grarg.
Yesterday I took the PSAT. Blarg.
Then I went to see Wallace & Grommit. Heehee.
Then I had a baguette for dinner. Yum.
Today I went for a walk. Blarg.
Then I had violin. Blarg.
Then I had homemade sesame noodles for lunch. Yum.
Now I'm sitting here, writing this. GrASLDFYSDfnafyeoprSUG. Poof.
Everything's so...weird. Just...everything. I feel like watching a bunch of my mom's romantic comedies that she's got on DVD. And eating homemade macaroni and cheese. The fattening kind. I wish I was at Swing Night. In a black dress with a black sash that has silver stars on it and some low-heeled slingbacks. I don't know why. I feel like floating in a warm pool and looking up at the night sky. I keep imagining myself in a brick-walled loft in Pasadena, 21 years old and still single (but slender), and stretched out on the futon couch watching Sleepless in Seattle, surrounded by bookshelves, ceramic animals, and dark wood furniture with a lot of cushions on it; or maybe just working on my laptop, trying to keep prying neighbors away from my door while I search Yahoo! Personals for a date or work on an advertising campaign or whatever. I do, however, know that the apartment/loft/whatever is very Boho and fabulous. I don't feel like crying or laughing or anything...I just feel...weird.
Oh, well. We practice "If I Were A Bell" on Monday. I guess that's something to look forward to...I think.
I wish I was in downtown Pasadena with a bunch of you guys and we're hanging out at Barney's Grill and Crate & Barrel and Barnes & Noble. Then we pop over to Hollywood and go see a play or something Boho like that and then go back to my apartment or whatever and spend the night playing Truth or Dare and watching RHPS or the original Star Wars trilogy. Then we all fall asleep on floor pillows or the futon and wake up and do something really fun...like a road trip to Laguna Beach or flying over to NYC or San Fran...If only my dreams became reality...I'd probably be the happiest organism alive.