Merry Christmas

May it be filled with family and friends and lots of laughter.

...

Exams are finally over.
I'm pretty certain that I did well on everything except for French. I hope to god I pass that class, but chances are slim. I feel awful about it too, because Mme. Baker thinks I am emotionally disturbed or something. It's her fault, too. She didn't have to trick that secret out of me. She followed me out of the classroom after I finished on Wednesday, and then looked at me with teary eyes, and I could feel myself holding back tears as well. She always does that to me. Even during a good day. She will look at me with those motherly eyes and I just want to collapse and cry.
Pathetic.
Well, I really loved her as a person. I hope she has a good Christmas and just forgets about me.
I have been home now for almost four days. I went to work yesterday, and I don't have to go back till Monday, but I'm already dreading it. I really am not a gossip, but it's impossible to avoid it at Smuggs. It follows you about like a lost puppy dog, seriously, and before I know it I know who's preggers and who isn't, and who's quitting and who isn't, etc. It's too bad I can't make money doing a job I actually like.
Is this what I'm destined for? To work at Smuggs for the rest of my life?
Kill me now.
Three days till Christmas.

I am so sick of these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!

I have decided that I want a python, but not just any python. A python big enough to eat a cat or small dog. That would make life a whole lot easier. No dumb cats + no yippy dogs = paradise.
My uncle used to have a ball python. I was really little then, and I don't remember much, but I do remember them handing it to me and letting it slither in and out of my fingers. It was the coolest sensation, almost like slimy, but snakes don't slime. They work their scales back and forth to make them move. I asked my dad if we could have one and he just laughed at me. But someday, someday when I have money and a giant glass cage, I am raising one. I will feed it the bats from the attic. It will be the biggest and coolest snake in the world, and when it's big enough, I'm going to attach a harness to it (somehow) and sick it on all the little neighborhood dogs and cats who terrorize our own.

*sigh*
Power is an amazing thing.

Playing the waiting game...

Lately I have found myself spending a lot more time in the radio station than what is usually the case. I am either trying to figure out the show recording software, burning CDs, or bothering Myles, and not necessarily in that order. Now, I am posting, trying to kill time while the recording software is converting my radio show into an mp3. You wouldn't think it would take that much time. But it's been maybe five minutes, and the little window with the loading bar has said "15 minutes to wait" for the entire time. So, I'm probably looking at, like, 20. Or 30.
Whatever.
It'll be nice when it's actually done. I've been recording this show for three days and it hasn't even come close to finished until today, simply because I couldn't figure out why it wouldn't transfer completely from the PC to the Mac.
Now I know.
Hooray for me.
Has anybody noticed how much personal stuff people post on their blogs? Some pour out their hearts, others their lust, others their inner turmoil. I don't understand. I had this blog when I was in high school where I would just rant and rave and put down any thoughts I had for that day. Sometimes they would be good thoughts, sometimes they would be bad thoughts. Almost always they were disorganized and badly written. I don't mind. I look back on them fondly and laugh at the angst, because everybody, including me, knows I had no real angst. At least, nothing that I wanted to share with the internet.
It was a boredom thing, I guess.
"Remaining waiting time: 00.00.58 seconds"
Let's hope to god it's right.
I would like it to snow again. The snow we have now is pretty on the mountains, and it does cover the ground like a December snow should, but it is severely lacking in volume. I pray to god that more snow falls in the next three weeks. There needs to be at least a foot by Christmas or I will not be a happy camper.
Then again, there could be no snow at all. I guess I should be grateful for the snow that we have. At least we have something, as opposed to the practically Floridian Christmas we had last year. Ugh. Vomit.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

I woke at about 9 a.m. this morning from probably the craziest dream I have ever experienced. I was back at school, and I was taking this bronze-casting class with my friend Whitney at the carving studio. As partners, we were told to pose in different positions and have our friends pour boiling hot bronze all over our naked bodies. Because it was a dream, I remember feeling no pain, just a slight tickling feeling all over my extremities. The last thing I heard before the scene cut was "don't worry, she'll take care of everything."
Before I could process what just happened, the scene jumped from the carving studio to a room, darkly lit with a fireplace. We had a conversation about how dumb Christmas is with a man sitting in a red velvet couch, who turned out to be Santa Clause in the flesh. He was wearing a nice pair of footie pajamas and a green scarf. He gave us a roasted turkey, and that was when I woke up.
Weird.

Anyway, Thanksgiving has been going nicely so far. I didn't get to watch the parade, which was a little sad, but we cooked all day and played Jenga until the turkey was ready. We sat, ate our fill, and talked about nothing until we could talk no more.
It was very satisfying :)
I don't have any other plans for the rest of break, but hopefully I can arrange a poker night for Saturday, before all my friends leave for school and disappear until Christmas.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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 is 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.
~Robert Frost