Blah blah blah blah, Choir warmup.



Long time no see, denizens of this fair website. I can't think of much to talk about, but Mr. Creator insists that at least HIS spawn must be active on his Galion-Facebook hybrid. And so I stand here before you, a young woman humbled by the trials and tribulations of Junior year. I have decided to just answer a question here that someone posed to me earlier today.



What is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?



Funny thing… Continue

My dad asks me to write more blog posts on here, but I never seem to get around to it. So at 2:03am, I'm going to, as a little surprise for him when he wakes up in the morning. I'm not sure what this will be about, but I suppose I'll touch on a few topics. I'm in the quite the serious mood, so bear with me.



I suppose first I'll share something from a horrifyingly long internet-journal entry I just did. (I use penzu.com, by the way.)



I love certain moments in my life, when… Continue

It's a chaotic whirlwind, a spinning vortex of up-down-front-back-nowhere. The rush of students, milling about in the halls, fretting over Senior Research Papers, yammering and eating lunch in that ugly cafeteria. It's become a comfortable drone into which I sink every day, moving about the halls like an ant in underground tunnels. I sit through class after class, counting down the days until summer in my head as I stare out the window at the blue sky. I daydream of grassy hills and… Continue

Heeeey. How's ya'll doin'? I'z doin' fine, cuzzz. Anyway, now that I have gotten that out of my system, OG-flippin'-Ts are tomrrow. UGH. UUUUGH. OHGOOOD. I got some yummy orange juice to get me through the mornings and all, but I've been told by everyone I know that has taken the OGTs already that it is NOWHERE near as hard as the ACT, for which I am eternally grateful to the gods of standardized testing.



It's getting dark outside and I'm over at my Aunt Jane's, so i'm going to make… Continue

David bowie, King of the Earth, exalted be thy mighty name. Thy music rocks, thy pants are hot, on T.V. as they are on stage. Give us this day our daily jam, forgive us our country-music blasphemy, as we forgive those who listen to Rihanna in our proximity. And lead us not into the pit of perils (rap music) but deliver us from gangsters, for thine is the hairspray, the power, and the sheer awesomness, forever and ever, in Bowie's name we pray. Dance, magic, dance.



Now that… Continue