sumire (sumirechan) wrote,

Random babblings of the sleep-deprived.

Popped up at six-something this morning, and even though I felt energetic, I was so stupid today. Met with Moz for a group project and could barely hold up my end of things intellectually; took a GRE practice test and did horribly. Tried to tell my bleach story and botched it. Argued with Moz for half an hour about the most picayune thing. And then I came home and was moved to sentimental tears by some dumb commercial, and also by remembering the first time the North and South Korean athletes marched under the same flag (that was what, Sydney?)


Someone almost asked me what my plans for Valentine's Day were, so I figured I'd better hone a suitable answer. All the sarcastic ones I've come up with sound hopelessly bitter and pathetic, though, so unless inspiration strikes, I'll probably go with, "Spending a romantic evening in. With Clive Owen."


Because I joined LJ for the egl and fan communities, and because 29-ish men on Myspace go browsing for 29-ish women, it has become as if Myspace is my Boy Journal and LJ is my Girl Journal. When I joined Myspace, I intended to keep my blog content the same as my LJ, but virtually all my friends and random commenters are guys, so when I feel like writing, I find myself thinking, "Nah, they don't want to read about the new skirt I altered--keep it light and funny."

Then again, the differing formats of the blogs are another reason why I edit myself more on MySp. Here, I can put the crap behind a lj-cut and my friends can easily skip it, but there, all the entries appear on one long page, pithy musings followed by photoillustrated lists of my shopping followed by song lyrics. Meh.


Speaking of girl stuff, I've worn my bloomers under my skirt twice this past week. They're so nice and warm--we've been having freakishly cold weather recently.


You know what I hate? Steve Madden shoes. I've tried on dozens of pairs at Ross and Goodwill, and they're all ridiculously uncomfortable the minute I stick my foot in there. Whenever I see someone write, all happy-like, that they've just bought a pair of Steve Madden shoes, I want to shriek, "What is wrong with you!?"
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