As soon as I start this post, the friend I'm waiting for will arrive.
As soon as I fixed my Skype camera my digital camera broke.
As soon as I've finished one exam it's time to start studying for another.
As soon as I lose one friend I invariably find a new one.
This is the way of the world. I thought I'd just share that moment of enlightenment (ha).
cheers!
WolfGrrl
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Friends in Far Places
Hiyah!
Since I'm cheerfully procrastinating about studying for my two ugly finals, I thought I'd write a bit about friends - a subject that makes me giggle, sigh, roll my eyes, and get warm fuzzies in my tummy.
My friends come in all shapes, sizes, walks of life, and locations. But one thing remains consistent: I choose people who make me happy. My selection process is appropriately convoluted (haha - just like this blog!) but it works for me. The people I choose as friends are the people who I'm happy to be with. Seems simple enough, right? My friends, my good friends, are those whom I can run to when I'm having a bad day, or who can make me laugh over Facebook chat. Some of them you know; some of them, you are. They live all over the world, and I talk to them once a day, once a month, or a few times a year. But we have stood the test of time; that's what makes us friends.
Recently, I made a new friend through an online art forum I joined on a whim a year ago. It's rather funny (to me anyway) that the friends I've made through this forum are mostly from Eastern Europe. I knew I had a lot in common with Asians and Asian-Americans, but Eastern Europe is my favorite place to learn about and now I feel justified in my obsession.
Sorry; got sidetracked. So, my new friend is not Eastern European and is actually (shocker) a guy. Hahaha, I can see the open mouths and narrowed eyes as all of you begin to build castles in the air. Don't worry; I did it too. But, ehhhh. Whatever. It's rare that I get along with guys - they're absolutely foreign to me. But it's also rare that I spend three hours talking to anyone...and we've been writing consistently for a few days now. What makes this story interesting is that this guy is actually from New Zealand...the place I shall be studying abroad in, and the place where I'm considering living as an adult.
Coincidence? Who knows? Lately, I've become a big believer in Fate. I choose to believe that choices and events happen when and where they are meant to, regardless of whether or not I think that time and moment are opportune. I can see my mother flipping out, her mind jumping to visions of online perverts and predators. Relax, Mama: it wasn't three messages in that I began creeping internationally, to make sure this person was who he said he was.
Guess what? He was. So now I have a new friend in a far place, and someone to call if I get in trouble in New Zealand. The world is very, very large, but at the same time my world can be shrunk by random chance. Now traveling across the international dateline and to a new country doesn't make me quite so nervous; I have a touchstone. (Sorry to be sappy; it won't last much longer, I promise.)
I like having friends in far places. It makes me feel that I am somewhat bigger than just my hometown. It gives me hope that there is a place where I belong, where I'll feel like the people there are just like me. I have found something like this with my university friends, each of whom shares something with me that I value. (Gasybeans, this is definitely a post you should read: here's your shout-out, my dear!) But it's exciting that I, I who had so much trouble connecting with people for most of my life, am finally able to do so. It feels like my epiphany (that I don't have to live the "standard" life, but rather the life that suits me) is blossoming.
It seems appropriate to end there, given it's spring here, and the world is blossoming. Here's to friends then, and the hope and laughter and hugs that they bring.
This post is for all of you. You know who you are.
WolfGrrl
Since I'm cheerfully procrastinating about studying for my two ugly finals, I thought I'd write a bit about friends - a subject that makes me giggle, sigh, roll my eyes, and get warm fuzzies in my tummy.
My friends come in all shapes, sizes, walks of life, and locations. But one thing remains consistent: I choose people who make me happy. My selection process is appropriately convoluted (haha - just like this blog!) but it works for me. The people I choose as friends are the people who I'm happy to be with. Seems simple enough, right? My friends, my good friends, are those whom I can run to when I'm having a bad day, or who can make me laugh over Facebook chat. Some of them you know; some of them, you are. They live all over the world, and I talk to them once a day, once a month, or a few times a year. But we have stood the test of time; that's what makes us friends.
Recently, I made a new friend through an online art forum I joined on a whim a year ago. It's rather funny (to me anyway) that the friends I've made through this forum are mostly from Eastern Europe. I knew I had a lot in common with Asians and Asian-Americans, but Eastern Europe is my favorite place to learn about and now I feel justified in my obsession.
Sorry; got sidetracked. So, my new friend is not Eastern European and is actually (shocker) a guy. Hahaha, I can see the open mouths and narrowed eyes as all of you begin to build castles in the air. Don't worry; I did it too. But, ehhhh. Whatever. It's rare that I get along with guys - they're absolutely foreign to me. But it's also rare that I spend three hours talking to anyone...and we've been writing consistently for a few days now. What makes this story interesting is that this guy is actually from New Zealand...the place I shall be studying abroad in, and the place where I'm considering living as an adult.
Coincidence? Who knows? Lately, I've become a big believer in Fate. I choose to believe that choices and events happen when and where they are meant to, regardless of whether or not I think that time and moment are opportune. I can see my mother flipping out, her mind jumping to visions of online perverts and predators. Relax, Mama: it wasn't three messages in that I began creeping internationally, to make sure this person was who he said he was.
Guess what? He was. So now I have a new friend in a far place, and someone to call if I get in trouble in New Zealand. The world is very, very large, but at the same time my world can be shrunk by random chance. Now traveling across the international dateline and to a new country doesn't make me quite so nervous; I have a touchstone. (Sorry to be sappy; it won't last much longer, I promise.)
I like having friends in far places. It makes me feel that I am somewhat bigger than just my hometown. It gives me hope that there is a place where I belong, where I'll feel like the people there are just like me. I have found something like this with my university friends, each of whom shares something with me that I value. (Gasybeans, this is definitely a post you should read: here's your shout-out, my dear!) But it's exciting that I, I who had so much trouble connecting with people for most of my life, am finally able to do so. It feels like my epiphany (that I don't have to live the "standard" life, but rather the life that suits me) is blossoming.
It seems appropriate to end there, given it's spring here, and the world is blossoming. Here's to friends then, and the hope and laughter and hugs that they bring.
This post is for all of you. You know who you are.
WolfGrrl
Friday, April 27, 2012
The Stuff of Life
That is a very bizarre title, but I didn't want to make eveyone too depressed and scare them away. It's that time in my grandmother's life where she feels the need to make sure her treasures (furniture, art, rugs, etc.) are going to good homes. This is a sad time for her family, but my mother pointed out it is also an important one. Obviously, we love my grandmother for more than the stuff she's collected over her life, but if it gives her comfort to know that her things will be loved and appreciated, well...it's a way we can show her how much we appreciate her.
It feels strange to divvy up a house that has stayed the same since before I was born. I can mentally walk through the foyer and see down the hall and out the kitchen window into the back garden. I can imagine the colored light from the stained glass skylight flooding the stairs. I can hear the floorboards creak when I get up at night to pee. I remember hot summers, freezing winters (hey, when we visited for Christmas the heat broke Christmas Day!) and stories of how, as a baby, I sat in the window, my feet black from the city dirt, and the boys playing hockey on the street waved at me.
What makes a house a home and a life a Life is more than the things in it. Trust me - as someone who suffers from object attachment, I am slowly realizing the power of acquiring stuff and letting it go. These things come into our lives with baggage - our own, and sometimes their own. When I am old and my family is going through my things, trying to decide what to keep and what to jettison, I hope they take the care and consideration my mother is showing my grandmother.
Enough introspection for a Friday.
WolfGrrl
It feels strange to divvy up a house that has stayed the same since before I was born. I can mentally walk through the foyer and see down the hall and out the kitchen window into the back garden. I can imagine the colored light from the stained glass skylight flooding the stairs. I can hear the floorboards creak when I get up at night to pee. I remember hot summers, freezing winters (hey, when we visited for Christmas the heat broke Christmas Day!) and stories of how, as a baby, I sat in the window, my feet black from the city dirt, and the boys playing hockey on the street waved at me.
What makes a house a home and a life a Life is more than the things in it. Trust me - as someone who suffers from object attachment, I am slowly realizing the power of acquiring stuff and letting it go. These things come into our lives with baggage - our own, and sometimes their own. When I am old and my family is going through my things, trying to decide what to keep and what to jettison, I hope they take the care and consideration my mother is showing my grandmother.
Enough introspection for a Friday.
WolfGrrl
Thursday, April 26, 2012
the Nightmare
I want to tell you a story.
Thirty minutes ago, before I was woken by the natural violence of a thunderstorm, I had a dream. It began, as most of them do, in an ordinary time and place - in this case, walking back from Franklin Street with a group of friends.
We were doing all the things we usually do: talking, laughing, bickering. In the midst of all the hilarity, I noticed something. Certain individuals on the street were being abused. Passerby would spit on them; ignore them; force them to step off the sidewalk onto the street. A girl I know from school (not a friend) raced by yelling something. It's been a long time since I had violent (and I mean violent) dreams. I hope this doesn't mark a return.
The girl I knew was screaming about gays. Specifically, a more profane version of "Off with their heads." My friends didn't react beyond our conversation turning towards Gay Rights. (I'm sure this is a combination of my roommate and Amendment One. But still.) I, however, was horrified and enraged.
As a non-combative person in real life, my behavior in the dream was bizarre enough that it frightened me. I had no fear. When the scenery changed and I was coming out of class, I witnessed a beheading. By guillotine. It took place in one of the more famous locations on campus, a fountain students (and faculty) like to wade in. I saw the crowd first, asked what was going on, and heard the cheer and saw the flash of a pale watermelon splattered with gore. Right then I felt nauseated. No one noticed.
The rest of my story consists of little moments like that; the disentegration of society as I knew it. I was accosted in the bathroom by the same girl I'd seen on Franklin Street, demanding that I join her in prosecuting the filthy unnaturals. I took her specifically what she could do with that (and herself). But she was far from the worst.
I visited a friend, and heard some of the most abusive language ever, directed at LGBTQ individuals. I called him on his BS - asked him what the f*** he was saying. He said he'd sit next to me and say it, so I could hear him better. I punched him. I had no fear.
I remember, above all, lacking fear and being full of rage. I am a champion of "Live and let live." I don't want people to ask me questions, and in return I'm hesitant to broach anyone's privacy. But in this dream I was so enraged by the violence directed - campus-wide, even by staff and administrators - at the LGBTQ community that I acted. I called people on their crap. On the bus; crossing campus; in the dorms; in the showers and the toilets and the locker rooms. I fought, and for a non-combative Teacup Human, I did a damn good job.
What frightened me, above all, was how normal it seemed. I like to think I live in a pretty tolerant city, and that I attend a famously tolerant university. But this dream was a dark reflection of that world and a literal wake-up call. I can't describe to you what I felt in this dream: fury, fear, sadness, confusion, disgust. The words are too thin to capture the depth of those emotions. I was transcendent. I was not afraid to die, and I came very close several times: a mob of students and faculty with knives and guns, and the Franklin St. Girl, who was prepared to shoot me if I didn't join her cause, right there in the bathroom, surrounded by seven or eight other girls I recognized.
There was no question for me which side I stood on - something I find incredible. In this dream, this nightmare, this world-that-could-be, I stood up for something I felt was wrong...and I did so honestly. Selflessly. (I won't toot my own horn after this, I promise.) But Reader, imagine what the world would be like if more people had no fear. I fought a football player for God's sake. And I won. For me, this was definitely a nightmare (someone always dies, usually me). Yet at the same time, in a creepy, twisted way, this was a dream of personal emancipation. It was a reflection of who I've come to be inside, and who I may eventually be outside. I am timid; I am conflict-shy. I am live-and-let-live.
But I don't have to be. My temper is an ugly thing; so ugly it frightens me. In dreams, there are no rules, and there is no fear. It's only when I wake up that I'm afraid. I'm blessed that I don't live in fear. I have. I might do so again, one day. But this...this is progress. I can see the cracks in my world, the facade of gentility and reality. My roommate fights for the rights of those who can't defend themselves. I should be so lucky to have someone that passionate championing me.
Be me, Reader. Be brave. Stand up for the ones who might otherwise die. You've only got your life to lose; the rest is collateral damage. We live and love, but neither of those are meaingful without some investment. Be the Teacup Human who told a thuggish football player to shut his f****** mouth and sit down. (Find a better way to phrase it though.) Be the Teacup Human who grabbed a girl in the dorm restroom and said to her, "This is not you. I know you. I don't like you, but I know this isn't you. Think about what you're saying, then try to say it while thinking."
Please, please don't let our world become this. Don't let people die by La Guillotine. Once was enough. One long, bloody execution was enough. It was my nightmare; don't make it any more of a reality.
WolfGrrl
Thirty minutes ago, before I was woken by the natural violence of a thunderstorm, I had a dream. It began, as most of them do, in an ordinary time and place - in this case, walking back from Franklin Street with a group of friends.
We were doing all the things we usually do: talking, laughing, bickering. In the midst of all the hilarity, I noticed something. Certain individuals on the street were being abused. Passerby would spit on them; ignore them; force them to step off the sidewalk onto the street. A girl I know from school (not a friend) raced by yelling something. It's been a long time since I had violent (and I mean violent) dreams. I hope this doesn't mark a return.
The girl I knew was screaming about gays. Specifically, a more profane version of "Off with their heads." My friends didn't react beyond our conversation turning towards Gay Rights. (I'm sure this is a combination of my roommate and Amendment One. But still.) I, however, was horrified and enraged.
As a non-combative person in real life, my behavior in the dream was bizarre enough that it frightened me. I had no fear. When the scenery changed and I was coming out of class, I witnessed a beheading. By guillotine. It took place in one of the more famous locations on campus, a fountain students (and faculty) like to wade in. I saw the crowd first, asked what was going on, and heard the cheer and saw the flash of a pale watermelon splattered with gore. Right then I felt nauseated. No one noticed.
The rest of my story consists of little moments like that; the disentegration of society as I knew it. I was accosted in the bathroom by the same girl I'd seen on Franklin Street, demanding that I join her in prosecuting the filthy unnaturals. I took her specifically what she could do with that (and herself). But she was far from the worst.
I visited a friend, and heard some of the most abusive language ever, directed at LGBTQ individuals. I called him on his BS - asked him what the f*** he was saying. He said he'd sit next to me and say it, so I could hear him better. I punched him. I had no fear.
I remember, above all, lacking fear and being full of rage. I am a champion of "Live and let live." I don't want people to ask me questions, and in return I'm hesitant to broach anyone's privacy. But in this dream I was so enraged by the violence directed - campus-wide, even by staff and administrators - at the LGBTQ community that I acted. I called people on their crap. On the bus; crossing campus; in the dorms; in the showers and the toilets and the locker rooms. I fought, and for a non-combative Teacup Human, I did a damn good job.
What frightened me, above all, was how normal it seemed. I like to think I live in a pretty tolerant city, and that I attend a famously tolerant university. But this dream was a dark reflection of that world and a literal wake-up call. I can't describe to you what I felt in this dream: fury, fear, sadness, confusion, disgust. The words are too thin to capture the depth of those emotions. I was transcendent. I was not afraid to die, and I came very close several times: a mob of students and faculty with knives and guns, and the Franklin St. Girl, who was prepared to shoot me if I didn't join her cause, right there in the bathroom, surrounded by seven or eight other girls I recognized.
There was no question for me which side I stood on - something I find incredible. In this dream, this nightmare, this world-that-could-be, I stood up for something I felt was wrong...and I did so honestly. Selflessly. (I won't toot my own horn after this, I promise.) But Reader, imagine what the world would be like if more people had no fear. I fought a football player for God's sake. And I won. For me, this was definitely a nightmare (someone always dies, usually me). Yet at the same time, in a creepy, twisted way, this was a dream of personal emancipation. It was a reflection of who I've come to be inside, and who I may eventually be outside. I am timid; I am conflict-shy. I am live-and-let-live.
But I don't have to be. My temper is an ugly thing; so ugly it frightens me. In dreams, there are no rules, and there is no fear. It's only when I wake up that I'm afraid. I'm blessed that I don't live in fear. I have. I might do so again, one day. But this...this is progress. I can see the cracks in my world, the facade of gentility and reality. My roommate fights for the rights of those who can't defend themselves. I should be so lucky to have someone that passionate championing me.
Be me, Reader. Be brave. Stand up for the ones who might otherwise die. You've only got your life to lose; the rest is collateral damage. We live and love, but neither of those are meaingful without some investment. Be the Teacup Human who told a thuggish football player to shut his f****** mouth and sit down. (Find a better way to phrase it though.) Be the Teacup Human who grabbed a girl in the dorm restroom and said to her, "This is not you. I know you. I don't like you, but I know this isn't you. Think about what you're saying, then try to say it while thinking."
Please, please don't let our world become this. Don't let people die by La Guillotine. Once was enough. One long, bloody execution was enough. It was my nightmare; don't make it any more of a reality.
WolfGrrl
Monday, April 23, 2012
Sugahhhhhr
OK, I wish that all my websites would not randomly update themselves. I get used to using one method, only to find that (and Facebook is notorious for this) everything has changed overnight. My usual method of dealing with this is to pretend it hasn't happened and not do anything for a week or so; this is the standard amount of time it takes my brain to adjust.
I didn't intend to begin today's post with a mini-rant about technology and my issues with it, so I'll apologize for that. I think I'll dedicate this post to delicious foods and extreme laziness. Yup, that sounds about right.
Since coming to college I've had any number of encounters with delicious new foods. Bread pudding, Starbucks coffee cake, scones (mmmmmmm), chocolate-covered-anything-salty, granola, Luna bars and yogurt and granola parfaits. I don't count salad in this, since I've been a fan of salads for the past three or four years. My family gets very tired of this when we go out to eat, hrmmm.
I love scones. I had to restrict myself to two scones a week, because it seems extravagent to pay $2.60 a scone five days a week. On the plus side, I eat one of these mouth-watering suckers and I'm set for the next seven hours or so. Did I ever say I was a healthy eater? Ummm, no. But I enjoy myself, and that's what counts, right?
The scones sold on campus are the size of my head (not kidding) and so yummy I think I could eat them for eternity. Just writing about it makes me want to leave my computer in the library and go running for the coffee shop ASAP. Luscious soft carbs covered in a crust of sugar and sprinkled with blueberries or chocolate chips....gah. This is ridiculous.
Many of you know (or should know) that I am a lazy person at heart. I put up a good front, but I am someone who lies in bed at night and debates climbing out of my warm coccoon because I have to pee. I am someone who wishes for a Time-Turner (see a previous post) or at least a magic wand that would let me turn off the light from across the room. I am super lazy, despite my love of walking (in the appropriate weather) and exercise (never in public).
What happens when you put a lazy, scone-loving Teacup Human on some antidepressants? Wonderful things, people, truly wonderful things. For example, I write you incoherant blog posts to avoid finishing my German homework.
Ja, ich spreche Deutsch aber der Klasse ist nicht so interessant jetzt.
Right, screw this. I want a scone.
Orf I go,
WolfGrrl
I didn't intend to begin today's post with a mini-rant about technology and my issues with it, so I'll apologize for that. I think I'll dedicate this post to delicious foods and extreme laziness. Yup, that sounds about right.
Since coming to college I've had any number of encounters with delicious new foods. Bread pudding, Starbucks coffee cake, scones (mmmmmmm), chocolate-covered-anything-salty, granola, Luna bars and yogurt and granola parfaits. I don't count salad in this, since I've been a fan of salads for the past three or four years. My family gets very tired of this when we go out to eat, hrmmm.
I love scones. I had to restrict myself to two scones a week, because it seems extravagent to pay $2.60 a scone five days a week. On the plus side, I eat one of these mouth-watering suckers and I'm set for the next seven hours or so. Did I ever say I was a healthy eater? Ummm, no. But I enjoy myself, and that's what counts, right?
The scones sold on campus are the size of my head (not kidding) and so yummy I think I could eat them for eternity. Just writing about it makes me want to leave my computer in the library and go running for the coffee shop ASAP. Luscious soft carbs covered in a crust of sugar and sprinkled with blueberries or chocolate chips....gah. This is ridiculous.
Many of you know (or should know) that I am a lazy person at heart. I put up a good front, but I am someone who lies in bed at night and debates climbing out of my warm coccoon because I have to pee. I am someone who wishes for a Time-Turner (see a previous post) or at least a magic wand that would let me turn off the light from across the room. I am super lazy, despite my love of walking (in the appropriate weather) and exercise (never in public).
What happens when you put a lazy, scone-loving Teacup Human on some antidepressants? Wonderful things, people, truly wonderful things. For example, I write you incoherant blog posts to avoid finishing my German homework.
Ja, ich spreche Deutsch aber der Klasse ist nicht so interessant jetzt.
Right, screw this. I want a scone.
Orf I go,
WolfGrrl
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Techno-what?
This is probably an awful thing to admit, but here I go.
I suck at technology.
Really.
I know, I know, I managed to get this blog up and running, but as proof of how terrible I am, let me give you exhibit A: this blog. While trying to follow a friend's blog, I somehow set it so I'm following my own. How dumb is that? And now I have no idea how to un-follow myself. Thank goodness you can't friend yourself on Facebook, or I'd have done that too.
Coming from a family that consists of the Technology Wizard, the Technology Dunce, and the Technology Abuser, I fit somewhere between dunce and abuser. I use technology quite a bit, from playing time-wasting games online to watching videos of kittens on YouTube (please, no comments. I know how sad that is. And I'm in college, God help me). I even managed to keep this blog going, and not turn it into a mad pit of insane rantings (what my last blog became).
My theory about my technological ups and downs is I was born just at the edge of the Technological Era, and therefore grew up between it and the previous era. I got a cell phone at age sixteen; a car at age eighteen; a computer at thirteen-ish (for writing and papers); Facebook when I was seventeen; and my first (and only) iPod when I was sixteen or so. So, compared to my peers or my sister's peers, I came relatively late to the hyper-connectivity party. Therefore, I fall in the awkward place of technologically savvy and a techno-dunce.
Hey, I'm content with that. It's kind of cute (sometimes) and kind of annoying (all other times). At least I am not my sister, The Mad-Clicker. When she has technology issues she clicks the mouse until the computer's brain explodes. I don't abuse my technology. I yell at it.
Our world is too technological anyway. My car is as smart as my calculator; both of them do more things than I'll ever need or know about. I guess when the robots invade or we have a Hal-type revolution, I'll be killed later rather than earlier.
Oh look, I even worked 2012 Doom n' Gloom into this post. HA.
buh-byes,
WolfGrrl
I suck at technology.
Really.
I know, I know, I managed to get this blog up and running, but as proof of how terrible I am, let me give you exhibit A: this blog. While trying to follow a friend's blog, I somehow set it so I'm following my own. How dumb is that? And now I have no idea how to un-follow myself. Thank goodness you can't friend yourself on Facebook, or I'd have done that too.
Coming from a family that consists of the Technology Wizard, the Technology Dunce, and the Technology Abuser, I fit somewhere between dunce and abuser. I use technology quite a bit, from playing time-wasting games online to watching videos of kittens on YouTube (please, no comments. I know how sad that is. And I'm in college, God help me). I even managed to keep this blog going, and not turn it into a mad pit of insane rantings (what my last blog became).
My theory about my technological ups and downs is I was born just at the edge of the Technological Era, and therefore grew up between it and the previous era. I got a cell phone at age sixteen; a car at age eighteen; a computer at thirteen-ish (for writing and papers); Facebook when I was seventeen; and my first (and only) iPod when I was sixteen or so. So, compared to my peers or my sister's peers, I came relatively late to the hyper-connectivity party. Therefore, I fall in the awkward place of technologically savvy and a techno-dunce.
Hey, I'm content with that. It's kind of cute (sometimes) and kind of annoying (all other times). At least I am not my sister, The Mad-Clicker. When she has technology issues she clicks the mouse until the computer's brain explodes. I don't abuse my technology. I yell at it.
Our world is too technological anyway. My car is as smart as my calculator; both of them do more things than I'll ever need or know about. I guess when the robots invade or we have a Hal-type revolution, I'll be killed later rather than earlier.
Oh look, I even worked 2012 Doom n' Gloom into this post. HA.
buh-byes,
WolfGrrl
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Moving Up in the World
Hello hello, it's been a while.
I apologize for my absence these past few weeks (months) but life has taken a bizarre series of twists and turns, leaving me momentarily in the dust. I just wanted to direct all of you to a new blog I'm starting with a friend. We've called it Sketchy Scribbles, here on blogspot. And now I'm getting an evil look from the prof, so I'll close with that public service announcement.
Ciao ciao,
WolfGrrl
I apologize for my absence these past few weeks (months) but life has taken a bizarre series of twists and turns, leaving me momentarily in the dust. I just wanted to direct all of you to a new blog I'm starting with a friend. We've called it Sketchy Scribbles, here on blogspot. And now I'm getting an evil look from the prof, so I'll close with that public service announcement.
Ciao ciao,
WolfGrrl
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Some Pictures for Thought
because i don't feel as though i have anything particularly insightful (or mediocre) to say today, have some pictures for thought.
have a lovely day!
WolfGrrl
have a lovely day!
WolfGrrl
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)