Well, I've changed things around a bit, as you may see, and I like the setup. I get antsy when things stay the same, which is a bit contradictory because I'm opposite with everything else.
Oh, and for those of you who made Foxy Miranda's Mod Squad, congratulations for making the cut. For those of you NOT in the F Double M S, I'm sorry, but you can still try again later. Tough luck.
State of the Jacquie Address: 1) Play practice has become my life. No news there. 2) I've become really stressed out over a lot of things. Most things are not new (college, future, AP English, my uncle, etc.), but there are a couple of new things that I won't talk about, because I like being vague. 3) Driving around at 6:00 on a Saturday morning was one of the best things that's happened recently. If only the rest of the day could be like that, I think I'd be happier. 4) For more details, listen to the songs "Alice Childress," "Don't Change Your Plans" and "Where's Summer B.?" by Ben Folds (I'm starting a BFF (no, not Best Friends Forever, Dan) phase again.) and "How To Dissappear Completely" by Radiohead. I think that covers the spectrum of my emotions right now, since I cannot fully express how I feel in words, because that's Dan Marino's forte, not mine.
I'll leave you with a "snapshot" as some middle school teacher might say.
As we were gathered around my aunt and uncle's kitchen table for Easter breakfast, my aunt all of a sudden was hit with a thought and screamed "OH!" and leapt from the table. All of us, (clad in our Sunday best, of course) exchanged glances and continued to poke at our scrambled and dyed eggs. My aunt returned and said, "I forgot about the lamb!" Before we could question what she meant, a slab of butter in lamb form plopped down next to me. I guess I forgot the lamb, too. I think I've always been afraid of the Butter Lamb, partially for its content but especially because of what happens once the lamb is nestled safely on its plate. As we all admired/assessed the lamb, my brother slapped on a maniacal grin and unleashed a savage butter knife. No. A swish of the knife later, and the lamb's head made a lovely smear on my brother's rye toast. The decapitated form stared at me, and the song "Lamb of God" accompanied by an organ played in my mind.