a tip of the World Champions Red Sox hat to murderous Valanice

I was awakened from dreams of Frodo collecting sunscreen left behind by bikers, dreary school days, and a summer spent in a mall putting colorful donuts (doughnuts) in a glass case while trying to figure who "the alien among us" was by someone shouting that I had a telephone call. After some yelling and trouble rolling out of bed, I called Dan and found out that Vally died. Valanice the Betta Fish, June 2004- January 2005. Dan thinks she had fish tuberculosis. :( He didn't let me help with her burial, which made me a little sad. She was, after all, my fish first. Even though I didn't like her because she killed Lorelai and was most certainly a contributor to the return of Glorfindel's tail rot, I would have liked to have said a few words for her. Now there is only Fëanor, since Dan doesn't want a new fish. Too bad, because it's nice to have a little friend in the dorms.

Last night dad decided that he wanted to rent The Passion of the Christ. Seeing as it's directed by Mel Gibson, I wasn't expecting much from it, but it really had the potential to be a good movie. It's just too bad that I can specifically pinpoint at least FIVE places where the scene would have been more powerful for NOT showing blood instead of showing rivers of it. Except for at the beginning, I really didn't even feel too badly for Jesus, the main character you're supposed to feel bad for, because all the blood on him just reminded me how excessively graphic the movie is. And now Dan is ready to leave, so I will not rant any longer about the movie or... anything else.

Rushlight

A lack of sentences, the turning of events and thoughts into nouns preceded by definite article:

-the asking after of the enemy's report, which has been intercepted.
+the extreme purpleness of a new Siamese fighting fish, Fëanor.
+/-the missing of the first date with my boyfriend of 23 months due to dense fog, the likes of which have not been seen in all his 33 years of being a licensed driver
+/- the rereading of The Lord of the Rings in which I have reached Chapter XI: A Knife in the Dark, in which Fatty Bolger does not die as had been misremembered, but rather scampers away, probably leaving behind a puddle for the servants of Mordor to find.
+ the obsession with breeding programs in The Sims 2 and the ten-time reproduction of Zalon and Aria
- the having of dirty hair
- the time wasting
+ the time wasting
+ the proposed making of microwave creme caramel

atrophy

Perhaps it is safe to write in this blog now. I haven't written in it in ages, which should mean that:

a) anyone who knows about it has forgotten its existence,
b) if I end up writing in it regularly I'll have to go through a bunch of awkward, back from hiatus entries before finding my voice again,
c) my typing skills are probably wonky since I don't talk to anyone online but Dan and I haven't typed any writings of mine since the end of the semester,
d) because of the previous three conclusions, it's probably best if I just save myself the trouble of pressing the shift key.

In the time that I have been home from school, I have celebrated numerous holidays, found myself a religion, been deeply insulted, been deeply annoyed, cried for no reason, cried for some reason, failed to become a superhero, and been entranced by many persons, places, and things of, in, or related to Scotland.

More importantly, (and i'm going to sound like I'm some new age hippie or a person easily swayed by the lure of trendy weight loss programs and Methods of Living a Beneficial Life) I have realized that I have two major paths I could take in my life. One is glamorous to someone who relishes quirkiness and obscurity and can embrace hermitdom with a dose of fantasy. The other is typical yet comfortable, but will probably always be missing something. Either way, I have to work sometime. *sigh* I am the laziest person I know, and that can't be changed. Changing is moving, moving is working, and working is the antithesis of laziness. Change is impossible for the hopelessly lazy.

On the bright side, it's nice to know that Tony Danza exists. Don't ask, (not that you can, you non-existent reader, you) because I am sick of typing. Hmmm, whatever happened to not using the shift key? Next time.