Important ANNOUNCEMENT. Not really.
DramaTweets
For a Good Cause...
Thine Archive:
Happy Holidays, Dahlins. :x
As of 10:00 AM of December 10, I've been feeling the whole Christmas thing, and all that jazz. Problem is, it's kind of hard getting into the gift giving season when you don't have any moolah. I've been scrimping when it came to buying the things I had to buy. (By had, I mean gifts for the whole exchanging gift spectacle my friends and I have.) (It's tradition, I'm not supposed to break it.) (Whoever drew my name should better have some fabulous gift for me, Haha.)
I don't have enough bucks to buy gifts for my family so I've been figuring out on ways that I'd earn cash. So far, I've come up with robbing a bank and doing Christmas carols on the street. LoL.
Hopefully, I'll come up with something. Hopefully, I'll come up with something soon.
So anyhoo, plans for the Holidays include:
- Yours Truly as a Philanthropist. (We threw a party for the less fortunate kids who live near the campus.) (I hope they had fun.)
- Bonding time with the family, most 'specially the cousins who will be spending much time getting drunk in my room. It's tradition. I can't break it. Haha.
- Yours truly having a hidden nervous breakdown on New Year's Eve. It's kind of a usual thing I go through every 31st of December. I don't know why.
- Yours truly writing resolutions, which she will try her hardest to fulfill in the next year.
- The Christmas-Slumber Party my friends and I are celebrating on Wednesday. This consists of drunk people doing speeches, drunk people saying sorry/iloveyouguys to whoever sits beside them, and drunk people who kiss you when you say goodbye.
and finally:
Of course the plans don't happen in that order. You should know that uı ʞɔnʇs ʇǝƃ noʎ ǝɔɐld uʍop-ǝpısdn 'ʇsǝıssǝɯ ǝɥʇ ɥɔnɯ ʎʇʇǝɹd s,pɐǝɥ ʎɯ.
I just love the holidays. It's all so Christmas Lights-y everywhere.
I guess I don't have much to say.
Ciao my ♥s.
~Your Once and Future DramaQueen
DramaQueen files this under christmas
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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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