Listening to Howie Day's cover of "Help." I'm completely grooving on a caffiene pill's worth of coffee and his nifty tunes.
Help me if you can, I'm feeling down. And I do appreciate you being 'round. Help me get my feet back on the ground. Won't you please, please help me.
In other circumstances, I'd call myself a glutton for punishment, but I think that I'm more jealous that the both of them are getting action instead of him getting him. Weird. Good weird. But still weird.
And now my life has changed, in oh so many ways. My independence seems to vanish in the haze. But every now and then I feel so insecure. I know that I just need to lie, I've never done before.
Tomorrow (Tuesday) will be such a better day than today. I got my ass kicked by two AP tests and right now my head is reeling. Well, it was reeling, but now it's more like swaying with the music. My dad's probably giving me an odd look, but I can't see because he's not within eyesight.
Dashboard concert at night time. Would be better if I was still as crazy about the band/musician as I used to be, but sis and I are going mainly for Brand New.
I wish Damien Rice and/or Jason Mraz would tour and come to Vegas. That would be amazing.
Oh! And Rufus Wainwright should get his new album out already. Can't wait for that two-disc beauty to get on the shelves.
Right, time to finish this essay and continue my groove in bed.
Another oh! Akins is full of accidental humor: "Reagan was always getting pictures taken of him with an axe and a pile of wood. Do you think he's actually chopping it? No. He's 80; he wouldn't be out back wacking his wood."
Hilarity.
. . . . . posted:||11:35 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .