I don't, for the most part, like yogurt. the idea of it is not appealing. and yet, I'm eating it. Custard Style Orange Creme. although I don't like it. because I don't know what else to do.
things are heading back to the frantic state they were in this past spring, which is mildly depressing. but I realize this will end when I no longer have to wake up before eight five mornings a week.
I've been cast as Margot (Anne's older sister) in my school's upcoming production of the Diary of Anne Frank. This is awesome, but will make me crazy for the next month. Our first rehearsal was yesterday, and we only have twenty-one more rehearsals, four of which I can't make it to because I am doing things too awesome to be missed. So our (pregnant) director will start her hell-week freak out way ahead of schedule. I read the play for the first time in years yesterday, and I need to be off book in about two weeks. But as much as I'm whining, I'm excited. the audience will go home weeping, but the play will be damn good.
262 days until I graduate.
first draft of a list/poem I wrote for Seerman's AP Lit this morning: (spacing it was handwritten, so it's a little off.)
bad poetry, eyeliner, cowboy boots, chicken.
last minute scramble, misplaced drummer,
the feeling of sand between toes.
epic dreaming, compulsive eating, and
absolutely ridiculous remarks.
buy dance tickets, feurdurher tv,
discount liquor and gourmet pizza.
power naps, laptop computers, being sent flowers on weekdays.
Pasty Amazing, pet rat, crazy friends' older brothers.
Magnum P.I. and old hippies.
administrative meetings, squeaking noises,
16 ounces in a pound.
stretchy ears, funny hats, loud cafeterias.
Anne Rice, Clive Barker, cousins and 4 a.m. spraypaint.
Klingons, strap-ons, and computer science.
Amherst Massachusetts, fanny packs, and Cyndi Lauper.
A non-stop flight to Nashville Tennessee,
egg sandwiches, "Rob Purcaro is the man."
leopard print sunglasses, you miss all the
good parties, and I know you cried
when Elliot Smith died.
the Duino Elegies and Radiohead, a
hatred for pocketless pants, and the
complete lack of any idea of what
the hell I'm thinking.
beginnings, middles and endings.
all this, and I hate sneezing in the shower.
Posted by samantha at October 6, 2004 03:12 PMi wish i could wake after 8...
great poem...totaly unpretecios (u know i cant spell)
snezzing in the shower isnt so bad its farting in the shower that for some reson i find the most in-opertune time for me
i'm positive u will be awesome in the play (i have never seenor read it) i almost cried at the movies last night....im such a pussy...it wasnt even a very good movie put i crave entertainment
Posted by: Christopher at October 6, 2004 03:52 PMladder 49..
it was ok...good concept and it wasnt backdraft 2 like i had origanly thought
I absolutely LOVE two points of the peom, but I find the rest highly entertianing as well. Pocketless pants... the only reason I wear pants is for the pockets; if boxers came with large pockets to fit my TI83, I would only have pants in reserve for winter... and I would wear them under my boxers. And I have a story about sneezing in the shower... I slammed my head into a wall, that is the story. Damn walls... -Rob... Prie......
Posted by: Rob Prieds at October 6, 2004 06:41 PMoh vobert, you crazy, crazy German.
also, there was the time you slammed your head into Ally's face while doing situps in the Taz ride at six flags in eighth grade. yep, there was that.
Posted by: samm at October 6, 2004 07:21 PMwhee, I haven't left a comment here in a while. Anywizzle, I like your poem, I hope you get to do more creative writing in Seerman's class, I always said that to him last year. Yes, college is better than high school (well, academic wise at least) for instance, I had one class today...and it didn't start til 2:30.
That was awesome
Posted by: Brian at October 7, 2004 01:20 AMyeah totally. i have one class a week. and it's not till like one or three or something.
your director is pregnant? good lord. will it never end?
Posted by: noah at October 7, 2004 08:17 PMwait, will what never end? Mary Hy's pregnancy? wacky theatre hijinks?
Posted by: samm at October 7, 2004 10:14 PMthe hygom assault upon the world is actually what i was referring to. her and her damned periactoids.
Posted by: noah at October 8, 2004 06:35 AM