Kelly Sullivan
Social
Relationship Status
Single
Highschool
Riverdale High School
College
MTSU, until I transfer the heck out.
Interests
Renaissance faires, acting, dancing, drawing, writing, reading, poetry, stage combat, rapiers, archery, coffee and conversation, crème brûlée, France, travelling, Shakespeare, the supernatural, music, laughing, politics
Favorite Music
Classical and indie.
A Post I Meant to Copy/Paste Onto Here Last Night....
December 10 2005
Notice I never say "just great."
Notice I never say "well."
Notice I never say "horrid" or "grand."
When you ask how I’m doing, it’s scarce above "hell."
When you loved me I could not write
A single word of rhyme or prose.
I struggled with the implements,
But put them all down for a rose.
I thought the loss a small one,
Though I admit I missed the pen.
And now my heart is torn in two,
The words flow easy back again.
So those were written in a fit of depression, and while I'm not really depressed right now, I felt compelled to slap some writing up here.
I also feel compelled to write a story about the Italian Mafia or the Russian 'Mafiya.'
Actually, I typically feel compelled to write a lot of things.
And say the word 'compelled.'
Compelledcompelledcompelled.
Goodness gracious. I had three coffee-enhanced beverages in nine hours. That's one every three hours. Addiction knows no bounds.
....My hands are shaking.
Curse you, addiction.
Until tomorrow morning, that is. At which point you shall be embraced by open, bleary arms.
So yeah. There was a mouse in my room this (technical) morning. Know how I found this out? It woke me up by running across my face. ....And somehow getting under the covers. Now for those of you who have never been roused by something small and rodenty skittering over your cheek, permit me to explain: you will move faster than you ever have in your entire life, because you have no idea what just did that, and for all you know it could be bloodsucking. So when the cat scratched at my door to be let in, by God she was let in. Such is the cost of rousing me from my slumber. You will die. An obese cat will hunt you down and dispatch you with a frightening amount of noise, and I will find your rigor-mortis-ized body in the morning and dispose of you. So think carefully, if you really want to test how much of a morning person I am not.
Wow.... Mom made something called "peasant stew." Delighful! No peasants were harmed in the manufacturing of this product.