Memealicious

I have my first (and possibly last, depending on how it goes, but hopefully not) band practice today. Hehehe. So instead of doing work in order to have stuff done before I go, I'm doing memes. Two of them, in fact.

From suzvoy:

R You are a social butterfly. (Reeeeally...)
E You are a very exciting person. ((You think so?)
B You are always cautious when it comes to meeting new people. ((Sure.)
E You are a very exciting person. ((See above.)
C You definitely have a partier side in you, don't be shy to show it. (*snicker* Maybe if the party has ballroom music playing and I can dance...)
C You definitely have a partier side in you, don't be shy to show it. ((Etc.)
A You can be very quiet when you have something on your mind. ((Well, yeah.)

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I You are always smiling & making others smile. ((Hopefully.)
C You definitely have a partier side in you, don't be shy to show it. ((See above.)
E You are a very exciting person. ((Lots of E's in my name/username, y'know?)
P You are very friendly and understanding. ((I would have to disagree, but if you want to think that about me...)
I You are always smiling & making others smile. ((That's the plan.)
X You never let people tell you what to do. ((*looks at pile of homework* Uh, well...)
I You are always smiling & making others smile. ((See above.)
E You are a very exciting person. ((Definitely too many E's.)

( The letters )

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From chiroho:

1. How did you first find my journal?
2. Why did you originally decide to friend me?
3. What's your favorite part of my journal?
4. What's your least favorite part of my journal?
5. Ask me a question. Be as random as you want.
6. Recommend a band to me. I'm curious what you think I should be listening to.
7. Recommend a LJ user to me.
8. Am I lovable?
9. What was your first impression of me?
10. Do you still think that way about me now?
11. What makes me happy?
12. If you could give me anything what would it be?
13. Describe me in five words.

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I swear I will get around to replying to comments and e-mails very, very soon.

Yes, we have no potatoes...

Oooouch. So Kazoochestra sponsored a roller skating party last night. The rink was the smallest, most crowded, and seediest I have ever been in, but it was fun. Once I remembered how to skate, anyway. I was going pretty well by the end of the two hours we were there (well, with the exception of the giant wipe out I had somewhere in the middle...stupid tiny rink with tiny turns...), but I still think I can ice skate better. It certainly feels easier. I tried Chandra's roller blades witht he hope of them being easier, but...eh. I could skate okay, but I like being able to move my ankles. Anyway, today my arms are all sore from keeping my balance, running into walls to stop... Ouchie pain.

However, today was also Chandra's and my first practice with Potato Famine, the Irish folk band we joined last week. Heh. It was fun, even though there wasn't a whole lot for us to sing yet. We need to work on that. ;) I so don't have time for this, even if practices are only, like, an hour a week, but...singing! Irish music! Wheee!

You might laugh.

Watch me and my hatred of sonnets. Forced ryhme rhyme and rithym rythm rhythm are evil. See, they're even impossible to spell.

First one had to be Shakespearean sonnet rhyme scheme, but no rhythmic constrictions. Second one had to be Shakespearian and pentameter, but not iambic pentameter.


Shakespeare's Cat

"How fair thou art!" cries
our hero the tom from outside the glass.
His fair princess sighs
at his melodramatic, half-catnip-drunken pass
at her, and licks her orange fur,
pretending she doesn't hear
his pleading, chainsaw-esque purr.
She hopes that he will disappear,
leaving her to her own delights of feather toys
and her owner's soft hand;
she will be a spinster cat, her joys
simple, her life planned
and enscribed by her human Romeo.
She's already been fixed, you know.

---

Failure

I'm going for the ocean effect here, okay?
Syllables rising and falling like ocean waves,
transporting you to sleep, until the spray
comes over the side and hits you in the face.
Wake up! There's a rhyme here,
trying to hide in enjambed phrases, except
it sticks out, like a sore ear.
(How's that for a forced rhyme? It crept
up on me, this abab
thing, and oh, look, here's the mate,
that damned, infernal, codswallowing cdcd).
Now I have to go—the ending's late;
it's quite certain I'm no Shakespeare,
and I have nothing pithy to say here.

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See? Horrible. But hopefully horrible enough to be entertaining. That was the plan, anyway. Since I knew I could never write a serious sonnet...