Alrighty, Flist. It is time.

FRIENDS ONLY.

I'm officially locking my entries ('cept for stories and the like). I've been getting strange ass comments from people I don't even know, and I'm starting to get a little weirded out.

Newcomers: welcome to my corner of the internets. Just drop a line here, saying from where you know me, and I'll be more than happy to friend you back. C'mon, don't be shy- I don't bite.

Not unless you want me to. ;D

EDIT: I am in need of a 'friends only' banner that looks kick ass. Help a sista out?

After George presses the button to close the elevator doors to send Izzie back, he stands in place and sighs slowly, letting his hand rest against the metal plate of the buttons. The uniform feels a little stiff, a little uncomfortable, but he’s slowly getting used to it.

“Georgie.”

Started, he turns and blinks a few times.

His dad is standing there, with the same old grin on his face. A lump forms in George’s throat; he didn’t realize how much he missed that smile.

“Dad,” he whispers, moving closer. His dad grins and pulls a small toy airplane from the pocket of his old beat up bomber jacket. With a stout finger, he twirls the propeller, smiling as it flips through the air, stirring up the motes of golden dust burnished by the ray of sun coming through the window.

His hand closes over the toy as he looks back up at George and chuckles, easily slipping an arm about his son’s shoulders.

“Us airplane guys, eh Georgie?” he says. George nods and matches his dad’s grin. It was so seldom just them; he always had to share with Ronnie and Jerry, hearing them crack jokes, choose cars and tap into a part of his dad that was always just so foreign to him.

He reaches for the plane and mimics his father, reaching out with a finger and making the propeller spin. “A smooth pin,” he murmurs, recalling a memory steeped in the pleasing scent of the sawdust in his father’s workshop as they carefully dissembled the airplane to see how it worked.

Nodding, George’s father claps his son on his shoulder once more, starting to guide him along the hall. The two O’Malley men stroll down the linoleum, closer to their destination as George coasts the metal toy through the air, watching the propeller twirl.

“Ready to fly, Georgie?” he asks, his blue eyes twinkling. Looking up slowly, George meets his gaze and nods, feeling the solid weight of his father pressed against him.

“Yeah, Dad. I’m ready.”

1. Leave a Harry Potter character in the comments, and I'll respond to your question.

2. Repost in your journal and see what people ask you!

._._._.

Harry Potter- Tell about a scar on your body.
Ron Weasley- Something you’re afraid of.
Hermione Granger- A subject you know a lot about.
Draco Malfoy- Closest green item to you.
Severus Snape- Your favorite Alcoholic beverage.
Rubeus Hagrid- Your favorite animal.
Luna Lovegood- Something about you other people find weird.
Neville Longbottom- Your favorite flower.
Nymphadora Tonks- Something you would change about your appearance.
Fred and George Weasley- The last prank you pulled on someone, or someone pulled on you.
Voldemort- If you were to make a Horcrux, it would be…
Moaning Myrtle- The last thing to make you cry.

._._._.

Stolen shamelessly from tumblr. :x

I need to get something pretty fucking huge off of my chest, so here we go.

Basically, it all started when Puget Sound (which was my first choice for a variety of reasons) lost parts of my application. Or, maybe they weren't the ones who lost them; perhaps they got lost in the mail- I don't really know, but bottomline: parts of my application were misplaced somewhere along the line. I sent in my application in late fall/early winter, I believe, and it was sometime in January that I was informed that said parts were missing. I re-sent them as soon as I could, and then all I got back from UPS was radio silence. So at that point, I didn't even know if I was still being considered, or what was even going on at that point, since the deadline for applications had passed. (I realize now that I should've been more aggressive about calling them and asking what was going on, but I guess hindsight is 20/20.)

So since my application was lost, information about everything else was up in the air, including any information about financial aid. And because of the lack of correspondence from UPS, I thought that I was officially shit out of luck for going to my first choice.

Tulane was the first school to get back to me and had the best offer. Since my parents make under 50 grand a year, I accepted the offer, and sent in my deposit. Three days after I sent in the deposit to Tulane, Puget Sound officially gets back to me, and it turns out that they were offering me a merit scholarship, something that I didn't get from Tulane. (All of the aid is pretty much need based.)

A major part of the issue is I haven't been as excited about going to Tulane as I feel I should. Sure, there was excitement- it's a great school from all accounts, it's located in an amazing city, the people in LA are remarkably nice and hospitable, etc, etc. But I still felt like I was forcing myself to get excited about it. It all came to a head at orientation. Pretty much everyone I've talked to that has gone to Tulane has said that as soon as they stepped foot on campus, they knew Tulane was the school for them. I didn't have that moment, and again, as we went through orientation, it still felt like I was forcing myself to smile and go along.

Seeing the type of students that are going to Tulane also contributed a fair amount. They were just... I don't know. Never before have I ever felt so out of place, or uncomfortable. I looked at these people and they all had these super expensive phones, and they had the same bored, cocky look of some of the people who went to Sandia; the people who burned through phones and iPods like it was their job, and have never had to skip a meal because money was tight. I just... I don't know. I'm struggling to find words that can accurately and fairly describe what my intuition is telling me, but I'm failing. Just- let's just say that I don't talk to people like them. I don't belong with people like them.

It felt so... clique-y. At Sandia, no one gave a shit if one was ghetto, preppy, a cheerleader, a jock, a nerd, etc. No-one really cares. Of course, birds of a feather flock together, but the general rule of thumb is that if you're not a dick, and you like some of the common interests around Sandia, you'll have friends. But with the people at Tulane, there was a feeling in my gut that was telling me that I didn't belong.

I almost had a breakdown in the LBC (student life center) and I confessed to my dad that I wasn't feeling as excited about Tulane as I feel I should've been, that I think I made a huge mistake in making the choice to go to Tulane. We started talking and I told him about everything- the fear about how expensive Tulane is, the students here, how I don't fit in, how, even on the first day of orientation, I didn't feel like it could be home for the next four years.

We talked about it, and made the decision to skip the orientation activities after dinner. We went back to the hotel room and I basically poured my heart out. We spent about three or four hours hashing it out and figuring out what my options were.

On Monday, I'm calling Puget Sound and explaining how I still REALLY want to go there, and if I can withdraw from Tulane and attend UPS. I'll see if I can still get the scholarship, and see if there's anyway we can still apply for financial aid. I'll try making my case, and see where I can end up. If there's a chance I can still go with the scholarship and the aid, my dad and I are making a trip to UPS's orientation.

That's a lot of 'if's, but I'm just... I don't see myself at Tulane in four years. I'm fucking choked with guilt, and I can't stop freaking out. I know going to TU is an opportunity several would kill for, and I feel like I've wasted so much time and resources in this whole college affair. My parents have assured me that I shouldn't feel guilty and bad if I end up not choosing Tulane, but I can't help it. I do. It's eating me up inside and I can't stop shaking, I can't get rid of the nausea that's been clinging to the back of my throat for the past few days, I just... I don't know. I'm fucking terrified, and I can't shake the feeling that I've irreparably fucked up everything for myself.

Title: Practice Makes Perfect
Author: a_bemused_muse
Pairing/ Characters: Sam/Mercedes
Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Summary: Should she tell her mom about how Sam, as corny as it sounds, made her prom fantasies come true? Or even how she bested him in a Chewbacca roar contest after he found out the formidable strength of her secret passion for Star Wars? Should she confess about how good his warm, slightly calloused palms feel pressed against hers when he swings their joined hands together as they wait in line for coffee?
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Spoilers: Through 'New York'.
AN: I absolutely, positively could not get this idea out of my head. I sat down to write it, and now, after five and half hours of messing around on LiveJournal, editing, and screwing around on Tumblr, I'm done. Finally. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to sleep. Enjoy!

( I'm a diva- I ain't no Tony Romo. )

Elaine S.
The 505, NM.
September 25, 2010.
A day of lazing around the house, college applications, Halo: Reach, craftiness and waffles.




( 52 PHOTOS TOTAL )

A couple weeks ago, we had some rainy weather here in the 505. Whenever it rains, I bake bread. It's kinda my thing. Also a bit of necessity, because having a kitchen that's hot as hell when your AC is busted is never fun.

So. It was raining, and y'all know what that means.




( More photos and step by step behind the cut.... )

I got a text from Steph, my sister, at around 1:30 in the morning, on the 27th.

Can you text me when you wake up? I need help making something tomorrow if you have time :)

I asked her what was what, and it turns out that she needed help to make something for a baby shower for one of her people at her work.

A baby shower that was (at that time) going to take place in T minus 3 hours.

I wanted to strangle her.

Instead of committing sibling homicide, I helped kick around ideas for appetizers and finger food to make for this shindig. After brainstorming and getting ideas ruled out, I remembered a video I saw a few months ago that demonstrated how to make these bad boys. Super simple and ridiculously addictive, I highly suggest this recipe for any occasion.



( Method to the madness and more photos behind the cut... )

Basically every time Alyssa comes over to my house and we hang out or bake cookies, the conversation inevitably turns to food. In fact, this idea was born during one such conversation, after Alyssa picked up her share of money from this little baking outfit we have called Just Desserts, named after a dessert restaurant in our Mock Trial case last year.

Cilantro is one of our favorite herbs and we always mention it in some way or another during said conversations. Naturally, this leads to talking about Colombian food, seeing as how cilantro is a continuing theme in said type of cuisine.

This recognition of cilantro's awesomeness, combined with the fact that Alyssa is one half Colombian through her dad, secured this fabulous country's position early on in the original draft of countries for this Around the World project.



( The compelling thing about making art- or making anything, I suppose- is the moment when the vaporous, insubstantial idea becomes a solid THERE, a thing, a substance in the world of substances. )

Got the photos finally. :D

So. France was completed on July 9th, 2010. The night before, we had a sleep over. I made white chocolate macadamia nut cookies but was suuuuupaaaaahhh late. :/ (Quick sidenote: I also forgot my camera at my house, which is why the photos look differently than they usually do; I had to pilfer Alyssa's camera.)

We wanted a scary movie, and then we saw 'The Human Centipede' on the list. Curious, we watched the trailer.

That is some ridiculously disturbing shit right there. Seriously. I would rather give myself a lobotomy with a rusty drill bit than see that movie in its entirety. Needless to say, we did not choose 'The Human Centipede'. We settled for 'The Wolfman' instead. Kinda boring, I'm afraid. So, another movie had to be chosen.

It then came to light that Alyssa had never seen 'Pan's Labyrinth'. I kid you not, there was a shocked silence.

"What do you mean, you've never seen it?! You're killin' me, Smalls. You're killin' me."

So, we watched it in Blu-ray and it was amaaaaazzzziiinggg, as always. My favorite movie, hands down. After the credits started to roll, I turned to Alyssa and asked her what she thought about it.

"Wow."

Yeah, pretty much. Then, because neither of us were super tired, we stayed up until fourish in the morning and just talked about Life. Interesting conversation, even if it did leave us with super sleepy dispositions later that morning. Thus, we woke up late- an hour after we were supposed to start. The boys were nowhere to be seen, leaving Valeria, Alyssa and myself to cook and fend for ourselves.

So, after a trip to Smith's to get some Parmesan and various vegetables, France was well under way!

Recipes are included this time around, via links.



( Moooaaarrr photos and foodstuffs behind the cut. )