Just a little while ago, shooting for a friend's Photography class project for album covers.
Her professor totally digs me.
Anyway, I'm hoping to begin intense blogging, I've been writing less and less for myself lately. I'm around, school, and traveling. Just got a couple issues of National Geographic in the mailbox and stacked up on Vogue and W magazines, as well as juggling seven different books. You can never read too much, right?
Right now, I'm focusing more so on "The Pilot's Wife," I was given as a freebie at a recent garage sale across the street, along with a Hispanic painting and a knitted sweater because the family claimed they knew me from Elementary School and, also thought I was cute. I believe the last part. But really, it was kick ass. I'm also reading: Writing Down the Bones-excellente for aspiring writers who'd like to dig deep, and I mean deeeep; When Will This Cruel War Be Over-snatched it up from a library I volunteered at a couple times; Wit-a witty quote book; The Widows of Eastwick-the day I bought it, all I can recall is it being one of the worst days ever considering I sprain by foot skateboarding while dog walking and being attacked by other dogs in the process. No one likes crutches; The Complete Works of Marvin K. Mooney-very fascinating so far, I bought it from Ken who plays Ben on The Secret Life of an American Teenager, he's sweet and inspiring. That leaves two books left, now what are they? I'm boring you, I'm boring myself. Ah, anyway. 4:44 in the morn, I ought to barricade myself in my room and read away after a good night's sleep. I'm so weird, I cannot bear but to enjoy it.
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