Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray
This is a really good book. Seriously. I just finished it a few days ago. It was kinda slow at the beginning. I think mostly because I didn't understand what was happening. It got really good toward the middle. I wanted to kill the main character toward the end, though, and had to let it rest for a while. All in all, very good book. Go. Read it.
www.agreatandterriblebeauty.com
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Friday, May 25, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Vacation pic blog 5
vacation blog #2: Alix Olsen, snoring, the happiest town in Washington
I'm in the hotel. I'm trying to listen to Alix Olsen poems, but the connection is being slow.
Oh. My. Word. My dad is snoring sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo loud! Oh well. Who needs sleep anyway?
I had such a bad headache today. I didn't take anything, though. It doesn't work anymore.
We went to Walla Walla, Washington today. Rachel and I wanted to go to Walla Walla because it's fun to say. Seriously. Say it. You just have to smile. There's also a town called Wallula. We decided that Wallula is Walla Walla's baby sister. Did you know towns have families? They do now.
So... It's 10:21 here. My dad's asleep. Mom's on their laptop. Rachel's in bed next to me reading. I'm sitting on the bed typing this and listening to Alix Olsen. My dad snores so loudly and strangely. I suppose all snoring is strange, though. He's quiet for a few minutes then all of a sudden *kraaaaaaa*.... ok... I don't know how to spelling snoring sounds, but you get the picture. It makes us giggle. I'm surprised he hasn't woken up yet from all our laughing at his snoring. My mom snores, too. It's such a pain.
Oh. My. Word. My dad is snoring sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo loud! Oh well. Who needs sleep anyway?
I had such a bad headache today. I didn't take anything, though. It doesn't work anymore.
We went to Walla Walla, Washington today. Rachel and I wanted to go to Walla Walla because it's fun to say. Seriously. Say it. You just have to smile. There's also a town called Wallula. We decided that Wallula is Walla Walla's baby sister. Did you know towns have families? They do now.
So... It's 10:21 here. My dad's asleep. Mom's on their laptop. Rachel's in bed next to me reading. I'm sitting on the bed typing this and listening to Alix Olsen. My dad snores so loudly and strangely. I suppose all snoring is strange, though. He's quiet for a few minutes then all of a sudden *kraaaaaaa*.... ok... I don't know how to spelling snoring sounds, but you get the picture. It makes us giggle. I'm surprised he hasn't woken up yet from all our laughing at his snoring. My mom snores, too. It's such a pain.
Vacation pic blog 2
Sunday, May 20, 2007
vacation blog #1: the Albany Suite, the Unheard Poet, and my definition of beauty
Well....
I'm sitting on the floor of the largest hotel room (it's actually a "suite") that I've ever been in. It's actually pretty, much better than most. There are 2 rooms. My parents are staying in the bedroom. Rachel and I are sleeping on the sofa bed... actually on the sofa bed mattress on the floor.
Rachel's lying on the mattress watching TV. My mom's wandering around our part of the room because my dad's asleep and she has nowhere else to go. I'm sitting on the floor next to the mattress listening to The Unheard Poet (see his myspace here: myspace.com/xtheunheardpoetx). I love him. He's beautiful.
I suppose my use of the term "beautiful" is strange. If not strange, it's at least different than most. I tend to think of "beautiful," not in terms of physical beauty, but spiritual beauty. What I call "beautiful" is... impossible to pinpoint. I say that The Unheard Poet is beautiful. By this, I mean that his spirit is vibrant. His poems pull me into a different world. [[That's what I want to do with my poetry. I'm not sure I'll ever succeed, though.]] Beauty, to me, is not physical. So when I tell you that you're beautiful, don't look in the mirror and tell me I'm wrong. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so I'll define it how I want.
"If we ever get to kiss, well I've heard is possible for people to burst into flames." - The Unheard Poet
I'm sitting on the floor of the largest hotel room (it's actually a "suite") that I've ever been in. It's actually pretty, much better than most. There are 2 rooms. My parents are staying in the bedroom. Rachel and I are sleeping on the sofa bed... actually on the sofa bed mattress on the floor.
Rachel's lying on the mattress watching TV. My mom's wandering around our part of the room because my dad's asleep and she has nowhere else to go. I'm sitting on the floor next to the mattress listening to The Unheard Poet (see his myspace here: myspace.com/xtheunheardpoetx). I love him. He's beautiful.
I suppose my use of the term "beautiful" is strange. If not strange, it's at least different than most. I tend to think of "beautiful," not in terms of physical beauty, but spiritual beauty. What I call "beautiful" is... impossible to pinpoint. I say that The Unheard Poet is beautiful. By this, I mean that his spirit is vibrant. His poems pull me into a different world. [[That's what I want to do with my poetry. I'm not sure I'll ever succeed, though.]] Beauty, to me, is not physical. So when I tell you that you're beautiful, don't look in the mirror and tell me I'm wrong. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so I'll define it how I want.
"If we ever get to kiss, well I've heard is possible for people to burst into flames." - The Unheard Poet
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