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On Spanish. Sorta.
Tengo un examen en mi clase de espanol por la manana, y espero que yo--y todos los estudiantes en mi clase--aprueben con buenas notas.
I really hope that last sentence didn't butcher the Spanish language.
I actually like Spanish; I like the way it rolls, clipped, off your tongue when you say it, and when your lips make when they're pressed together and release to make the "B", and the trill of double "R"s. I like the fast talking too. I wasn't too keen on the language until I saw the movie The Orphanage, which was both freaky and beautiful in some odd convoluted way, but the Spanish was beautiful. I don't know how the director-guy did it, but I have been in love with Spanish ever since and have yet to hear it said as beautifully as in that movie.
Moving on. Twilight--wait, no.
NaNoWriMo shall begin rather soon-ical, which means I need to add, "finish big giant long plan," to my to-do list. At the moment, said list is mucho long and each item shall take some tiempo. Time. Update journal is one of the items on my list, so after this I shall be able to cross it off. Yippee and no, that's not sarcasm. After midterms comes NaNo, and after NaNo comes sleep, sleep, Christmas, sleep. I am already in the Christmas mood. Well, it was cold; to me, cold means December means Christmas means Jesus and candy canes and stocking and hot chocolate and miserable mornings and stiff fingers and wet, frozen feet and shoes caked in frosted mud and grass.
Well, the Christmas part is good anyway. And Jesus. Yeah.
I don't like the cold. At all. When it's cold, it's like all my limbs have been numbed and then snapped together, and I can't figure out how to get them to work again in order to make myself more comfortable. Like blood turning to sludge in my veins. It won't move, and I can't move, and my brain can't function because it's operating on sludge and its important parts are frozen solid. And what's not frozen is getting there, very, very quickly.
The weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful... Or something like that. I screw up lyrics a lot.
Is anyone listening? Sniff. No, probably not, but hullo readers, if you just so happen to exist somehow.
I'm dreaming of a hot Christmas, da da da da da duh dahhhhhh.
I really hope that last sentence didn't butcher the Spanish language.
I actually like Spanish; I like the way it rolls, clipped, off your tongue when you say it, and when your lips make when they're pressed together and release to make the "B", and the trill of double "R"s. I like the fast talking too. I wasn't too keen on the language until I saw the movie The Orphanage, which was both freaky and beautiful in some odd convoluted way, but the Spanish was beautiful. I don't know how the director-guy did it, but I have been in love with Spanish ever since and have yet to hear it said as beautifully as in that movie.
Moving on. Twilight--wait, no.
NaNoWriMo shall begin rather soon-ical, which means I need to add, "finish big giant long plan," to my to-do list. At the moment, said list is mucho long and each item shall take some tiempo. Time. Update journal is one of the items on my list, so after this I shall be able to cross it off. Yippee and no, that's not sarcasm. After midterms comes NaNo, and after NaNo comes sleep, sleep, Christmas, sleep. I am already in the Christmas mood. Well, it was cold; to me, cold means December means Christmas means Jesus and candy canes and stocking and hot chocolate and miserable mornings and stiff fingers and wet, frozen feet and shoes caked in frosted mud and grass.
Well, the Christmas part is good anyway. And Jesus. Yeah.
I don't like the cold. At all. When it's cold, it's like all my limbs have been numbed and then snapped together, and I can't figure out how to get them to work again in order to make myself more comfortable. Like blood turning to sludge in my veins. It won't move, and I can't move, and my brain can't function because it's operating on sludge and its important parts are frozen solid. And what's not frozen is getting there, very, very quickly.
The weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful... Or something like that. I screw up lyrics a lot.
Is anyone listening? Sniff. No, probably not, but hullo readers, if you just so happen to exist somehow.
I'm dreaming of a hot Christmas, da da da da da duh dahhhhhh.