It's funny how obligated I feel to update this thing. Regardless of whether or not I have anything to say. Like today, for instance. I ought to be updating with somethng substantial, but instead I'm rambling on about nothing at all. Why? Why bother at all? I don't fear the six week rule, since I'm good for at least a few entries a month. Yet here I ( Read more... )

I'm having a difficult time spitting things out. My vocal chords fail when I try to find the words I need to say, despite the fact that I'd only be talking to my reflection. "You're too closed off," I try to tell myself. "You don't share enough," I say. But it doesn't matter, because I don't listen anyway. I keep it all under my tongue and in the ( Read more... )

Well I'm supposed to have three entries within the first week, I am told. I really do not know what more I could tell you about myself so soon. I'd prefer it if this didn't turn into some hideous rundown of the mundane things I do from day to day, those sorts of journals are a dime a dozen. I'd like to be a little more introspective than that. ( Read more... )

I've never been the sort of person who lives her life in metaphors. It's never interested me to have a poetic way to describe the feeling I had while working a popcorn kernel out from between my teeth. I have never understood the need to pull pretty words out of one's ass in the hopes of sounding like something, someone, more. Not to say that I'm ( Read more... )

[ This journal is not a factual representation of Vera Farmiga. This is fiction, a part of the must_be_pop universe. ]