HAS PAPAPHOBIA GOT YOU DOWN?

That would be fear of the Pope/Papacy, as I have just found out in the midst of my early-morning research...Some of my top picks at this point are:
Dying or death- Thanatophobia.
Englishness- Anglophobia.
Children- Pedophobia.
Criticized severely, or beaten by rod or instrument of punishment- Rhabdophobia.
Flogging or punishment- Mastigophobia.
Ideas- Ideophobia.
Leprosy- Leprophobia or Lepraphobia.
There are more to come, I assure you...

I'M DOING WHAT I WANT TO, EVEN IF I'M NOT TO.

Like a ch-ch-chi--chicken.
Hooray for Comprehensive Theatre. Or not.
I spent Valentine's Day at home and watching TV, which is quite some movement from last year's "I-Think-I'm-On-A-Date-But-I'm-Not-Sure-And-Wait-We're-Going-To-SCC..."
Very romantic, I assure you.
I'm thinking that perhaps I'm called to live alone, cryptically cynical, and nonetheless intelligent...But alone, so that I can let my grueling imagination fester; so that this paralysis I call "the inept" can simply leave me alone. It would be much less time consuming and wholly beneficial to my mental state of being, so much deteriorated already.
I like the bitterness. I’m not willing to compromise it by becoming “mushy.”

GET OUT OF MY SPACE BEFORE I SHOOT YOU...

I'm not sure what it is about that site that possesses myself and millions others to spend long, empty hours staring at our own profiles, and the nonsensical profiles of others...
But if Eddie is doing it, there can't be that much harm involved.
I long for Orlando again, as I sit, reclined in my grandmother's computer chair (Aptly named "cushionless" by the people who truly count: Me.), inept at thought and the process of expelling said thought.
I need to go "journal."
If I remember what a pen feels like.

WHO NEEDS THE QUICK-E-MART? NOT ME!

I'm just making up things at this point.
I decided to ditch the Identifications and try to finsh them up over the weekend...And that really doesn't bother me right now...What I need to get cracking on is my AP Language stuff...
Look at what P-Dawg posted:
Kell"e"y - How does Seven of Nine fit into the scheme of things? I was a huge "Voyager" fan. Mr. Plyler
[Editor's Note: And after seeing that, I am both mortified and smitten...And slightly scared.]
Chaz and I are set to work the Football Awards tonight at 5:30, which should be only minor work, and I plan to spend the entire evening just hanging out with him and working on Drama III "directorial notes," as Custodio would like to say...

SO, THAT WAS FUN.

Auditions during Drama III...Amusing. Perplexing.
What other adjectives have I to utilize?
Oh, that's right. BORING.
I enjoyed making an absolute fool out of myself [Editor's Note: And after losing Grandma to HARMONY, I don't know how much more of a fool I can become...], finding myself cast in at least one interesting role (The mother from The Effects Of Gamma Rays On Man On The Moon Marigolds), and I definitely had fun ignoring directors' instructions and just being there.
Here's what I've deliberately decided upon:
It's not worth my anger.
It's not worth my frustration.
It's not worth re-living over and over again to figure out what she did right and I did wrong.
Totally not worth it.
I am so, so looking forward to Valentine's Day.
Yeah.

LA, LA, LA-AAA, LA. I AM POPULAR.

Or not. I'm actually hooked on some of the songs in Wicked. Which is thoroughly distracting considering I'm trying to function as a normal human being without breaking into song every few seconds...
Ehh.

RHETORICALLY CHALLENGED AM I.

That's how I feel tonight- allusionless and hardly willing to fight the deviating fronds of syntax...
Not that I really have to. After all, it is Saturday; 'tis Slackerday for all.
Tweed. Everytime I start to write something interesting, it's too late to do so.
'Tis night.

YOU'RE REALLY GROWING ON ME...

It's good that it's Friday...Saturday. Whatever.
For lack of good manners, I would have "up and pulled an Ashley" if the week had detained me viciously any longer. Now, I have time to think, sleep, and expand upon *crazy* notions of normalcy. Heh. Even joking about it makes me giggly.
Giggle.

NOTICE ANYTHING ODD?

Hmm...What's Gene's last name on the business card?
I thought so.

MY NEW CATCH PHRASE: WARDROBE MISFUNCTION.

I don't know...There's something about seeing this that really calls me to value the productive effort of a tiny little network called MTV.

OH, MY IRREPARABLY DAMAGED MENTAL FRAME!

I'm a bit woozy.
Which is a fun word.
Not my point.
Anyway, I'm trying to get past this whole "Super Bowl Sunday Thing" without much damage and/or brutality, but depending on the circumstances, I'm game for a little bloodshed.
It's been a long weekend.
Last night was amusing and girly, as it was Nickie's birthday party. I hung out with Rob the Terrible, some nerdy guy at the concession stand who I wished I could continue flirting with, and Eeek-King himself, Mike.
SAK is where it's at.
I really need to drop off of this internet connection, lest someone should die and need to call me to give word of said death...
Woozy.

GARY SOTO IS COOL. ALMOST AS COOL AS BLACKBOARD.

Okay. So, maybe that statement is entirely sarcastic and demeaning to all parties involved...
I certainly hope so.
I've ceased revision after revision, annotation, and seek a nice, relaxing Friday.

I WIN, I WIN, I WIN.

Who rocks the house? Kelley rocks the house.

HAVE I STOPPED TO SAY HOW MUCH I HATE YOU LATELY?

That was actually intended to be humorous...You just have to imagine the sappy love music in the background...Which seems to be following me everywhere this week.
I long for some sleep.
But beyond that, I'm not the most competent human being, which helps, I suppose.
I haven't emailed Anthony back.
I haven't emailed Adam back.
I feel awful about that. About leaving them email-less and possibly friendless and definately more depressed as a result of less Kelley in their lives...
Who am I kidding?
I need them a whole lot more than they could ever need me...
Hmm. Not the happiest of thoughts.

"YOU HAVE TWENTY SECONDS TO GET THIS BLOOD OFF THE FLOOR BEFORE I DISQUALIFY YOU, TROUPE 1983!"

Districts was eventful, to say the least.
I made out with Superior Tech for Baby With The Bathwater, Superior Ensemble Acting for I Hate Hamlet, Excellent Playwriting for Plainclothes Leo, and All Star Tech, again for Baby.
I rocked the house.
Okay, maybe not so much...But I am excited to see the judication forms and determine whether I was in any way a support for those Superiors, or if I was simply annoying enough that the District judges felt obliged to put the State judges through the same meticulous pain...
I have quite a bit of work to do, least of which is absorbing myself completely in all AP Language persuits, which means that I can't slack off else I am murdered by the Almighty Himself, P-Dawg.
By the by, there was a Plyler judge this weekend. He had quite some sense of style, I must say...
And Kennith. Oh, dearest Kennith.

BREATHING, I AM, BUT TO NO SUREFIRE AVAIL...

I don't think a word in that sentance even makes sense. I don't think anyone cares, either. So, I guess it works out.
I don't think I'm ready for Districts, or even classes today and rhersal after school...I have so little information, so little motivation, it makes me giggly...
Ugh. I have to get ready to sleep in Physics...
Nighty night, Blog.

WE ARE THE GEPHARDTS! MIGHTY MIGHTY GEPHARDTS!

We could be the GERHARDTS too, I suppose...But let's be honest with ourselves...
Give Dick a Chance.
Preview was actually a nice event this evening, and all went rather smoothly, with the exception of my conscience derailing me from viciously murdering The Man Whore and He Who Does Not Speak English on lights and sounds, respectively. Luckily, I will still be at fault in the eyes of The Troll.
And the world is at peace.
[Editor's Note: I'm actually proud of our ensemble piece...It went very smoothly considering the week of non-rehearsal, and apparently it was one of the funnier pieces...Uh, huh.]
I'm beginning to question my insecurities in Lang...Perhaps I'm reading far too much into life in general (Which just so happens to be my underlying theme for this week: "So, You Think Your Life Is All BS. Well, Guess What...You're Correct!" Catchy, huh?), which means that I can just calm down, roll with the non-existent punches, and use my cunning and good looks to coast through life upon.
Heh.
My conversation with the P-Dawg this morning followed somewhere along the Dressed To Kill "Cake or Death" scene.
"Lit or Death? Lit or Death?"
"Oh, I'll take Death...I mean, Lit!"
"No, you said Death first!"
"But I meant Lit. Really!"
"Oh, alright. Lit it is...We're gonna run out pretty soon. Didn't realize there'd be such a rush for Lit, did we?"
Ahh...Good old Eddie.

THIS, SIR, MAKES ME FEEL SECURE ABOUT MY EDUCATIONAL FUTURE.

Grr.
It's been a nice week. Non-productive, but inspiring, I suppose...
Accomplished.

MARRIED GERMANS, BILLY RAY CYRUS, AND GARY SINESE. TRUE MEN OF THE CENTURY.

Could the evening have been any more spectacular? I don't think so.
"Married German" was the person lumped into our buffet table at Fake Germany in Epcot. He was scared to death having to sit next to us, worried that it was irrational and against our normal customs, forcing us to eat him in retaliation. Instead, I taught him how to say "variety."
I think his name was Rolf, but I'll never be sure.
Unless he's a terrorist.
Onto Gary Sinese: We decided to finally give into the hype and take a trip onto Mission to Mars. It's was G-Force worthy, indeed, and contained the only man worthy of the title "astronaut."
Obviously, that man is Gary.
And then, Mr. Billy Ray Cyrus, the King of Country. We ended up walking around Epcot somewhere near ten o'clock this evening, and sure enough, Billy Ray Cyrus is singing about his relentlessly achy-breaky-heart. He never stops singing about it, as a matter of fact.
Actually, it was something more demeaning. The Colgate Country Awards or something pathetically corny like that...Anyway, there was Billy, hosting and singing and probably spending way too much time trying to convince the audience that mullets really were cool back in "his day and age."
Pouvre Billy.
I think it's about time for this little Bloggerette to sign herself off and dream of her new heroes...
Hmm. Gary.

WHA'S HAPPENIN'?

BLOGGER - News Archive
I have absolutely no idea what this is for, but I'm just going to Roll With It.
[Editor's Note: I was testing the Blog This! feature, and apparently, I've figured out how to make it work...Neeto.]