There was a time when I used to read more hours a day than I did anything else besides sleep. 

There was a time when I used to get flashes of inspiration and write poems and fanfics and even single sentences that were good enough to merit saving.

What the hell happened to that?

After reading a long article about abortion and pro-lifers vs. pro-choicers, in an old issue of Time today at work, I have come up with the perfect solution.

The best way to reduce the number of women seeking abortions? Promote homosexuality. If you're screwing another woman, you're not going to get knocked up. I guarntee it.

I'm therefore neither pro-chioce or pro-life. I'm pro-lesbian.

Disclaimer: This policy will not protect against HIV or other sexually transmitted diseases. Even lesbians need to practice safe sex.
It's 3:30 in the morning, and I'm only going to say this once: I do not give a fuck about Paris Hilton. I don't care if she's in jail or out of jail. I don't care what she's wearing, what she's saying, where she's staying, how her jail time was, who she's fucking, and I certainly don't care what her favorite kind of cupcake is. In fact, I don't even care if she lives or dies.

So shut the fuck up about her already. She contributes nothing to my life.
Does anyone else feel a close personal connection to the first episode of a TV series they ever saw?

Like, the first episode of The Powerpuff Girls I saw was the one where Princess is introduced, the first Kim Possible was the one where they end up at Ron's old summer camp, the firt Inuyasha the one where Kagome accidentally shoots the Shikon jewel and breaks it into a million thousand pieces. My first episode of Firefly was Ariel, my first South Park the Halloween episode with the killer fish, my first Futurama the one where Fry drinks 100 cups of coffee. And let's not forget my first episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark? (the one with the typewriter that makes stories written on it come true.)

And every time you see these episodes again, you get this warm fuzzy feeling inside. Cause they belong to you. It was these episodes that made you go "I have no idea what this is, but it looks like an awesome show. And I'd like to watch it again." They're the episodes that introduce you to, and hook you on, a new show.

No? It's just me? Oh well then.
And it's February 4th again. Time really flies.

Oh, and something happened today that reaffirmed my faith in humanity. I was in Shaw's, and I was trying to get to some chocolate covered pretzels, but they were on the very top shelf, and the front ones had all been taken, and I am short and I couldn't reach them. 

Then some random nice guy, a complete stranger, was like "do you need help?" and I told him what I was trying to get, and he grabbed it for me, because he was tall enough. He didn't work at Shaw's, and he didn't have to help me, but he did. Because sometimes people don't suck. 

It's the little things like that that matter the most, and make life worth living. As long as people are still capable of acts of kindness, no matter how tiny, I think the human race will survive.

So I say unto you, do little helpful things. For friends, for strangers, for everyone. Even if you think they won't amount to anything. I will probably never see that guy again, but he made my day. You never know what the effect of a small act of charity might be.
That's why I don't go outside anymore.

Yes there are bugs and dirt and things that make me itch, spiders and places to get your feet stuck, but those are just excuses.

I don't go outside because my fairyland was cut down.

It doesnt't matter that my castle was over-run by weeds, or that a thorn bush has sprung from My Rock, for that is the way of things.

But my sacred place was chopped down and burned, tiny animals laid to rest disturbed, and thistles appeared where they do not belong, because there were no more trees to keep them out. Because of Man.

When the Guardian of the Trees and Protector of the Rocks relizes that she can't do her job because she doesn't own them and property lines are more important than nature, that is to say when she grows up, then the kingdom that once brought her unparalleled happiness brings only sorrow.

And rather than have to face that, she hides in the house. Whenever outside, she's tempted to go and explore the ruins of her childhood, the death site of her innocence, and every time she does there are tears and a little piece of her soul dies.

It's easier then to avoid all the outside, to stay in with technology and pretend that there's a concrete and not a spiritual reason for it. Easier than feeling the hate and the sadness, the lost joy and promise.

There's only a small, glimmering, shard of hope, all that's left after the Pandora next door opened the box, that someday there will be a new little girl and a new kingdom, somewhere where the property lines extend farther than those of imagination, and the Protector can be again.
Ok, you know what? I like The Fantastic Four. I even have it on DVD. And I've watched it in Spanish. I just found out they're making a second one, and I'll go see it and probably like that one too.

What annoys me is not that people think it's not a good movie, because really, it's not, but that they can't like it just the same.

Yes, ok, sometimes I want to go see a movie, and have to think, and have to wonder who's really the good guy, and talk about it ad naseum afterwards, and appreciate the plot and like the character development and all that jazz.

But sometimes you just want to watch hot people in spandex blow shit up while delivering bad dialogue. (Which you still find funny.) You want clearly defined good and evil. You don't care that it's predicatable or that the bad guy's name could not get any cheesier if they tried. (It's Victor Von Doom. I mean, come on.)

You just want to be entertained. No every movie can be an intellectual work of art, nor would you want them all to be. Sometimes your brain just needs a rest.
Just in case anyone was wondering, I found my toothbrush. It was on the windowsill in the bathroom. I did not put it there.

This leaves us with two options:

1. The Tooth Fairy, feeling particularly spiteful towards me because I refuse to get my wisdom teeth removed so that she can have them to add to her tooth castle in FairyLand, (and they're just the right size to finish off the roof of tower five, she knows they are,) flitted into my room last night, and stole my toothbrush. However, being small and unused to carrying objects bigger than her entire body, she made it only as far as the bathroom window before she had to abandon my toothbrush. This was ok with her though, because she knew that I would never think to look on a bathroom windowsill for a toothbrush that I expected to be in my room, and so I would be annoyed and have dirty teeth and possibly have to buy a new toothbrush, (and then I might find the first one and be REALLY annoyed,) and so it was almost as good as making off with the toothbrush entirely, and she felt she had righteously spited me. (Lucky for me though Erin did think to look on the bathroom windowsill, and I happen to sit next to her in Biology and happened to mention to her this morning that I was missing my toothbrush... And you can figure out the rest. But don't tell the Tooth Fairy.)

2. I accidentally left my toothbrush in the bathroom yesterday morning after brushing my teeth and either the cleaning ladies or someone from my floor moved it out of the way and onto the only other available flat surface (that was not the floor, because, eww) besides the counter, which was the windowsill. Then I went to Bio this morning and sat next to Erin, and said I lost my toothbrush and she said there was on on the windowsill in the bathroom and it did indeed turn out to be mine...

Now, both stories begin and end the same way. Which story do you prefer? Which is the better story?

I'll take the tiger Tooth Fairy, thank you very much.
I never heard the phrase "art for art's sake" until this year, but now I'm enamoured with it.

It explains how I feel about poetry. Poems aren't meant to be torn word from word and line from line; they're meant to be read (out loud preferably) and enjoyed and mulled over and felt.

That's why poems are exempt from basic ordinary rules of grammar and word usage and sentence structure. They're beyond that.

If you need to analyze every word of a poem to get its meaning, then you've missed the point entirely.

Poems aren't written for anyone or anything other than the poet, (even if you think they are, they really aren't) and they aren't written for any other purpose besides simply to be written; to put into physical form a feeling.

Poems are good simply because they are, or they're bad simply because they are. You like a poem because it hits something in you, and you dislike a poem because it misses the mark. Poetry is the simpliest complicated thing in the world.

No matter what anyone ever says, I will always believe these things.
I love all my Encore children.

Which is why I am not laughing at the anxiety over the cast list. Much.

Because I remember all that, the waiting for the e-mail, or for it to be on the board, scanning it to see your name, and then going back to see who got the part you wanted, or what everyone else got, or what part the person who wanted your part got, or crying (with joy or sadness) or sitting there in disbelief wondering why you're a Junior and it's a huge cast and yet you got no part at all...

I remember that.

But it's sort of like when I didn't try out for Once on This Island and then I sat in math class listening to the drama, and trying so hard not to laugh because you all KNOW that the way it starts is never the way it ends, and most of you have other plays to try out for in the future, and lots of you will pick up a tech position and be GREAT at it, and by the time the show is done all the bitterness will be gone and in a year all you'll remember is what a great show it was and how you thought the casting was weird at first but look how great it turned out!

(Yes, I know that doesn't always happen, and some people remain bitter and we all remember some bad casting choices and some shows still haunt me... Jane Eyre (but not for the casting, for the Paratokes... *shudder*))

But the bottom line is the show must go on, and act well your part, no matter how small and stupid it seems. (Nobody will get this, but "there are no small ponds, only small pond actors.")

I'm not saying stop the drama, or that you have no right to be indignant because you got tree number 6, because you do, all I'm saying is please forgive the smile on my face when we talk about it because I'm nostalgic and it's always funnier when you're not part of it anymore.

*Love you all!*
Yesterday I went to Church St. with Shannon, Meg, and Melissa. It was a day of firsts.

First time I ever held a girl's hand while she got her ears pierced. (Shannon. And then she thanked me for my excellent advice to get both done at the same time.)

First time I ever went in American Eagle. (And hopefully the last. I know some people like that kind of thing, and I respect that, but I am not one of them. And $40 is way too much for one shirt.)

First time I went to Bruggers Bagels in Vermont. (They accept my Knight Card, which is like a debit card that they give us here at St. Mike's.) So that was cool. BEST BAGELS EVER.

First time I went to Downtown Discs, a lovely place that sells used cd's cheap. Must go back when I have more money and buy.

First time I went to Borders without my gift certificates and had to leave without buying anything, even though I have about $50 to spend there. RAWR! I will not do that again.

Then I had this thought while I was falling asleep last night/this morning: People always say 'dance like no one is watching. Fuck that! Dance like the whole WORLD is watching, and you want then all to see how amazing you are. And how good you dance.

(Cut because it turned out to be really long)

I wonder... )

That was a rant. And it felt good.

They drive me crazy! (Ok, in all fairness, no boy has done anything to me today, or any day recently for that matter, and all boys mentioned here are completely innocent of anything other than being male, which really is crime enough if you think about it, so what I guess I'm REALLY saying here is that my overactive mind drives me crazy, but I'm going to blame boys because they're on my mind...anyways)

Sometimes they make me so mad because I'm convinced that all they want is sex, and if you're not willing to give them that (or you don't look like you'd be willing) they pay less than no attention to you. And all that bullshit that people tell you about how being confident will attract boys is just that: bullshit.

Then I see them doing unbarable adorable things, and I just want to hug them. Artie twists his hair around his finger when he takes notes in Biology. It's the cutest thing ever. And I saw this guy Logan (who I don't really know but he's in my first year seminar) reading all alone under a tree with his shoes kicked off and I just wanted to go sit next to him because he just looked so cute. (Not attractive cute. Adorable cute.)


What kills me in general is that I don't think either of them, or any other boy for that matter, notices me. (Except Alex, who does always say hi to me when he sees me, or smiles guiltily at me when we catch each other not paying attention on class.)

SEE, THIS IS WHY THEY'RE INFURIATING! I want to hate them, but I just can't. And every time I become convinced they're all not worth my trouble, one convinces me otherwise.


There's a very fine line between when it's ridiculously early to leave for class, and when it's too late.

My NIght

Aug. 21st, 2005 12:24 am
After calling almost every person I know, and failing to find an available person to go see Red Eye, I decided to get my creepy/hot guy fix by renting Queen of the Damned. I proceded to watch Stuart Townsend parade around half naked and half in skintight leather, and lots of eye make-up. After watching this movie, I suddenly realized why I was so attracted to Phil.

Then Heather called and said the retirement party for her mom was over and did I want to go to the late showing of Red Eye with her and Emalee.

So we went, and let me tell you that I would have done anything that man asked, and then fucked him in the bathroom. (This does not bode well for my real life relationships. I like vampires and calculating secret agents.)

Anyways...Oh yeah. The bathroom scene. God, I could just SEE the thoughts in her head as she was glaring at him in the tiny airplane bathroom: God I hate you and you're evil, yet I find myself strangely attracted to you...Do me?

Jackson: I haven't gone by the name Jack since I was five years old. My full name is Jackson Rippner. Think about it.
Lisa: That was nice of your parents.
Jackson: Yeah that's what I told them. Right before I killed them. (He was kidding. I think.)

Lisa: I've been trying to convince myself of one thing for two years.
Jackson: That it was beyond your control?
Lisa: That it would never happen again.

Yeah. So here's what I learned tonight:

1. Vampires must spend a fortune on eye makeup and leather.
2. There are no fat, ugly, or old vampires. There are only young, cute, hip ones. If a fat, ugly, or old one does appear, he will shortly become dead.
3. Being a dumb whore groupie/bimbo will get you a painful death. Being a clever librarian will get you an eternity with Lestat and his skintight pants.
4. Drinking the blood of The Queen of the Damned will enable you, if you are a vampire, to walk in the sun.
5. Vampires make good rockers, and have excellent singing voices.
6. Never become a hotel manager, especially if you have big name clients.
7. When someone calls you and frantically tells you to pull a fire alarm, do it.
8. If you disable/kill a hitman, make sure you take all his guns, knives, etc. off his person for you to use later.
9. The suave, calculating, intelligent, (gorgeous) unbeatable phycho you are up against will always turn into a clumsy, stupid, bumbling, (but still gorgeous) easily beat fool when you need him to.
10. Even if you have spent an hour crying and whimpering and being stupid and obvious in your escape attempts, you will always suddenly grow both a brain and a backbone when you need them and thereby defeat your phychotic enemy.

P.S. The scene in QotD where Lestat and whatever Allyia's character's name was are in the bathtub with the red rose petals? HOTTEST THING EVER.
I really love all my friends.

I don't know what's just come over me, but I need you all to know that.

God I really do just love you all.

And sometimes you annoy me, and sometimes I annoy you, but I love you all and I miss you all when you're not around.

And I want always to stay in touch. No matter if it's seeing you every day or only a card at Christmas. I'll treasure it always because that's what I do.

Someday, if we aren't connected anymore, you can all look back and think that once, many years ago, you were loved, truly and wholly by a girl named Megan. And that she probably still loves you.

And if we are still connected, you can rest easy knowing that you are loved by at least one person in the world.

I think I'm going to cry.

Remember this post. Please.

I shouldn't be allowed to stay up this late and think.
I forgot to mention what happened the other day at the Friendly's in West Leb.

Well, nothing really happened, exactly, but it was memorable.

My mom and I were sitting in our booth, pretty much done with lunch, (I had some sort of delicios barbecue chicken thing that came with three or four side dishes...I like side dishes) when these two men with a baby were seated across from us.

Now, two men out to lunch with a blonde baby girl is not something you see every day, (especially when said girl is yelling quite loudly) so naturally Mom and I looked over at them occasionally.

They ordered a hot dog and macaroni and cheese to appease the little girl, and while they waited for the food to arrive, they just...It's hard to describe really, they were just so...compatable, I guess, and...comfortable with each other. They just talked and moved and existed like they'd been together their whole lives, and were meant to be that way.

In short, they exuded coupleness. A sort of relationship that is neither plutonic nor family related, but made up entirely of love. (And they both had on weddings bands...But on their right hands. That was a cute touch.)

Anyways, the food came quickly (I suspect they rushed the order...She was not a quiet baby) and one man cut up the hot dog and placed a piece in front of the girl.

Whereupon, she immediately wacked it off the table with a strength that one would not expect from such a small being. It was the cutest and funniest thing I have ever seen.

That lunch made my day really. It was just...nice. Cute. Normal. They weren't very attractive men, they certainly weren't flamboyant; if you saw one or the other alone you would probably pass him by without a second glance. They were just two people, in love, with their daughter, having lunch. Normal. The very essence of humanity.

I defy anyone to tell me that is wrong.

Current Mood:
I bought new bras today.

Just thought you all ought to know.

Kidding. I have more of an entry than that, I promise.

On both the tags of these bras, it says, in purple capital lettes "Average Figure."

That is really disheartening in a bizarre comercialistic sort of way. I have an average figure.

I don't want an average figure. I don't want anything about me to be "average."

(Just to prove that EVERYTHING relates to fanfiction if you read enough of it) I read this quote in a fic once: "It was quite sad, the way some men were brought low by underpants."

Women too, apparantly.

Or, maybe, I shall defy the label of my underwear, and refuse to be average. I shall throw out those purple capotal lettes like so much refuse, and then I shall stretch and mold my new bras into my shape. My figure.

Which is not average.

So there.

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And I say unto thee, people of Livejournal Land, that last night Megan the Mighty did sally forth to the abode of Lady Janeea, wherein she did meet the fine Lady and her companions Liz the Brave and Hannah, Queen of Snark.

After much revelry and laughter, the Ladies Four did hunger greatly and set out on a journey to the Chopper of Prices to procure vittles. But Lady Janeea fell under the spell of Ella the cute, and had to be forcibly wrested away from the siren song of goos by her fellow questors.

Having narrowly escaped the clutches of The Cute One, the Four did sally forth to the Chopper of Prices, and did find the foods for which they hungered. They then conquered the self check-out, and returned triumphant to the home of Lady Janeea, laden down with Taquitoes, Cheddar cheese, crackers, mini poppy seed muffins, and small apple pasteries.

After the feast, the fine ladies retired to the private rooms of Lady Janeea, there to watch a fine entertainment provided by Hannah, Queen of Snark. The Neverwhere proved quite fun to observe, but the obligations of the day to come weighed heavily on the mind of Lady Janeea, and so the Ladies Four did sleep.

Their sleep was most cozy, and in the morn Lady Janeea did set out to provide food for the people of her lakeside kingdom.

Not wishing to overstay their warm welcome, Megan the Mighty, Liz the Brave, and Hannah, Queen of Snark did leave the home of Lady Janeea in the horseless carriage of Megan the Mighty.

Thus ended the adventures of these fine ladies for the night, but lo! Before parting, they did plan to sally forth to a new entertainment in a time not far off.

But that is a tale not yet written!
If anyone ever tells me that Star Wars is bad, all I have to de is remember what I saw last night and I can just laugh at them. Nothing compares to Revenge of the Sith, a movie where you know everything that's going to happen and yet you're still on the edge of your seat, biting your nails.

Of course I couldn't be on the edge of my seat because I was in the second row and I had to lean back to see the screen in focus, but you know what I mean.

The beauty of Star Wars is that people lined up at 11:00am for a midnight show, when you could have shown up at 11:00pm and gotten tickets, and didn't even care.

The beauty of us fans is that we're united. People come in costume and let random strangers take their picture. Someone drove by with all his windows rolled down and his sterio blaring the Star Wars theme and everyone cheered. Some idiot drove by and yelled "Freaks!" To which someone in line yelled "We're happy freaks!"

I knew it would be a fantastic experience, and it was. I won't dither about the movie because I don't want to spoil it...But you all know it was amazing.

I also played solitaire to an audience. That was interesting.

Today I love Yoda
Today I hate Palpatine

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