fictionpress AGAIN
Nov. 21st, 2004 02:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elenbarathiIf anyone is actually reading this (wait. Someone's reading this?), please go look at my stuff at fictionpress. Please. Just review or add a comment somewhere so that I can see that there are actually live human beings (or other sentient beings that can read English or have some translator thing) that read this. The end.
Served at Mass today. We're having a gigantic fundraising thing ($6 million is the goal) so that we can have a renovation for the church. Gah. They're adding something between the school and church, and they're adding a fucking kitchen. A kitchen. My God (not literally). They're going to be adding a load of other stuff, most of which I can understand, but a fucking kitchen? I think not.
Went to an open house at the neighbors'. I ate chocolate-covered pretzels and watched the football game (Detroit vs. Vikings). The pretzels were very good. My sister's friend came over, except I'm not sure that my sister wants to have her over sometimes. The last time she came over, my sister's other friends (read: people who she met the day before and spontaneously decided to be friends with her and to whom she spontaneously decided to become a friend) came over, and my sister just abandoned her first friend. My sister is disgustingly social, while I am the opposite. I hate parties; she would do anything rather than sit alone in her room. I think the only reason she plays with Barbies still is that she's so desperate to have friends over (we live ten miles away from all her long-time friends (read: female --and one male-- classmates that alternate between enemies and best friends)) that she makes the Barbies her friends.
It's not all that weird, considering all the time I spend reading/writing/on the computer. That's made up for my [not exactly lack, but considerably lower number than many people of] friends. None of the kids in my neighborhood are around my age, except for one girl who is a few years younger than me and still played with dolls the last time I checked and a boy who is a year older than me and who is stealing my brother's businesses, like lawn mowing, raking, and shoveling snow (and my jobs, a bit, though since I don't help him deliver ads/flyers, I have kind of not been considered part of it since late summer).
That's my essay on friends. I am sure that you found it entirely delightful.
Adios.
Thought for the day: "I don't like lollipops." --Artemis Fowl II, from Artemis Fowl
Served at Mass today. We're having a gigantic fundraising thing ($6 million is the goal) so that we can have a renovation for the church. Gah. They're adding something between the school and church, and they're adding a fucking kitchen. A kitchen. My God (not literally). They're going to be adding a load of other stuff, most of which I can understand, but a fucking kitchen? I think not.
Went to an open house at the neighbors'. I ate chocolate-covered pretzels and watched the football game (Detroit vs. Vikings). The pretzels were very good. My sister's friend came over, except I'm not sure that my sister wants to have her over sometimes. The last time she came over, my sister's other friends (read: people who she met the day before and spontaneously decided to be friends with her and to whom she spontaneously decided to become a friend) came over, and my sister just abandoned her first friend. My sister is disgustingly social, while I am the opposite. I hate parties; she would do anything rather than sit alone in her room. I think the only reason she plays with Barbies still is that she's so desperate to have friends over (we live ten miles away from all her long-time friends (read: female --and one male-- classmates that alternate between enemies and best friends)) that she makes the Barbies her friends.
It's not all that weird, considering all the time I spend reading/writing/on the computer. That's made up for my [not exactly lack, but considerably lower number than many people of] friends. None of the kids in my neighborhood are around my age, except for one girl who is a few years younger than me and still played with dolls the last time I checked and a boy who is a year older than me and who is stealing my brother's businesses, like lawn mowing, raking, and shoveling snow (and my jobs, a bit, though since I don't help him deliver ads/flyers, I have kind of not been considered part of it since late summer).
That's my essay on friends. I am sure that you found it entirely delightful.
Adios.
Thought for the day: "I don't like lollipops." --Artemis Fowl II, from Artemis Fowl
