you can write it in a letter, babe.

The Starbucks near my job is having something like an open mike night. They want people to perform on Saturdays and stuff. I can't play anything, but I do sing... they said anything would be good, but I'm still a little uncertain if me singing anything a capella would cut it. But it'd be fun!

If you don't know already: I'm one of those people participating in embodiment. I did it last year, and I'm doing it again this year. And these are some scans from various pages.



Cover! Got it from Old Navy, and oh God, they need to make more journals like this. The pages are unlined and thick enough that, if you used colored pens on it (like I do quite frequently), they won't bleed through.

( From January 1 to... a few days ago, give or take. Twenty-something pictures. )

Earlier this week, I dreamed that I, and two other people, won the lottery. I was grinning like a moron and telling everyone that I'd be able to REALLY go to whatever college I wanted to now, and then I woke up immensely pissed off. And then earlier this morning I had one about Daniel Craig hitting on me while I was on the run and trying to get into Canada. I... might like where my subconcious is going. But damn, I could really use the lotto money now.

( And: American Idol. )