Pixel Imperfect

This is stolen from an e-mail I sent to my buds. I'm too lazy to write a whole new thing. This summer I made a huge mistake. And all summer, I knew something was wrong, but I was afraid to face it. I was so so afraid of being alone that I begged Jeff to let me come back. What a horrible reason. So, when I said that we got back together because "I missed him," that really is the only reason I could give. He said that he'd seen it coming for a while. I was trying to hide from it. You can only hide for so long. This summer I genuinely believed everything I said when I said that I loved him, that I wanted to marry him. But, I was lying to myself. I just didn't realize it. Fear is a powerful thing. I haven't been happy. I've been trying to convince myself that I was indeed happy. So silly. I'm not afraid anymore. I'm not afraid to be alone. I lied when I said I took Mary Time. Yeah, I took time off, kinda. I spent that whole time in trying

One night at about 2 AM, some members of the Belmont Abbey College community gathered to create a zen garden in the volley ball court. These photos were taken the next afternoon. Within two days, the rocks had been removed. Apparently someone wanted to play volleyball. Sheesh!

I can climb the highest mountain Cross the wildest sea I can feel St. Elmo's Fire burnin' in me

[Lady Tiffany and Stargirl] [Stargirl and K-Swiss] [Sir Tim] [K-Swiss, Art, Sir Tim, Ray, Lady Tiffany] [In which Art is NOT at a computer] [Drunken Native American Dancing] p.s. did you ever realize that Native American is kinda like if Russia took over the USA and started calling us Native Russian

This weekend was crazy in many ways. Crazy awesome. Crazy dramatic. Just plain crazy. That's all I have to say about it.

Friday, December 12, 2003 A Conversation From the Bar Scene Michael: I heard something on CNN today about an archaeologist having discovered fossil evidence of what they believe to be the world's oldest penis. Brad: Is that so? Michael: Yeah. Isn't that bizarre? Brad: What's bizarre is that I had no idea Catherine Zeta-Jones was an archaeologist. December 12, 2003 at 10:24 PM | Permalink Categories: Conversations

I had an inordinate amount of fun last night, which is good because I had a shitty day. Let's skip to about 8 pm. Mary is napping in Sir Tim and K-Swiss's room beca use her meds make her sleepy. We awake and, hmm, I guess we're just hanging out for a while. Sir Tim and Ray go out for a smoke. We're talking about a party. So, we go to Target, Ray, Sir Tim, K-Swiss and I (for orange twinkle lights. Why? dunno). Target is closed. We go to Harris Teeter (b/c they carry harp.) Harris Teeter is closed. Rawr! We go to Wal-Mart and wackiness ensued. I pickup a case of Killian's, a six pack of Labat Blue, a bottle of Muscodine wine, and a red with a neat label (that's how a roll). Oh, and a flat of H2O cuz I am always mooching of Sir Tim and  K-Swiss's water. Anyway, oh yeah! on the way there we are singing sea shantys! In South Australia I was born T' me heave away, haul away In South Australia round Cape Horn We're bound for South Australia H

OKay, I'm on a lyrics kick. Sue me. I love this song... it says that yeah without you the world will keep on turning.... "but I die, without you" Without You Rent Soundtrack Without you, the ground thaws the rain falls the grass grows Without you, the seeds root the flowers bloom the children play The stars gleam the poets dream the eagles fly without you The Earth turns the sun burns but I die, without you Without you, the breeze warms the girl smiles the cloud moves Without you, the tides change the boys run the oceans crash The crowds roar the days soar the babies cry without you The moon glows the river flows but I die, without you The world revives colors renew but I know blue only blue lonely blue Without you Without you, the hand gropes the ear hears the pulse beats Without you, the eyes gaze the legs walk the lungs breathe The mind churns the heart yearns the tears dry without you Life goes on but I'm gone 'cause I die, without you without you without you

Why does it feel the same To fall in love or break it off? And if a young love is just a game Then I must have missed the kick-off Don't depend on me To ever follow through on anything but I'd go through Hell for you and I haven't been this scared, in a long time And I'm so unprepared So here's your Valentine Bouquet of clumsy words A simple melody This world's an ugly place But you're so beautiful to me

Can't find the lyrics to this song anywhere online but I love it... trying to figure out all the lyrics: metro boulot dodo chaque jour, c'est le meme chose metro boulot dodo oo-ohh oo-ohh Mon amie Jean Luc Habite dans le rue Il joue du batterie Comme un vrai fous! So far, that says: metro boulot dodo every day, it's the same thing metro boulot dodo Oo-ohh oo-ohh My friend Jean Luc Lives on the road (something, I'm probably not hearing it right) He plays the drums Like a crazy fool! (It says like a true/real fool, but it's kind of Québécois idiom.) That's all I can remember... if you see the lyrics let me know. It's called Metro Boulot Dodo by Gary Flanagan

Talk Like A Pirate Day Words and Music: © 2003 by Tom Smith Dedicated ta Cap'n Slappy an' Ol' Chumbucket, fer creatin' National Talk Like A Pirate Day (September 19th) I could go on for a long time about this song, but I think we'll cut it down to one word. Arrr. Most days are like all of the others, Go to work, come back home, watch TV, But, brother, if I had me druthers, I'd chuck it and head out to sea, For I dream of the skull and the crossbones, I dream of the great day to come, When I dump the mundane for the Old Spanish Main And trade me computer for rum! ARRR! T' me, Yo, Ho, Yo, Ho, It's "Talk Like A Pirate" Day! When laptops are benches God gave us fer wenches, And a sail ain't a low price ta pay! When timbers are shivered and lillies are livered And every last buckle is swashed, We'll abandon our cars for a shipfull of ARRRs And pou

My pirate name is: Red Mary Bonney Passion is a big part of your life, which makes sense for a pirate. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr! Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com. part of the fidius.org network

This is the night of the Prez' Ball '07. I really did feel like a princess that night.

This is stolen, BTW, from Ray.

I'll be honest, because this is grimy and grainy, when I see these photos, I see a stripper getting ready. Especially in the photo where she's applying blush. She looks to ashamed to look at the camera

Symposium: a dinner party, usually involving much drinking. :-) Attended by Aristodemus, Agathon, Pausanias, Eryximachus, Aristophanes, Phaedrus, and Socrates -- who arrives fashionably late having been lost in thought, -- this symposium is held in honor of Agathon. In lieu of the usual entertainment, Eryximachus suggests the guests give speeches praising the god of Love. Young phaedrus is the first to expound on this topic. He praises the god of Love as the god who does the most to promote virtue in people. Pausanius, Agathon's lover, distinguishes between Common Love and Heavenly Love. Heavenly love, he explains, is that which exists between a boy (the lover) and a man (the beloved). The beloved teaches the boy about wisdom, philosophy, virtue, in exchange for which the lover provides sexual gratification. The dear doctor is the next to speak. Eryximachus argues that Love promotes order and moderation. In people and, in fact, in all things. Hence, Love exists in all t

Imitation and Indulgence: On Why Socrates Banished The Poets From The Republic At the introduction of Book X of Plato's Republic, Socrates surpises us by kicking the poets out of the city. He regards poetry and poets as detrimental and dangerous. Poets are deceptive and thier poetry corrupts all peoples. Poets pretend to know all sorts of things of which they really know noting. They deal with things which cannot be known and present scenes so far removed from the truth. Thus they pervert souls, turning them from what is real to what is false. The poets imitate the worst parts of the soul: the exciteable and colourful parts; whereas the good part of the soul is rational, stable and quiet. Poetry appeals to those worse parts and diverts energy from the rational part to the worse parts of the soul. Poetry corrupts even the best of souls! Poetry tricks you into sympathizing with those whom have indulgent personalities: those who greive excessively, those who lust inapprop

I'm lying... you know that, don't you? I'm lying every time I say that I am doing well. I'm not doing well. However, I feel that I am closer to figuring out the real problem. The solution, it seems, is exactly what I thought of my freshman year, before I was brutally rebuffed. (Well, that's harsh. Truly, I was written off...) So, we shall see... I am doing research and writing down everything I can remember. It's very good that I have had this blog for such a long time

Playing with Picasa for the first time: My sis K-Swiss Me being way too sexy for my own good The ugliest baby in the world Tree at Mepkin Abbey

Shameless Self-Promotion I've also updated Red Cat Stills, so you can check that out, too, if you like.