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Feeling: Calm. Loving my life. |
Eating: Um... life?
Wearing: Jeans, black tank top with built in bra, lavender panties, eith a little sleeping kitty on them, my claddagh, green choker and matching earrings, contacts, vestiges of the day's make-up, black belt.
Listening to: *Hummmmrumblerumblerumble* It's my washing machione making contented noises.
Chatting with: Keeping my own counsel.
Thinking: "I need to concentrate on my posture more."
Remembering: Dave's tongue ring.
Glad for: My ability to move past fear into growth.
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Today is: 2003-04-22 - @ 11:29 a.m.
Don't ask me, I don't really know, myself... all time - is relative
I'll write an entry when I'm cognicent.
Is that even a fucking word?
Quote for the Entry: (at Denney's, approx 12:30 last night) "What the fuck did you do to your pancake?" -Ariel
"Apparently she poked holes in it with a straw and ate the cut-outs." -Andy
"And a knife, thank you very much. It's modern art." -Me
"I hate modern art." -Andy
"Me too." -Ariel
"Well, fuck you then." -Me
all time - is relative