May 2011
April 2011
We stumble into our lives
Without a hand to hold
Any wonder we need to find
A certain something certain…
Aqualung - Something to believe in
I am such a slacker. But once my class was canceled this evening on account of my teacher being made of sugar and seemingly canceling class everyday it rains and I got into cleaning mode and finally took out my trash and vacuumed my room, I felt motivated!
So I sent out more requests for letters of recommendation then I printed out (FINALLY) the application for Study Abroad and started filling it out…
And I was shocked. I thought it was supposed to be a lot more work than this. Did they change it? I was sure there was all sorts of things I needed to send them, but it’s looking really easy suddenly! I’ll be in Lancaster before I even know it!
I’ve set up a meeting with my study abroad advisor and so I should have this in and be set and off! I’m all excited again!!
Now it’s time to go watch Angel. I skipped the first 4 seasons straight to the one with Spike because I’m shallow. <3 Celebratory Spike all evening for getting my work done! Hurrah!
C.S. Lewis
C.S. Lewis, I feel like we would have been friends.
(via yeahwriters)
Been nerding out the past couple of days. First over Spike, and now over Maksim Chmerkovskiy, and it occurred to me that the thing they have in common is the rock-star attitude. So I tried out a sort of experimental poem… Not sure it’s working like I want it to, but I wanted to share it. Also the title sucks. XD
Rock and Roll Poem of Fame
I want to be a rock star.
I want to be noticed,
Wear tight leather,
Talk trash,
Put on shades,
Disregard rules.
I want to be Joan Jett
Or Billy Idol
And peroxide-bleach my hair.
I’d be some serious badass
Everyone has heard of,
Kurt Cobain,
Sid Vicious,
Hendrix.
I’d live on sex and drugs
Until it kills me—
Because that stuff really isn’t healthy.
The problem is,
I can’t sing
Or play any instruments,
Not that it matters in Rock,
Not if you have the attitude
Or smoke heavily enough.
But poets don’t get to be rock stars.
Poets are meant to be
Pretentious,
Selfish,
Bitches,
Preferably gay,
With an opinion on everything,
And the Universe
Revolving solely around themselves.
I guess that is like being a rock star:
The coffee-shop-tweed version
Of a punk-style life,
The nose-in-the-air without
The bright lights and bad make-up.
I’d still like a leather jacket,
And to turn heads now and then
With my platinum-blond swagger.
I’d like to be the poet people remember
And say, “The one who wrote
About sunshine and butterflies?
Oh yeah! I wanna be like her.
She was cool.
She was something fierce.”
And then they’d sip their cappuccinos
And throw me the sign to Rock On.
mmmmmkay.
I will just watch this for about an hour and then continue to spam my dash with him ok?
I am having a rather massive crush on this man right now.
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I mean. DAMN. Let me convince your mind with more images:
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Ok. I know that’s a bit much. But DAMN. O_O
This, ladies, is one of the reasons I watch Dancing with the Stars. :)
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