I know it's this big important process, but can't we just skip it?

Can't you just be kissing me again?

The Twelve Days After Christmas

The first day after Christmas, my true love and I had a fight
And so I chopped the pear tree down
And burnt it, just for spite
Then with a single cartridge
I shot that blasted partridge
My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.

The second day after Christmas, I pulled on the old rubber gloves
And very gently wrung the necks
Of both those stupid turtle doves.

The third day after Christmas, my mother caught the croup
I had to use the three French hens
To make her some chicken soup.

The four calling birds were a big mistake
For their language was obscene
The five golden rings were completely fake
And they turned my fingers putrid green.

The sixth day after Christmas, the six laying geese wouldn't lay
So I sent the whole darn gaggle to
The neighborhood A.S.P.C.A.

The seventh day, what a mess I had found
The seven swans-a-swimming all had drowned
My true love, my true love
My true love gave to me

The eighth day after Christmas, before they could suspect
I bundled up the
Twelve drummers drumming
Eleven pipers piping
Ten lords-a-leaping
Nine ladies dancing
Eight maids-a-milking
(well, actually I kept *one* of the ladies)
And sent them back collect

I wrote my true love
"We are through, love!"
And I said in so many words
"Furthermore your Christmas gifts were for the
(Soprani) Birds!"

Four calling birds,
Three french hens,
Two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree!"

(from Laughnet.net)

I've been getting home progressively later these days.

(Nothing can top me rushing to get home at 4am from across town--on a school night no less--with the highway completely blocked thanks to a late-night car chase.)

But! I managed to finally get a hold of The Metamorphosis and something akin to the complete works of Edward Gorey: Amphigorey, Amphigorey Too, and Amphigorey Also. Beautious.

Managed to drop off Karen's gift (with a semi-strangled "jolly Christmas" to her mother who met me at the door) and watched Love Actually with sis since she's been dying to watch it but didn't have time due to much homework. We were a bit put off that everyone else in the theatre (... all twenty of them...) seemed to be on dates. No matter, the movie was good regardless.

How surreal.

At the moment, a holiday musical special featuring choirs, bands, and orchestras from around the district is playing on PBS... and I was watching Palo Verde's top choir perform.

That means I got to see how old friends look like now. Namely, Andy looking very good, Kyle looking... better than out Starlite show choir days, Francesca looking as happy as ever, Corey looking practically unrecognizable except for his bright-red hair... and several people that I tried to name but couldn't remember completely.

Makes me nostalgic for the old summer school gang. Too bad that many of us have drifted off so far away; I barely have ties with the former Starlite people (only solid one being, tentatively, Sarah ever since Andy shut down his blog), not to mention the other people who've graduated already from summerschool years one and two.

Like: Eric our swedish penis boy, John and his crazy antics, Adam (even though he turned into a complete slut at ATech), Mark with a hole in his head the size of... that one crater in Arizona... thanks to all the E he did, Katherine who introduced me to the wonderful world of hardcore rock, Maddi who taught me how to aim for people's faces in volleyball, etc.

Big hugs go to all you guys that I never manage to contact anymore. Yeah, I know I sound extra femme at the moment.

It's the holiday season. You're allowed to get gushy every once in a while.

Sarah, we need to hang out.

Christy, there's a kick-ass concert in Feb. (well, almost kick ass if you ignore the fact that Simple Plan is headlining... but dude: Billy Talent, MxPx, and Sugarcult) that we need to go to.

McBride, you need to get me out of the house this New Year's Eve.

... okay, nostalgia trip over. There's a horrible middle school (KO) that's singing at the moment. And by horrible I mean DEAR-GOD-RIP-OUT-THEIR-VOCAL-CHORDS, PLEASE-SPARE-US-OH-LORDY horrible.
Right. Time to get ready for mass.

Yeah, me going to mass. Haven't been to the past two practices (thanks to overwhelming circumstances) and yet I still want to sing. What can I say, the teen choir rocks.

. . .

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to major in choir instead... perhaps bonding with more "normal" people.

But then I realize that my friends right now are as good as any other type of friends I can ever have. They're my friends for a reason.

Yeah, lost all coherent thought. I'll stop now. Really.

It's official. I have diabetes.

Well, I have half the symptoms of diabetes.

Just missing the mysterious, sudden weight-loss.

...

Why, of all of the symptoms, can't I have that one?

It's a Monday. Monday, fucking Monday. Tell me why I hate Mondays? Sometimes I feel I got to (uh uh) run away I've got to (uh uh) run away from this Monday...

Can't you tell what type of day I had already? Actually, it wasn't half bad. I'm just beating myself up at the moment because of the rather large lunch I had. So much for dieting (again).

And I love how deviously I ditched this blog for a period so all my friends focus their attentions on my livejournal. Now I can freely rant on this forum again. Yay.

It's interesting to note how the moderates only number less than 10% of the population. Had a discussion in government class about how the capturing of Saddam could affect the campaigning strategies of the candidates. Bush will undoubtably use this to his advantage in a desperate struggle to up his approval ratings (and he might be able to since the Democrats aren't attacking the fact that, save ousting Saddam from power, the US has yet to find weapons of mass distruction, chemical weapons, etc.)... Which is ironic since this "evil man" (as Dubbya has so eloquently called him) was supported with money and weapons by his own daddy in the previous decades.

Sorry, I know it's bad form to discuss politics after dinner. Although, technically I have yet to eat dinner since all I've had to eat today was a rather large lunch. I feel very medieval at the moment... sans the plates made of stale bre... Ne'ermind. My lunch consisted of deli meats on crackers.

Need to find time/area to work out.

In other news, I'm... um. Sorry. Dad distracted me by offering to watch Angels in America later.

I think I'll cap this entry for now. I do still have homework to work on, and if I want to get my exercise in I better do it soon before I fall asleep again.

Tah.

Huh.

When I go emo, I go emo to... Pearl Jam? STP? What the...?

But it's true. Spent the last four hours playing riffs on my Ibsen (specifically the sex known as "Jeremy") instead of touching that English assignment that I have to read.

A packet on existentialism. Not that I have anything against the eggies (and yes, I call them eggies) (quiet, you; Kafka rocks my socks)... just Sartre. If I thought Orwell's "Politics and the English Language" was a snore... ho boy...

At least I'm having fun writing my pseudo-"A Modest Proposal" essay about the cure for male teenage sexual frustration. What I don't get is how I even got the subject approved, let alone my solution for said problem.

To drink or not to drink. That is the question. Whether it is easier to comprehend Sartre's convoluted writings on a mulled cup of Chivas Regal (I know, it's the only type of whiskey I ever mention, but it's the only type of whiskey we ever have).

Heh. Get thee to a brewery.

And... Ending lit-geek mode.

I missed my house being covered in snow (which has melted already... damn desert...) for Holiday Mark't. Grrr.

....

Ima, kono shonen wa boifurendo ga aru no de, ore ga shitto bukai hito da ze. Demo, kare mata wa kare no boifurendo ni tsuite urayamu... wakarenai yo. Tottemo muzukashii da.

Sumimasen. Ore no nihongo wa dame da na.

For the ten-minute drawing warm-up in art, we had to do storyboards for "Vinnie the Vulcan Space Duck!"... so I did. It's getting graded at the moment, but when it gets back to me I will show the world the horrors of being a Captain of Fun at some brat's Chuck-E-Cheese's birthday party place.

"Chuck, your duck is SO Exploding Dog."

Suddenly I found myself far too tired to walk. You know you're too tired when you can't even finish your dinner without getting drowsy and tipping to the air-conditioner-created wind because you're so fatigued.

As long as I keep my eyes closed while I type, I won't be so queasy.

... like when I opened my eyes just now. Eep.

Time to sleep... despite all the homework I have.

And I am feeling all sorts of ineptitude at the moment. 81.9% in Calculus?! Well, there goes my valedictorian status. Sigh. 5 out of 10 for my Arts Awards entry?! Haven't been genuinely inspired since last year, so my art has been severely lacking. My fingers are on a run, but my elbows refuse to lift. Huh.

This week would've been better if Big Fish was released in Vegas today... but it wasn't.

I don't think ANYONE is looking forward to Holiday Markdt this year. And I wanted to film the dance drama during the matinee performance, but instead I have to work my booth. Now to see if I can bum a ride home from anyone. Hmm... Jon?

Guess who has a slight case of influenza?

Just two weeks after I got the vaccine, I get infected.

Apparently the shot doesn't work completely until six weeks later. Yargh.

Being sick this weekend? Major-ass inconvenience. I've been sleeping all day today (and probably will for the entire afternoon as well), drinking enough liquids to make a race horse proud, and moving the blanket from my legs to my shoulders and vice versa. Aside from the nice, scratchy throat I have a the moment, the worse flu symptom has got to be the body being hot and cold at the same time.

Anyways, major paper due on Monday which I need to write. I have a piano recital and two masses to sing for on Sunday... children...

Wednesday was the annual AIDS show (the first one to not be held on actual World AIDS Day), but it wasn't as large as the past two years' shows. People have been commenting about how everyone seems tired about the subject matter. All I have to say is... yeah. Three years of trying not to repeat yourself on themes is... right.

Sorry, still incoherent.

Friday I sang at the Epicurian Banquet at the Paris. Well, I sang but DeeDee, in all her wonderful diva-ness, played a track with the choir's back-up part being sung... just in case we over-shadow her? Whatever.

Hung out with sis, Carlie, and Philip the entire time. That was all sorts of interesting. Philip is uber cool... and for some reason I'm getting gaydar vibes from the boy. Like Carlie said: "Either he's gay, or he doesn't know it yet." Then again, my gaydar was going off frequently that night. I blame all the event designers and those guys from Lord of the Dance.

Now getting dizzy. Time to sleep.