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.
Violins and Witch-Hunts.
October 09 2005
Paganini: The Saga Begins
Subsequent attempts to teach myself the violin over the past hour have thus far yielded:
I will soldier on. Just as soon as I wrap up these monologues for my English project.... Did Mrs. Wolff specify a length or perhaps level of detail? *Shrugs* Oooooh well!! Bwahaha. I have PUMPKIN PANTS (courtesy of Leland -- thank you Leland!!).
As far as the Mystical Corset of Bodily Compression: Part II goes.... The bobbin ran out on me. I have yet to locate the case of extra bobbins, although I suspect they are in my car. I was so close. All the pattern pieces actually matched each other. And then "I was like a moth, crushed on the wheel of...." to quote Chicago.
Anywho, I need a reason to claim the computer a little longer. School work!! Score.
You know, every terrorist out there must be laughing his or herself silly right now after the New York threats. Why are they going to bomb us? They don't need to do anything to incite fear. We do it ourselves. We make our enemies larger than life, phantoms who sift among us whispering emptily of slipping bombs into baby carriages when in reality they're just scared, hopeless, shrivelled little men and women with nothing to live for and everything to die about. I mean really, a bomb in a pram? Then suspicious baggage is reported right, left, and centre, and an entire section of the Pen Station is shut down because of "bubbling green liquid" in a soda. We make our enemies. We see them everywhere. We move in fear. The far-reaching Al Quaida don't have to do a thing. We are our own terrorists. Let the witch-hunt begin.
Subsequent attempts to teach myself the violin over the past hour have thus far yielded:
- Six stiff fingers
- Partial deafness in my left ear
- A crick in my neck
- A very vague inkling as to how the first few notes of "All I Ask of You" might go
- And (I kid you not), all four kittens lined up outside my bedroom door looking very perplexed.
I will soldier on. Just as soon as I wrap up these monologues for my English project.... Did Mrs. Wolff specify a length or perhaps level of detail? *Shrugs* Oooooh well!! Bwahaha. I have PUMPKIN PANTS (courtesy of Leland -- thank you Leland!!).
As far as the Mystical Corset of Bodily Compression: Part II goes.... The bobbin ran out on me. I have yet to locate the case of extra bobbins, although I suspect they are in my car. I was so close. All the pattern pieces actually matched each other. And then "I was like a moth, crushed on the wheel of...." to quote Chicago.
Anywho, I need a reason to claim the computer a little longer. School work!! Score.
You know, every terrorist out there must be laughing his or herself silly right now after the New York threats. Why are they going to bomb us? They don't need to do anything to incite fear. We do it ourselves. We make our enemies larger than life, phantoms who sift among us whispering emptily of slipping bombs into baby carriages when in reality they're just scared, hopeless, shrivelled little men and women with nothing to live for and everything to die about. I mean really, a bomb in a pram? Then suspicious baggage is reported right, left, and centre, and an entire section of the Pen Station is shut down because of "bubbling green liquid" in a soda. We make our enemies. We see them everywhere. We move in fear. The far-reaching Al Quaida don't have to do a thing. We are our own terrorists. Let the witch-hunt begin.
