Dearly beloved, we gather here to say our goodbyes...

Yes, kittens, it's sad but true. My adorable Ford Focus, Priscilla, has sadly been pronounced a loss cause by my insurance company.

:(

She will be dearly missed.







Also, I'm now in the market for a new car. Ideas? Read more! Read more!

real vampires USE their fangs...

So my friend and I got to talking about what would happen if the vampires from Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles ever read Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series. This is what happened.

Lestat dropped a pile of books on Louis’s desk with an audible thud. “Have you read this drivel?”
In times like these, Louis had learned that it was far better to just indulge Lestat. Sighing, he set his pen down. “Read what?”
“This—” Lestat gestured wildly, apparently too annoyed to form proper sentences. “This Twilight trash! Everyone’s clamoring about how beautiful and noble these Cullen vampires are, and…” he trailed off, blue eyes narrowing. “You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?”
Louis didn’t even bother pretending to hide his amusement. “Because, my dear, you’re rambling like a nonsensical idiot about a few books.”
Lestat snorted. “This is not ‘a few books’. This is a literary sensation that’s ruining our image.”
Ever the drama queen, Louis thought fondly. “I suppose you’d like me to read these, rather than just agreeing with you on principle?” Lestat sniffed indignantly and nodded, handing him a pair of gloves. Louis frowned. “What are these for?”
“Filth,” Lestat said firmly, “is contagious.”
Louis sighed and slid the gloves on, reaching across the desk to pick up the first book. Cracking the cover—it appeared Lestat had bought them brand-new—he settled back in his chair to read. An hour later, he set it aside and picked up the second one.
Oh, really. Was…he glanced at the back cover…Stephanie Meyer serious? He snorted.
Lestat glanced up. “I told you so.”
“You don’t even know what part I’m on yet.”
“It’s the principle of the thing,” Lestat said mildly, turning one of Louis’s magazines on its side. “Trés scandaleux, Louis. I had no idea your tastes ran to blondes.”
“Just to you,” Louis said absently, and pointedly ignored Lestat’s coo of delight as he turned the page.
It took him three hours more, and then he closed Breaking Dawn with an audible snap.
Lestat glanced up. “Well?”
“Well.” Louis nudged the book away from him in distaste. “I’m fairly certain I could kick this Edward fellow’s ass all the way back to Marius, and let him and Armand have their wicked way with him.”
Lestat got to his feet and crossed the room, draping himself in Louis’s lap. “I love it,” he purred, “when you talk dirty.”
Louis smiled. Sometimes, indulging Lestat really paid off. “Oh, do you?” he flicked a few strands of blond hair off Lestat’s shoulder. “Prove it.”
Smirking, Lestat did.


There you have it, folks. Real vampires are scary and dangerous and very, very gay. :) Carry on. Read more! Read more!

Yeah. So. About that updating...thing.

Um...oops.

Sorry?

Will post more often in future. Hopefully.

..Yeah. Right.

*cough* Read more! Read more!

Listening.

So the other day on a teva hike, Yuri told us to take a few minutes to just sit by ourselves and listen to everything around us. He wanted us to try and hear at least three different things really clearly. I tried, but I could really only focus on the wind.

The thing with wind is that it does so many different things. It whispers, it shrieks, it cries, it wails, it sighs; it blows, it brushes, it tears, it pulls. It goes from calmness to gale-force, and everything in between.

Old Native American legends said that trees could talk to one another, but they never mentioned the means by which they did it. My guess? The wind. Think about it. Think of the inflections of the human voice, the intonations, the levels of emotion and sound. Now think of what you hear in the wind, the hundreds of thousands of variations in the way it blows. Every breeze could be a whisper, every gust a laugh, every gale a shout, a scream, a cry for help.

It might be nothing. But what if the trees are talking to each other? What if they're studying us the same way we study them? What if they find us beautiful but deadly, interesting but impossible to understand--the same way we do? And they talk about us; they gossip through the wind like children, like schoolgirls, like people. And if they can communicate, if they can talk and laugh and cry, they can probably feel, too. So maybe we should start showing them a little respect before we cut them down.

It's funny what you think about when you just take the time to listen. Read more! Read more!

Worst blogger ever

So the basic idea of blogging, apparently, is to do it often. And clearly I'm not very good at this, because my last post was over a month ago. And I'll probably post even LESS often, because I'm at jew camp and computer/internet access is less than guaranteed.

Oh well. I'm making an effort. :) Expect two more posts tonight. Read more! Read more!

The Great Gatsby in 60 Seconds

Well, I did one for Ethan Frome, which sucked a lot more than this, but I figured I might as well. I actually liked Gatsby, but what can you do? Sometimes you just need to bash things. :)

Nick: I don't like to judge people. Especially Gatsby, because even though he exemplified everything I hate in a person, he pwned.

So, without further ado: The Great Gatsby in 60 Seconds.



Tom: I am big and hulking and cheating on my wife! Grar!

Daisy: Hey, Nick. This is my second cousin twice removed on my mother's nephew's side, Jordan.

Jordan: 'Sup?

Nick: Aoh. Hey.

Gatsby: Hey, Nick. I think you're pretty awesome. Let's be BFFs.

Nick: Okay.

Gatsby: BTW, I used to totally have a thing for your cousin Daisy. Think you can hook me back up with that?

Daisy: I love you, Gatsby!

Gatsby: :)

Daisy: And these are the greatest shirts EVER!

Nick: ...?

(insert several pages of background-related spoilers, essentially that Jay Gatsby=James Gatz, and he totally changed his identity. Keep your SS number a secret, girls!)

Gatsby: Tom, I'm screwing your wife.

Tom: WTF?

Daisy: Also, I just ran over your mistress.

Tom: WTF????

Tom's Mistress's Husband: This is all your fault, Gatsby! I keel j00!

Gatsby: BLARGH! *ded*

Nick: NOOOOOOOO!

All of Gatsby's 'Friends': Yeah, uh, about that funeral...we're totally not going.

Nick: Bitches.

Daisy: I never really liked him, I'm just going to chill here with my douchey husband.

Nick: Fuck all y'all. I'm going back to Chicago.

THE END.
Read more! Read more!

End of an Era

As we speak, I'm sitting in the band room before intermission of my last show at North Attleboro High School. It's closing night of the musical, my last horrah as a senior, and I've got some mixed feelings.

On the one hand, I'm kind of glad it's over. I'm sick of the long nights, the stress, the crying, the endless drama. I'm sick of coming home in tears after cast lists and rehearsals, feeling like I'm not good enough or pretty enough or tall enough or whatever enough to get a part. I'm sick of You-Know-Who's regime and bitchy people and comments that are supposed to be funny but actually really hurt. I'm sick of just about everything, actually.

But on the other hand, I'm sad. I love pretty much 90% of the theatre company's members--I've grown up with these people, grown from a sad, angry freshman to a (somewhat) mature senior. They've helped me through some tough transitions and even tougher times, and I've helped them back. We've banded together through some serious shit. We've laughed together, we've cried together, we've bashed the living crap out of each other, and through it all we've pretty much always loved each other.

So it's the end of an era. I'm moving on to new things, new theatres. Maybe I'll come back and visit, maybe I won't. Who knows?

To Kyle, Maria, Tiffani, Vanessa, Jesse, Bridget, Britney, Meghan and Justin: we've had a great run, you guys. It's been an amazing four years that I will never, ever forget. I love all of you.

To everyone else: good luck, hang in there, and don't forget what we seniors taught you. :) Read more! Read more!