Ziggy Stardust!

MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME (Or one of them, at least)

CLEAN ROOM

I cleaned my room today. It was major.

BEFORE:

AFTER:

Yay! I feel accomplished and a lot less dirty and cluttered!

Today, I made a list.

It is my guys I would kill to meet list. That being said, my plan is not to actually meet them, as I don't really care what they are like, but to woo them with my endless charm and have a super hot one night stand. And before you say anything, no. I do NOT care that they are all at least 10 and in some cases more than 30 years older than me. They are hot. That being said, the list:

1. Taye Diggs. So Fine. And what a brilliant voice!

2. Barack Obama (work that presidential campaign)

3. Johnny Depp.

4.Harrison Ford (20 years ago as Indy. Or hell, even now.)

5. Elijah Wood (bet you didn't see that coming)

And that's all I have for now. But don't mock. it WILL happen.

Notes

A scholarship essay I just pulled out from last year. Enjoy.

As a self proclaimed writer, I’m always looking for ideas. I want to immortalize my teen years in paper, and what better way to do it than through real conversations with friends? For this reason, I have a binder full of notes. Just notes, nothing more, and definitely nothing less. There are long notes, short notes, notes that are more art than writing, notes folded into paper shapes, notes written in spirals, and notes written in multi coloured gel pens. There are love notes, academic notes, notes full of emotion, notes telling jokes, notes gossiping, and notes simply saying hello. There are angry notes, happy notes, sad notes, and tired notes. I love these notes. I file them and keep them safe from harm. Throughout my countless moves, one thing I have refused to get rid of is my binder. After all, my notes are some of my most treasured possessions, and the only things I would put in my personal museum. 

My notes have been collected since the seventh grade, when I discovered the joys that could come from small pieces of paper stealthily passed around the classroom. My friends and I, partners in crime, would often glance at each other, trying in vain to conceal a smile, while we faked a yawn, and dropped the note on the desk behind us. Since then, the methods of passing the notes have evolved, as have the notes themselves. They have become more than just pastimes; they have become parts of who I am. One part of me was formed by the fights I had with my best friend through notes in the ninth grade. Another part of me was formed by the numerous love notes sent by my first serious boyfriend in the 11th grade. I learned minimal Korean and Chinese through various notes sent through high school, and it has all shaped who I am now. 

I can just see it. One would walk into my museum, and instead of seeing displays with captions, they would simply see the captions themselves. Hundreds and hundreds of framed notes would hang off the walls. They would be in chronological order with labels indicating the time and the topic of conversation. They could also be organized by person, or perhaps by country, whichever allows for the easiest understanding. At any rate, any random passerby would be able to walk through the room, read the seemingly infinite series of notes, and automatically have a good idea of who I was, and who I have been to those who have known me. They would know me, in a sense.

My museum would be perfect. It would be full of art, drama, literature, history, and, most of all, life. It would be the portrait of an eclectic seventeen year-old girl, and the stories she had to share from around the world. It would be a portrait of me. Me and my notes.

Jaymay

She's brilliant.

Sure, you may not think she's any different than any folky acoustic female vocalist, and you may be right. BUT there is nothing wrong with those singers in general, so ha.

check it out:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWwEWnfq04U

(I can't figure out how to make it be a video in this soooo just follow the link because i'm technologically slow)

Flashback

Because of the Times- Kings of Leon.

I was listening to it on the way home from the grocery store today, and this one part in the song Camaro gave me this intense, vivid flashback to my trip to Scotland back in March. It could be because that's when I bought the album, and that's all I made my Dad listen to on the way both to and back from Edinburgh, but it was just so vivid. I could remember the smell of dad's car, which was new and barely used. I remembered the rays of sun shining off the windshield. I remembered the deep blues and greens of the countryside, I remember the music. I really want to go back.

P.S. The album is pretty sweet. :)

Blogability

Noun. The ability of being able to blog about something.

I suppose blogability in itself is blogable.

Interesting.

Love linguistics.