except i was stuck on a fucking lake for 12 hours and the yota still isn't running right.
i'll be back this weekend, i've already got plans for saturday night. I'm selling the tempo and i have to fix the toyota i guess haha, its probably just a stupid vaccume leak
I could use an honest opinion and some feedback. I'm submitting this for a scholarship in a few days and have driven myself crazy with tweaking every little detail.
Thanks,
Michelle
A Night Out
She began preparations in the sunny afternoon, considering her pores in natural light. Covering, clogging them with her make-up as the light dimmed, and the fluorescent lights casted unnatural shadows around the room. She hummed a joyful tune while applying white shadow under the arch of her brows to highlight them. Concealer was dabbed under her lashes to hide the bags created from a previously long night. The hair was teased, relaxed, curled, and twisted into submission by long fingers stained yellow. A glance in the mirror assured time well spent.
She strode out the door by the light of the moon, subtly wavering in each step. She rode to the party in the darkness of a promising night, her face shining with possibility. She rolled down the window and breathed in the cold, harsh air. She lit her cigarette and gratefully inhaled equal parts smoke and icy air. Nicotine surged to her brain as the street lights raced by, caressing her face in a steady rhythm.
Arriving, entering, and swaying under the light of a miniature disco ball, the night climaxed around her. The hair had given up hope and the concealer went on strike. She stumbled around the room and became a victim of vulgar insults she no longer could comprehend. She laughed if off with a wide-mouthed grin and another cigarette. She fell out the way she had entered and took up transitory residence in the leafless skeleton of a bush. Later, he saw her by the flicker of his flame and the glow of his non-filtered cigarette.
The body was cold to the touch, but a slight groan assured an inhabitant. She entered once again, not on her own accord, to a stiller house. He carried her down the flight of stairs to his bedroom, basking in the warm glow of candle light. He left her there, in darkness, and slept in the other room.
She was revealed by the new sun, filtered through a topaz curtain, that cast a long shadow with deep valleys of lifeless-blue heliotrope.
Found out some bad stuff today.
But because I don't like dealing with my own problems, I brushed it off.
I tried to have a good day anyway.
And to my surprise, I succeeded.
I didn't let it get to me, and I didn't cry.
However I sunk to a very low level.
But that was after he took me out for a reall fancy dinner.
His daughter wanted to spend the night.
But she also wanted her sister and one of their friends to spend the night as well.
And because I have been fighting this terrible cold all week and its still not getting better, he told her no.
She threw a fit, and he even tried to explain it to Paula, and she got pissed.
She drove over here to bitch at him because she thought he was just making up an excuse so that he could go to the bar tonight.
Well much to her surprise, she was wrong.
She apologized because she felt like an ass.
Anyway I am going to go snuggle into my bed, and watch tv while I wait for this cold medicine to kick in and I drift off into a very deep sleep like I did last night.
"They say that talk of withdrawal shows a lack of support for our troops. There is no better way to support those who have fought valiantly in Iraq than to gaurantee that not one more of them dies in the service of political misclculation of their leaders. Not on more soldier. Not one more grave. Not one more day. Bring them home tomorrow." -Anna Quindlen
I talked to my mom and dad yesterday. I mentioned to them both that I am usually on msn messenger after dinner so my mom got a hotmail account and had my sister teach her how to use it.
AND THEN my mom offered to buy Nick Vonage so he could call me.
AND THEN my dad said that after he goes to China and everything, he'll stop by and see me. Like Europe is down the street from Taiwan.
I have almost gotten hit by billions of cars (that is sort of my fault as I pull the European and just walk out in the middle of traffic).
I fell down on the bus and now have massive zombie rot on my leg/thigh (so massive that I cannot lay on that side of my body).
I just almost fell out of the 24 yr old's bedroom window (He left his shutters open when he left and it is really windy so I went to shut them. I grabbed one and I sort of left it there and went to stuggle with the other shutter which the wind had an excellent hold of. In my stuggle, I leaned out to get better leverage on the left shutter and the right one swung around and hit me in the arm. Another bruise.)
Maybe the right side of my body is just not meshing well with France.
I just finished my American Government test. At least a B+ if I count out all the the questions I think I got wrong. A multiple choice and essay test was a nice change from all the paper writing I've been doing lately. It just burns me out sometimes.
Anyway, all I have left for the day is University Band, which isn't really a class at all.
It's Valentine's Day, afterall.
We decorated our door last night for a contest in our hall. It was fun, but I didn't go to bed until two.
I called the middle school and set up an observation day on Monday March 5. I still have to do one at the high school too, but, Pilar wasn't in his office when I called.
I have to do ten hours of observation this semester, and then thirty more for canidacy into the Teacher Education Program. Of course, I'll probably end up having to do thirty more, because I have to have at least thirty hours in a school that is more than twenty percent non-white, is urban, and at least twenty percent of the kids get free or reduced lunches. I figured one of the Grand Rapids Public Schools would work just fine for that.
Anyway, uband in an hour, valentines, teacher ed. It's all just a bunch of hooha.
I checked woohu to see if anyone left me a comment on my new note. But I didnt write one. lol
That party was awesome.
I saw two guys i havnt seen since 8th grade, two girls since 11th grade, michelles old roomate fell into my lap and gave me many hugs, steve-o, two girls from my class, the guy who is always having sex that lives above me, suezann, kevin, jon, tom and joe.
Sometimes you have to learn it for yourself. It's painful. It's heart-wrenching. But it must be done.
I should be going to bed, but my eyes are wide-open. My searching is inconclusive, and I'm sure someday I'll die because life has become stale.
Like stale popcorn that tastes of textured air. Air that rushes in and turns my lungs beet red. Textures like the mucous in a lung with emphazema. Stale. Old. Hindered.
Who could have calculated her thirst that night? Not a one, not even herself. She began preparation in the sunny afternoon, considering her pores in natural light. Covering, clogging them with her make up as the light dimmed, and the fluorescent lights casted unnatural shadows around the room.
She strode out the door by the light of the moon, subtly wavering in each step. She rode to the party in the darkness of a promising night, her face shining with possibility.
Arriving, entering, and swaying under the light of a miniature disco ball, the night climaxed around her. Later, he saw her by the flicker of his flame and the glow of his non-filtered cigarette.
He carried her down the flight of stairs to his bedroom, basking in the warm glow of candle light. He left her there, in darkness, and slept in the other room.
She was revealed by the new sun, filtered through a topaz curtain, that cast a long shadow with deep valleys of heliotrope.
::
2007 11 February :: 8.55pm
:: Mood: bouncy
:: Music: Santana, Supernatural Album
I downloaded the whole Supernatural album off of Ruckus. That album is so good. You can just feel the passion in the air. Good music.
In other news, I'm thinking about trying to write a short story. I've been reading Churchill's "History of the English Speaking People" over the last few weeks. It has inspired me, at least in part to revive a short story that I think I once wrote (isn't it strange how memory plays trick on you) about a merchant in Boston. Something about suicide and making chairs. Anyway, it ended in suicide I think. Too dark and depressing for yours truly, but I feel like I could at least explore it.
