I have "The Wheels on the Bus" stuck in my head, only I can't remember any of the other verses, so my mind looks pretty much like this:

'The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round.  The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, aaaall over the town!  .............The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round.  The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, aaaall over the town!  ........Dammit......... The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round.  The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, aaaall over the town!  ...............The wheels on the bus go....'  Et cetera ad nauseum.
Bloody hell.

Well, the OHS vs. SHS game was certainly entertaining.  Imagine what it's like having one member of each school standing on either side of you, asking pointedly where you're going to sit.  Cripes!

Kelly (RHS): "Either way, one of you is going to kill me!"
Nemanja (OHS): "Don't worry, I won't kill you."
Brian (SHS): "I will...."

I just referred to myself in third person up there.  Scary.

So according to our illustrious Economics teacher, Earth is heading toward impending ecological DOOM, because the Asians are procreating (dammit, Frank).  This woman is paranoid.  Each day she has informed us of various disasters, stating that she has to do this 'by law.'  At least it'll keep things interesting.  If you call death predictions 'interesting,' anyway.  (Professor Trelawny, line one.)

The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round....

A word in my defense.... Mother made me do it.
But I won't deny that it was fun.

SWING DANCING

When: This Saturday, January 7

Who: A special event with the Capitol Swing Big Band.

What: Group swing lessons (beginning and intermediate levels) are from 7:30-8:30, with dancing until 11:00.

Where: Living Word Community Church in Brentwood, TN

How much: $7.50, since they have live music.

How to get there: Get on I-65 South. Exit Old Hickory Boulevard (it will be the second exit option for that ramp; just take my word for it). Turn LEFT onto Franklin Road, which will be labelled as Franklin Pike. The church will be on your RIGHT, and is just before the 'Brentwood Country Club.' The gym (where the phenomenal dancing will be) is to the right and behind the main church building.

I'll be there, come hell or high water.  Will you?

This is just a bit of information I think needs to be posted:

As of right now....

USC: 10

Texas: 16

Read it and weep, Brian.

Oh, and everybody go friend Megan Woolfolk, because she's rad.

So I read a very disturbing, very strange, very good book.  It is titled The Dogs of Babel, and it's a grief novel like The Lovely Bones, which I have just started today instead of the two scenes from Hamlet I should be reading for Mrs. Wolff.  But I was saying.... Basically, a man's wife dies and  the only witness to her untimely demise is the dog, Lorelai.  So bereaved husband goes on sabbatical in order to teach the dog to talk, in order to find out the truth about his wife's death.  Was it suicide or something more?  Incongruencies lead him through the memories of courtship and marriage, and to a cult of amateur canine voicebox surgeons which was perhaps one of the most disturbing parts of the book.  I highly recommend this novel.  If bought I will probably never read it again, just place it on a shelf and look at it, remembering the story for myself.  Because I'm not sure I could read it again, the stuff is so heavy and strange.  But a grippingly good novel nonetheless.  Upon finishing it if I hadn't been in my second period class, I probably would have come as close to tears as I'm able.

Coupled with The Lovely Bones, I should be nicely suicidal in the next few days.  Keep me away from sharp objects.  Like my sword.  Whoops.  Heh-heh.  XD

Bloody hell.

I've lost two applications, one of which was supposed to be postmarked on Sunday.

Let's all stand solemnly now and acknowledge the fact that God hates Kelly.

So you kids who were at drama last night (all four of us, lol).... Don't think too horribly of me for the shoe comment.  Please?  It's not as bad as it sounds.  Looking back it probably wasn't the best tidbit to share, but since it's true I'm not exactly going to deny it happened.  Or something.  It's been bugging me since last night, and  everyone knows that mysterious posts about something only a small fraction of readers understand is the best cure for the soul.

Riiiiiiiiiiiight.

But it was the easiest way for me to address it.  So there!

Wahoo.  Je veux un express.  Deux espresses.  Peut-etre trois.  Trois cent!  *French Laugh*

Brian, your script is amazing.  *Hugs*  Arthur Miller got nothin', especially since he's dead.  (Apologies, Art.)  Although when I found out the brilliant author of The Crucible died, my initial reaction was more along the lines of "You mean he was still alive????"  And then sorrow.  But yeah, whatever.  People die; it's this thing that's been happening for a few years now.  I'm beginning to think that soon celebrities won't be entombed anymore.  They have so much collagen and silicone in 'em that they won't need to be preserved.  Christie's will just auction them off as artefacts for someone to put in the corner to scare intruders.  (Personally, I'd find them as better discipline tools.  "William, don't do that again, or Anna Nicole will come back!"  *Child weeps for fear of implants*)

Now that I've probably disturbed more people than previously thought possible (including myself), I shall proceed to run very quickly somewhere else and make an attempt at being productive.

Ciao!

I ripped off The Raven's rhyme scheme.
It's like plagiarism, but without legal implications.
It's not meant to sound goth.  Maybe Poe-ish.  Maybe it is goth.  I really don't want it to be.  There's no mention of slitting wrists or being (the most conforming ever) nonconformist, so I think I'm safe.

Even now the light is ending and I feel myself descending
To the bitterness unending, utter blackness at my core.
Desperately I light a candle, clinging to that radiant handle
But the metal left a brand I’ll never know the reason for.
Worry not, it’s mental war.

As I wend my way through traffic and my mind, while only half-sick,
Serves as no more than a barrack for my psychic, rambling drone.
I try to drown it out with singing but I can’t obscure the ringing
An obnoxious sort of pinging from a most pernicious phone
A single word, the word "alone."

And suddenly my mind’s spent and I barely feel my heart, wrent,
And just as quickly I will repent of the tears I’ve shed before.
At last I've put my thoughts down and I’ve made my way across town
Though I haven’t quiet dislodged the frown that ebbs against lips’ shores.
I have come back from the brink once more.

So yeah.  Happy 2006.  Rock on.  Party hard.  But not too hard.

The real reason I posted, though, was to mention my 10 o' clock curfew to the world.  ...........10:00 AM!  Mwahahahahahahaaaaa.  I am a degenerate of teenage society.  Fear me.

Don't drink and drive, kids.  I'll beat you up.
No, seriously.  Your nose will bleed.

What are your New Year's Resolutions?

Mine is to get into a good college or teach English abroad until I do.  Or die trying, one, but I'm really partial to the first option.  (Ha-haaaa, they won't get rid of my application so quickly!  I'll keep applying until they let me in out of desperation to never see my address as the source!!)  I find it highly irritating that today is the last day to postmark certain as-yet-unfinished applications, but since it's Sunday the mail of course does not run.  The ingrates.  And by "ingrates" I malign the postal service as a whole, not the deadlines per se.

OH!  WHO WANTS TO BUY GIRL SCOUT COOKIES?!
Do not succumb to the 'charming' smiles of Brownie Girl Scouts.  They will kill you given half a chance.

So an acquaintance of mine (and his band) is playing at the Boro tonight starting at 9:00.
Anyone who is either eighteen or knows where their back door is wanna come??   [Nevermind -- the event was cancelled.  They're at RCKTWN or however you spell it sans vowels.  I'm not about to drive through Nashville, so there.]

All dressed up and nowhere to go.

Angry Chihuahuas Attack Police Officer

Eep!  I went to a pro-anorexia site.  (Relax, it's just curiousity, and if I was serious do you really think I'd put it up here??)  That is some sick stuff they're pulling, seriously.  Above and beyond their striking resemblence to Holocaust victims.  There is a cult mentality which permeates "Ana's Underground Grotto" that steeps its power in a potent brew of belittling Pervy Hobbit-Fanciers and delusional statements.  Some of the highlights include, but are not limited to: excuses not to eat (and there are some very plausible ones), comparisons of foods with the least amount of calories (clear chicken broth is 20 calories per serving; bullion cubes a mere 5), comparisons to pork products in the live state, ravings on their "power" through the control exerted, and that the government is quashing pro-anorexia websites because they're afraid of what anorexics would do if word got out: taking over the government, etc.  The latter-most is a personal favourite.  What an utter disservice to the XX-chromosome sect.

So, without further ado, I'm off to dinner.  Ha!  Take that!

Phusebox is back!  It was really weird while the lovely blogging site was down, though.  Normally I have to make the rounds between my four internet homes (yes, four -- some people only have LiveJournal or MySpace), but then I would realise.... No, wait, that one's gone.  Temporarily.  Maybe it's what parents feel like when their offspring leave for college.

Speaking of college.... I finished my first essay.  I'm so proud.  Nine words below the maximum limit.  Go me.  Now I just have to correct my truly heinous grammatical errors.

Things are going to be intense until March 1.  Why, you might ask?  Macbeth auditions.  The play I'm already in.  SAT II in French and Literature the day before faire auditions.  Faire rehearsals.  Costume creation for faire.  Gold Award completion.  Hopefully auditions for NYU (just for fun).  And I know there's like one or two things I'm forgetting.  Eating isn't one of them.  Neither is sleep.  Hmmmm.
As I said -- holy highwaters, Batman.

So, um, a belated Joyeux Noël and all that jazz.
Happy New Year.
Gleeful Hannukah.
Etc.

What a God-forsaken mission THAT was.
We stood around in the theatre and handed out slips for some Narnia drawing-thing.  Prizes included soundtracks, t-shirts, and four tickets to the ice show at the GEC.  We were there from 11:00-4:00 with nary a chance to sit down or nourish our bodies.  Normally this would be only scarcely tolerable, but stick someone in a corset who only had 1/2-a-cup of coffee at 8:00 and it makes for one peril-laden drive to Murfreesboro.
((We kept most of the free ice-cream coupons for ourselves.  The ones we were supposed to be handing out to children.  XD))

And I want everyone to go out and buy the Hershey's chocolate-cherry-cordial-kiss-thingies right NOW.  Either try them and love them forever or give them to me.

Swing dancing soon.  Again.  Shall be most sorely sore tomorrow.

So yeah, if anyone wants to come to Regal Cinema at Opry Mills between 11:30 and 4:00 and hang out with a shivering peasant (that would be me) and be sent on missions to buy me hot chocolate (or coffee, mwaha) or just plain mock me in my mission, that'd be cool.  (For some reason people in Elizabethan garb is considered germane for The Chronicles of Narnia.  I don't know why.  It's not our job to ask those sort of questions, lol.)

Yeah... I guess I need to begin to get Peasant-ed Up.

I have Kelly Clarkson stuck in my head.  WHY, GOD?!  WHYYYY?!!!!  It started when the happy little environmental science final started, and.... And.... It won't stop.

Because of this, I'm feeling very forsaken.

Someone (who shall remain nameless) contact-mooned the next blank page in my science notebook.

How is it these things always manage to happen to me?
For some reason, multiple souls on this earth take delight in torturing my innocent self.

Kelly Clarkson, for example.
Gah.

I am about to head off to my French final.  The third final of the day.  It's a crime to have so many in one sitting.
Curse you, grammer, curse you.  *Shakes fist in ire*
Government was easy.
English ate my face.  We had to analyse a short story.  Unfortunately, I could not distract myself from how much I hate said story.  The narrator was childish, with a mind that was so simple I wanted to kill her.  It was a horrendous story none should be forced to read.  Most people wrote four pages of analysis.  It was all I could to to churn out one.  Yes, my face has been consumed.  But I'm not worried anymore because, you know, what can I do about it?  Nothing, and I accept that.

So I sort-of-not-so-accidentally ate baker's chocolate.  You know, those hulking squares that people melt down for fondues and fudge and stuff?
Oy.  I'm going to die.  *Blah*  That was a very, very bad idea on my part.

We need to party.  What's everyone doing Monday??

So.... I think I'm going to submit a poem (or two) as my essay to Columbia.  And then it's FINISHED!!  Party!!!
Debating whether I should post them (my 'essay') here or not.
Hm.
Decisions.

This is partially a legitimate response to their essay requirements, and partially desperation in response to said essay requirements.

-- NYU is almost finished.
-- George Washington University is almost finished.
-- I haven't even LOOKED at Boston College's yet (curses).  This is largely due to the technical difficulties visited on my computer by their website.
-- And University of Chicago is a real jerk in the essay department.  I mean really.  Chinese symbols?!  How is that germane???
-- But Chinese symbols aren't as lame as me having to send an MTSU transcript.... To MTSU.  *Slams head*

Caroline and Tori are watching Moby Dick downstairs.
It sounds quite painful.
Personally, I despise Melville.  "Inter-chapters" are a crock.  You just know that author was trying to beef up his page count and sound arcane.

Three finals tomorrow.  Government, English, and French.  Boo!  It's going to burn my poor little brain cells (however few I have).

Then dressing up in full peasant regalia to go stand outside a theatre and promote Narnia.  How Narnia and Elizabethan peasants/nobles relate, I have NO IDEA.  We just tend to ignore that part.  We're going to be outside, though.  Bloody hell.  The peasant costume was sewn for the exclusive purpose of aerating during the hot and muggy month of May, not for standing outside in December.  Gah.  Stupid nobles and their nice warm velvet.  *Glares*  Why can't peasants wear velvet?  Eh??  Instead of thin cotton, and linen, and cable ties from shoulders to waist.  At least I can pester all the lovely men who might wander by.  "Peasant free to a good home!  Automatically defrosts upon adoption!  One-time offer!  Rebate!  Coat -- ack!"

I've written enough unimportant things up here for one day.
Catch you kids later....

What does your handwriting say about YOU?

You fill every waking moment with activity.
You are a social person who likes to talk and meet others.
You are diplomatic, objective, and live in the present.
You are a talkative person, maybe even a busybody!
You are self-confident and like to bring attention to yourself.

Makes me sound like a histrionic, lol....

So I was flipping back through past LiveJournal entries during Governor's School [Cue nostalgia] and found this quote that I consider to be quite thought-provoking in an only semi-angsty way.  So here it goes:

The entire sum of existence is based off of being needed by just one person.

Consider.

It's rather poignant.  Just one person.  One.
Needed.  Not "wanted," which involves the whims and caprices of human desires, but needed.  Food is needed, unless you're a model.  Oxygen is needed, unless you're dead.  Need implies a physical requirement for existence.  To be needed by someone is the greatest gift a person can receive.  Needed.  Look for someone who needs you, not for someone who wants you.  That is the only way to a truly satisfying inter-personal relationship.  Who do you need?  Who do you want?  Are you able to determine the difference?

Consider.

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.

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.

Coca-Cola to Launch New Coffee-Infused Soda
I'm sure Brian already has the release date on his calendar.

Dear God, my left eardrum just burst.  "HELLO, IS BARBARA THERE?"  "No.  Thank you for inquiring."  *Click*  Gah, so tempting.

Anyone who can give me advice concerning swing club, please do or risk extermination.  I feel like it's really dwindling.  Although today we actually had more guys than girls!  I about passed out from happy shock.  But yes, any tips and suggestions you may have would be vastly appreciated.

"How to Buy Your Way Into High Society" -- an article on eHow.com.  My political career has begun.
Although I really disdain buying titles.  Really.  If any old slob can become Duke Hazzard, why keep them around?  (Kind of like when Louis Vuitton went mainstream at your local high school.  Oy gevalt, or however you spell it.)

Annnnnnd I just ran out of things to rave over.

Criminal justice final tomorrow.  I need an eleventy-one (111) to make an A in that class.

.......HAAA!

*Ahem*  Anywho....

Holy crap.... I think yesterday was one of the best days ever.

Governor's School Reunion = Bittersweet.  It was wonderful to see everyone again and talk to people I almost never freakin' see (despite the fact that three of us live in the same town).  But at the same time, we knew that a few hours later we were going to be ripped apart, like cloth sewn back together for a few hours only.  Corey brought his water pistol.  That resulted in several fights and the infamous quote of, "What'd you give me if I shot that kid?"  "....How 'bout a hug?"  *Begins firing*  (Unfortunately, the toddler was out of range.)  We almost got Cameron to try on a wedding dress, but to no avail.

-- "This water gun was full when I got here.  That means the rest is.... In my pocket."
-- "They can't kick us out!  We own them!!"
-- "They're starting to clean up.  I think that's a sign to leave."  "It's kind of like the fortune cookie at Chinese restaurants."  "Or serving coffee after a dinner party."
-- "Photo-op for the radiance that is us."

Ahh, but then it was time to wend my way from Bellevue to Brentwood!  Exciting.  Unfortunately, the directions failed to note just how far one would have to drive after turning left onto Franklin Road.  Convinced I had missed it and unwilling to venture where there are no streetlights (everyone knows civilisation ends where the streetlights do), I turn around and start driving, looking for box #409.  If it exists, it's somewhere much farther past the red-light district of Nashville, which is where I wound up.  I kid you not, syringes littered the sidewalk as a bag lady strolled past a packed adult bookstore.  "Eighth Avenue South?!  What?!!!"  Ahem.  Turn around slowly, so as not to attract attention, and decide to keep driving in the opposite direction until I fall off the edge of the map or my gasoline runs out (and hoping that I found the edge first).  Call Mom in panic.  "I can't find it!  Gahhh!"  *Looks at next sign*  "Um.... Nevermind...."

The dancing part was, in a word, phenomenal.  Only capitalised, and in italics.  And fuschia.  Yes, fuschia.  I met a "physician's assistant" (read: nurse) who hadn't been dancing for even a year, but I had difficulty keeping up with him!  It was splendid.  And we waltzed.  Oh yes, we waltzed.  And spun.  And waltzed some more.  The waltzing made my night.  *Happy glow*  "Do you know how to flip?"  "Yes --"  *He executes tricky maneuvers*  *I panic*  "NOT THAT FLIP!!!!"
It was all so wonderful, though.  Despite having to run my feet under ice water upon returning home.  I totally learned little teensy moves to teach Swing Club this Tuesday.  Yay!!  Definitely coming back to the next one.  :-)

And then there was the Vice Child.  Bear in mind, this event was held at a church.  I will render the highlights of our conversation here:
*Polite small talk for three minutes at most*
Vice Child: "I bet it (mumble) sucks."
Me: (Nods vaguely)
Vice Child: You have?!!
Me: (No longer vague)  What??
Vice Child: I asked if you'd ever had sex!
Me: (Regrets vague nod) Um.... No.... Am I missing out, or something??
Vice Child: (Nods vigorously)
Me: .......

(Scant seconds later)
Vice Child: How old do I look?
Me: ....Uhhhh.... Sixteen-seventeen, I'd say you're pretty on-target.  (Note: Clearly not the answer Vice Child was looking for.)

(And then Vice Child earns her nickname.)
Vice Child: So have you ever done drugs?
Me: Caffeine.
Vice Child: I mean like real drugs.
Me: Well, no.
Vice Child: Do you smoke?
Me: (Emphatic) No.
Vice Child: Do you drink?
Me: Yes, a little.
Vice Child: (Interested) Really????  Have you ever been drunk??????
Me: Noooo.  The most it's ever been was two glasses of champagne at my grandmother's birthday!

(Still fewer seconds later)
Vice Child: You know I weighed myself the other day and I weighed 115.  I was like 'Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhmigawd.'
Me: (No longer humouring) Um, okay.

All this, while she pulled her shirt still farther down every time something male walked by.  Unfortunately, I had not yet begun the habit of dragging random guys standing alone out onto the dance floor, and was unable to save myself.  Yeah, quickly got over it after being rescued.

But it all makes for an experience, right??

I think the next time I have to perform mass communication with the Swing Club, I'll make them give me their emails.  Not their telephone numbers.

It just makes things so much easier.  You think I would have realised this earlier.

But no.

It took a go-round.
But at least it was just one.

Without further ado:

-- Jump, Jive, and Swing! 1940's Big Band Christmas Ball
-- Saturday, December 3 (that's today)
-- Living Word Community Church (formerly Brentwood Baptist) at 409 Franklin Road, Brentwood, TN
-- $10
-- Swing dance lessons are 7:30-8:30, with dancing until 11:00
-- Complimentary appetizers/drinks/coffee
-- Smoke and alcohol free, if that's a draw for you

Be there, or be a one-dimensional figure with four equal sides.

Things that annoy me:
-- Mutilation of Christmas carols.
-- Especially mutilations of Christmas carols that involve the singer flaunting how much vibrata they can put in their pipes.
-- Those who are firmly convinced that the higher they sing, the better.  Just because you can break glass at a whim does not mean you should necessarily try.  I like my eardrums unpierced, thank you and good night.

On a happier, non-disgruntled note.... I found something awesome!!  Or at least something that stole my wallet.  Ahem.  It was completely random, I swear.

Proud owner of:

It makes me happy.  Pink and shiny, how could it not??  XD

The night they invented champagne,
It's plain as it can be --
They thought of you and me.
The night they invented champagne,
They absolutely knew
That all we'd want to do
Is fly to the sky on champagne,
And shout to everyone in sight
That since the world began,
No woman or a man
Has ever been so happy as we are to-night!

Aurora

You're a tired old thing aren't you? We first came under Aurora's spell in Sleeping Beauty (1959)

'Tired old thing' indeed.  It's a classic!  Tchaikovsky, mmmm.... And I only rigged one question.  XD

Well, after that bit of mirth.... Sometimes, inexplicably (I lie), I can feel incredibly alone.  Bitter and proud, baby.  The motto has suited me well for four years running, I see no reason for it to stop.  (See, Nathan, I finally admitted it, lol!  Are you happy? ;-) :-P)

Here's Sullivan.  She's always laughing.

Okay.... So Caroline (Sullivan/sister, not Ford) tagged me to list five oddities that encompass my being....

1.) I dislike it when poems don't rhyme.  Not that I dislike the poem itself, you understand.  I'm not condemnding the myriad non-rhyming forms of expression, I'm just weird.
2.) According to others (such as the aforementioned Caroline), I raise my eyebrows whenever about to take a bite or sip of something.
3.) I hold doors for guys.  And get into fights over it.
4.) Cold black coffee is a delightful beverage.
5.) Ummm.... I really, really, really God-awfully hate it when people mess with my hair.  It's a psychological neurosis.  Only three people in the world are allowed to do that.  Three.  The rest.... I will kill you.

So there you go.  And since I've been commanded to tag, I tag:
-- Everyone who reads this.

HA!

So I hope everyone had a fantabulous turkey day and ate altogether too much food.  It's quite easy to do.  The average American eats around 920 calories worth of food at the Thanksgiving meal.  Don't ask me how I know this.  Even I don't have the answer.

Hah, so Dad and I are going to build a Generic Ranger costume for him to wear to faire, and a Generic Jedi costume so we can go be weirdos at some sci-fi convention.  Never thought I'd see that in my life....

Time to go demolish some more of the turkey carcass....

Last night at work it was incredibly gratifying for me to be asked what Northern state I was from.

And be able to tell them that I've lived in the same house, in the same town (I.e. here) my entire life.  ^_^

[[Edit]] .....I just heard my eighty-year-old grandmother refer to something as 'skanky.'  O_O  [[/Edit]]