I went and got myself a LiveJournal the other day, you know, just to see what the big deal is. Frankly, I think I like Diaryland better. More artistic freedom with the journal formats and such. I did, however, fashion myself a few icons.

A little Catwoman, because she's awesome...

A little Mr. Lex Luthor. Smoking is so hot. It's wrong, but it's hot.

And some Mr. Sark action. I'm quite proud of this one, actually. Tinkered in Photoshop with it for a while, I think it came out pretty cool. What can I say? I was bored.

Yeah, I'm a fucking dork. I know. Shut up.

Speaking of smoking, yesterday was, like, All Smokers Are Going to Hell Day at the college or something, cuz there were booths for anti-smoking everywhere. It was a little over the top, actually. Also, it made me really crave a cigarette, if you can understand that. Everyone's all "No! Stop smoking! Smoking is the Devil's work! Every time you smoke, a terrorist kills a kitten!" and all I can think is "Mmm... Nicotine-y goodness..." I didn't cave, though. It would be quite stupid of me to do that after almost two years of abstinance of the cursed things.

I can't help it if my first instincts after being told not to do something is to go ahead and do it anyway. It's like this... innate rebellion inside of me. I automatically want to do the opposite of what everyone says. Which will explain the Tragic Perm Incident of 1992. Really, though, my parents should have stopped that. I sometimes think they let me go through with it out of some kind of cruel amusement. I know that's why they insist on keeping the photographic evidence. Every year, they pull out a horrid picture of it, and snicker "Ha! Sarah, remember when you got that perm and it looked absolutely awful?" and they laugh, and the children laugh, and I force a smile and say "Ha ha. Shut up." while inside? I die a little. I mean, honestly, the world would be a much happier place if perms were abolished, don't you think?

I have a confession to make, mes petite champignons. I *deep breath* LOVE The O.C.. I'm absolutely hooked. Really. I can't get enough. I was watching last night's ep, and was thoroughly convinced that Seth and I are destined for each other, because he not only loves Jon Stewart, whom I adore with a slightly disturbing passion, but he also wears scarves. For no reason at all. They live in Orange Fucking County, and that adorable little muffin is walking around in a scarf. You may not know this about me, but I have a scarf fetish. I buy scarves the way some girls buy shoes or handbags. It's sick really. Long ones, short ones, striped, purple, black... Anyway, my point is I was watching this, and Laney saw the Look on my face (you know, that sort of slack-jawed, dreamy look) and took it upon herself to remind me that a)Seth Cohen is a HIGH SCHOOL student, and therefore, much too young for me, and b)Seth Cohen is a FICTIONAL CHARACTER.

[...]

That last point is going to be a tough obstacle to overcome.

I'm thinking of getting a job. I need the money, and it will give me something to do. I notice that my life has consisted of a lot of schoolwork, followed by a lot of television (as I'm sure you've noticed) as of late. I used to have a life! So, here's the deal: I'm going to start dropping off resumes at places where I think it could be potentially fun to work (read: People my own age, cute boys, and no smelly food or cranky customers). I'm sure that will last for a month or two, and then after receiving not one call for an interview, I'll pitch my dignity out the window and fill out an application at Denny's. Ugh.

Miss Black

Listening to: "Future Proof" by Massive Attack.

Reading: Job listings.

Watching: The flicker of letters across the screen.

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Miss Black also contributes to a David Anders/Sark site under the name Chaton Espion. Feel free to visit her there if you'd like to witness the terrifying depths of obsession.