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Better one handful with tranquility than two handfuls with toil and chasing after the wind.
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Saturday, June 10, 2006
If you are what you eat, I am chocolate Pocky
The ears are feeding on Calibretto 13 - Cruisin' the Strip
Blogger is lying to you. It's Sunday now, the 11th day of the 6th month of the 2006th year this world has known ever since Anno Domini. Mosquitoes are attacking my feet. Mosquitoes are SICK.
People from Nepal and the Philippines just left my house. I staked out in my room just now because I was feeling crabby and anti-social. There is definitely something wrong with me. A bit of my voice is back though! I was worried about the lack of communication on my part, which some people might prefer, but there is no stopping me when I have something to say...
...Especially when I willingly handed over $9.50 to inflict severe torture upon my soul and mind and eyes to watch Amanda Bynes make out with an ugly guy (though Rach believes that adjective "ugly" is debatable) in the first minute of She's The Man. Even the name says it all, what the crap was I thinking? I blame it on fatigue (affects how you think) and peer pressure (which I rarely succumb to, save for my mentally weak moments when I am fatigued).
I know what you're thinking. Excuses, excuses, Ruth secretly likes genderbending movies that gloriously overstereotype stereotypes within genders and have a lot of preteen-like whinages/making out and Nickelodeon overacting and no one dies.
Well, you're wrong. Going to check out the Picture House on Tuesday with Mar. We are going to watch U-Carmen eKhayelitsha and there's a big probability some people will DIE and not one self-respecting girl in that black township would be stupid enough to pretend to be her twin brother just because of soccer (and look a lot like Will Ferrell while at it). The only, I stress, only thing that made that movie that much more bearable other than the comfortable seats, was the presence of Tobias. Whatever his real name is.
Also, the World Cup has been decent. Nothing too spectacular has happened. Yet.
Anyway. Lots and lots of pictures that I will attempt to categorize, which will be an absolute mission but I know I can do it because I am not patience-inept.
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Liz's "surprise" farewell party
Graduation
GTT (geographical training time)
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Here's what I wrote yesterday:
If you are what you eat, I am strawberry cheesecake
The ears are feeding on The Shins - Know Your Onion!
I lost my ability to communicate coherently. My wretched voice has failed me. My heart is broken because I can't talk. And it's weird - I can't cough, my throat isn't sore, but when I "talk" it's pretty much just me wheezing like that annoying kid from Malcolm in the Middle.
This week was intensive stuff, I filled up the memory card in my camera, and God spoke to me, and I met Skye who is rather awesome, and realized Bonnie and I are pretty much doing the same stuff, and I sang in 5 days about how much I'd sing in more than one month. I am completely exhausted. But thankfully not grouchy. At least I think so.
Why do my parents keep trying to talk to me when they know I can't talk? Now they will think I am being defiant and rebellious to the very core of the pastor's kid stereotype. :-) Hi Mom. I'm sorry if I just ignored you. I CAN'T TALK. IT HURTS.
10:18
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