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School.
Enough Said.
For now.
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Monday, January 26, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Mule Wishlist
moomoomoomoomoomoomoomoomoo
Items that must be in my possesion by the end of 2009:
Items that must be in my possesion by the end of 2009:
- Original Monopoly
- The Cullen Crest
- A 'Wicked' Program
- Scented Highlighters
- A Large Bean Bag
- Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox by Eoin Colfer
- Eragon by Chistopher Paolini
- A ticket to 'New Moon' and 'Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince'
- New Capitol photos
- One of those book light thingies
- A dubbed Fruits Basket DVD
- A toothbrush that plays Hannah Montana
- A plush cow that goes 'Moo!" when you squeeze it
- BBC Version of Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights
- An UAI over 90
- A plane ticket to overseas
This list is my New Years Resolution.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Them's fighten' words
moomoomoomoomoomoomoomoomoomoomoomoomoo
*turns around in swivel chair stroking cat*
dont laugh, so what if i haven't realised how to embed a video.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Ode to the Modern Life
Life as a recluse has got its charm.
Emily Dickinson had a good thing going.
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Ode to the Modern Life
Where are our fictional heroes?
Imprinted on our retina's, always there,
but never tangible.
What have we become except
more greedy, more tortured
less happy, less bouyant.
What is to become of the world
but the buds of doubt
planted in its deep warm earth,
poison to its lifeblood
Come to me, wooden spoon
Discipline my weary conscience
Teach my soul the bounds
To live without sin, with no regret.
Untangle the path.
Erase me till I am gone
Then draw me as you want -
I am your servant.
To those who look on
With pinched noses and
Furrowed brow, its not
Too late.
Know that I know,
I see you as myself.
We are a mirror unto us all -
Stand and watch your destiny.
a/n: ah the drabble.
Emily Dickinson had a good thing going.
------------------------------------------
Ode to the Modern Life
Where are our fictional heroes?
Imprinted on our retina's, always there,
but never tangible.
What have we become except
more greedy, more tortured
less happy, less bouyant.
What is to become of the world
but the buds of doubt
planted in its deep warm earth,
poison to its lifeblood
Come to me, wooden spoon
Discipline my weary conscience
Teach my soul the bounds
To live without sin, with no regret.
Untangle the path.
Erase me till I am gone
Then draw me as you want -
I am your servant.
To those who look on
With pinched noses and
Furrowed brow, its not
Too late.
Know that I know,
I see you as myself.
We are a mirror unto us all -
Stand and watch your destiny.
a/n: ah the drabble.
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