Important ANNOUNCEMENT. Not really.
DramaTweets
For a Good Cause...
Thine Archive:
This feels like the first REAL wednesday i've had in ages. By real, I mean NO CLASSES. that's what I thought was the best part of being in U.P.
So well, anyhoo, I thought that I should seize this opportunity to write because my Wednesdays have been so hectic the past few months..
I should be making my final project for Humanities, which is a painting... been researching tombstones in the world wide web 'cause i've decided to go all "art for public sake" since I'm no good in the technical aspect of art. Haha.
I'll post whatever I come up with in here to keep you guys posted... Not that i think i'ma kick-ass artist, I'm not. I draw like a 2 year old...
So lemme see... important highlights of my dull and depressing life....
oh, yeah.. i'm probably transferring schools. I'm not sure where... I'm not even sure if I'm transferring... I really can't decide... where is divine intervention when you need it?
oh well... i'll keep you guys posted. i've set a deadline for myself: March 15, 2008... haha.
ciao.
So well, anyhoo, I thought that I should seize this opportunity to write because my Wednesdays have been so hectic the past few months..
I should be making my final project for Humanities, which is a painting... been researching tombstones in the world wide web 'cause i've decided to go all "art for public sake" since I'm no good in the technical aspect of art. Haha.
I'll post whatever I come up with in here to keep you guys posted... Not that i think i'ma kick-ass artist, I'm not. I draw like a 2 year old...
So lemme see... important highlights of my dull and depressing life....
oh, yeah.. i'm probably transferring schools. I'm not sure where... I'm not even sure if I'm transferring... I really can't decide... where is divine intervention when you need it?
oh well... i'll keep you guys posted. i've set a deadline for myself: March 15, 2008... haha.
ciao.
DramaQueen files this under %$#*
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A Poem
By Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
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