Center of the Universe

Sing it, girl.

I feel like crap. I'm not like really sick but it's just sick enough so that I can be like, "I feel like crap".

Hence the previous statement.

Anyway, the title is from "Rent", as promised. It's the song "Santa Fe". Angel is talking about New York.

Hey, why isn't angel "angle". Like table. Or able. Or anything "-le". Or why isn't people prounounced "peepluh", or better yet, "pe-oh-pluh". From now on that's how I'll say "people". So get over it.

I forgot my sister's digital camera. So no pictures for you guys, I guess. And we got dry ice and I was planning on doing something with that but it sublimated.

Ah well.

So there is this grey sky outside. A brick building is directly across from the more modern apartment building. The bricks are old; few are red. Most are just orange. The remains of large, white lettering is still stained n it. Arch-shaped, marroon windows are scattered sparatically around it.

The East River flows next to the building, its shade of silver matching that of the sky. Some people are around looking at it. What, have they never seen a river before?

Across the river cars speed by at a frightening rate. I'm not quite sure why they're hurrying. I doubt where they're going is very important.

A group of five people, probably around their mid-thirties, walk by, each sipping their coffee mugs. They dissapear around the corner.

I can sill get to my email. Gabe seems to have gotten into a habit of copying the email addresses from chains people send him. I know that he doesn't know half of hem; that angers me. He emailed my neighbor, and a hebrew school friend, and a hebrew school friend, and a hebrew school friend's friend. I don't even know that person, yet he emails them. It annoys me so much.

The poor souls.

I think my family is home, holding the food I asked them to bring back with them hours ago. It's this delicious chinese restaurant called "Big Wong's". They have the best ribs ever! And really good duck.

I know that if I stop blogging I'll go back to reading, or even homework. So I continue.

I think they're talking about me up there.

People keep asking me how I'm feeling.

I have to eat now, and then do homework.

Ugh and I'm doing this on *shudder* IE.

I hate explorer.

Oh and I have a googlewhack, but they told me it wasn't. Well, the words never actually appear in the site, but still! Well, you be the judge: hexology parabolic.