Ditto

You scored as Satanism.
Your beliefs most closely resemble those of Satanism! Before you scream, do a bit of research on it. To be a Satanist, you don't actually have to believe in Satan. Satanism generally focuses upon the spiritual advancement of the self, rather than upon submission to a deity or a set of moral codes. Do some research if you immediately think of the satanic cult stereotype. Your beliefs may also resemble those of earth-based religions such as paganism.
Islam 75% Satanism 75% agnosticism 75% Buddhism 63% Paganism 63% Judaism 46% Christianity 42% Hinduism 38% atheism Which religion is the right one for you? (new version) created with QuizFarm.com";

o_O

You scored as Paganism. Your beliefs are most closely aligned with those of paganism, Wicca, or a similar earth-based religion. You may also follow a Native American religion. Paganism 71% agnosticism 71% Christianity 58% Islam 54% Buddhism 50% Satanism 46% Hinduism 42% Judaism 38% atheism 33% Which religion is the right one for you? (new version) created with QuizFarm.com

Fall schedule

Or what I currently know it as.

the amazing disappearing pastry

Ok, this is for real.

We have this small box with cookie-like pastries, the kind that are attached (2) to each other by a layer of jam. Anyway, like half an hour ago I went into the kitchen, took one out of the box (which was on the table), separated the two pieces, decided to eat the one without the jam (it always sticks to either piece when you separate them) and put the other back into the box. I very, very distinctly remember putting it back and even in what position it ended up in after I put it back.

Then I ate the piece I had taken, turned around, looked in the fridge for something else to eat, didn't decide on anything, closed the fridge, got myself some water, went back to the box to get the other piece with the jam and, um, it wasn't there. Now, all that time I did not leave the kitchen, and I know that neither of my parents entered it (I even asked them afterwards to make sure even though I knew they didn't). And I know I put the other piece back and never took it again, but I still checked in the fridge and around the kitchen in case I put the piece somewhere without realizing. No results. I was/am really weirded out/semi-excited.

Was the cookie magical? Will I have superpowers in the morning? Is there someone invisible walking around our apartment? Did all of the cookie's particles suddenly appear on the dinnerplate of some alien? Is this a sign that I should just stop eating cookies? Was it an intelligent cookie that ran away? Will it eventually be found to have fallen from the table and into some dark corner?

Where is my pastry?!

oh man

you wouldn't think i'd be such an internet nerd while without normal internet, but here i am anyway.

cough http://buttfacemakani.livejournal.com/174597.html#cutid1 cough

giggle.

look at the icon, too.

July: Belated post #2

Summer was about relaxing or, more specifically, about having the time to relax. What people generally failed to mention was that the presence of time could also mean many other things. His family bothered him with the way they behaved—almost as if they were trying to make up for the time not spent with him during the school year by being constantly around and underfoot during the summer. Nick sighed. He wished they would stop and just act as they normally would, but as always, he lacked the words to say so. His family’s flurry of activities during the summer with him, always him, at the center annoyed and pained him. There was no way for him to let his parents know that he was fine without them during the school year, that they had nothing to make up for, without hurting their feelings. But it was true, they had nothing to make up for. There was no need to make up for anything. He was taken care of for eighteen years and now he was going to college in America, all of which was made possible because of his family.

True, he missed his childhood—after all, who didn’t? But even so he had to admit (the optimist in him wouldn’t rest until he did), that there were certain appeals to being an adult.

Most of all, over the summer he also missed his friends.

It was not a question of how long they’d known each other, but how long it felt like they’d known each other. It was not a matter of who could come to visit him during the summer, but the fact that after being around each other for so long during the school year, they were used to each other’s presence. It became something as natural as breathing and required about as much thought. So much so that when he passed by a new-ish motorcycle in the street one day Nick almost paused, expecting Mike’s instant obsession, Gary’s laugh, and Zach’s useless admonishments.

Summer had never felt so long, and school, even with the inevitable workload, was beginning to look inviting because with the homework and the tests also came jokes, laughter, and the cause of both—friends.

Summer was generally boring when one was not traveling, and Gary had opted to take a week out of traveling, though he could’ve easily gone along with his father to Chicago. After all, there was only so much sight-seeing one could take, and even the experience of being somewhere new got old after a while.

He flipped through the calendar and caught himself counting the days until school started again, wondering how Nick was doing in France since he’d last seen him, how Mike was handling himself in Minnesota, and how sun-burnt Zach must be by the end of summer (Mike had insisted he would get skin cancer. Would he?). Oliver rubbed against his leg, purring. Gary picked him up. He would bring two pets with him next year, so why not Oliver, along with his water dragon? Both Nick and Zach seemed to like cats, and if Mike ever got the issue with his dog sorted out…well….

Gary chuckled to himself. At least it would be anything but boring. Mrs. Jameson had been equally horrified and amused by the idea of four adolescent boys living together, even without the pets. She had a few good points but if everything went according to her plans, it would go far too smoothly—and be bor-ing.

He would have to work out the furnishing soon—or in other words, let Mrs. Jameson know that he intended to work out the furnishing and have her sort it out. There was—the beauty of summer and college—no homework, and as far as he could tell, no other tasks or sources of potential stress. It would be long stretches of days, of late mornings and even later nights until he would have to push himself to fit back into the schedule that school demanded come August. And then they would figure out whether or not Nick could be trusted in the kitchen or if Zach’s early-rising habits would be detrimental for their late-night plans.

Entering the living room, Gary threw himself down on the sofa and flipped on the TV, Oliver escaping from him with an indignant hiss.

Almost in spite of himself, he was looking forward to August.

Summer, depending on where one was, could be as taxing as the school year, if not more, just in a different way. In the recent years it had become an annual reminder to himself, a motivation to push himself just a little harder towards his goals during the next school year.

In the summer was when Zach usually realized how much his friends acted as his anchors into the normal teen life, and how much they’d done to keep him from disappearing into his thoughts and goals and reflections that far too often turned into nightmares. He laughed more when he was with his friends. They were the good sort of distractions and a constant reminder that he was still young, with a life ahead of him that could hold hopes and dreams, if he allowed it to.

Zach sighed and let himself out of the house, wandering into his grandmother’s increasingly neglected garden.

The symptoms were getting worse, each time. When he arrived in early July, his grandmother had stepped up to hug him, only to pause with a horrified expression on her face when she realized she couldn’t recall his name. He gave her a moment. She recalled it. She had gotten his age wrong and thought he was going to go away to college in the fall. He hadn’t needed his mother’s gestures to tell him what to do when Gran had inquired about which college he was going to, the expression on her face had been enough.

There were after all, as Mike had said, unfair advantages to being a psychology major.

The thoughts of his friends made him smile, as they always did. Briefly Zach wondered what Nick was doing right now, and how Gary was probably being bored out of his mind and he worried about whether Mike had been climbing things again, now that summer was here and there was no one to watch him. Or watch out for him.

Walking past an overgrown patch of marigolds, Zach wryly smiled to himself.

If it came to the worst, he could always count on Nick to side with him next year in getting Mike off of the roof of their apartment.

Summer was the sun and the sky and the empty streets at high noon where people had better things to do than go wandering around, looking at the sun and sky. Mike suspected that he had better things to do too, but could not find it in himself to care.

There was something pleasant about the blankness of everything. His father had gone off on a business trip again two days after school ended, and his father’s wife had had the sense to not try to keep him company in their house. All this, in turn, meant an empty house and a dog who was too content to lie in the shade than to follow its eccentric master into the midday heat, who looked content enough so that Mike knew he would feel eternally guilty if he disturbed that picture of doggy contentment.

So it was him and the pavement, stretching past the suburban blocks in every direction. It was scuffled shoes with canine-tooth-marked laces and sunglasses that kept his thoughts to himself, fragments that finally drifted into the blankness. There was the run-down fence six blocks away that he had passed far too many times, with an abandoned bike, rusting, still chained to one end of it. Further along someone was cooking lunch, the smell of which made Mike wonder when he had last ate before he shrugged and gave up. It was usually easier that way.

Another two blocks later, he took out his cellphone and checked the time. It was some time past twelve. Some time. Enough. He turned around and began to make his way back, the rubber soles of his converse dragging slightly on the ground, counting the cracks on the ancient cement.

He had to be home by one.

Well, he didn’t have to. He should be online by one. They had worked out all the time differences just before summer started, and he’d rechecked the math when they left and they had agreed that whenever possible at that hour each day, one PM for Mike Reynolds away in Minnesota, they would meet online. And hang out. Which, depending on the day, usually included some sort of random conversation and too much laughter about things that, in Mike’s opinion, shouldn’t be that funny in the first place. It was ridiculous. He blamed his friends.

Two blocks away. He checked the time again. It was twelve fifty.

Mike grinned and, ignoring the heat from the sun and the emptiness of the streets, sprinted the last two blocks home.

July: Belated post #1

The first time Zach visited Gary was when his friend was at his first in-between-trips week. He mostly stayed where he was left in the house because he knew he would get lost if he as much as thought about wandering. The second time was better. He almost had an idea of which direction he was going. Almost.

Zach pulled open a door that, if favored by luck and the sense that North was still somewhere to the right of him, should lead to the family room, and found himself staring into a closet. It was a very large closet.

He blushed, feeling stupid.

“It’s okay,” Gary said consolingly, steering him in the right direction. “Everyone gets lost their first few times ‘round here. Dad even considered gettin’ one of those handheld GPS watchamacallit things, as a joke, sort of. And then Mrs. Jameson reminded him that he doesn’t stay long enough here t’have guests often. And that when he does it’s usually a whole bunch of people so one of those things’ not gonna help anyways.”

Zach remembered Mrs. Jameson from the last visit. The woman was in her fifties, matronly, and rather intimidating. When she brought up a tray of snacks he received the impression that not eating would be considered nothing short of a misdemeanor in which either force-feeding or lawyers would be involved. Or both. When he tried to explain this to Gary his friend had laughed and replied well, you’re too thin anyways, here, have a cookie.

So Zach thoughtfully munched on a biscuit and reflected that being the son of a popular anchorman must mean that one was not easily intimidated. Even by a woman whose voice sounded like the impersonation of Judgment Day when the Judge was feeling particularly martinet-y. He nearly choked when his eyes caught the sight of a security camera mounted discretely in a corner.

If he was inclined toward paranoia, now would be the time for the symptoms to start manifesting themselves.

“Oh don’t worry ‘bout that thing. It’s not even hooked up.” Gary said carelessly as he swiped a few more biscuits from the tray. “This used to be a meeting-room-place, you know.”

“Okay,” said Zach. He almost asked why the camera was left up then, if no one was to use it. Then he considered that maybe Mr. Smith, as an anchorman, liked the subconscious feel of a camera trained on him even when he was at home. That was certainly a reasonable hypothesis, even if he found it hard to relate to because personally, that camera was creeping him out.

Gary concluded that Zach might be camera-shy. Well that wasn’t too surprising. As far as he knew the only reason Zach ever sat in the front of the lecture halls was to take advantage of the hearing aid system. He did wish Zach would quit glancing at the corner. It was making him twitchy.

He cleared the tray of the rest of its load and tried to think of something to do that would take them away from this room. General Site of Twitchiness Number One.

“I know!” He said brightly. Zach looked at him warily. “Let’s call Mike and Nick! We’ve got one of those multi-way calling systems.”

“Er,” said Zach. “We just talked with both of them online. Less than an hour ago.”

“Oh com’on.” Zach gave him a look. He tried a different tactic. “I’m leaving in two more days and you might not get to play with fancy phone system-things again.” His friend raised an eyebrow. “Well, for another week ‘n half, at least,” Gary amended.

“I stand corrected,” muttered Zach, but got to his feet. He gave Gary a sideways glance. “Did I ever tell you that you’d make a really bad salesman?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He directed them down the hallway. “You ‘n everyone else.” He grinned. “Good thing I’m not becomin’ one then, huh?”

“Very,” said Zach dryly. “What time is it in France right now?”

“Dunno.” Gary cheerfully consulted the phone’s built-in address book. “Let’s call Mike first an’ he can figure it out for us.”

Zach gazed at him without much hope. “I meant—” he started to protest.

“Hey,” said Mike, from the other end of the phone.

“Is Nick still awake?” asked Zach.

There was a pause.

“Um…he should be?” Gary could almost imagine Mike regarding his phone with raised eyebrows. At least Minnesota was still in America and no one needed to be woken up at two in the morning by a mistimed phone call. “Zach…is that you?”

“Think so.” Gary grinned. “Hold on a sec.” He started to call Nick.

“Gary?” said Mike.

“This is neither the time,” said Zach, “nor the place to have an identity crises. Though it would be fitting.”

“Hello?” Inquired Gary, as soon as someone picked up the phone.

“Nicki!” screeched a little girl’s voice, and the phone was dropped, from the sound of it, onto a table. Zach cringed.

“Wow,” said Mike. After a moment he added, “Ow. My ear.”

“Oui?” said Nick.

“Bonjour,” Gary saluted him.

“ ‘Nicki?’” Mike’s voice suggested that a smirk was involved somewhere.

“Say ‘hi’ to your sister for us, afterwards,” Zach said faintly.

“Are you guys all together?” Nick asked.

“No,” said Mike. “At least I’m not.”

“It’s just me ‘n Zach,” confirmed Gary.

“Yes,” said Zach. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

Gary waved at him. There was another brief pause.

“Anyways,” said Mike. “So, about those flying pigs.”

“Wait. What?”

“Huh?”

“Something about pigs that fly?”

“Like, you know.”

“What?”

“I’m so lost. So lost.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“What?”

Gary hooted with laughter. “This is why we should always have lots of people on the phone at the time.”

“Um. What?” asked Nick.

“So we can spend five minutes to every one minute of conversation, trying to figure out what everyone’s talking about?” Zach asked uncertainly.

“Exactly,” said Gary.

“ ‘course,” said Mike. “What did you think?”

Happy birthday, Susan!

Yay for you!
That's all I have to say here xD
Sent you an email, hope you're well! Haven't heard from you in a while, but judging by your blog you're still alive!

I'm posting!!

Don't worry, Lusine. It's freakishly hot here too.

You guys have probably already seen at least one of these, but here is "How to Keep Cool" brought to you by Isis.

Blarghlotstodookaybye.

psh

I'm all the way here, and still it's only Susan and I making post. Y'all should be ashaaamed, ashaaaamed!

Anyway, Anna, it says your LJ is deleted and there's a 30day period to undelete it. Did you delete it? If not just fyi, maybe you want to pointlessly keep it some more ;)

I'm doing well! We've been going out into the center of the city more, where it's really nice and innovated (regarding structures, outdoor cafest and such). Life goes on in the city till way past midnight. It was like Las Vegas deja vu. And it's not just young people hanging in clubs, there's families with kids of all ages just walking around, sitting in cafes. It's pretty cool. But most of the evenings I'm out in the yard with people from our building. We play volleyball at like midnight! Only one neighbor complains, but he's unanimously disliked, so it's ok. *cough*

I have only three complains: too hot, too bored (ie no internet), and no comfortable sleep. Only one bed is comfortable enough (it's the one in my room, conveniently) but that's also the room that's the most stuffy and hot at night. So even though I do get sleep, I wake up a lot in the middle of the night and it's overall blah. I miss my bed. *sniff*

Ohoh, last thing. A couple days back a girl was kidnapped from a neighboring building! As in, when a boyfriend kidnaps his gf to marry her. Which nobody does anymore, so we were all wtf?! I thought they staged it for fun, but seems like it wasn't so. The girl's brother and father found her and brought her back the same day. I still don't know the details, but it seems she had a fight with the bf and he decided to act macho. It was sorta exciting, but I missed the kidnapping.

Ok, byebye.

psh

I'm all the way here, and still it's only Susan and I making post. Y'all should be ashaaamed, ashaaaamed!

Anyway, Anna, it says your LJ is deleted and there's a 30day period to undelete it. Did you delete it? If not just fyi, maybe you want to pointlessly keep it some more ;)

I'm doing well! We've been going out into the center of the city more, where it's really nice and innovated (regarding structures, outdoor cafest and such). Life goes on in the city till way past midnight. It was like Las Vegas deja vu. And it's not just young people hanging in clubs, there's families with kids of all ages just walking around, sitting in cafes. It's pretty cool. But most of the evenings I'm out in the yard with people from our building. We play volleyball at like midnight! Only one neighbor complains, but he's unanimously disliked, so it's ok. *cough*

I have only three complains: too hot, too bored (ie no internet), and no comfortable sleep. Only one bed is comfortable enough (it's the one in my room, conveniently) but that's also the room that's the most stuffy and hot at night. So even though I do get sleep, I wake up a lot in the middle of the night and it's overall blah. I miss my bed. *sniff*

Ohoh, last thing. A couple days back a girl was kidnapped from a neighboring building! As in, when a boyfriend kidnaps his gf to marry her. Which nobody does anymore, so we were all wtf?! I thought they staged it for fun, but seems like it wasn't so. The girl's brother and father found her and brought her back the same day. I still don't know the details, but it seems she had a fight with the bf and he decided to act macho. It was sorta exciting, but I missed the kidnapping.

Ok, byebye.

July: Emails

FROM: nlucille0511@hotmail.com
TO: f15jetboy@gmail.com, veritas42@yahoo.com, gary_s2005@gmail.com

Remember what I last wrote about my parents? They're asking again. This time about furniture, bcause it will be uneasy for me to bring my things from Valence. I THINK I can get a few things from my uncle (like bed and such). So does anyone have any idea? Mail me back and let em know!

-Nick



FROM: veritas42@yahoo.com
TO: nlucille0511@hotmail.com
CC: f15jetboy@gmail.com, gary_s2005@gmail.com

Gary and I have already talked it over earlier. We can bring most of the furnishing for our flat. (Well, to be honest it's mostly going to be Gary out of the two of us who'll be supplying most of the stuff.) No need to worry mate, I'm sure we'll figure something out even if you showed up bringing nothing but yourself, come August.

P.S. I stand corrected: bring yourself AND your identification papers. Nothing we can do if you forgot THOSE.



FROM: nlucille0511@hotmail.com
TO: veritas42@yahoo.com

'kay thanks. And I won't forget. :-)

-Nick


FROM: f15jetboy@gmail.com
TO: nlucille0511@hotmail.com

well i'm at minnesota, so it won't be exactly convenient for me either. but i think my dad wants to come along too this time (god knows why) and so i'll probably end up buying the beds and things there.

anyway, i'm still trying to see if i can get fluffy over too since my dad's you know, and it's not like he'll be home often. someone'll need to take care of fluffy, and i don't trust the neighbors. lisa (that's my dad's wife) has stopped liking fluffy ever since her sixy-something dollar shoes got...a bit nibbled on. i mean it's not like it's fluffy's fault. MY shoes are never chewed on. my dog only destroy things it doesn't like so it's not fluffy's fault. she shouldn't have left her shoes lying around like that anyway. i mean, sixty bucks on shoes? what's it with women?

right. anyways. no worries about the furniture. like zach said, it'll all get sorted out. and it's only july. besides, it'll be better if you didn't bring your stuff. they're probably ugly anyways.



FROM: gary_s2005@gmail.com
TO: nlucille0511@hotmail.com

sorry!!1 i saw ur email & kept on 4gettin 2 write back. yeah me n zacn'll bring mst of the stuff. mrs. jameson's put together a entire list of things i'm hauling with sofa n tables nthings. i mean i'm bringthem them 4 sho, so we might as well use them, rite?

think i'm bringthing this plasma screen tv that i have. it's 1 of the li'l older models but it comes w/ the vcr n stuff. anyway. chill. we've stillgot > 1 month left, don't we?


FROM: nlucille0511@hotmail.com
TO: f15jetboy@gmail.com

It's not ME that's worrying, it's my PARENTS. You know how they can get... a bit, you know, enèrgique when it comes to thse sorts of things. well, it's mostly my mother who's etre obsédé par qch the apartment, especially since she won't be able to see it most likely. But as she puts it, "Je ne suis pas obsédé, juste passionné." And then she'll add, "Et Français," and then my father'll look at her and I'd feel like I should go outside and take a walk or something.

And..um, hope that your dog likes me? Or at least it's only shoes that it eat and not people as well. :-p

Right, talke to you online later!

June: Pictures

As promised:




Move-out day pics!

June: Bon voyage

[There are a few sketches I'll upload later, that can go along with this. In any case, to those of you who are flying/planning to fly this summer: *grin* have fun.

I.e. Bring a cell phone. *cough*]

The airport closest to the school was a sprawling monstrosity of chrome and glass—or, in other words, an international airport. Gary thought that he rather liked it. For one thing, it was large, new, and very shiny. It also made his trip to the airport a lot more interesting than it would’ve been had the airport been, say, one of those old dingy places that only hosted a few airlines that no one had ever heard of.

“Thank you, sir, for the, um, ride,” said Nick to the chauffeur. For the fifth time.

“You are welcome sir,” replied the driver gravely, also for the fifth time. Gary snickered. The exchange of politeness was beginning to resemble a ping-pong match.

“It means a lot to me,” Nick tried to explain to Gary, yet again. “The school ended in the middle of the week. It was already hard enough for my uncle to come and pick me up and—”

Gary turned around in his seat and stared at Nick, who babbled on in his own mortification. “Okay Nick? You need to calm down.”

“But I—”

“Chill.” Said Gary in what he hoped was a commanding tone. He thought for a moment, then reached back and proffered the bag of chips that he had been munching on. “Food?”

Quite frankly Gary thought that Mike, dozing off on the seat next to Nick, had the right idea. Sleep was a bit like money—you try to get as much of it as you can, whenever you can.

“Food?” Gary’s voice asked. The question was followed by the sound of plastic crinkling. Mike didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Gary had turned around and was offering Nick his bag of chips. He restrained a snort with difficulty. Someday this particular friend of his was going to have to learn that food was not the ultimate cure for everything.

Just like how Gary had learned that money was not the source of ultimate happiness.

Mike had been particularly pleased when his friend learned that lesson. It had smoothed out a few points of disagreements and made getting along a whole lot easier.

The next time he woke up was when the car was turning and his head had bumped against the window glass. There was sunlight behind his eyelids, beeping sounds in his ears, and a truly awful crick in his neck.

“What did I do?” Nick sounded utterly bewildered.

“You accidentally exited the game,” Gary explained. “I think. Which button did you press?”

“That one, I think.”

A long pause.

“How was I supposed to know which button to press?” Nick wailed. “There’re so many of them!”

“It’s not that bad…right?” Gary sounded confused as well. “I mean, it’s only a cell phone.”

That would explain the beeping noise.

“A cell phone has many buttons, oui?” Nick insisted.

Someone made a sound like a strangled laugh. Mike thought it was the driver. The car turned again, and Mike, keeping his head rested against the glass, drifted back to sleep.

After all, it had been a long night after a long week, and what else were long car trips for?

Nick and Mike stared up at the airplane climbing its way towards the stratosphere. The weather was lovely, but the environment—that of a busy airport full of arriving and departing people—ruined the circumstance.

“There goes Gary,” said Nick, feeling like he should say something, even though there was not much to say.

“I wanna go to New York,” said Mike. He thought about it. “Well, not really.” He sighed. “Com’on, let’s go.”

It was unfair, thought Nick, that his flight leaves last, though he supposed that someone would have to be last. That was the downside to leaving with your friends. When there were more than one people, there had to be someone left by himself at the end.

One to New York City in New York, heart of the media world, one to St. Paul, Minnesota, and one to Paris, France. Marveling at the distance between each of the places, Nick found himself thinking about his friends. His. Friends. In America. He grinned. Three in one year—not bad.

Mike, sauntering alongside of him, gave him a sideways glance. “What’re you grinnin’ at?”

“America is really weird,” said Nick, and tried not to laugh at the expression on his friend’s face.

Mike grumbled something under his breath before glancing at him again. Nick caught the words “Europe and “foreign policy.”

“What?” He asked, confused.

“Never mind,” Mike finally decided, magnanimously, “You won’t get it.”

Well, if it had to do with the American culture….

Nick eyed the t-shirt that Mike was wearing. It was dark blue and had bunnies on it. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.”

It was definitely a downside that no one really thought about, much less him. The fact that he had arrived at the airport with two friends made the silence after they had left that much worse.

Nick sighed and sat down in a plastic chair by the window, staring up at yet another airplane, growing steadily smaller. Soon it would be just another silver speck lost in the sky. He checked his watch. Another hour and a half to go before his flight.

He drummed his fingers against the edge of the seat for a while, then checked his watch again.

A minute had never felt so long.

Five minutes before boarding, Nick wondered what his friends were doing. Zach would be home now, and Gary would be getting close to where he was to meet his father. Mike would still have quite a few miles to go, though no where near as many miles as he did.

A toddler wandering by stared up at him with large, dark eyes. He smiled at her. She giggled and ran back to wherever she’d come from. Nick straightened his shirt cuffs and tried not to sigh. Ninety minutes was a long time. It made him realize that his cell phone did not have nearly enough games on it, even if it had fewer strange buttons than Gary’s cell phone.

And so, a few minutes later, when the intercom announced the beginning of the boarding process, Nick muttered a relieved “Finalement!” and hurried into line.

Hours later, Nick woke up with his head pressed against the small airplane window to the sound of a fat man snoring on the other side of his seat and smiled to think that he was going home.

the little things

Goodness, I was feeling really nervous this evening. Not at all like someone who's gone through this sort of long-duration-plane-transfer flight 4 times already. Maybe it's cause dad's not coming with us. I dunno.

But you know what unexpected thing suddenly pushed away all nervouseness and made me smile?

We have pre-assigned seating, and when I looked at the row number for the first time today, it said "42".

(:

2 things

Joyous news! Victoria still reads this blog as well! So that's 5 of us Lunatics: Kate, Susan, Anna, Victoria, and me (and I? meh). The Lunacy lives on. What I wonder sometimes though is if any random Internet people wonder over here somehow. I always think of these posts as only us being able to read them because officially nobody else knows about this blog. But it's still public.

Anyway, the other thing: Forgot to say that I have named my new computer Albus. May it be as wise and long-living as its name suggests ;)

The last thing: If you need to contact me for whatever reason try to do so before June 19, please.

Hm, that makes 3 things. I was never good at this forward-counting thing. Gypsy skills don't extend to such petty matters as mathematics.

world, i love you too

Are finals over? Let me ask my right hand that died on me during the final and went to sleep and hurt at the same time. BUT IT'S OK.

Because my shiny Dell laptop was finally delivered, AND the awesome Bon Jovi shirt Kate got me was waiting for me on my desk :D :D :D AND I know Susan has a digital present for me waiting. *hugs the world and forgets all the Econ-related headache she had yesterday*

I SHOULD BE GRINNING LIKE AN IDIOT IN THIS PHOTO. I'm sure you can imagine it.



IT MAKES ME LOOK MUCH COOLER THAN I REALLY AM.

Whee.

there will be time..

there just isn't time NOW.

ASDFJKL;

Graduation '06

I made a post on this day last year, so why not this too?
Though I wasn't there (*tear*), I do magically (*cough*) have a picture of Kate in cap&gown. Horray ^^.


Please ignore the caption and the date.
>.>



(:

wheee

[EDIT]
Link #2 http://www.ctrlaltdel-online.com/comic.php?d=20060513
I'm putting it here 'cause it's also computer-related.
You need to have seen the new Mac/PC commercials to get it. Or get it fully.

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http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/video/wheee
xD