I’m back, with lots of randomness as usual.

Facebook fast is over. Whew. Not much of a desire to repeat that process unnecessarily. Despite undoubtedly beautiful intentions on the part of our dear teacher, I didn’t feel that a week without Facebook did much good. Everyone else was still sending SuperPoke hugs and lol-jk-omg wallposts, so the level and quality of Actual Human Interaction didn’t really increase.

Also (Celia dearest, this is for you), my unintentional blog fast has come to an end as well. I didn’t mean to not write—I’ve just been extremely busy, like you don’t even know (my new favorite phrase).

Saw a rendition of Les Mis last night. Without a doubt, this play is my absolute most favoritest musical—the music itself, the complicated plot, the involved characters…. All come together to create a truly incredible piece of theatrical literature. Honestly, I liked the version I saw in Birmingham back during February (at least I think it was February; second semester senior year still seems like a sort of ugly, hazy blur of please-powers-that-be-get-me-out-of-here-and-let-me-remember-as-little-of-this-as-possible… a wish that really didn’t work out so well); the acting was better, and the directing, but still—it’s hard to ruin something as amazingly well-written as Les Mis when you have at least a little talent. (Though I am still wondering what was going on with the gels… those are the plastic sheets that go in front of the lights to color them…. There were some pretty interesting designs—and not in a good way.)

Oh—and I almost forgot the best part of the entire Les Mis event. First, we were barely on time for the show because of a great deal of confusion involving hunger, getting stuck on the wrong side of the river in Little Rock and not being able to find a bridge to take us back over, and finally finding the restaurant we had spotted at the very beginning of the ordeal, ordering there, and not getting our food until five minutes until eight. (If you guessed that the show started at eight… you would be correct.) So we barely got there on time… or really didn’t, considering that Charlene and I rushed back to the car with all the (uneaten) food in to-go boxes while Larkin and Julia ran to get to their seats before the doors closed. Luckily, the two of us were able to get in thanks to the very nice lady who snuck us into our seats during the you-forgot-the-candlesticks-I-gave-you-too scene. THEN we barely made it back for curfew. But we had an adventure. (And we decided during the waiting-for-the-dinner-that-we-ended-up-eating-on-the-way-back-to-Searcy sequence that if we didn’t make it, we would go clubbing instead, so either way, it would have worked out.)

I almost got kicked out of Harding today. Something about not turning in a proof of immunization form. I’m rolling my eyes, right?

Confused about life… mostly about how to straighten out the knots in the rats nest of backlogged emotion that keeps surfacing, like a nasty rodent carcass (haha, you know you are loving that simile, don’t even deny it) in a stagnant swamp. Lololololololol. Lolz. Lawl. I crack myself up. (Seriously. I do.)

“Violet Hill” by Coldplay is an awesome song. Do listen to it.

Ultimate frisbee scrimmage at Hendrix on Sunday. Can you say O.O? Nervous to say the least. Panicking to say the most. Not so much about losing… I would be okay with that, although I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really want to win… but more about disappointing the older members of the team. That could make for a really awkward ride home if, say, I drop the disc and Hendrix scores the winning point….  (Yes. This is my nightmare. Argh.)

Speaking of dreams-ish, I had the strangest one last night. I dreamed I was pregnant, but not in the normal way. I’m not really sure how I got pregnant… yeah, yeah, I know how MOST people get pregnant, but it wasn’t important here. Anyway, there were several babies inside of me, at least seven or eight, and they didn’t look like infants—they looked like fist-sized crosses between sort-of-fetuses and clots of blood (awesome). When I went into labor (help!), one of the girls on the frisbee team started talking me through it, telling me to breathe and push….  Weirdest feeling in the world, having mutant babies (poor Bella). 

Well……. I’m going to go engage in some serious, real-live human interaction (okay, Michael Wright? I’m doing my assignment for realz now!), so adios, sianara, au revoir, etc.

Oh…. check out this blog. Hilarious. Here’s a preview:

And this connected one, though slightly blasphemous.  And also…. If you haven’t seen it, please watch “Step Up.” I’m going to marry the male lead. For serious.

Oh and also…. Here is the link to the blog of a friend. Much love to you all if you click and read—and even more love if you actually listen to what she has to say.