![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Oh, also! Comment, and I will:
1) Tell you why I friended you.
2) Associate you with a song/film.
3) Tell a random fact about you.
4) Tell a first memory about you.
5) Associate you with a character/pairing.
6) Ask something I've always wanted to know about you.
7) Show you my favourite user pic of yours.
8) In return, you must repost in your LJ.
1) Tell you why I friended you.
2) Associate you with a song/film.
3) Tell a random fact about you.
4) Tell a first memory about you.
5) Associate you with a character/pairing.
6) Ask something I've always wanted to know about you.
7) Show you my favourite user pic of yours.
8) In return, you must repost in your LJ.
Year in Review: LJ recap for 2006!
Jan. 1st, 2007 10:05 pm(I think this ended up reflecting the year pretty well!)
January:
I think maybe the best characters are not meant to have love interests.
February:
It is time to confess the terrible truth.
I am updating this because and only because it's Wednesday, I just had seven hours of classes, I am exhausted (so early in the semester!) and I cannot bring myself to look at my homework just yet. I'm going to have to tackle the small stuff first and then work my way up to literature and physics, I think, or else I will take a nap in despair. A despairing nap. Is that not the most pathetic phrase yet?
March:
The last twenty four hours have been absolutely fantastic, I'm in the best mood I can remember, and I need a hair cut. How else to sum my current state of being?
April:
Bozarth mansion is beautiful. We're surrounded by trees, and at night the stars show themselves in triple multitudes. There is a garden and low stone walls and high stone stairs and grass fields. For the record, playing frisbee at night is slightly dangerous.
May:
A snicket of tape is a trickilish thing.
June:
Keegan: "You should have seen me catch the dragonfly, though. I wasn't even wearing my glasses. I was like, 'Dragonfly... you're toast.' Ah... acetone. Special purpose thinner, cleaner, and remover--of life."
July:
Never accuse my mother of having fallen off a turnip truck. Don't even suggest it. Even if she provokes such a comment with a question like, "What, do you think your mother just fell off the turnip truck?" Even if you have no idea what that means.
August:
I pinned it down. The argument against any anger at the "pretty people" bias, instances when the physically attractive get what they want with less effort, generally, than everyone else.
September: ***
It is the kind of weather to make you feel guilt for having to breathe, the air is so heavy. Every breath is extra-aware that there is a breath less oxygen left for everyone else.
October:
The primary reason for the last few weeks having been academically frustrating is my complete lack of econ classes in my schedule. Knowledge of micro- and macro-economics has slowly been dissolving from my brain. I cry myself to sleep, because I will soon be majoring in a subject about which I know nothing.
November:
Yeah. No nanoing this year. Waiting for my soul are the gaping jaws of two essays, two tests, a stats case study, an ambiguous group presentation, and the unending depths of "My Spare Time Should Go Here" Guilt of Mock Trial.
December:
My weekend is entirely mine. Nothing to work on, nothing to worry about, save for a bit of mandatory Christmas shopping because everyone needs to organize a seperate Secret Santa exchange and it looks churlish not to participate. I'll get this done tomorrow.
*** = year's best entry award winner
January:
I think maybe the best characters are not meant to have love interests.
February:
It is time to confess the terrible truth.
I am updating this because and only because it's Wednesday, I just had seven hours of classes, I am exhausted (so early in the semester!) and I cannot bring myself to look at my homework just yet. I'm going to have to tackle the small stuff first and then work my way up to literature and physics, I think, or else I will take a nap in despair. A despairing nap. Is that not the most pathetic phrase yet?
March:
The last twenty four hours have been absolutely fantastic, I'm in the best mood I can remember, and I need a hair cut. How else to sum my current state of being?
April:
Bozarth mansion is beautiful. We're surrounded by trees, and at night the stars show themselves in triple multitudes. There is a garden and low stone walls and high stone stairs and grass fields. For the record, playing frisbee at night is slightly dangerous.
May:
A snicket of tape is a trickilish thing.
June:
Keegan: "You should have seen me catch the dragonfly, though. I wasn't even wearing my glasses. I was like, 'Dragonfly... you're toast.' Ah... acetone. Special purpose thinner, cleaner, and remover--of life."
July:
Never accuse my mother of having fallen off a turnip truck. Don't even suggest it. Even if she provokes such a comment with a question like, "What, do you think your mother just fell off the turnip truck?" Even if you have no idea what that means.
August:
I pinned it down. The argument against any anger at the "pretty people" bias, instances when the physically attractive get what they want with less effort, generally, than everyone else.
September: ***
It is the kind of weather to make you feel guilt for having to breathe, the air is so heavy. Every breath is extra-aware that there is a breath less oxygen left for everyone else.
October:
The primary reason for the last few weeks having been academically frustrating is my complete lack of econ classes in my schedule. Knowledge of micro- and macro-economics has slowly been dissolving from my brain. I cry myself to sleep, because I will soon be majoring in a subject about which I know nothing.
November:
Yeah. No nanoing this year. Waiting for my soul are the gaping jaws of two essays, two tests, a stats case study, an ambiguous group presentation, and the unending depths of "My Spare Time Should Go Here" Guilt of Mock Trial.
December:
My weekend is entirely mine. Nothing to work on, nothing to worry about, save for a bit of mandatory Christmas shopping because everyone needs to organize a seperate Secret Santa exchange and it looks churlish not to participate. I'll get this done tomorrow.
*** = year's best entry award winner
