Homeward, ho!

I have never really understood that word, “ho.” Not as in the connotation that one might us it as a derogatory statement towards a female, or in high school jokingly towards one’s female friends if one is a female herself, on occasion, but just as the hey-let’s-go-to-some-archaic-land sense. If that is truly the sense in question, I am not really sure.

Anyways… I have arrived at that wonderful place which is called Homeness! Fire, food, dog, family, all delivered. And the Most Amazing Christmas Store was, as usual, most amazing, although for Lisa’s sake I was kind of disappointed because there were no snails or sheep. So, in her honor, I am going to include two nice pictures in lieu of actual Christmas ornaments….

Baaaaaaa

Slurrrrrrp

And yes, I’m probably stealing these pictures… but I didn’t Photoshop out the watermarks, which I am totally capable of doing, so it’s okay, right?

About an hour outside of Searcy, the little Camry driving in front of us did a crazy-swerve all over the lane, the kind you do when you’re bored and unlikely to hit anything by being a little silly. So in response, I swerved, too, and they noticed. This initiated a weird sort of car waltz, which freaked out Lisa to no end, so I eventually stopped—and considering how tired I am, this is probably a good thing—but still it was sort of fun to have this random interaction with these people.

We also saw about a million old, fixed-up fifties cars driving back towards Bald Knob, usually passing us in packs of ten or so. Lisa took pictures. At the same time, huge flocks of geese were flying overhead. We rolled down the window to try to hear them—the geese, that is, or ducks, or whatever they were, some sort of migratory animal—but the car noise was too loud, sadly. One day, I’m going to stop and try to listen.

During the last two hours, to keep ourselves awake, we listened to a million “crazy car songs,” from “Boom Boom Pow” to “You Belong to Me” and “Here in Your Arms” and “Get Low.” Oh and “Womanizer,” of course, can’t forget that one. So if you’re having a bad day, please just picture Kellum and Lisa, ah-hem, getting down with their bad selves. If Joey (my dear beloved truck) had had a head, he would have been shaking it. Trust me. Good times.

Also, a transcription of a short conversation:

Lisa: Yeah, you definitely need someone you can totally be yourself around.

Me: I think I am myself around boys most of the time. I mean, mostly, but I guess I just have a lot of different parts of my personality. Like I mean there’s parts of myself I’ll just show to my husband.

Lisa: Um, Kellum….

Me: Wait… that sounds really awkward, that’s not what I meant!

[Insert Lisa giggling and Kellum turning rather red]

And another thing:

Lisa: Wow, look at the cotton! It just amazes me that it grows in the ground!

Me: But… where else would it grow?

Lisa: Um… sheep?

I seem to remember having a similar conversation with Michael Wright last year….

When we were on the last leg of the roadtrip today, crossing from Corridor X to the last little stretch on I-65, the entire sky behind us lit up and turned a burning pale gold. Despite the fact that yes, pollution is bad, and yes, dust gets in your lungs and does bad things to you (thank heavens I don’t know what yet; that’ll come in A&P II), and yes, smog burns your eyes and kills old people, when the sun is setting, all of that particulate matter can make the sky look pretty incredible. Though really for all I know it wasn’t particulate matter at all, but just the way the clouds were. Either way, it was gorgeous.

I’ve been backreading a little bit on my blog, going back and reading what I wrote this time last year…. So strange. It’s like I left a letter to my future self, and now I’m reading it. Funny, but I don’t feel I’ve changed a bit, despite everything that actually has changed. Have I learned anything? Will I make the same mistakes again that I have before? Am I in any way different?

Heaven knows.

I found a poem that I like. Or rather it expresses things well. It’s sort of like a poetic version of my creative nonfiction essay. It’s called “After the Movie,” by Marie Howe. Since I’ve lost all ability to write poetry, it seems (I really could write it before though! I really could! What happened?! What has happened to me?!), I am going to let you read this instead, and bid you goodnight.

In lieu of packing

Despite the fact that I have yet to so much as get a suitcase out… I am going to blog. Because I absolutely will do anything and everything to avoid packing. Because I hate packing. Packing, or unpacking. Basically if moving clothes and toiletries around is at all involved, I am going to hate it.

Tomorrow Lisa and I leave for The Most Amazing Christmas Store of All Time—a distant cousin of the Most Heavenly Gelato Place in Florence, oh how I miss thee—and then, even more importantly, I shall arrive at that most wonderful and delightful location known, specifically, as Home, which shall involve homecooked meals, a dog, a cat who might for once decide not to be a pompous and fat little jerk, a roaring fire, the beginnings of the Christmas decorations, and most importantly, la familia. Hooray!

Tonight we celebrated the birthday of Kathleen at Chili’s. Delightful time. Just splendid. And then we had more beatific girl time in our room afterwards with Amber, Anna Aardvark (not really her name… but you know, close enough), Charlene, and Mollie. Good times of talking of girl things and dancing and such. Exceptional, my dear fellow.

Why I am talking like this I have no idea. Way too many positive adjectives. Let me talk about something dark and depressing….

My hair is reaching a point of abhorrent poof. Ugh. I need a haircut kind of the way someone who has a subdural hemorrhage needs a brain-drain….

I have a load of homework over Thanksgiving Break. Well, not really a load, per se, because what we always had in high school was a true load, but a load enough that I am uninterested in doing it. Although, in all honesty, anything would be more than I would be interested in doing. The likelihood is, I will just end up blowing it all off and getting even lower grades in all my classes…. Ugh. One day, I will rediscover academic motivation. Hopefully before nursing school starts and I lose my social life entirely….

Drat. I’m doing it again. And it’s been two days since the test.

Today in Creative Nonfiction, my essay of which I had been “extreme nervous,” to use a Mollie-ism, actually received pretty good reviews, I felt like. At least—I’ve seen the other people in the class tear essays to shreds more than they did mine, so… I feel like that means I was successful.

I’ve been listening to the CD that my little brother sent me, which is Ellipse by Imogen Heap. Absolutely beautiful. Love me some dear old Imogen, even though she’s gotten all popular and more mainstream than I had hoped, but oh well. Sometimes, the mainstream does get it right.

Tonight at Chili’s, I realized that I really kind of want to have black babies. I’m not really sure why, but I really do. I’ve been considering one day switching to a black hairstylist in a more afrocentric part of town—if this is coming off racist… which it probably is, knowing how white and retarded I am… it’s purely accidental—since they have curly hair and know how to cut it. And then I could have this awesome black hairstylist lady who would really like me, and be slightly intimidating, but I would love her because she would cut my hair super-awesome, and also because she would know all the awesome soulful black men and then she could set me up with them, because she would forgive me of my indomitable and bone-deep whiteness on the fact that a) my hair is pretty cool and b) because she would think I’m really cool. I don’t really know why she’d think I’m so cool, but we can be hopeful.

I’ve been discussing leaving plans with Lisa on Facebook, and this is part of our conversation:

Lisa: So I’ll meet you after chapel behind the Bible building?

Me: Yep! Then we’ll be gone like a freight train, gone like the summer wind….

Lisa: Gone like a sheep on fire!

Oh Lisa, and how I love you so, so much, with your sheep and snails and laugh and everything that is happy and good. May we all grow a little more Lisa-like during our lives.

Anyways… I think I’m going to try to face the dreaded suitcase. As much as I would rather jump off a twenty-story building than face it. Well… not quite. But really.

Hey, soul sister….

If someone would please tell the invisible intangible elephant beating my heat with a giant tree branch to get over himself and go back to Africa?

Ugh. Headaches.

That’s about all I can come up with. Can’t… think. Brain… gone to the A&P test. Headache… taking over.

Well, you might be interested to know that yesterday I went and played racketball directly after giving blood. Because, you know, I’m a highly intelligent humanoid who, when told by the Red Cross Nurse to have “absolutely no strenuous activity for the next five hours,” does exactly that.

I guess it technically wasn’t racketball, because what me and Kelsey was played was more like Extreme Retardation to the Max, which essentially is a cross between running madly from a bouncing blue ball that strangely has a life of its own and laughing maniacally as you try to kill it with a racket when it actually comes in your direction. Poor Kelsey, I think she feared for her life—not to mention me passing out.

Anyways… bed time. Yes, at 10:18. I’m dead. Goodnight!

Oh yes and I have a great new song. Check it out! And please notice that the first line says something about “the lobe of your left brains”… haha. Oh anatomy.

Also… yes… I really am about to go… tonight our suite recorded Mollie saying various things of Mollieness to be our ring tones. Pretty epic, I must say. Totally spontaneous, too, so for those of you who know Mollie… just image. It’s historical.

I wonder if I could make that word happen. Instead of saying, “Epic, dude,” you could say, “Historical, my good sir knight!”

Um. Yes. Along those same lines, I zoned out for about twenty minutes in Nonfiction today staring out the huge windows that line the entire back wall of the classroom, giving a beautiful view of the front lawn, and here are the things I imagined:

• What it would look like if a spaceship landed right outside and I saw it because I was zoning out the window.
• Who I would want to get beamed up out of that class, although there isn’t anyone in there that I don’t like—someone just has to get beamed up.
• How nice the white Christmas light strings (yes, they’re putting them up and they’re almost done! hooray! see last year’s post about that here… well, there’s something about it in there somewhere) look hanging from the trees like electric vines.
• How much fun it would be to turn into Tarzan and swing from Christmas light string to Christmas light string, right in front of that window, right in the middle of a drop-dead boring freshman Comp I class.

So… I said that I was done a long time ago. But now I really am. Ciao!

Psychic lava retreats, and other normal things of that nature

So right now, at approximately 1:36 AM, I am taking a break from studying.

Why I am taking a break, when I have effectively taken a break all evening—went for a walk, talked to Charlene, talked to Mollie, girl-talked with Kathleen for accidentally-on-purpose two hours out in the hall—I honestly have no idea. Maybe it is because my level of academic motivation has reached a low not seen since the last three weeks of high school, when everyone else was frantically preparing for the AP and IB exams and I was laying out on the lawn besides the school building reading, you guessed it, fantasy fiction novels. I actually think my academic motivation may actually be lower now than it was then. Fascinating. Also slightly terrifying.

Anyways, clearly I am now blogging to take a break, and also to say hello to you all.

But to make myself feel better, I will inform you that in only thirty minutes I managed to spit out a three page nursing paper on What I Learned This Semester (which despite never cracking the textbook or doing any assignments more than… past curfew the night before, actually ended up being way more than I ever anticipated). I think that’s cause for a little celebration, and in lieu of the rather sad absence of alcohol chocolate, I’m writing a blog instead.

This afternoon, I had a dream while napping, and during this dream at some point I actually thought to myself, “This is going to make an excellent blog,” even though I didn’t realize it wasn’t all real. So I want you all to know that you are thought of even when I am asleep.

Basically, this was the dream, and no, I am not taking hallucinogenic drugs:

For some reason or another, my mom and I were on the top deck of a cruise ship that was making its way through an ocean of lava. We saw a little boy crying, and since we knew he wanted to go play in the lava, we took him down to the bottom level and dropped him in, where he continued to play happily, splashing about and just having a marvelous time. At this point, my mom disappeared (to reappear later in the story! *drumroll of foreshadowing*), and the dream changed so that myself, Lisa, Caleb, and Wesley were all down in the lava, too, with a lot of other people who were at the weird psychic retreat thing that we were attending.

After, I dunno, harmonizing with our inner child by playing some weird version of duck-duck-goose in the lava, the four of us were instantaneously transported to a giant ballroom whose floor was composed totally of glass. We were all provided with hammers, and we had one chance at the glass—whatever kinds of cracks appeared was supposed to tell us something deep and meaningful about ourselves. When I hit the glass, the cracks filled with… BLOOD.

Following this dramatic conclusion to the retreat, I went back to my dorm, feeling very enlightened, and just as I was walking in, I saw my little brother walking out… wearing a pair of my absolutely girl-style jeans, my Zeta Rho jersey, and a highly feminine white turtleneck. Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, I proceeded to drag him back inside before anybody could see him cross-dressing in my clothes, yelling at him the whole time about how Zeta Rho was a girls’ club, therefore it was absolutely not okay for him to wear my jersey, and besides, he was wearing nasty man-smelling deodorant that he had now gotten all over it and didn’t he know that now I was going to have to wash it?

To top it all off, my mom was working desk. When I demanded why a) she had let Carter into my room, and b) why in the world she had allowed him out of the dorm dressed like a girl, she shrugged and said, “Well, I figure he’s old enough to make his own decisions about what he wears.”

And then I woke up. Glad to remember that my brother is not a transvestite and that you can’t really swim in lava, I might add.

I think possibly my favorite part is the fact that my glass cracks filled with blood. I am ninety-nine percent sure that nothing gets more freakishly dramatic than that.

 

A contusion in my caudate nuclei

Or, of course, just a break in studying. But I thought I’d provide you with a little bit of jargon just so you can understand the state of my brain right now. Oh no! BRAIN! I don’t want to hear it!

Today, I finished the seventh book in the Wheel of Time series, A Crown of Swords. After this many pages of fantasy fiction, I am slightly surprised that a glowing green and yellow neon sign has not appeared above my head, reading PREPOSTEROUSLY NERDY NERD in some sort of unbelievably obnoxious font. Really the fact that I will even admit to this goes pretty far in revealing that something is seriously wrong with my cerebral cortex… but I’m not talking about cerebral cortices, because I just spent the last two and a half hours—yes, on a Friday night—studying the central nervous system…. Sigh.

The studying is necessary, though; I swear I’m not just an antisocial loser. Well, I may be antisocial, and I’m sure there are some who would argue that I’m a loser—not within earshot, though, they know good and well that I’d pound their skulls into the concrete until they died begging for mercy—but I had to sacrifice tonight in order to be able to go to the Zeta Rho retreat tomorrow. Which had better be an amazing funness of fun and worth the time taken away from bashing my brains out over A&P.

Nursing major. What in the world am I thinking?

So… interesting things that happened today. No apparitions, sadly, and no skating. No particularly awkward moments, either, which pretty much makes for a fairly boring day. I didn’t fail my Bible test—in fact, I think I might have aced it, which probably has something to do with the fact that, for once, I actually studied—and I got my French test grade back today and I made an A, and I thinking I have at least a chance on doing okay on the identification after our study session in A&P today (A&P is beginning to stop making sense, I’ve said it so many times in the past few days)… so yes. Boring day. No drama, or not enough to talk about, or to make this deliciously soap opera-y.

Therefore, instead of going detail-by-detail through the sludgy sludge of blah-blah that was today (and my Wernicke’s area goes to pot… oh no, I’m doing it again!), I am going to tell you two things about myself that a) you probably didn’t know before, and b) may not want to know now, but since you’re reading my blog, I’m going to assume that you do.

1. One of my favorite sounds in the entire world is a train whistle off in the distance. Too close means not sleeping, but a couple of miles away stirs something deep in my brain stem… drat…. Anyways, I have been listening to one for about an hour tonight, and it’s kind of making me sad. Missing Europe and all of that other stereotypical I-spent-last-semester-abroad nostalgia, but I just want to see new places again, be on the move, wake up and be hundreds of miles from where I went to sleep (of course, it’s more like lay down and then get up hundreds of miles from where I first laid down, because sleep rarely factored itself into the equation on those insane night trains). But… whatever. There’s the little bit of drama, if you were looking for it.
2. Whenever I get upset, I usually find myself either in the shower or with my hands under the hot water in the sink. I don’t know why. Usually I don’t even realize what I’m doing until I’m already doing it, but for some reason warm running water is some weird coping strategy. I’ve also heard it’s a good way to make a sleeping person wet the bed. But I don’t know from personal experience. It’s just something I’ve heard.

So… that’s all I have for you. Enjoy your weekends, friends.

Come thou fount of every blessing….

…. tune my mind to remember all the things I’m studying….

Sigh. I cannot wait for Thanksgiving, and the least of the reasons for this inability of the patience sort is because I absolutely am dying to just have a week where I do not have to worry about school. Mostly, anyways. I have a feeling I may be writing an essay or two but still, compared to the essays we had to write in high school, nothing here is much of a problem. At least my nonfiction essay is turned in… I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to get anything out of my hands. You wouldn’t believe how many margin adjustments and spacing manipulations I had to do on that puppy to make it be even close to the limit…. It was supposed to be only ten pages, and it was twelve, exactly, and should have been around fourteen. Oh well. What can you do?

On a subject that does not involve French or Gospel of John or Anatomy and Physiology or Creative Nonfiction any of the other classes I’ve been bashing my brains against for the past week… we went skating tonight! Hooray! We meaning Caleb and myself and Kristin, my lab partner from A&P. I love skating forever the end.

And this weekend is the Zeta Rho retreat! Hooray yay! I hope it’s fun… considering school stress, this is sort of pushing it, but… oh well. I think I am pretty much set for a good solid B in A&P so even though I am going to give it my best, I’m also not going to… take away from my social calendar….

Not much more to talk about… haha… oh boy. You guys are going to get so fed up with my blog because I never write anything interesting anymore. I thought of something interesting earlier today and thought, I need to blog about this, but as usual, I totally forgot….

Well, in the absence of any fascinating insights from me… if indeed they are ever fascinating, or even mildly interesting… here is a really fun website that involves sheep. Ha. Yes, Lisa found it first. I’ll give credit where it’s due.

http://www.thesheepmarket.com/

Oh yes… now I remember what I thought I should blog about….

Today I had two apparitions. I was walking into the Student Center to get money out of my account—this is something I hate doing almost more than eating green beans or having a toenail extracted—and I could have sworn I saw Tall Adam from high school. Weirdest thing ever. Of course I turned around and it wasn’t him, just a big crowd of people walking by, but it was strange. And then at the skating rink, I thought I saw Adam year-below-us Adam, but it wasn’t him, either, obviously.

I think some sort of sign is being sent to me. Perhaps… it’s that I’ve been reading too much fantasy fiction lately, which could also explain why most of my dreams involve running from bad guys and putting spells on people who don’t do what I want them to….

If you wonder where I’ve been…

… I’ve been working tirelessly on my creative writing essay that is due on Thursday, studying A&P, and trying to get a decent amount of sleep.

The first two things are happening, and I think tonight is the end of the last. Oh well.

On the bright side of things, on the A&P test from directly after Pledge Week which I believed (for good reason) myself to have failed, I actually made an 84. Hooray!

Anyways, it’s 1:38 AM, and I just wanted to let you all know I have not forgotten you. I am trying….

A pointless post.

I don’t really have anything to write about but I am blogging anyways because I am still hoping that there will be a direct correlation between my grades and the frequency with which I blog.

Kind of sad, really.

Of course, I have spent all day studying, basically. Got back from church and Kroger, had some low-calorie soup, took a nap, only snoozed for nine minutes, and then have been studying mostly since then, except for an hour mental break I took to read and chill.

Now I feel guilty for wasting the beautiful day outside.

Blegh. I vote… no… to… everything.

I downloaded a new song yesterday, but no one knows what it is so it’s not on Youtube or Playlist or anything. It’s called “Conversations with a Ghost,” but you can’t even look up the lyrics, so I’m not really sure why I’m telling you this.

French test tomorrow.

Yeah… okay… blogging… equals… fail. But I tried.

I’m all alone, there’s no one here beside me….

So I have just moments ago realized that no one is coming back to the suite tonight besides me.

Which means that I have absolutely not a single soul in the world to talk to right now, and for a girl, coming back after a long day with no one to discuss every little detail of the day with is absolutely one of the sadder things that could possibly happen.

Sigh. I guess one can’t have it all.

Anyways… the week is over, and according to the clock (12:53 A.M., don’t believe the time WordPress tries to give you, it’s impossible), it has been Mom’s birthday for precisely 53 minutes!

*takes a deep breath*

HAPPYBIRTHDAYTOYOUHAPPYBIRTHDAYTOYOUHAPPYBIRTHDAYDEARMOMMMMMMHAPPYBIRTHDAY TOYOU!

If you aren’t annoyed yet, you are probably on illegal sedatives, and should probably be going to rehab instead of reading my blog.

I have finally started working on my creative nonfiction essay and, considering it was due two and a half weeks ago, I figure this is a good thing.

Additionally, we had our first Zeta Rho function as actual members of the club tonight. For non-Bison readers, functions are, in fact, not something that you do in Algebra II or what you don’t do when you haven’t had enough caffeine during that snoozer eight o’clock biology class (har-har… if any of you managed to find the joke amid that pile of verbal sludge, here’s to you), but can actually be defined as the following:

Function (v.) 1. Something you don’t do when you haven’t had enough caffeine during that snoozer eight o’clock biology class; 2. (n.) Something that you do in various high school math classes and forget by the middle of June so you have to relearn it again… every year; 3. (n.) A staple of Harding club life in which members of the club involved invite other people, usually members of the opposite sex, to a variety of planned activities which, if not well-planned or if the club itself is full of socially inept humanoids, can easily degenerate into awkward small-talk and soon after, utter, complete, and terrifying silence

Fortunately, our was well-planned enough and none of us did anything too totally socially awkward, so it actually ended up being a good deal of fun. I asked a guy named Taylor who actually lives in Birmingham, too; he pledged TNT (Zeta Rho’s brother club), is also a sophomore, and is an Alabama fan (but I have decided to forgive him for this). We rode with Rebecca and her date, David, who she has known literally since birth since they were both delivered by the same midwife in Italy (cool story, no?). The theme of the function was “Starlight Lounge,” which I think (none of us were ever quite sure, even after the function was over) was supposed to be some swank VIP club… without alcohol or dancing, of course, which means it wasn’t anything like a club, but it’s all okay. There was karaoke, which was entertaining, and many root-beer bottles, which was also rather hilarious—until, of course, the wrong administrator sees Facebook pictures of us taking swigs from brown glass bottles and decides to put us on probation—and just a regular old good time. And of course, beau entertainment (beaux are sort of like guy members of girls’ clubs, like queens for guys’ clubs, and are basically voted on by all the members on the basis of how many people like them, or something crazy like that)—they played a music video where Matt, Huston, and Brian all had on scandalously short shorts (and I mean scandalously; IB people, if you can remember the shorts Edward and Boris wore to the senior softball game…) and danced to Miley Cyrus’ “Party in the U.S.A.”…. Oh boy. Fun times.

How’s that for a giant paragraph?

Anyhoo… my head is threatening to split down the middle like a melon attacked by a velociraptor femur… and my metaphors are degenerating like cystic fibrosis… and my political correctness is dying like… okay. I’m stopping now. Goodnight!

Oh yes, and one more thing…. The first few minutes aren’t that funny, but then… well, you’ll see. I’d say something about Asians but I have already used up my quota of politically incorrect moments for the day so… draw your own conclusions.

Scientific robots and other things of the like

Today I compiled a short list of my favorite quotes that my friends have made, short because I can only remember back so far, and for the reason of which I thought you might enjoy them.

Though honestly, if you don’t know these people, you’ll probably just look at the screen, think, “That’s not funny,” and quit reading my blog in exchange for someone else’s, where they don’t use inside jokes in public Internet arenas.

Oh well. Here I go anyways.

Mollie: Do you have a brother?

Wesley: Yes.

Mollie: How old is he?

Wesley: He’s twenty-three.

Mollie: Why isn’t he married yet?

Reason why this is funny: Mollie wants to get married more than anything in the entire world and believes quite firmly in the Harding-is-a-marriage-factory theory.

[In a discussion about childbirth, one of the more frequent topics in our suite, since Mollie and I both want to be OB nurses, and one that usually induces hysteria....]

Me: So they actually have to cut you? AH!

Mollie: Well, it’s really not that bad. It’s just a matter of snip, snip and wallah!

Kelsey: Oh Mollie please don’t say snip!

This is funny just because… it’s funny. I don’t really know how to clarify.

Lisa: Zach, I thought about you the other day! I had to fill out a form on the Internet and then press SUBMIT.

This is funny because Zach finds it absolutely hilarious to act like some big chauvinist pig all the time and quote scriptures about wives submitting to their husbands. And they wonder why so many Harding girls want adopt children without ever having to get married….

Me: … and apparently she just brings up pregnancy in like every single conversation, even when it doesn’t relate.Lisa: Oh yeah, my mom does that all the time with scientific robots.

In this conversation, you probably just had to be there, but “scientific robots” coming out of Lisa’s mouth is just plain hilarious.

Ah-hem. Sorry to those of you who are now scratching your heads or staring angrily at my blog hoping I feel your dissatisfaction. Moving on….

I saw Owl City last night! I am not a huge concert person—large crowds and loud noises are two of my least favorite things in the world, right up there with green beans and colonoscopies (not that I’ve ever had one, but I can just imagine), so obviously going to an event that combines those two things usually isn’t a particularly pleasant experience. Luckily, though, I was with Lisa and Wesley and Caleb, all of whom have at least similar feelings, so we stood back from the mass of hot milling bodies at the front and watched from the safety of a less crowded area. Frankly, I enjoyed it pretty well. They were remarkably good in concert.

Anyways… it just became my birthday, so I opened my package from home, and I am now being thoroughly distracted by the AWESOMELY AMAZING NEW TAKE-VERY-GOOD-AWESOME-PEOPLE-PICTURES PHOTOGRAPHY BOOK from my WONDERFUL MOTHER and the CD mon petit frère sent with it, so… goodnight!