Happytimes, blogtimes, random interjections, bedtimes.

Yo, is it bad that I feel a slight twinge of jealousy upon realizing that he started his blog on the first of the year and he has almost twice my post count? I mean.. He writes a mostly-WoWblog, so he made the decision early on to have two posts a day, one about what he wants to talk about and one with a screenshot. He takes a lot. They're pretty good. We were having that discussion a while ago about whether or not screenshots can be considered art.. Anyways. So it makes sense, because he posts twice a day. Mine is a personal victory; I still fucking write this thing. Seriously. I thought I would have lost interest or lazed out way before now.

Something I've actually managed to keep up with.

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My problem with writing that cover letter is that I'm no good at selling myself. We all know why that is, I think. But it worked out in the end. I pretended I was selling someone else.

My application's nearly done. I'm sending it out tomorrow. AUGH.

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So. Dude and I went back to visit the high school yesterday. I drove, since he can't. He's too lazy to learn, or get his license, or something. We wanted to see Ms Dunning, our awesome ceramics teacher - he and I were ceramics-buddies all last year; we sat across from each other at a table in the corner and quietly made fun of the people who didn't care about the class - and hang out with Zoe after school, because Zoe is really cool and one of the only good people in the place..

Ms Dunning had a doctor's appointment and wasn't in school - because, as she explained to me over the phone that afternoon, "I'm oooold, Olivia. That's what old people dooooo." Our plans to meet with Zoe fell through, because it turned out she had a precalc test she had to study for. Lame.

So we wandered around the school for an hour. Hung out with Mr Parker in the ceramics room - one of the very awesome art teachers, he's sarcastic and snarky and cool and I love him - and then just kind of walked around the halls. We realized that my brother and dude's neighbor are in the same last-block class together, Enriched Geometry, so we stalked the math hallways until we saw them through the glass panel of the door, and stood outside the room for the last few minutes of class, and ambushed them on their way out.

Because we're total sketchballs.

Then we wandered a bit more.

Then Ms Dunning called, and made us promise to come back today.

So we did.

Ms Dunning is a crazy lady. Also one of the most amazing people I've ever met. I adore her.

She seems to think that dude and I are together, or something. It's not like she comes out and says it, but..I don't know. She's batty. She's awesome.

So we saw Ms Dunning, that was good. Still didn't catch Zoe. Which sucks.

That rambled on a bit..

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WHOA I JUST CRACKED MY BACK and I swear I heard like six things popping at once. That was a good one.

Ahem.

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But anyways. Seeing dude was awesome. Seriously. I don't know how this happens but he seems to be even more likeable in person. Or maybe it's just me. I'd forgotten that I just like being with him.

So, for the seeing-him bits, yesterday and today were quite good days.

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Random fact: Nowadays I mostly wear my hair in a braid. It's easier to keep track of that way, and it's less likely to get my back all wet after a shower. (I don't like hair dryers..) But yesterday, one of my hair ties broke, and I hadn't brought any extras, so I was back to ponytails. I realized that I haven't seen my hair ponytailed but unbraided in a very long time, and..it's longer than it used to be. I mean. That much is obvious, I guess. But I wasn't expecting this. It's quite noticeably longer.

Lol what, Olivia. That was so random.

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Hey, did I ever talk about how glad I am that James Cameron didn't win Best Director and Avatar didn't win Best Picture? Well, I am. It was a very pretty movie, visually. But the writing killed it. You'd think spending over ten years on a movie would prompt a stellar story. Apparently not. Apparently, for all that money and time and effort and blood and sweat and tears spent, if you write an extremely cliched story, that's what you end up making.

I'd like to thank the Academy for proving that 'highest grossing' doesn't necessarily mean 'best'.

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Okay. Now:



(Thank you, Neil Gaiman, for pointing me towards another source of entertainment. You are always good for a laugh. Or a cry. Or something.) Good night.

Olivia