QUESTION #2

When catching a fish becomes that of a moral dilemma, have you (metaphorically speaking, of course)"lost it?"

QUESTION #1

Do you have the right to "miss" someone who probably doesn't realize that you continue to exist?

WHAT GENIUSES THINK ABOUT:

today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
i'm doomed to georgia this weekend. it's like a fate worse than a fate worse than death
You're Really Growing On Me. says:
eww. i'm doomed to st. pete this weekend. kind of like georgia, but fewer peaches, i believe.
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
yeah. and no tea with enough sugar to make it the equivalent of syrup
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
what will you being doing while there?
You're Really Growing On Me. says:
taking care of my should-already-be-dead-grandmother.
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
how crummy. so you gather knitting needles and yarn for her, maybe? and pet her cats?
You're Really Growing On Me. says:
no, no cats. just old people in an assisted living facility...
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
ah. i guess the cats are banned due to allergy reasons
You're Really Growing On Me. says:
no, just because they are consistently more active than the entirety of the nursing home population. it makes the ones who can still see rather discouraged.
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
that's a valid point you have. do you think that perhaps those who work there should do the seeing ones a favor and swipe their bi-focals?
You're Really Growing On Me. says:
perhaps. that could prove the solution to all problems.
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
i mean, they don't really *need* the glasses: they don't drive, their meals are delivered, they're escorted everywhere, they don't have to sign bills or hit buttons on the remote because people do that for them
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
the cats might bring some new found life to nursing homes nationwide
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
actually.. they might be the only life there
You're Really Growing On Me. says:
maybe we could institute a program: a program that brings these lively creatures to visit the elderly, giving them one teensy bit of hope worth clinging onto in the midst of desperation....
You're Really Growing On Me. says:
only, we must use retarded cats.
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
cats that also can't see or hear very well, and are generally senile. ... i like where you're going with this. the humane service is going to be thrilled
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
it'll be the perfect match of human and pet
You're Really Growing On Me. says:
yes!
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
=)
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
working together to build a better tomorrow
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
brings a tear to my eye...
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
*sniffs*
You're Really Growing On Me. says:
this is the stuff that makes future Miss America speeches.
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
oh, that it does. it's the stuff that makes good samaritan awards, lifetime achievement honors.... it's the stuff that makes Miss Universe winners
today is the tomorrow you were promised yesterday says:
Donald Trump would be proud

“IT’S CALLED ‘CAPITALISM,’ KOVACH. IT PAYS YOUR SALARY.”

Maybe capitalism is the direction I need to head in. Dominating. Powerful. Rich.
[Editor's Note: I was about to type in 'Rick.' I suppose that someone named Rick could hold some very capitalist agenda. So it will remain.]
And Rick.
I've reached a step in my life (a plateau, if you will) that has taken me some time to surmount. I feel that I must abandon all and seek a life of newness, of difference beyond that which I see around me.
I want to be the opposite of the A-type capitalist.
I want to be poor.
Not just in the monetary sense of the word, but I want to be rid of this ungodly, fortunate feeling that surrounds me and everything I'm doing.
I'm disgusted by it.
And I am so unworthy of it.

WHO? ME!? EXCITED? YOU MUST BE OUT OF YOUR MIND.

Or, correct. Either way.
This morning's press release is enough to make me squeal like a rowdy pig in slop.
(Look at the performance announcements to understand why...):

The June 6th telecast of the American Theatre Wing’s 58th annual Tony Awards ceremony will be a star-studded affair.

The CBS broadcast will be hosted by Hugh Jackman [Editor's Note: Ugh.], and will include appearances by the previously announced Nicole Kidman, Tony Bennett, and Mary J. Blige.

On May 26, Executive Producers Ricky Kirshner and Glenn Weiss revealed that joining Ms. Kidman as presenters will include current nominees Anne Heche (Twentieth Century) and Phylicia Rashad (A Raisin in the Sun); two-time Tony winners Nathan Lane [Editor's Note: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, YES! Okay. I'm done.] (set to return to Broadway next month in The Frogs), John Lithgow (seen on Broadway this season in The Retreat from Moscow), Chita Rivera, and Bernadette Peters (now on Broadway in Gypsy); 2003 Tony winners Billy Joel, Marissa Jaret Winokur and Jane Krakowski; rap star Sean Combs (currently starring on Broadway in A Raisin in the Sun); Rent and Chicago star Taye Diggs; “Saturday Night Live” personality Jimmy Fallon; past Tony-winner Joel Grey (Wicked); Broadway/Hollywood star and novelist Ethan Hawke (Henry IV); two-time Grammy Award-winner LL Cool J; stage and film star Scarlett Johansson (Lost in Translation); star of the upcoming Broadway revival of After the Fall Peter Krause (“Six Feet Under”); past Tony and Oscar nominee and current star of Broadway’s Sight Unseen Laura Linney; 2000 Tony winner Brian Stokes Mitchell; film and London stage giant Helen Mirren; Oscar-winner and recent Off Broadway star Anna Paquin; lyricist Carole Bayer Sager (They’re Playing Our Song and The Boy from Oz); 1999 Tony winner Martin Short; stage and film personality Patrick Stewart (this season’s The Caretaker); and noted stage and screen stars Sigourney Weaver and Sarah Jessica Parker.

They also announced that Mary J. Blige and Tony Bennett will each perform a musical salute to Broadway featuring their own interpretations of classic Broadway tunes featured in the newly published Tony Awards Songbook, a collection of songs from Tony Award-winning Best Musicals. Blige will perform “What I Did for Love” from the 1976 Best Musical A Chorus Line, while Bennett will deliver his rendition of “The Lullaby of Broadway” from 42nd Street, the 1981 winner. [Editor's Note: That should be a sad moment for Broadway.]

The Tony telecast will include performances of the following numbers from nominated Best Musicals and Best Musical Revivals:

Assassins ­ Nominees Michael Cerveris, Denis O’Hare and company [Editor's Note: That little caption "and company" reveals that James Barbour is performing. James. My little Jamesy-poo. Ahh...] will perform “Everybody’s Got the Right.” Avenue Q ­ Nominees John Tartaglia, Stephanie D’Abruzzo and company will entertain with “It Sucks to Be Me.” [Editor's Note: Luckily for me, it's my absolute favorite number in the show.] The Boy from Oz ­ Nominee Hugh Jackman will prove (as Peter Allen) that he is “Not the Boy Next Door.” Caroline, or Change ­ Nominee Tonya Pinkins will sing “Lot’s Wife.” Fiddler on the Roof ­ Nominee Alfred Molina will lead the company in “Tradition.” [Editor's Note: We'll have to see how little Alfred can compare to the omnipotent Zero.] Wicked ­ Nominees Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth will perform the show’s act-one finale, “Defying Gravity.” [Editor's Note: Well, duh. What else would they perform? A Joel Grey number? No. They're both up for Best Leading Actress, and by God, they're going to milk it for more than it's worth. I just can't wait to see Menzel fight for a high note and ruin Chenoweth's chances, too.] Wonderful Town ­ Nominee Donna Murphy will lead the company in the production number “Swing.”
The executive producers also announced that the telecast will include moments from this year’s Best Play nominees (Anna in the Tropics, Frozen, I Am My Own Wife and The Retreat from Moscow) and Best Revival of a Play nominees (Henry IV, Jumpers, King Lear, A Raisin in the Sun).

Tony Night officially gets underway at 6:00 p.m. (ET) here at TonyAwards.com where you can view the stars arriving on the red carpet at Radio City Music Hall via our live video webcast. At 7:15 p.m., prior to the telecast, the first six Tony Awards will be will presented, live from the stage of Radio City and webcast via live video exclusively at TonyAwards.com. The only way to watch the presentation of these awards is to be in the house at Radio City or via the webcast on this site. The 2004 Tony Awards telecast, hosted by Hugh Jackman, follows immediately after on CBS, beginning at 8:00 p.m. (ET/delayed PT).

UNTITLED.

I spent nearly two hours yesterday morning with someone overly dear to my heart, obviously, in an overly sappy and pathetic way.
Organizing FCAT books.
It is not that I fear separation or detachment from this person: to an absurd degree, I think I desire it, at least for these next few months. There lies something within friendship, something within the level of complacency in relationships that deteriorate the attractive edginess of first impressions and respectful interaction. That gradual degregation is the integration of something even more costly, yet undeniably sweeter as blooming friendship later unfolds unto its wilted, yet strangely attractive presence- intimacy. "I was for a while troubled with a haunting fear that if I handled the flower freely its bloom would fade- the sweet charm of freshness would leave it."
Yet it has hardly left, an angle held at least on my end of the emotional spectrum. I've found a mentor, yet feel undignified in claiming this person as such, due to the similar status they hold within the minds and hearts of others more qualified to do so. They are aware of this, as am I, to an even fuller degree this morning than I last night feared. How detrimental it is to claim as a guide one who has already begun leading the journey for so many others! Must I take up new root in some other shore? Find the longing of my soul content in some other being, some other new, refreshing presence, much unlike the one I leave for more to bask beneath?
(How Shakespearian this tragedy seems to one unaccustomed to my passions!)
Yes, the separation is essential. Natural. Progressive. Yesterday was an exercise of my emotional faculties and stamina; the coming weeks will test my intellect beyond anything an instructor could inflict.

THE DOCTOR IS IN.

The Doctor of Pepper, that is.
We stopped at Red Lobster for a mini-meal tonight, and the waiter was on speed to a nauseating degree...Running through the restaurant at seventy-eight miles per hour, he was a traffic accident waiting to happen.
It was dinner and a show.
Not my point.
I feel utterly agitated that I couldn't attend Graduation yesterday. I feel as though some of my friends were counting on me to be there for extra padding and support, yet they were unaware of the circumstances, that of which held me from sitting in that O-Rena and cheering them on.
I feel like crap.
Crap, however, appears to have drug-like qualities which induce mere mortals (such as myself) to agree to what would otherwise be considered "unagreeable situations."
Um, maybe this is neither the time nor the place to divulge.
As I've yet to agree to anything.
But the possibility still lies in the open, ready for a good pouncing.
Ha ha! "Pouncing."
Kind of sounds like "boun--"...
Oh.
Never mind.

THE TIME IS 8:54 PM. DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR LIGHTING TECHNICIAN IS?

Standing next to the inoperable spotlight, thank-you-very-much.

A BREAK, THEY SAY.

I'll give you a break, bi-atch.
We have less than a few minutes until hell once again opens its wide and ghastly mouth to swallow us into the abyss of American Dance Machine.
I broke into the stash of Backel Candy Bars.
(Or granola bars. Either way.)
I must depart, as I'm running the light board and/or poking my eyeballs out one by one.
Fun!
No, I mean, that's funny!

HERE I LIE, WASTING AWAY AT THE DREGS OF A FROZEN WATER BOTTLE.

Poetic?
I think not.
We've been stuck here for what appears to be months, though in all relativity, is simply a mere three hours. Three hours. Never before have three hours so jovially deterred my thought, my sanity, my very vitality.
And the worst news is yet to come: I'm stuck with the lovebirds.
And they won't stop nuzzling.
The word itself reigns in sympathy from my entrails to my eyes.
"I don't want to be here," she says.
Nor do I, you maroon buffoon.
Nor do I.
[Editor's Note: I was editing grammar, and I've continued to type some new thoughts, so, let's just roll with it.]
I've been focused upon one person for the last few days. And maybe it's all because of my rendezvous to the Photo Shop, but something screams that there lies more to it. He didn't travel for his own sanity. I think he left for a reason, and I wonder what that reason will prove to be.
I'm not sure exactly what kind of person he's become. Or what kind of person he's becoming, right now, as I speak (type). He could prove a stranger. He could prove the change I need. I'm not sure which would prove more efficient a distraction.
God, I wish I could channel these thoughts in a more responsive way. I wish I knew what words could adequately define the obsession, the longing, the gripping enthusiasm that I rarely experience beyond the parameters he encompasses.
You know what they say: If wishes were horses...
Strong, powerful beings, restless, longing, and clinging to their instincts alone. Yes. Horses.
My wishes are horses, galloping, proud, fearless and dominant horses. Willful. Pioneering. Passionate.
Fiery.

I BELIEVE IN A THING CALLED LOVE.

Maybe not, but I can't get anything partially related to The Darkness out of my head...It's "really growing on me."
Heh! How amazingly hilarious!
Or not.
My junior year is finally over, which means I will spend the next few months plotting my post-high school adventure, namely, college. It should be an interesting quest.
For the time being, I have a nine-hour job to attend to...
And a guarantee you, there will be Audio Blogging involved.

IT'S MUCH TOO EARLY TO HAVE ANY SELF-RECOGNITION.

Early?
Late?
There is absolutely no difference.
I've been thinking, which is difficult and scary for all parties involved, and normally leads to brooding, the root of all Kelley-evil.
Just thinking. It's rather disturbing, actually, the amount of time we sit, taking part in nothing but the exaggerated notions of glory in our own minds. And we do, of course. It's no exaggeration by itself. Simply fact.
Factually simple.
The D: it will be like talking about rochester with rochester
Me: except a girly, prada kind of rochester.
It has been one of those days.

CHEESEBURGER, PLEASE, DO NOT GET ANGRY.

I'm on the rampage...That is, I must pack and contain the ever-flowing excitement that our weekend voyage to St. Petersburg is stirring up within me.
I'm just so happy.
Actually, I hope it will provide ample opportunity for me to catch up on reading, as I must start The Plague, not to mention the nonexistent attachment I have with Nathan Lane and his new flavorings of showtune recordings which I have cough, cough, bootlegged, cough, off the grand ole' internet.
Away I go.

"JUST GOTTA GET OUT; JUST GOTTA GET RIGHT OUT OF HERE-A!"

So, it's the final day of a Jen-infested newspaper, and Adobe Hates Me, Volume 1, has made its glorious debut.
We're all very focused, I assure you.
I need to finish writing her yearbook insert thingy, but beyond that, today has the faint air of parting, its lingering essence suffocating me and intoxicating the general atmosphere.
It effing sucks.
Oh, well. Here's to The Chipmunk.

I'M NOT ONE TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE'S MATERIAL, BUT THERE'S ALWAYS ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT.

Aries: (March 21—April 19)
You love pointing out that you were raised by wolves, but you never mention that they were Harvard-educated, old-money Boston wolves.

Taurus: (April. 20—May 20)
Not that it's really the Zodiac's business, but most people take the dead goldfish out of the tank before adding new ones. The same goes for the drowned cats.

Gemini: (May 21—June 21)
Plastic bags are not a toy, but you understand that they can still be a lot of fun if you use them to smother children.

Cancer: (June 22—July 22)
You may say there's nothing wrong with you that a week in the Bahamas won't cure, but the stars recommend you get the chemotherapy.

Leo: (July 23—Aug. 22)
The stars have always been a great influence on your fate. This will never be as true as it is next week, when a certain yellow G-type variable star cuts loose with a really impressive flare.

Virgo: (Aug. 23—Sept. 22)
Everyone has problems, but they don't all expect the whole universe to come to a standstill because of them. Only about half of them expect that.

Libra: (Sept. 23—Oct. 23)
You'll no longer have any reason to doubt the transcendent power of love after you see it obliterate an entire armored division in military tests.

Scorpio: (Oct. 24—Nov. 21)
Some people would cut off their nose to spite their face, but you're not like that. You did it because you thought it would make you look like a wingless man-bat hybrid.

Sagittarius: (Nov. 22—Dec. 21)
A bizarre misunderstanding on your part will result in your going to church every Sunday and speaking sincerely to invisible entities with the belief that it might do you some sort of good.

Capricorn: (Dec. 22—Jan. 19)
Your millions can't help you find love and happiness, especially because the word "millions" here doesn't indicate any sort of monetary unit.

Aquarius: (Jan. 20—Feb. 18)
You'll watch as dozens die in a bus accident, but take heart: Everyone will know there was nothing you could have done without severely inconveniencing yourself.

Pisces: (Feb. 19—March 20)
You've been forced to conclude that people are just no good, no matter how you slice, puree, braise, fry, or sauté them.

Thank you, Mr. Onion.

YOU'RE A GOOD WEBSITE, MR. ONION.

Spawn Of Satan A Failure In Father's Eyes
TUSTIN, CA—The humanoid spawn of Satan, Belial K. Ravana, 16, has proven to be a huge disappointment to his father, His Satanic Majesty reported from Hell Tuesday. "Apparently, young Belial started a fire in the garbage can at school today," Satan said. "When I begat young Belial, I had high hopes that he would follow in my cloven-hoofsteps. At his age, I was scorching the earth in hellfire, flensing the skin off of infants, and making the streets of Babylon run red with the blood of the righteous." Satan said he hopes Belial will turn it around and "at least rape the principal" before the semester's end.

BREATHE, KELLEY. BREATHE.

Nathan Lane's older brother is the principal for Middletown High School South in NJ. He's not good looking, like Nathan, but he's sentimental, and I think I need to email him and promise sex and/or money in order to get me closer into the Lane family.

AMERICAN THEATRE WING: YOU'RE GOING DOWN, BI-ATCH.

I was just perusing my favorite theatre sites (You know: this one, and that one, oh, and you can't forget this one), when I come across the announcement that, yes, my life is over, as Hugh Jackman, that Peter-Wannabe, is hosting the June 6th ceremony.
I was upset.
But what infuriated me was glancing through the official ATW site and finding myself distracted with their little "Did You Know?" footnotes that bug the hell out of me, seeing as I know what they're talking about already.
I know. Stop asking me, ATW.
But my point is, I grew into a raging inferno of vicious fury when I read this lovely little caption:

Did You Know?
Angela Lansbury has hosted or co-hosted more Tony telecasts than any other individual, with five telecasts (1968, 1971, 1987, 1988, and 1989). Tied in second place, with three telecasts each, are Julie Andrews (1970, 1984, and 1991), Robert Preston (1967, 1974, and 1984), and Rosie O'Donnell (1997, 1998, and 2000).

It's a good thing that they don't have any sort of question/comment service set up on the website, because they'd be receiving hate mail by the gallon-- Nathan Lane ties in that second place ranking for hosting/co-hosting the 1995, 1996, and 2001 Tony Award ceremonies.
Die, American Theatre Wing.
Die.