Dear Diary,

As you may have guessed, yes, I have no bananas. But if I did, I would definitely let myself have one of these:

Totally.

In other news, I currently have Charlie the Unicorn stuck in my head, but I will spare you the insanity, unless you're really a curious cat. Don't say you weren't warned. Life is not always friendly inside my head. Rawr. *Ahem*

Note to self- excessive amounts of chai tea does strange things to my mind. Muahahahaha. *hiccup*

Dear Diary,

I've been practicing like a madwoman. It feels good. Really good.

Dear Diary,

I'm being extremely lazy today.

Wacky Survey

I can't get to sleep without? a blanket

If I were a doll, the accessories packaged with me would be: a microphone and a bolo knife

I have an irrational fear of: travelling long distances alone

What type of food do you eat at your grandparents house? Puerto Rican food

What weight were you when you were born? i dunno

I am most opposed to: evil

Do you stalk anyone on myspace? someti mes

I am too old to be: doing this

I find the thought of childbirth: miraculous

Next door to my house is: another building

My feet are: bare

My preferred style of jeans is: the kind that fit

I know how to cook: quite well when i want to

I am annoyed at: uncommitted people

Men should always: keep their promises or not make them at all

Women should never: assume that men share their perspective to understand what they are saying.

What child-related smell do you not like? The kind I have to clean up.

What sea creature scares you? I guess shark would be pretty common.
What color hair do most of the people you are around have? Blond, which is extremely frustrating, because they act it, too.

What object have you broken most recently? Somebody's heart, I'm sure. Lol. jk, jk. I dunno to be honest.

Name one of the Spice Girls? No

What was the last thing to make you cry? A movie

I would like to be in an advertisement for: A rock band. Sweet!
What are the stems of wine glasses for? flowers?

My favorite shoes are: in the closet

My mothers' greatest fear is: probably that I'll start doing drugs and run off and get pregnant by some random guy. But that's every mother's worst fear.

Can you use chopsticks? Yes

Do you prefer beaches or forests? Both.

So last night I drove a couple of my friends over to a fr iend's house so we could have a dinner/game night/girls night instead of spending Christmas day all by ourselves. It was fun. We played Cranium and Skyped some of our friends in Maria Aurora. One of my friends who's going to a Bible College in South Carolina let me borrow her Systematic Theology textbook that she just finished. I've already gotten to the fourth chapter; I didn't realize I was so hungry for this stuff, but I was.

I also finally had success in figuring out my neighbor's name and age, so now I won't feel awkward when I introduce him to the band. I should totally be a spy. Or a ninja.

Dear Diary,

So here I am on a Christmas Eve all alone, and I can't sleep. A couple of days ago, some kind soul left a lovely note outside my door telling me they heard me practicing one night and that it sounded beautiful. It was very encouraging. Perhaps too encouraging.

I feel all awkward and imaginative, in a hopeless, romantical sort of way. I don't think the movies I've been watching lately have been helping that much. Sometimes I can be such a girl...

~Merry Christmas~

Dear Diary,

I've been watching a lot of silent films recently. They're fascinating, not only for their historical value-which is odd since I'm not fond of historical research- but also for their imagination. They used such rich writing and, since the sound was lacking, found excellent ways to provide emphasis on the visual to tell the story.

I am officially in love with Charles Chaplin and Buster Keaton.

xoxo

Dear Diary,

Today I made a Christmas card for Mike Bromage. It looks like this:

Dear Diary,

I'm utterly obnoxious and judgmental without even realizing it. It's all because I'm so analytical and spend my time trying to figure out people, superimposing my own perspective, background, and paradigms on them. They don't always fit. It hit me this morning in the middle of a song- I'm trying to figure out people and know how they work the way God does, but only HE is wise. I'm going to get it wrong, obviously, most of the time. I know that He set up this situation to prune me and kinda smack me upside the head so that I'd know what was going on in my lil noggin.

The good news is, after I explained myself, she wasn't upset at me anymore. In fact, she opened up a ton. It turns out, she's just like me. No wonder we didn't get along right off the bat. I'm a horrible first impression maker. Whoa. That wasn't English, but oh well.

I'm hungry.

So I just watched P.S. I Love You for the first time ever. Yes, it's a definite chic flick, and it made me bawl my eyes out. But I needed it. It really tapped into some deeper issues I was dealing with, and it made me talk myself through them so I knew what was really going on inside my heart. It's funny, sometimes, how the things that control us the most and that comprise the greatest portion of what we are... can be so easily ignored or pushed aside sometimes.

I probably have more to say, but I shouldn't type it here. It would be misconstrued as something else, and that is not what I want. Sorry, Diary, but I told you I have issues with trust. I wasn't lying. Because that would be ironic.

Dear Diary,

I just blew it. I knew it was taking her just a little too long to respond to that message I sent her. It made her upset and angry, and that's NOT what I meant at all. I hate hurting people's feelings like that. I'm so mad at myself that I was so stupid. I came across as so judgmental and forward.

Maybe I just need time away from everybody, everything. Actually, there's absolutely no doubt about that. I just don't know what to do. I'm going to see her in a few hours at church and it's going to be so awkward if she hasn't read my reply yet. Hopefully she'll read it before she heads out the door. That would be awesome.

My stomach is also hurting like crazy which can only mean one thing: I really am performing tomorrow morning. Dang, I hate nerves. Almost as much as I hate awkwardness.

This post doesn't deserve an icon, or a closing signature. So, bye.

Dear Diary,

Someone called the cops. They came and told those peeps to hush it.

And now I sleep?

Sincerely,
Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee....

Dear Diary,

My neighbors decided to thank me for their lovely Christmas cards by getting highly inebriated and drunkenly screaming along with some punk/screamo/grunge music set at full blast directly in front of my bedroom. This means I am unable to sleep.

I remember now why I'm ordinarily such a bad neighbor.

Sincerely,
the Grinch