casette tapes! I'm going to make some and listen to them until my ears fall off. Hopefully something would have stuck by two weeks from today. 

I actually have an essay, two tests, and a quiz tomorrow and I should really start focusing on that paper since I haven't done a craps worth of research for it. I'm seriously thinking of just not turning it in. Yeah, yea, whatever, i'm turning one in. 

I'm surrounded by gorgeous boys, gorgeous as in they should be models. THey dont' have that commercial look people are puking all over to get, but they're more exotic and my fingers are just itching to photograph them. Alas, shy bird that I am, I may just end up having to sketch them.

(no subject)

 I didn't think it was possible, but you CAN make yourself sick with worry. 
Or in my case, nerves.
I had a presentation and nervous out of my mind. I hate public speaking
but it's a necessity in public colleges. 
I couldn't eat breakfast, my stomach was in a knot.
I couldn't stop shaking, my entire body was freezing.
I couldn't handle the stress, my mind was shutting down.
All day, I just wanted to pass out, my head nodding like i hadn't slept in 
years. 

But finally, the presentation time arrived and everything went smoothly.
It was a performance and I couldn't let the group down. The nerves
went away and so did the stress, but halfway home my throat started
to itch, then my nose got stuffy and started to run. It's insane how all
my body's defense systems just crashed after getting me through the
presentation. Oh well.

On a happier note, i saw WICKED last night. It is the best theatre \
production on the face of the earth. I haven't finished the book yet, but
it's definetely not as funny as the production was. You guys should 
watch it if you ever get the chance. Tickets are only $95 and that's like
months worth of savings for me.

(no subject)

the yellow cabbies always bring the newbies by
for us to abuse and corrupt their minds.

Apparently the world hates me. I just got three more presentations piled
onto me, all of them consisting of considerable research. One is a group,
so meeting will have to be scheduled and my free days are slowly going
out the window. 

I tried working on my term paper for English, something about free speech.
It turned into a rant and unfortunately i know he would not accept it as the
assignment asked for....research! Yay, my eyes are starting to bleed.

All in all, I cannot wait for my brother to get back on Monday because he
always brings me the biggest and sweetest mango's he can find. I'm 
madly in love with Mango's, haha, I put slices on everything. In my cereal,
in my oatmeal, slither some into pies, even make cider out of them. There
is no end to my obsession.

We're going to go see Wicked. Five months worth of savings blown on 
one night in Los Angeles. This scene better be my cup of tea or I'm
bringing the serenity down in this production. That made no sense, but
it just popped up on there haha. I'm tired. :(

(no subject)

Eternal stars, burning with the rage of man,
shoot down and end our ties to your endless grace.
Let us wander through the darkness without your guiding lines
stumbling amongst the rubble of this broken empire.

School is like some screwed up epidural. You're very aware of everything 
that's going on, half asleep, eyes twitching every thirty seconds as a sign
that you're still alive, but there's no happy numbness, only "I-have-to-do
what-now?" numbness. Papers. Endless papers keep piling on, weighted
down by the research books. If my vision wasn't bad enough before, it's
screwed for life now considering how much internet reading I've done.

There's a cat that used to live three doors down. His family moved and
decided to leave him behind. I cannot explain the rage I feel towards them
and the endless negativity I send towards their aura's. But he's got a much
bigger family now. He hangs out with the other street cats and let's everyone
willing pet him. He purrs, he eats, he has about five benches. I and my 
neighbor next door have actually put steps on our trees so he can climb up
and down. Everyone else just doesn't have trees in the middle of their yard.

Drew Carey is a funny man. His Drew Carey show was hilarious as was
Whose line is it anyways?. But the man can not replace Bob Barker. There's
something off about him. He's younger than Bob so you'd think there'd be
more energy, but there's a certain blandness that follows him on this gig.
Not to mention that the contestants seem to be of a different breed than
those that came on when Mr. Barker was around. 

I'm starting a story of sorts on reflections. I've got bits and pieces. Hopefully
I won't be too lazy to post some on here to try and get some feedback.

(no subject)

I thought I should post an introduction at the very least, so here goes:
I'm a twenty year old female living in Southern California. Unfortunately I don't blend in.
My hair's not blonde, i'm not a size zero, and I know I'd look horrible with a tan. 

My interests branch away from shopping and shoes and stick more to the
theatrics, allowing my brain to circulate with ideas beyond what's happening with
today's hollywood youth. I write fiction, sometimes lyrics that take a disasterous
turn into poetry. I am a photographer before I am a painter, but sometimes I
transfer images throughout all the asthetics.

I never played with barbies, instead joining my brother and his friends with
endless days of playing army, capture the flag, hot lava, and tackle football. 
We climbed trees and scraped our knees but not once did we cry. In a way
I think that comraderie I felt with those boys is what screwed me up because
I sometimes, always wish I had been born a boy. 

I do watch television and movies, I'm not that strange. BBC America has 
Coupling and The Catherine Tate Show, Dr. Who and Hotel Babylon, all 
great shows, comedy only escalated by the British accents. I prefer my
shows to be comedic and my movies to be horrifying, or at the very least
suspensful. I am the one watching the old Dracula movies with nostalgia.  

I listen to a lot of music: switch on the radio and randomly turn the dial. I 
can't really tell genre's apart, but I can split good and bad into endless
categories. Sometimes the opening beat alone turns me off and I switch
it to something else. I can tell the years apart though, by the words and 
the rants, sometimes by the fact that only the sixties and seventies will
ever get their hands on my turntable. I still have an 8-track with sonny 
and cher leading the way into the modern age.