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Feb. 6th, 2005 03:21 pmI need to do homework.
I need to write poetry.
But most of all, I need to reread the script to Monty Python and the Holy Grail. If I were a film director with the resources thereof, I would make an independent film of my own starring a skinny teen wizard and a bloodthirsty vorpal bunny and call it "Harry Potter and the Holy Grail." I can count the Golden Globe awards even now.
26 hours of sleep later, the world is full of daisies and sunshine again, even though technically nothing is blooming and technically it's raining like a firehose through a colander. And the view from my window is gray and gray-green and gray-brown. What kind of band calls themselves the Strawberry Alarm Clocks? Did they really think that it was a marketing-savvy move? I mean, I understand the whole psychadelic rock thing, but there are nouns with more positive connotations than "alarm clock" floating around.
There's a chunk of grass missing from the lawn in front of my house. Thanks Robert. Without sarcasm, really. During bad winters my dad does, in effect, the same thing, except that he generally uses a shovel rather than the front wheels of a vehicle. It's something of a favor for everyone lower on the hill--when it rains so hard, some of the water sluices into the divet rather than just pouring straight down the paved road.
I received my SAR from the FAFSA. Apparently my EFC is something like 26,000. A year, or over four years, I wonder? Somehow, I suspect the former, which is seriously painful to consider. Perhaps I won't end up going to college after all.
Out of idle curiousity, I blew my hair dry today, intending to also blow it straight. No luck. It ended up just...slightly wavy, and thicker-looking than usual. But very shiny. When I start writing about the condition of my hair, it must be a sign that I have run out of things to write about. I'll give it an hour or so, and try again.
I need to write poetry.
But most of all, I need to reread the script to Monty Python and the Holy Grail. If I were a film director with the resources thereof, I would make an independent film of my own starring a skinny teen wizard and a bloodthirsty vorpal bunny and call it "Harry Potter and the Holy Grail." I can count the Golden Globe awards even now.
26 hours of sleep later, the world is full of daisies and sunshine again, even though technically nothing is blooming and technically it's raining like a firehose through a colander. And the view from my window is gray and gray-green and gray-brown. What kind of band calls themselves the Strawberry Alarm Clocks? Did they really think that it was a marketing-savvy move? I mean, I understand the whole psychadelic rock thing, but there are nouns with more positive connotations than "alarm clock" floating around.
There's a chunk of grass missing from the lawn in front of my house. Thanks Robert. Without sarcasm, really. During bad winters my dad does, in effect, the same thing, except that he generally uses a shovel rather than the front wheels of a vehicle. It's something of a favor for everyone lower on the hill--when it rains so hard, some of the water sluices into the divet rather than just pouring straight down the paved road.
I received my SAR from the FAFSA. Apparently my EFC is something like 26,000. A year, or over four years, I wonder? Somehow, I suspect the former, which is seriously painful to consider. Perhaps I won't end up going to college after all.
Out of idle curiousity, I blew my hair dry today, intending to also blow it straight. No luck. It ended up just...slightly wavy, and thicker-looking than usual. But very shiny. When I start writing about the condition of my hair, it must be a sign that I have run out of things to write about. I'll give it an hour or so, and try again.