For a Good Cause...
The Secret of Moonacre
0 violent reactions From the nonsensical thoughts of your DramaQueen at 11:05 AMIt wasn't until this morning that I realized this movie was out.
I read the book seven years ago. It's titled "The Little White Horse," by Elizabeth Goudge. Learned lotsa things from it like how a lady "never complains."
Watching it after I watch Wolverine.
I read the book seven years ago. It's titled "The Little White Horse," by Elizabeth Goudge. Learned lotsa things from it like how a lady "never complains."
Watching it after I watch Wolverine.
You Say You Want A [R]evolution
0 violent reactions From the nonsensical thoughts of your DramaQueen at 9:50 PMWell, you know
We all want to change the world.
We all want to change the world.
Proletarier aller Länder, vereinigt euch!
0 violent reactions From the nonsensical thoughts of your DramaQueen at 10:32 PMDramaQueen
That Damn Intern
Job Description:
- Photocopies whatever tickles the fancy of the higher-ups. This ranges from a variety of forms to receipts to love letters to whatever(s).
- Thinks of ice breakers the higher-ups could do in their meetings. (Will constantly fail at this seeing as This Damn Intern only knows ice breakers with double entendres c/o psychotic friends and faculty members.)
- While she's at it, she should come up with an Opening Prayer for any of the said meetings. Never mind the fact that the last time she came up with a formal-sounding prayer was four years ago. Never mind the fact that she completely forgot the format of prayers. Never mind the fact that when she prays, she calls Jesus Christ "Dude" because her version of God is the one from Superstar.
- Creates graphs and whatnot for the Powerpoint presentation or whatever report.
- Transfers office supplies from plastic bags to paper bags for the higher-ups' meeting.
- Other tasks will never be fully inscribed on account of these things all come out of the blue for higher-ups.
Primary Objectives:
- Do whatever it takes to make the higher-ups' lives easier. Call it "Development of an employee-oriented company culture that emphasizes quality, continuous improvement, and high performance," when you rationalize the things you do as not to bruise your semi-dead self-esteem.
- Find a sense of fulfillment as a Cinderella in the workforce. Call it "Personal ongoing development," so you won't realize your their (higher-ups') beeyotch.
I shouldn't be complaining. Really, it's not that bad. Apparently, I have this innate trait to make everything look worse than it actually is.
I think I'm extremely bitter because this is the first summer in my life that I'm not spending being totally counterproductive. Without the lazy afternoons strumming my guitar, the summer feels pointless. Life loses its meaning.
Why couldn't they assign me in a record company? Or a fast-food chain? A video store? Something a teensy bit exciting.
Oh well. C'est la vie.
"Happy Easter"Nobody ever said I was good at drawing.
'Cept for my parents, maybe.
Oh well.
As I've mentioned in most of my social networking accounts, I'll be giving up my internet life for the next two days. How that idea got into my head, I completely forgot. :-(
And since I have this innate ability to over-dramatize every single thing in my life, this affects me more than it should.
Point is, I started panicking early this evening because I had no idea of what I'd do without the web. Sure, I've gone for weeks not going online sometime in the past few months but c'mon, I had school stuff I could bury myself under. This 'un is different on twenty different levels.
So I made a list of what I could do:
- Go sketch something.
- Chronicle every move you make.
- Learn at least three songs on the guitar.
- Read a book.
- Think of a YouTube skit.
- Rinse, and repeat as often as needed.
I started drawing this Rant-inspired picture. I'll finish it tomorrow. Extremely relevant since it's Easter-ish. Palahniuk's pretty addictive... or this is probably because I'm prone to idol worship.
Pretty pointless but it'll keep me occupied.
Oh wait. I need the internet to search for chords. Oh wait. I can search them now. Next?
I've read all my books. And then re-read them at least once. This would mean I'm stuck with my mom's John Grisham collection. Not that Grisham's horrible. He's pretty good, actually. Oh well.
Everybody's doing it. YouTube-ing, I mean.
What on earth did I get myself into? Oh well. God died for me, the least I can do is die Online. What a good Catholic girl I am.
See yah on Sunday.
~A DramaQueen on hibernation
itsjustsomerandomguy's latest video:
Of Guilt-induced Promises
0 violent reactions From the nonsensical thoughts of your DramaQueen at 11:51 PMWith my current condition of becoming an insomniac every time I get a break from classes, I decided to make a blog entry. Oh yes. Yet another insomnia-based entry.
So well anyhoo, I was going through my Multiply account. (Yes, THAT Multiply account that I hardly ever open.) (I'm not into uploading one million pictures for the entire world to see.) (I'm into... wait, I've said this before.) (Major case of déjà vu here.) (Anyhoo, I think I said, "I don't know what I'm into exactly," or something like that.)
Where was I? Oh, yaaah. Multiply, right. Got it.
I was going through what people posted and I came across my friend's blog entry about "no more trash talk.." and I realized that lately I've been going around with a sailor's mouth attached to my face.
Couldn't help it. Or maybe I could've but then I went through a bunch of nasty stuff in the past two or three weeks that I've forgotten that I hated girls with mouths my mother would like to wash with soap. And there I was, becoming one of them.
Thank God for other people who realize their mistakes... and announce it to the whole world wide web.
So here it is, the point of this guilt-induced entry:
I PROMISE NOT TO SAY BAD WORDS.
I should write that down one hundred times like I used to in grade school. Only back then it was a mixture of that, and "I PROMISE TO DO MY HOMEWORK."
...and some "I PROMISE NOT TO TALK IN CLASS"es
Oh dear Lord, I was a horrible kid back then, was I? No wonder the school's owner hated me.
Oh well. Thank goodness I've changed. Sort of. I still talk in class but I do it in a "I totally respect you, Prof. That's why I always stop talking when you look at me" kind of way. And I make it a point to do my homework.
So there it is.
And here comes sleep. Finally. Good night, Luvs. Good Morning. Whatever.
In a sad, no, correction - PATHETIC attempt to make myself forget I was depressed for some lame-@** reason I refuse to put in here, I painted those ceramic thingies found in one of the malls here.
Sat across two kids who were probably 8 or 10 years old. (Their names were Camille and Christine.) (They're cousins.) (Camille paints a kick-butt castle, Christine paints a kick-butt fruit basket thingy.) (Spent a lot of time with them, did I not?)
So well anyhoo, back to the story... I chose to paint a cherub and, at my Dad's request, a fruit thingamajig. With the mood I was in, I wanted to paint the cherub black and call it "Ceramic Me" but decided against it because, well, Daddy Dearest gets pissed off when I go all dark and gloomy.
Picasso, I am not, I was glad though that my sister decided to paint the other ceramic thingy. Made me feel better that I know colors better than she does.
Oh well. Life this, Life that. Complain here, complain there.
C'est La Vie. Adieu, mes Bébés.
The Unnamed Cherub by DramaQueen
Thoughts are jumbled today.
Couldn't think straight.
Sat across two kids who were probably 8 or 10 years old. (Their names were Camille and Christine.) (They're cousins.) (Camille paints a kick-butt castle, Christine paints a kick-butt fruit basket thingy.) (Spent a lot of time with them, did I not?)
So well anyhoo, back to the story... I chose to paint a cherub and, at my Dad's request, a fruit thingamajig. With the mood I was in, I wanted to paint the cherub black and call it "Ceramic Me" but decided against it because, well, Daddy Dearest gets pissed off when I go all dark and gloomy.
Picasso, I am not, I was glad though that my sister decided to paint the other ceramic thingy. Made me feel better that I know colors better than she does.
Oh well. Life this, Life that. Complain here, complain there.
C'est La Vie. Adieu, mes Bébés.
The Unnamed Cherub by DramaQueenPS
Totally cryptic, am I not?Thoughts are jumbled today.
Couldn't think straight.
My Nose is stuck on:
This.
Nose will be buried under this:
Next.
This.Nose will be buried under this:
Next.
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