I woke up this morning with Solsbury Hill by Peter Gabriel running through my head, and an unsubstantiated rush of self-love. I looked in the mirror and just felt damn gorgeous as I dressed.

I know from life drawing that I love that little tummy pudge on girls. I think it forms this beautiful curving slope that accentuates all the other curves. When I lose weight I'm going to keep that for sure.

Sasha Reneau
Critical Analysis and Semiotics
Section K
December 1, 2009


I’ll be honest. I’m an Internet junkie.

At home, the Internet has fizzled out for one reason or another. I’m staying at school so I don’t miss anything if my collaborative stories move at all. In fact the only reason I am writing this essay this early in the evening is to pass the time between forum posts. Ironically, even as a full-time college student, homework takes part-time precedence when it comes to entertainment on the World Wide Web.

It occured to me that I don't have a lot of real-life male friends. So I considered the male friends I do have and it made me miss them terribly. I say I want to go to the opera more often; I really mean I miss hanging out with Daniel. I say I want to start getting flying lessons again; I really mean I want to talk to Ben. Funny how attached you can get to people you see every day for four years. I even miss dysfunctional Matt.

I don't like people, but I love these people in particular more than I thought I could.

Hey, rp buddies!

The reason I haven't been on is because I'm on a cruise for my grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary. I don't have internet access here but I'll be back Friday!

Sorry for not mentioning this earlier.

Is there anything more delightful than Patrick Stewart narrating Peter and the Wolf?

No.

No there isn't. <3

http://deoxy.org/pkd_how2build.htm

Short link for a long essay. I'm maybe a third of the way through it, I just wanted to bookmark it for now.

There's a shadow waiting for me at the foot of the stairs.
It leans against the stairwell wall with one foot crossed over the other,
arms bundled neatly around its chest.
If I stop and watch carefully
I can see its chest gently rise and fall.
It waits with an infinite patience,
occasionally checking to see how its wristwatch is doing:
the big hand has a while to go before it gets to six thirty
but it'll get there before dinner.

In the shadow's jacket pocket there's a paper
and on that paper is a song
the song that's been in my throat for the past month
but has never made it beyond my lips, battered against walls of teeth
and crumpled like a term paper underneath my brain.
I feel so strongly compelled to burst into song
but the firing mechanism is jammed
the words are locked in their trailer
and the melody is on strike.

So I will wait for the shadow at the bottom of the stair
And the shadow will wait for me
with my song in his pocket
and his hands folded across his chest
dozing off on the stairwell wall
because I know and it knows
that shadows make and break no promises
and when I pass it,
I will claw at its form on the wall.
I will dig my fingers into the plaster
and tear and tear and tear away
until its jacket is stained with the blood from my fingertips.
I will scream and howl and rail at the shadow.
Give me my words! those are my words! that is my song!
And I will crumple and beat my fists and soak my sleeves in snot and tears
because a shadow is where light refuses to go
and nothing more.

I wish my relationships IRL were simpler to define. That would save me a lot of grief, I think.

YOU THERE!
Yes, you!
How are you today?
Anything exciting happen?
Some tragedy I can be swallowed by?
Some joy that can lift me out of me?
Is there something you need?
Some task to distract me from my flaws?
Anything at all--I'm at your service.
Perhaps you'd like your ego polished?
I'll put a spitshine on it, it'll shine so bright
I won't be able to see me in its reflection.
Maybe if I try to fix all of your problems
I'll learn how to magically fix mine.

That sounds like a good idea,
right?
I don't mean to seem desperate.
Maybe I'm coming on a little strong--
Let's start from the beginning.
What's your name?
What are you like when you're alone?
How many little changes would it take
to reconstruct myself as you?
How much would I have to change to make you into me?
Not much, I think.

Then, we can peek at each other from the bottom of our foxholes
And we'll find reasons to hate each other
Almost as much as we pity ourselves.
That sounds like a good idea,
right?

Or maybe I'll just stay here
And you can walk away
And maybe
just maybe
that will be the end of it.

I'm not sure what I keep logging into Elftown for these days. I mean, I've pretty much retracted myself from most of the rp's I used to be in, and I've never really used this site for socialising...the messaging system takes a little too long for me, and I end up going and doing something else.

Well, I AM doing the gladiator challenge, and my piece is in the dark arts competition, so it's nice to check up on those, but...

Might be leaving soon. I mean, I don't really do anything around here anymore anyway. Wouldn't be much difference.

I'll prolly be back, though. Something as addictive as this site, I always come back.

Because I have no self contol. :D

DOOM DOOM DOOM.