"She's in love, and the world gets blurry
She makes mistakes, and she's in no hurry to grow up
'Cause grownups, they don't understand her
Well it's a big, big world out there, but she's not scared...
She finds hope in the strangest places
She reads her books, and she knows the faces
Of everyone that ever said she's alone
She knows every word to the saddest songs
And she sings along, though her friends all tell her
That she can't sing...
She's eighteen, much too young
To know what a kiss like that would mean
But her lips, they were no stranger to the touch
And she likes it way too much."
--Mayday Parade, So Far Away

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Caution: This Post Will Waste Your Life.

Still no home computer. I'm at my dad's.

I also have peanut butter stuck to every single one of my teeth and the roof of my mouth. I gave up on eating jelly with peanut butter about two years ago--too much effort, too messy, too sweet--so now I just eat PB on bread. Definitely my favorite food in the world, tied with chocolate and followed closely by hummus.

I really don't have anything enthralling to post here, I suppose. Other than my excitement at being able to use a computer, life is pretty much boring. I worked yesterday 4-10... work tomorrow 3-7... work the rest of the summer...

Hmm.

Oh! Haircut. I got three inches taken off my hair again. It now just brushes my shoulders, which makes me happy and yet mildly insane. It's great for summer, of course, what with my hair being incredibly thick and difficult to persuade, but I also can't really wear it straight without a battle ensuing.

Curly? No problem. Bring on the humidity; it'll only help me out. Straight? Eek...

Umm.

WRITING! I almost forgot. I've done so much writing these past few days that I actually feel like I've accomplished something. Heiress is taking a more mature turn--finally--and Common [separate series...if it ever becomes a series...] has gotten some of the attention it deserves. I wrote a short piece and few poems, too, but those were terrible, as usual.

Lol. I may have perfected the art of self-deprecation. How charming.

I also began and quickly terminated two new stories. The idea for one of them will eventually coincide with Paul's Island [another separate book that I've restarted three times]. Oh, and I'm desperately trying to come up with a new title for that one. Absolutely terrible. Somewhat humiliating, actually.

What a great post. Makes no point at all. Welcome to the inside of my head, folks. :]

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