The best thing i've learned so far. . .
in the summer program or in the 3 years since i've been enrolled in WIA in general?
well if were refering to the summer program, it'd have to be photoshop. i couldn't do it before and now i can at least make it look like im photoshop-literate. before i just butchered the whole thing and completely anihilated any chance of the results looking good.
if were refering to the 3 years since i've actualy been in WIA, i'd have to say swollowing my pride i guess? if you've read my first blog, you've heard the story so i need not repeat it hear again. twas a difficult thing to do and to an extent i am a better person for it.
annnnd i've got plenty of time to burn so i'll tell you a story, ok?
alright.
once upon a time there was a guy named Franco. franco was a narcaleptic narcassist. his girlfriend LoRita was dumb as a box of rocks. one day they went skateing and Franco fell asleep on his rollerblades while looking at himself in a nearby puddle. he fell down and broke his leg and LoRita being the blond she is just kept skating and didn't even notice when she fell over the railing and plunged to her death. Franco, seeing that he didn't have his cell phone, bleed out on the sidewalk.
achem, happy endings?
forget that
AmandaKay
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1 comment:
HAH!
I LOOOVE your writings!
Here's some awesomensess to add to your awesomeness!
JACK'S LAMENT
There are few who'd deny, at what I do I am the best
For my talents are renowned far and wide
When it comes to surprises in the moonlit night
I excel without ever even trying
With the slightest little effort of my ghostlike charms
I have seen grown men give out a shriek
With the wave of my hand, and a well-placed moan
I have swept the very bravest off their feet
Yet year after year, it's the same routine
And I grow so weary of the sound of screams
And I, Jack, the Pumpkin King
Have grown so tired of the same old thing
Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones
An emptiness began to grow
There's something out there, far from my home
A longing that I've never known
I'm a master of fright, and a demon of light
And I'll scare you right out of your pants
To a guy in Kentucky, I'm Mister Unlucky
And I'm known throughout England and France
And since I am dead, I can take off my head
To recite Shakespearean quotations
No animal nor man can scream like I can
With the fury of my recitations
But who here would ever understand
That the Pumpkin King with the skeleton grin
Would tire of his crown, if they only understood
He'd give it all up if he only could
Oh, there's an empty place in my bones
That calls out for something unknown
The fame and praise come year after year
Does nothing for these empty tears
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