Soliloqui i talk to myself.
  • scissors
    November 22nd, 2004ChristineRetrospective

    [From: Reverie]

    I never really thought about it before. I always assumed that Christmas was a holiday for Christians. I guess at one point it was. I’m hearing a Christmas song on the radio and wondering if those singers even go to church. On the internet, I see the people bashing Christians talking about what they might get for Christmas. There have been several instances in which people have told me that the United States is a very religious country. I once read a poll that showed the United States got less religious in ten years time. Christmas in the United States no longer means what it used to mean. Here, Christmas is Xmas, a holiday of bright lights, evergreen trees, carols, and gifts. That’s not what Christmas is about. Christmas is about Jesus Christ and that’s all there is to it.

    Christine @ 04:05:39 PM.

  • scissors
    November 21st, 2004ChristineRetrospective

    [From: Reverie]

    I have this urge to defenestrate and see how that blows over. It wouldn’t help much with the headache though. I want to sleep @.@ but I am chained to the demands of organized education.

    Today was very asian. After the MYO concert [actually I left before it ended because it was just hellish to stay there] my dad and I went to flushing and I bought four boxes of pocky, two bottles of ramune, and some other severely fobby eatables. I also managed to scarf down a box of takoyaki, but don’t tell ;]

    Ho hum. Wanting to write a poem; hindered by lack of creativity. Not to mention the several hundred items of schoolwork I have yet to do still waiting impatiently in my priority list.

    Life is so very mean.

    Christine @ 08:52:15 PM.

  • scissors
    November 20th, 2004ChristineRetrospective

    [From: Reverie]

    My weakness; submitting to temptation.
    Today’s sin: drinking chugging a tall [fuckin' short ripoff] java chip frap at 10:30PM.

    You can’t see
    even with your thick glasses
    a psuedo twenty twenty
    You can’t look beyond
    the black hair
    the pointed eyes
    the yellow skin

    You can’t see.

    Christine @ 12:42:26 AM.

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