Because if this was a real post, I'd have a lot to say. Like about how much I like my room, with the red and black and white quilts and purple and white sheets and teal walls and dark wood floors and desk and cream dresser and big mirror and purple blanket that feels like the pelts of many Muppets and the Egyptian artwork (a college student with artwork that isn't from Picasso's Blue Period) and myself and it's mine only mine.
I'd also probably talk about a few other things that I've mentioned to a few people. I know I've probably talked non-stop about one, and not at all about the other. They both have pros and cons and are a cause of late nights with little sleep. I suppose I'm a little high-strung. I guess I should just say that there's a lot more to each situation than I probably would ever let in on.
In regards to one of the above, I'm working on writing something about this friend of mine, the Cajun Voice of Unreason, The Vagina in our high school superhero team Girl and Vagina (I was Girl), my alto duet partner. We sang Jesus Christ Superstar and she was always Judas, although I should stay away from the obvious. The one who I've watched fall with no way to catch her. I'm sure it will be one of those long sappy things no one enjoys reading, but it's something I need to write.
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