I just started my EOG's or whatever the heck they are, and I'm halfway through! Hah! Take that, thou public- and Private-schooloed miscreants!

Oh, and Flamenco music is now THE BEST THING EVER. Seriously. My favorite is Ioannis Anastassakis. Anything he does is awesome.
This music makes me want to run over to Goodwill and buy a red petticoat or circle skirt and dance with my brother...

Okay, after sitting for half an hour in traffic on a road that is usually barren, we found out that the rehearsal had been cancled.
This was due to some political mess, who's doing what to whom, blabitty blabitty blah, at the comunity center that we were supposed to be rehearsing at (I mean, 'at which we were supposed to be rehearsing'. Bad, bad girl for dangling your preciples, or whatever they are.).
We now do not have a place to rehearse. Or to preform. Hear me, cyberland, and give me ideas! I would like for them to be close to the area, but I know that you're not totally God.

And while dad and I were out that way, we went poking around the scource of the unrest, as it were. The road was pretty much cleaned up, but I'm sure there had been something big, ugly, and/or violent, because there were some news vans parked there...
But it was fun. My morbid curiosity might have rubbed off on dad, or maybe the other way 'round.
Morbid little fun fact: When shot between the eyes, you will bleed through your ears. When shot anywhere in the chest or stomach, the blood will come out your mouth.
Don't ask me how I know this, as the answer will be very boring. I have never actually SEEN these things happen, and I'm not sure if I would stay concious if I did...

Oksy-day, I am now on my way to an Oliver rehearsal with my family. It is my first one, since I couldn't go to the blocking (Choir clinic) and the Sowerberry's blocking was cancled. The reason that one is significate is that I'm playing Charlotte. I do not know my lines half as well as I think I should, which is pretty sad, considering that I have all of ten...I never was very good at the whole memorizing my lines on time, was I, Nosila? *Ahem* Think 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'...
I am going to now go thank the gods that I am not playing Nancy.

I just got back from babysitting THE CUTEST four-year-old EVER. Seriously. He's got these huge brown eyes, and sandy blonde hair. He's one of those little boys that you just want to scoop up and take home with you, except that you can't tell the parents because they would be like, "Never again, child,"

And now I am on my way to the Pack 500 bridging over cerimony, which I am having shaken, not stirred, feelings about: on the one hand, my little brother and his den are going from first-year Webelos to second-year Webelos, which means that they'll have aproximately one year to get ready for Boyscouts. On the other hand, I've kind of bonded with the current second-year Webelos, who are bridging over to Boyscouts. This means that I will never see my guys again. EVER. Except maybe for camporees.
I don't know why I always fall in like with these dens; it's like I'm just setting myself up for heartbreak. Maybe I should get a therapist. Or maybe just some smarts.
I love these guys. Although, I have liked other dens more in the past...Like the Monster den, perhaps. And of course, Den 4. And there's Rob the Former Cubmaster.
But really, are a bunch of campouts and being called alternately 'Trouble' or 'The Girl' worth it?
I answer myself: Totally.
I love these guys.

At about 3:45 this afternoon, I remembered that I was supposed to be babysitting at 4:00.
Thank the Lord for my fast genes, from whichever side of the family they come from. I was ready to go in aproximately four minutes and twenty-seven seconds, and that includes the fries.

I hope that everybody watches the Olympics. You must got to Johnny Weir online because he is beautiful and a very good skater, even though he came in fifth. And then stormed from the building.
Can anybody spell 'Prima donna'?
Puh-leeze, pretty boy. Although I will admit, it does take a very brave man to wear a skating costume that flutters...

ORCHIDS!!!

I love Orchids. They always sort of look like they're sticking their tounges out...

Okay, it's freezing cold outside, more so than yesterday if that is possible this side of the mason-dixon line.
The doors on the van were frozen shut, and the ground was frozen, and I beleive that we will shortly be seeing some frozen percipitation.
Joy.
The sun is out, though, so that is a plus...
You people who live in beautiful, warm places know nothing of the dangers of frozen non-suburbia.
Again, I say, blasted Groundhog!!

Had a brainwave:
The "Bloggers" are the eleitists in the world of Online journaling. The Anti-consumerists and Microsoft users are more likely to get a livejournal than, say, the Mac people.
The Preps, Jocks, well-paid, or the border-line bohemians are on Blogger.
The Punks, Emos, or the misunderstood artists (so basically all artists) get Myspace.
The suffering college students, the bored middle-class, and the working youth get Livejournals.
The Hippies, granola-heads, and underpaid migrant workers still don't have computors, and Cheerleaders keep their thoughts locked inside locked pink notebooks that never fill up.
Occasionally, though, they do get Xangas. (That's pronounced Z-anga, not Xs-anga. Get it right.)

I love headphones. They are a marvelous invention. I put them on, double-click that little wndows Media Player button, and I go into my own little world...
Now, mom and dad are suddenly very predjudiced against headphones for some reason. I am sure that they are bad for my ears, but that's better than annoying the whole house with some punk-or-emo stuff I just got off Pitchfork.com, right?
That's not really their favorite genra...

I think it's raining. Yesterday was such a tease. It was so warm and sunny. I could wear a short sleeved shirt without a jacket!
But alas, it was not to be. Winter is as yet still upon us. Blasted Groundhog!

Whoever first said, "Life is screwy," was a genius. Honest-to-God brilliant. Not that it really takes a lot of brains to state something so obvious, but he (or she) was possibly the most outspoken and least insightful person of his (or her) time. Whoever they were.
And I wonder why they said this?
Was it their life that was screwy, or did they just pick up the newspaper one day and look at the front page and proclaim, "You know what, guys? People everywhere are dying for innexplicable reasons, we've burned a hole in the ozone layer that is slowly frying the planet, Nuclear waste is piling up without any safe way to get rid of it, and we're poluting our rescources! Life is so screwy!"
Or was it possibly just one of those not-so-insightful things that hits you in the night, when you're in bed listening to the wind going through the trees, and you suddenly sit up as if possessed, and whisper, "life is screwy," over and over and over. It becomes your mantra, and all hope of sleep is lost until 8:45 the next morning, when you find out that you have an unscheduled test on something useless, like the major imports and exports of Hawaii (Tourists).