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for the few of you who read my journals on a regular basis...


i'm too old for this shit here.

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3 years and 45 weeks.

i have officially been on here entirely too long.

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actually, no, it's quite the lovely day outside. but i was in a pissy mood and just watch A Gaythering Storm and now i feel better?

why was i in a pissy mood?

sooooo, we were supposed to have a build day for the show next week. director's like, "be here at noon-ish!" so i got there around 12:30 and waited...and waited...and waited....waited for about an hour and a half, and no one from the show has shown up. there's a dance in the venue tonight as well, and the people came to set up for that, but no director or helpers...

so i said fuck it, and left.


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written almost 30 entries with only one word as the title. which is harder than you might think....

anyway. coat and tie next year. coat and tie. i don't care what anyone says, i don't care what they think, i am not putting myself through wearing that stupid shit again. i hate blouses, i hate skirts, i hate heels. i HATE THEM.

coat and tie.


tonight, i discovered someone who could possibly be my soulmate.

too bad she's straight and taken.

she's cute.
she's smart.
she's funny.
i can have a conversation with her....

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in a surprisingly good mood today. we did something i understood in math, even if we did get fussed at for being loud. which is amusing, since my math teacher is fairly hard of hearing. or at least, that's what we thought....

government ended early. we were listening to the deputy chief minister of something or other from Kazakhstan and after some lady came to take our pictures we ended, so that was nice.

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i have this overwhelming desire to go buy these heels i saw the other day. they're horrifically misogynistic, but goddamn are they cool. they're black, patent leather, stilletos, and i waaaaaaaant them.

i have to write a character analysis on Nora from Henrik Ibsen's The Dollhouse by friday. urgh....

also, i have to pee and i wish the sun was out.

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carrie prejean, in my opinion was in the right. has it come to the point where if what you say isn't PC then you have no right to say it?

she spoke her piece and said her opinion. i don't agree with it, but i applaud her for having the balls to say it, in front of pretty much the entire world....

flame me all you want, but that's my opinion....

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some people need to stop acting like children and realize that other people have to get up early in the morning to study for a test and take care of that same person's dog, even though it's technically THEIR DOG.

i love my uncle, but jesus christ is he a childish dick 90% of the time. and it's not like his friends help any. he's 20 years old, no job, no future, still living with his fucking parents.

ugh. i love being here, but i honestly can't wait to get out of this house and have a life of my own.

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bela lugosi's dead.



i absolutely adore The Hunger. it's so wonderfully 80's cheesy. full of synth music, soft-focus and shoulder pads.

but god, catherine deneuve is so delicious it's worth it.

also, yay for compelling and intelligent arguments!

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so, as most of you know, i got a tattoo on friday. it was $130, with a $10 tip for the artist (btw, is that too much? too little?)

i thought i had $200 in my account when i got it done, which would've meant i would've had about $60 left my account. i just checked my account, and i have $164 in my checking and the same amount in my savings as i had on friday....

i'm wondering if i should head down to the local atm and double check...

in fact, i think i am.

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i'm terrified i might not get into UVa. school doesn't have an articulation agreement, which is in essence guaranteed admission.

i'd have to have a 3.5 accumulative GPA by the end of my 3rd semester.


you know what's awesome though?

gratuitous physical contact with OLB. she even told me my hair smelled good...which was cute...in an odd way. :D

you know what sucks though?

getting a lot of hugs with a just-healing tattoo smack dab where people pat your back.


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pictures soon.

it's a biggun.

but it only took about a half-hour. it HURT but i got through it with no breaks, no crying, no yelling, no nothing.

i just sat there and talked every once in a while. kinda meditated more than anything.

hurts more now than it did then.


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just another example of our horrific treatment of the elderly.



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writers are such funny creatures.

people who think they're writers are even worse.

"Oh, look what I did! I single-handedly put together this literary magazine, which oh! coincidentally is filled to the brim with my (heinous) writing! Isn't it beautiful, person who submitted quality poetry? Isn't it beautiful!"

yes, i'm a dick. and an elitist. and a snob. and a narcissist.

but guess what? I DON'T CARE.

it's nice outside today and i'm going for a tattoo consult tomorrow. :D

aaand, hopefully a tattoo.

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eve can go suck an egg right about now. ugh....my uterus has declared war against me, and i feel like pearl harbor in december of '41. blegh....

it's cold and rainy outside and it's fucking april, i hate it. :(

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