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m&ms487
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2007 24 February :: 5.53pm
I don't know how it happened, but I'm more sick. I was sick, raspy voice and all, and then BAM! full blown cold and all. It really sucks. Cold drugs aren't doing much, either.
Oh well.
At least it's the weekend and it's not like I have a midterm and twelve interviews to set up and complete for next week.....
Stupid cold.
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l<3ve
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liz
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2003 17 April :: 2.20am
Being at Eden again is wierd. especially hanging out here for extended periods of time.
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l<3ve
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m&ms487
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2007 23 February :: 11.56pm
:: Mood: chipper
Being sick sucks, especially when your best friend is in FLORIDA.
I wish you many suns of tanning, and little burning.
I just took some nyquil. Oddly, it doesn't make me tired, but it does make me feel like I've had a couple shots. Just sorta loosey goosey, if you know what I mean. And yes, I took only the recommended dosage.
Just finished watching The Prestige. Good movie. A little too tired to get all the details, and the stupid rental DVD kept skipping.
I was tired anyway.
So long, Farewell...
Good Night.
So many interviews to do with the brothers.
So many signatures to get.
AHHH!!!
HUCKLEBERRY FINN!!
midterm.
Michelle
l<3ve
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m&ms487
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2007 23 February :: 12.23pm
O, CNN, apple of my eye, you have lowered yourself...
I was watching CNN this morning (as always) and was (disappointed, angry, scared, shocked, enraged?) when they announced that their next segment would be about reporting the over reporting of Anna Nicole Smith.
Thank goodness Lou Dobbs still has it in him to refuse to devote any of his broadcast to her.
Good ole' Lou.
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l<3ve
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m&ms487
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2007 22 February :: 1.35pm
:: Mood: busy
I'm sick and my lungs are struggling to move.
I have concert tonight and I can't breath. But, the director did say my piccolo playing has improved very much and she's glad that I'm the one playing it this semester. That makes me excited because the piccolo I'm borrowing is absolutely horrible compared to others I have played. It's an instrument, though, and I'm thankful for that.
I have a KKPsi meeting after the concert, and I don't have enough of my signature sheets or interviews done yet. I emailed the VP of membership and told him so that I won't get in as much trouble. Right now, the only thing I'm focused on is breathing and being able to keep breathing.
"After Pain, a Formal Feeling Comes-"
I know Emily didn't get out much, but she knows me way too well.
You say you're sorry, but you're really not. You annoy me. Plain and simple. I'm right, and you're wrong. Whatever.
I have to go shower and do my hair and my make up. I smell like the cafeteria. Ugh.
l<3ve
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liz
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2007 21 February :: 5.57am
conformity
Get your own CrushTag!
l<3ve
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m&ms487
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2007 20 February :: 5.47pm
You Are 92% Control Freak
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You are a total control freak, yet you often feel out of control.
If your life isn't "perfect" - it really gets you down.... more than it should!
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You're An Alcoholic
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Time to go back to step one.
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Your Political Profile:
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Overall: 30% Conservative, 70% Liberal
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Social Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal
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Personal Responsibility: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal
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Fiscal Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal
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Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal
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Defense and Crime: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal
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l<3ve
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m&ms487
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2007 19 February :: 11.42pm
l<3ve
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m&ms487
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2007 18 February :: 11.45pm
:: Mood: creative
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.
l<3ve
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