Busy busy busy.

Well, today moved quickly. I woke up bright and early and popped in my rarely used Charlotte Church CD so that I could warm up for ISSMA competition, turned it all the way up, helped my family get a joyous start to their saturday morning, grabbed a banana, and drove to Harrison with my supportive parents.
By the time we got there, I was totally ready to sing, and convinced my self during the performance that I was some famous singer. I remembered my blog post from yesterday, so instead of thinking about what I sounded like, I just focused on the performance delivery. It went better than I had hoped, and I exited victorious with a gold medal.
Everybody in our group did well, and for the most part enjoyed our time there. We did have a TON of waiting around though, and ended up all sitting in the hallway, talking about guys and how we absolutely don't like them (yeah, whatever!), while I got kindof camera happy.

Don't ask...

But moving on to a very irritating matter of serious importance--
As most of you know, I have a great love and passion for well-written, thought-through, sentimental, inspiring literature. One genre of this hobby is poetry. I mean really, I love it. Anyway, today as I was walking cheerfully down the crowded halls of Harrison Highschool, I came face to face with the most horrible representation of literary art imaginable. There, posted on the wall, was a poem. Meant to be a model and standard to other poets, it was displayed proudly and prominently.

I wanted to vomit.

Because I can hardly speak for rage and frustration--I will let you read this poem yourself and draw from it your own conclusion. I am in personal favor of burning it--as it is definately a friek demonstration of human derrangement.

Well--now that my fingers are shaking so that I can hardly type, I will change subjects.

After competition, I went with Luke and his family to celebrate his birthday. The restaurant we went to had one of those "if it's your birthday we'll give you a cake and candles and make everyone sing to you" policies, and I think everyone in Indiana decided to have their birthday today and in that restaurant. After stuffing ourselves to the point of danger, singing happy birthday at least 15 times, admiring the strange and random pictures on the walls---(this one was my personal favorite!) we returned to Lafayette fat and happy.

Now finally, I'm in the comfort of my home, staring at the computer screen as my fingers move voluntarily and my eyes begin to close...

Sigh!