-Going job hunting. Do you think I should wear hunter-orange to signify my dedication to finding employment? Or even, carry a six pack of beer, some rifles and a hat with built-in ear muffs?
-Getting my camera fixed. Its been working oddly lately -- Hopefully I can get it fixed and then embarrass myself by taking pictures through the city today.
-Slept in too late today. My alarm clock now rests in pieces against my wall. Displacement, thy name is Sarah.
-Wish me luck guys. If I get a job, I have a small chance of having a somewhat interesting future. And that means, no more whining from me about cats, old spinsters, vans down by the river, and brooms.
-Finally, had the weirdest dream last night : I was murdered; turned into an invisible ghost; my parents knew I was dead, and still accepted me into the family; except I was really sad to be dead. I used this chance at dead-ness to be sort of poltergiest-ish, and ended up causing a lot of trouble and stuff... then one day, I went outside and ran into another ghost, who asked me if I was crazy for walking around out the open. Then he pointed out an old bent woman to me, and told me she was a collector of the dead.. and should she see me out in the open, she would carry me back to the underworld. Since I didn't want to leave my family, I ran back inside and locked all the doors, and resigned myself to an afterlife spent inside this ugly, ugly house. Of course, then I woke up, so I didn't get a chance to see if I ended up developing new ghost powers with which to use to pull up the red shag carpeting. Hope I did.
Saturday, November 17, 200102:21 p.m.
listening to; Silence / Delerium
reading; Daughter of God / Lewis Perdue
..::: - & - :::..
I'm feeling bored..
And most surely over-creative. I'm thinking about doing some more redesigning or something --not the pita, thank god-- but maybe some various stuff associated with Solar Fragments. Dunno.
Today has sort of sucked to a degree. I've felt blah and gross and uninspired. But after surrounding myself with music, candles and Clyde, I'm feeling a little better. Maybe not interesting, nor not bored, but better at least. So, yay.
Friday, November 16, 200108:24 p.m.
listening to; Silence / Delerium
reading; Daughter of God / Lewis Perdue
..::: - & - :::..
__________________________
I had a really weird dream last night -- one I didn't wake up from until 10 minutes before I had to be at school. Surprisingly enough, I wasn't late; but decided to go to school looking like an absolute bum, only to discover it was pretty much a free period. Which kind of sucked, but I did catch up on some useless work I had to finish. Anyway, my dream was thus:
I was at a party with Mel and Sar and Tan, along with some other collective people. We were by the coast, with miles of warm sandy beaches and cold sea breezes. The rooms were nearly entirely white, and Sarah suggested that we watch a horror movie, which is odd, because usually I'm the slightly frightening cheesy horror movie fanatic. Somewhere between Freddy Krueger and Mel and the others going out to get ice cream (heh heh) I ran into a cat, who, baring claws leapt and killed a rat that was running across the room, and ate it.
So, what this leaves me with is... how violent is my subconscious??!?! According to Swoon, a cat killing a rat (or, mouse) indicates that: "...it is a warning not to allow others to meddle in your affairs; listen to advice but act only according to your own judgment."
After dreaming about decapitated rats, I'm not sure if my using own judgement is quite the sanest idea. Blah.
Friday, November 16, 200102:33 p.m.
listening to; Silence / Delerium
reading; Daughter of God / Lewis Perdue
..::: - & - :::..
Tired.
I reeeeeeeally hate it how, when you need to sleep you can't and when you can't sleep you want to. Its like the irony of the Sandman. And the very fact that I'm even talking about the Sandman proves my sleepy stupidity. I mean who talks about the Sandman? Unless its in regards to some horrible molestation incident they experienced as a child. The entire concept of the Sandman is entirely creepy. Kind of like how Santa Claus is always watching you, I guess.
*Pauses*
Ignore that. I have no idea what I'm talking about.
So, the big debate thing was tonight. To paraphrase myself on several occasions, I "felt like a tool". Our arguments could have possibly been better thought out, but it wasn't as if the opposition were expert debaters, anyway. (Although the girl with spike collar and shaved head did really good. Very agressive. I was afraid and quite put in my place. And then we won. And I'm ashamed to say, I clapped for me.)
Thats right guys. FIRST DEBATE EVER. And I won. Or we won. Yes. We won. I never win. Understand this: The only time I've ever won anything remotely cool was when I was in Grade Two and won a giant white teddy bear from the Dentist's Office. I really think it was somewhat of a bribe, though. Many fillings followed, with delightful gleeish laughing coming from my dentist a la Steve Martin in the Pet Shop of Horrors.
Of course, the win was sort of by default.. a bit of a technicality from the other team.. but for now, I'm basking in my denial. There were two debates tonight -- we won one and we lost one. I think part of it was because the last team we were up against were much more prepared -- they had better formal tactics and knew the right things to say. As a collective Team Group (Team #1 -- a name that I exploited frequently, pasting a cheesy smile on my face and holding up my finger in a 'Mentos' sort of way, saying, "Oh yeah. We're number one!")
Only, I'm pretty sure the middle finger didn't go over well with the judges.
Sooooooo.... I'm too tired to talk coherently about what else went on -- although, after phoning Mel in between debates I found out she locked her keys in her car; so we ended up driving to A and W to pick her up, and Gen drove her back to her house to pick up her keys, then back, then we spent up until about 20 minutes ago working on her 15 page essay for her ECE college class.
And despite having to research conflict communication styles in Mel's textbook, I'm still entirely pumped about tonight.
(Although, ponies was mentioned once during the debate, but thats an entire different story.)
Friday, November 16, 200102:49 a.m.
listening to; Silence / Delerium
reading; Daughter of God / Lewis Perdue
My only form of retaliation against such an onslaught of worthlessness is to 1) Get into pajamas. 2) Consume absurd amounts of popcorn. Or liquor. Mostly liquor. 3) Movies. Many movies. I'm having a complete movie marathon. Until 6 a.m.
I'm supposed to be witty, intelligent and clear-headed tomorrow.
I have a feeling that instead I'll be drab, stupid, and incoherent.
Here's my theoretical image of what tomorrow should be like, and what it will be like instead:
It should be like:
"Why yes, I do believe the terms contained herein point to the utter ridiculousness of applying any sort of label towards the subject. The very idea of absurdly attempting to demonstrate any sort of sanity in such an awkward position is both ludicrous and arrogant. The project should have been thrown out before it even began."
Then all will clap. Everyone will throw confetti over my head and balloons will be released. And then we'll grab torches and lynch whatever the hell I was talking about. Afterwards, we'll have salmon and steak tar tar and watch deep political debates featuring respected members of society giving enlightment through arguing.
And here's what will happen:
"I like ponies."
People will clap out of pity, and I'll dance around with my arms up expecting the confetti and balloons that will never come. Instead; I'll look like a complete and utter idiot. Fearing that they didn't get my message because of poor communication, I'll repeat it. Slower this time.
"I like ponies. They have soft fur."
I'll think that inserting a giggle into that statement will make it more charming and easier to comprehend. I'll be wrong.
Then, I'll go by myself and eat a can of dog food, pretending its steak tar tar. This won't be so bad, because their roughly the same thing. Only dog food has more cat in it. After this I'll precede to watch Jerry Springer. After an hour I'll discover that Jerry is an inspiration and a visionary. This will inspire me to drop out of school, rent a trailer, go pro-guns and turn to Jerry for guidance when I subsequently cheat on my friend with her secret lover; the Shoveller for the Sewage Treatment Plant. (Because he's going places.)
Look for me in an upcoming episode of Jerry. I'm the three inch midget in leopard print screaming that I'm attracted to Tommy Lee from Motley Crue because he reminds me of my wayward cousin.
Thursday, November 15, 200112:59 a.m.
listening to; Silence / Delerium
reading; Daughter of God / Lewis Perdue
..::: - & - :::..
blah.
I slept for soooooo long. Way too long, if you will. So long that I'm going to be up all night with nothing to do. Except maybe posting. You all, after nights of relaxing slumber, will possibly turn on your computers, go to my site and find that I've held my very own personal blog-a-thon, to which the only benefactor is the monitor radiation currently attempting to turn my greymatter into unattractive, radioactive mush.
How fun.
Wednesday, November 14, 200109:52 p.m.
listening to; Silence / Delerium
reading; Daughter of God / Lewis Perdue
I'm not really fit to make any sort of interesting post right now -- so, here are just some random notes to catch all of you up since Tuesday's late night shopping spree:
- We started Hamlet in English. Some Shakespeare Nazi thought it fitting to write the plot developments in the margin, and I now know most of the story intricacies and twists. Don't think I'm not hunting said person down. I think the culprit may be 'Phil', who according to the notes, "is gay".
- I practiced Debating today. Guess what? That's right. I suck! Plus Gen and Alicia were laughing convulsively at me. I have this thing where, if I get excited about a point or idea I tend to flap my hands around as if I'm attempting to take flight. At other times, I do that annoying "finger quotation" thing. Except I'm too lazy/preoccupied to actually take the effort needed to do the full quotation movement, and end up curling my hands in what looks to be an attack position. Eg; "MY QUOTE IS ATTACKING YOU". (This phrase followed with; "MY QUOTE IS APPARENTLY PECKING YOUR EYES OUT."
- Me and Sar went to the library and hung out with the cool library people. What I find scary about this time of year is that a lot of people seem to be getting out and dusting off their seasonal sweater vests. Y'know. The ones with tiny ornaments, bells, beads and decorative Christmas Kittens sewed in. I picked up a few cd's anyway, and some books.. now I can hang out in the basement and ignore the outside world for a few days. Just call me 'Sarah; Social Recluse Extraordinnaire'.
Wednesday, November 14, 200101:35 p.m.
listening to; Silence / Delerium
reading; Daughter of God / Lewis Perdue
