So...I have a blog now. I don't really know what to do with myself. You will note that I have, with the kind aid of my friend's photobucket account, added a profile picture. It is, not surprisingly, of me. It is, surprisingly, not an abosolutely horrible picture. I'm kind of freaked out by the exposed wrist, but since it's a very small picture, I think I can handle it.
I guess I really wasn't paying attention to life today, because I really don't remember a whole lot about today. The only really memorable bit was choir, wherein Sophie, Tori, Rachel, Tori II, and I discussed "The Superb Owl", a replacement, quite a good one, too, for the superbowl. It is a long and wondeful story, one that I do not wish to type out for you, whoever you are, so I apologize for mentioning it and then letting you down like that. I guess I'm a jerk. I will tell you that it involved promoting world peace through Carnivale-like festivities (if that's what you'd call them). Really, if you must know the details, I suggest you take your inquiries to Sophie's blog, for she can probably explain the whole mess with much less effort and clumsiness.
Anyhow, that's really all that I can remember happening. I think I went to some theater-oriented meeting after school, because that's kind of where I always end up going, but to tell the truth, the details are all rather foggy. Like I said, I really wasn't paying attention to today. With that, I shall conclude.
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4 comments:
I've realized this blog is almost entirely about me, which is simaltaneously depressing and flattering. But seriously, you exist, right?
Yes, I exisit. And I hadn't noticed the Sophie-centrality of this blog until now. Hmmm. I guess I have nothing else to talk about. Which is sad.
Wow. I never really noticed just how pathetic I was...
I am going to post here because I don´t remember my blogger password. The good news is that i am in the greatest place on earth, where i will most certainly retire to. it is this town called called tilcara in Argentina where with these mountains that look like cloth in baroque paintings completely surrounding it. the people are all very friendly and attractive and there are loads of groovy Incan stuff to buy for five bucks. My cousin´s husband has basically offered myself in marriage to the guy who runs the place we´re staying, whose name is Jose Maria. More on him at a later date, this computer has a very stubborn keyboard. The food, sadly is not as good as Mexico, but tasty. i really can´t explain how gorgeous this place is, or how dauntingly random that it is that I´m in this dusty little village 1,000 miles from Buenos Aires. incidentally, it is called Tilcara. The bad news is the aqueos nature of the shit that is fleeing my body every few minutes. That, and that I am constantly kicking myself for not taking Spanish. And my sister is being impossible, and several other unkind adjectives, not all of whih are her fault. And that I now feel incredibly awkward around Jose Maria, which is not helped by the fact that he is quite cute (if a bit hairy), at least 11 years older than me, and is looking for a wife. There are lots of dogs here, but apparently they roll around in dead carcasses and drink out of the nasty puddles on the street. Nobody here has a mother that makes them avoid strange dogs. I am in some random little internet cafe paying 67 cents an hour for the computer. And my shoes smell like death. And I saw newborn puppies. And today, an albino hippie played a 12 string ukelele incredibly well at the cafe I was at, which didn´t actually have any food, but did have jewelry. But I miss my loser friends quite a lot. This may be the last time you hear from me in this country. Have a meaningful Kwanzaa, all.
Sophie
I am truly honored that my blog is worthy of your post, Sophie.
Also, I am insanely jealous of your Argentinian travel, etc. My mother refuses to go or let me go to anywhere that does not speak only English, is in South/Central America or Asia, or isn't Caucasian-dominated. In other words, bring pictures, becasue I probably won't get to see South America otherwise. (Until, of course, I am an adult, and have money, and travel) Anyhow, Merry Kwanzaa and the like.
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