I drew this at work a few weeks ago and decided to color it in photoshop for some reason (that reason being I am bored or have no life):

It's supposed to be one of Rask's many forms.

Damn, I need to get out more.

8:38 p.m.

currently: stay on my good side

*listening to VNV Nation, "Carbon"*

I picked up a catalog for classes. Let the search for crappy classes begin!

I'm scribbling up a scene that popped in my head earlier today, complete with storyboards. No script yet, just director-like notes. I've always had very good vision and concepts when I think up a story, but this was never a skill I put to any use. Perhaps instead of writing a story, as I intended to do once I am settled into school, I think I will write a script instead. The last time I wrote a script was in high school, and it was god-awful. 70 pages of pure shite. But I've matured since then (here, the voices in my head throw out a few sarcastic comments).

The music I've been listening to is so inspiring. I can visualize scenarios around the music and lyrics. It's a good creative outlet... Now, if I could just get the ideas down on paper. Or maybe I should carry a little recorder around with me since the little strokes of genius often pass faster than my hands can keep up.

And did our laughter, did our tears have some purpose, after all? Only Heaven's silence for an answer

If I do not start carving out my path, I may miss my chance. If only I could get my hands on optimism in a pill!

LCC finally offers German... hmm... I don't need any more foreign language credits, but I'd like to take it. I have a knack for speaking other languages, yet I don't have the mind to be fluent in any. Still, it is tempting.

2:46 p.m.

currently: you want some of this?

*listening to Covenant, Theremin*

Since I'm feeling uber-lazy, I decided to begin a new entry rather than continue with the last one.

"Blog bitches can be so catty."

I'm convinced that the number of need-to-be-shot bloggers/diary-aholics/live-journalists is growing. This would be why I read so infrequently. Nothing is written that is worth reading. (I rarely have anything to say that has a point, but I'm not trying to impress anyone. As Justin would say, "Eat a dick.")

Hohum. I just crawled out of bed a few minutes ago. I reluctantly pulled myself away from my warm bed because I could no longer sleep. Morg was mewling at my door, and some nieghbor's dog was barking up a storm a few houses away. This interfered with happy dream time.

I should haul my ass over to LCC today or tomorrow and begin the painful process of finding classes. Or I could move to Montana and become a monk. Hmmm. If I could find my catalog of classes, I might not even have to leave the house. *the hermit pauses, trying to recall where she left the catalog*

I know this music... let's... change... the beat