Snapshot (another writing exercise)

Everyone was acting like it was a big deal or something. I didn't understand why, really. I mean this kind of thing happens all the time. I was really more concerned with whether any of those massive hats were going to topple off of those empty heads. That would be fun.

And then the really over-the-top one was all like, "This is a big day!" and I thought, "Oh, have we added hours? Is it bigger than yesterday? Or April 26, 1992?" But the sheep cheered anyway, and then it really started...

Skeletons. Sometimes I Fuck Up.

So today a friend of mine told me that she read my blog and was worried that my super pissy/annoyed/stupid first post was about her. It wasn't. And I told her that. But that got me thinking about why I posted it in the first place. I was going to take it down, but I decided not to. I was obviously still really pissed off when I wrote it. And it would have been more appropriate in a diary.

But it got me thinking, why did that anger me so much? If the friend who was concerned I was talking about her had done it, it wouldn't have bothered me at all. I wouldn't have even thought anything of it. I probably would have thought "Oh, sweet! She unlocked new songs for me! Yusss!" But it wasn't her. It was someone who already annoyed me in the first place.

Then I started thinking about how people that annoy me can do nothing right in my mind. Whether it's the clothes they're wearing, the music they listen to, the opinions the vocalize, the way the speak, they way they walk, the way their hair just looks so 2002. *sigh* And not only am I horrible for thinking this way, the worst part is that if it was me or someone that I like doing exactly the same thing, it wouldn't bother me at all. I would shrug it off as 'everyone has an off day". I. am. SUCH a hypocrite.

I know I'm not the only person like this, but it really bothers me that I am this way. I know I can't help if certain people just bother me, sometimes for good reason, sometimes for completely invalid and superficial reasons, but I CAN help how I think of those people.

I'm sorry for being awful sometimes. I am only human. I hope you'll all still be friends with me. I promise I don't think of YOU in that way. :)

xx

Omg omg yayy!!

My life is complete. Who wants to be my date?

Jan 22, 7:06 AM EST

`Mamma Mia!' producer plans Spice Girls musical

NEW YORK (AP) -- If it worked for ABBA, why not the Spice Girls?

Producer Judy Craymer says her company will create and produce a new stage musical based on the songs of the girl-power group whose recordings have sold more than 75 million copies. The show is tentatively titled, "Viva Forever." No production timetable was announced Thursday.

Craymer will produce "Viva Forever" with "American Idol" creator Simon Fuller, who hasmanaged Kelly Clarkson, Annie Lennox, Carrie Underwood and the Spice Girls.

Craymer produced both the stage and screen versions of "Mamma Mia!" The musicalfeaturing ABBA songs has been a mega-success, seen by more than 42 million people worldwide and grossing more than $2 billion since opening in London in 1999.

Copyright 2008 Associated Press

Feeling Nostalgic.

Today in one of my classes, we did a little 5 minute writing exercise where we had to let our minds wander to a happy place, and think about what we saw, felt, remembered, etc. All of the places I thought of were places specific to last year. I decided to write about a dirty old roof:

Billy's old apartment. We had so many wonderful times there. Lying on his make-shift couch, drinking coffee in tumblers and wine in mugs. Watching Disney movies despite all being in our twenties. Friends. True friends. The only ones that keep in touch.

The best part of this place was the roof. Dirty and covered in cigarette butts and frequented by pigeons, but small, cozy, and three storeys closer to the warmth of the sun.

I remember the smiles on our faces, the smells of my favorite restaurant just below, and the small bits of gravel that stuck on our elbows from lying there.

I don't know why this place means so much to me. There is just something about it, and the memories and people that go with it, that is so very wonderful.

I remember the last days of living in the last place I considered 'home'. We spent hours just lying on that rooftop. Reminiscing. Sad that it was almost over. In hindsight, those days were happy. Even though we were sad to have to leave, I have only the fondest memories.

I don't think I'll ever forget days on that roof. The ones I ever remembered in the first place, anyway. I may not have found another place to call home yet, but those memories have found a home in me.

Midnight Adventures

So last night I decided to film my latest Clive's Angels mission. The mission is to dance to Thriller in a public place. I spent an hour or so learning the choreography and I had it down, and it was awesome, so we decided to hop in the car, and find a graveyard to film it in. I should mention that shortly before leaving, I took a Benadryl because I am allergic to Randall's dog. I figured I'd get a little drowsy, but nothing major.
Ran and I drove around forever trying to find a graveyard into which we could point the headlights of the car. Finally after 3 failed attempts, we found one. I got out of the car, took off my jacket, plugged in my iPod, gave Randall my camera, and was about to start dancing to Thriller, when the priest showed up. I couldn't hear the conversation as I was out of earshot but apparently it went something like this:

Father Phil: Good evening, what's going on here? I'm not checking up on you, just came to check the doors."
Randall: Oh, uh, we're uh, making a film. It's got kind of a cemetery theme.
Father Phil: Oh, what's the film?
Randall: Actually, it's for YouTube. My girlfriend is going to dance to Michael Jackson's "Thriller". Is that okay?
Father Phil: Oh my. Well, I don't have a problem but the local constabulary might take offense. (I walk within earshot) So, (to me) you're going to dance to Thriller?
Me: Er--yes?...? (while wearing tights, a minidress, and knee high boots, in the cemetary at night) *hesitation*
Father Phil: (Crosses himself orwhateveryoucallthatblessingthing) Oh dear, haha. (Starts to walk away, stops, turns around) Do you want a white glove?
Me: HAHAHA!!! Good idea!!
Father Phil: Have a good night, folks.

So he left, and all was well, except that by this point, the Benadryl had REALLY kicked in and was messing with my brain. I could not remember the dance I had memorized only an hour earlier. Also, wearing wedge boots and dancing on icy, crusty snow in the dark = not a good plan.

Needless to say, it sucked. I've yet to watch the footage but i know there is a lot of me just standing there, thinking. And yelling 'OH MY GOD EDITING THIS IS GOING TO FUCKING SUCK! Oh shit I just cursed at the church. FUCK I did it again! OH MY GOD! Oh shit that's even WORSE! GAHHH!"

So I was like, fuck it. Let's blow this popsicle stand. And drove the fuck home.

*sigh*