Towing: a Story.

Rehearsal had been going well. I’m kind of slow when it comes to picking up choreography, so I was really pleased that we’d knocked out most of the moves for “Sh-boom” as performed in Crybaby. I ran down to my car to grab my Drag Bag, which had a CD so that we could bring the music to the open-mic drag show we’d be performing at. I ran back upstairs.

Mature v. Old: Differentiate. Discuss.

I had a better narrative written here, but have decided not to post that. I find it too revealing; not necessarily of myself, but of others. I don’t know how these people would react, if they were to read such an in-depth story of our interactions in such a public space. This, of course, assumes that the individuals involved know of this thing’s existence and check it with any sort of frequency ever. However, I’ve gotten my ass bitten severely by assuming otherwise in the past, so I figured I’d play it safe[r] this time.

Transitions.

There’s a reminder that I heard a lot at the school while I worked there [I suspect that I'll be back there once the new school year kicks off]; transition periods are hard. For some students, that meant Mondays after returning to campus from a weekend at home. For others, it was time spent in transit or switching from one activity to another. Regardless, some students require what is politely deemed “more support” during transition periods. This extra support can range from leading a student through processing hirs feelings [without explicitly naming the processing as such, since many students are reticent to use coping mechanisms that are openly labeled as such], to lowering expectations, giving more time to transition, and being generally more understanding of any irritability or anxiety on the student’s part. Sometimes we all need “more support”.

Spring Break Update.

As I enter this Spring Break, this last prolonged duty-shirking free week in my forseeable future, I find myself floundering. My friends are all off to their various engagements; long nights of drunken relaxation, long days of excited bonding time, and hours and hours and hours without communication. All of this leaves me with a case of The Blahs.

Good Effin’ Morning to You, Too, 2009.

So, it’s a New Year. Hooray. Full of the potential for New Beginnings and other New Things. This year, like the ones preceding it, will have many New Things, mostly just reiterations of past years’ things with different colors for the pinstripes or a different style for the foils or whatever. People will celebrate the New Beginnings life has given them, because of course we need to set a freaking date to do that. [What, me? Cynical? Naw.]

Bottle Cap Magnets!

I freaking finished this meme. Please don’t expect me to keep updating every day, now. Because I won’t.

A Week!

I’ve stuck with the meme for this long. Wowzers.

Meme Day Seven:

01) Sleeping in a little bit. 02) E-mail from Meredith O. 03) Leftovers. 04) String of awesome lights from my Father’s Sister. 05) Delicious fair-trade lemon-lime pop from Epoch. 06) Corduroy. 07) Platonic soulmate date forthcoming.

That’s pretty much the story of my day. Other than that, I’ve been inexplicably exhausted. And now I’m going to watch Pan’s Labyrinth with my soulmate. It’s going to be awesome. Assuming I stay awake for it.

it is snuggle times | even if all i can get | is my comforter

Stretch.

…that’s what today is, at least to complete The Meme.

Keeping On.

Today explodes my happiness meme.

Continuation, and Haiku Day.

Alright, Happiness Meme Day Two.