dirty little sinner
not your girl.
name Tegan
age 17
grade High School Junior
important
- Libra-bastard alter-ego by the name of Heremon.
- Not your girl.
- Not-so-closeted femme nazi.
- Not yet brilliant.
- Am arrogant.
- Am quirky.
- Am prone to over-achievement.
- Am prone to procrastination.
- Am prone to the sweet wiles of chocolate.
- Am a fanatic of the color pink.
- Am Hermione Granger incarnate.
calendar
Dec. 16 Outline and Works Cited Page due
Dec. 17 Second Deadline (Oh Dear God help me)
Choir Concert
Dec. 20 Christmas Break
buddy icon
archives
AIM iniqua invidia
FF.net Tegan
Music Tegan and Sara If It Was You
Mood just keen
Word of the day deadline
Quote of the Day "The shift key is your friend!"
I told my mother today I planned on going to an Ivy League school if I got accepted. She gave me an odd look.
That's right, I have a ten year plan involving a butt-load of student loans and eventually, a soul-searching expedition to Tibet (because Harvard encourages little excursions such as that).
I want a Tegan and Sara t-shirt. But mother told me she had already bought all my Christmas presents. But really, I want one to wear around school and make people ask
"Why is 'and Sara' after your name."
"Dude, it's a band."
"Ooooh. I get it."
"Retard."
And really, it would go exactly like that because I'm a cruel, heartless, mean vindictive person that takes evil pleasure in giving people bad grades on their yearbook layouts by merely grading really hard on the copy. Or so they seem to tell people that I grade the hardest. It would be hard if they could just do what the freak they're supposed to the stupid Dutch bastards.
I keep telling myself one day I'm going to learn guitar and rid myself of the aforementioned ten-year plan and become a traveling folk singer that lives in a VW van and eats McDonalds five days a week for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
But, no.
I also wrote a four line poem last night. Which is incredible since I haven't written a poem in a stupidly long amount of time. It goes something like:
I learned to fly too late after liftoff.
I learned to drive minutes after I crashed.
I learned to swim only after I drowned.
I learned to love you too late.
Roush and unpolished, but it's a work-in-progress.
I also keep telling myself I'm going to write a novel someday soon. Just hunker down one day and plot it all out in an outline of quasi-epic proportions and take my laptop (you can tell I'm planning this at some point after next fall, when I have projected I will be able to purchase my future laptop) and begin typing.
Maybe I'll spend my year away from Harvard doing that. Damn straight.
I just feel like writing tonight I guess. Maybe I should work on that defunct Harry Potter fanfic that people keep bugging me to get finished when I'm hardly half way through with it and actually (gasp) do have a life outside of my computer (even if it consists solely of school and yearbook - wait yearbook is part of school- dammit).
Yeah, okay. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah!
Next time Big, fat spankings (yes, another round of them you silly bint).