At college. Stupid free periods.
It’s not that I mind having time while I’m not in lessons (because I am totally okay with that), it’s more the fact that this is just a stupid time to schedule a free. Because, see, it’s in between two performing arts lessons. I have performing arts, then an hour and a half of NOTHING and then another PA lesson. Why? I do not understand, timetabling people. Why would you do this? IT MAKES NO SENSE.
Also, the college uses IE6, and I think that some of my blog code, um, broke it. The pop-up code mostly, but it also doesn’t like certain bits of my css (like photo-link borders. What is up with that?)
Also also, coding? Without photoshop to give me colours in hex? Is hard. Haaard. Do not want, etc.
… Why yes, I should be doing my personal statement right not. But, again, DO NOT WANT.
I’m pretty sure that hoboville is the way to go because it means that the only things you have to be able to write are signs saying “BIG ISSUE” or “will dance for cash” (which I will, by the way. My bank account is so, so empty…)
Hmm. I’m sure there was a time (many years ago. In the long-lost archives of colourblind.org) when I wrote coherent, insightful things. Or maybe I hallucinated that, I don’t know. Now it’s sort of like a written attack of ADD, only with more photos.
Not-strictly-speaking-of-which: I have a video to put up here when I get home. It will shock anyone who clings to any idea that performing ats students work when you leave them alone in a music room, and it will reinforce the belief of most of the population that we are amusing, but a little retarded. And when I say ‘we’, you know I really mean Tom Robinson, aka rat boy. Is silly 😀
Well. Twenty minutes to go until MOAR PA. God, I can hadly wait. I’m practically falling off my seat in anticipation (please note: Am actualy almost falling off my seat, but that has more to do with the fact that: OMGWTFBBQ SO TIRED than it does with any excitement to get to class. Because while I’m kind of enjoying forum theatre, I could really do without it, and am really looking forward to Aristophanes next term.)
And finally: I keep writing backwards, and it is getting REALLY yonnaing. GAH.
That thing I said? About having not taken any photographs this weekend? Was a lie. BUT. THe only photograph I have taken have been a) of me; b) of my hair; c) of my clothes.
To make up for that? Photoessay.
Without any of those pesky ‘word’ things. ETA: Am at one with the wordyness!
The world needs more of me 😀
* To clarify: was not actualy stalking her * *. Was wandering around waiting for her to finish with the waking up and ended up on her street. Took picture to picture message her with before remembering that she doesn’t have a camera phone. Put picture on innernets instead.
* * Except that I totally wa
“Self,” I asked. “Which is more important to you: Going out in the rain to get some cool photographs, or keeping your hair nice?”
“Self,” I asked again. “Which is more important: Re-designing your websites, or reading the Advice Smackdown?”
“SELF,” I asked once more. “WHAT IS MORE IMPORTANT: Writing up your classics homework, or choosing your outfits for college this week?”
Needless to say my hair is pretty, I know a lot more about foundation aplication, and I have several sartorial choices for each day of next week. Unfortunatly this means that I haven’t taken any photos this weekend, STILL haven’t come up with another design for Sussex Pixelsor my portfolio, and my classics homework? Still in the bullet-point stage.
Look, it’s the first two days I’ve had off since college started. Would you expect anything less?
Yeah, I thought not.
But I promise (Promise!!) that I’ll use tonight’s insomnia to at least sketch some new layout ideas. Gah.
I wrote another entry earlier that went on pretty much every other blog I have, except tbwc.co.uk. But because LJ is, like, my baby (well, my second baby. But since I can’t remember the password for my pitas blog and probably never will because all I know is that it was something verrry stupid, LJ is my baybeee!) you guys get your own! Written all special-like. Bask in the glory that is livejournal. Or, uh, don’t. Your call.
That other entry contained much rambling about chronic stress and how, oh yeah, I have it. Chronic depression, I am used to. Stress? Not so much. Huh. So, yeah, you’re not missing much.
I actually have absolutly nothing to say, other than that I tripped over the cat again this morning, nearly fell asleep in history earlier, and am looking forward to tomorrow: the day I wear cute shoes and hopefully don’t yell the words “SNUFF GREASE: THE MUSICAL” at anyone (and, yes, I have said those words MANY TIMES since Tuesday, and honestly, I am So Over It. Other things I am So Over include: insomnia (although my brain and body DISAGREE STRONGLY and would like to keep it up a bit longer, bitch); wearing trainers, flat boots, or converse every. Damn. Day, because while they are comfy for my walking-to-college feet, my soul CRIES OUT for stiletto heels and funky colours; Not swatching my knitting, because ARGH; my hair.)
Aren’t you glad I wrote this for you guys all special-like? No? Pfft. Have a cookie.Tags: gah
I was going to sit down and write something properly. Something that did not involve a) crying, b) stress, or c) drugs.
Then? I realised that, ‘Holy Crap I am seeing my family tomorrow, and then going straight to a party where everyone is going to look at my photo, and holy crap I cannot wash my hair, for THE EAR PIERCINGS, THEY BURN, and also I have nothing to wear.’
So, excuse me, I have to go and put together an outfit that says, “hello, I take pretty pictures,” while also saying, “GO WALES. HIT THAT AUSTRALIAN IN THE FACE. DO NOT DISGRACE ME LIKE ENGLAND HAS.”
… Any clothing advice will be worshipped, because there is STILL TIME for me to go shopping tomorrow morning…
Instead of the afore-mentioned ‘proper’ entry, I give you a pretty, pretty picture.
7.54: Shut up, Sid Miller. Just no. I must mute you to stop your horrible mangling of the French language, and yet it doesn”t work because I know that you’re STILL SPEAKING.
7.58: National Anthems. Oh dear. Is the big, mean-looking Argentinian guy crying?
Yes. Yes he is. Oh, rugby world cup. I heart you.