May 01, 2005

Windmill, Windmill for the land

My mouth tastes like cinammon, sugar, and some other strange flavour. I've just had Oddfellows. Smokers. Mum bought them when they went down to Oamaru (yesterday) for the ploughing champs (Duncan was there doing DB sponsorship, he was also on the news tonight). I opted not to go, because I hate long car rides with the family (we never talk), and it didn't sound particularly exciting.

So, I stayed at home and did nothing. I was almost alone - Lars and Rene were still here (they were packing up, preparing to leave)(they left this morning)(I was still in bed). It really was quite a dull day. I realised that I probably should learn to use Dreamweaver properly instead of just jumping in and getting annoyed at all the things I can't do, like I've done so often in the past. I read through No More Shakespeare again, and I still don't want to do it. It's too easy, and that makes it too hard to get a high grade.

Today I did some homework - I finished my Visual Diary's title page. I just took a photo of it, but it looks better on paper. I didn't realise writing down a coherent-yet-random string of thoughts was so hard and tiring on my hand. Duncan said I write tiny, but it's not that small.
Title-Mania

And last night I cooked tea: Devilled Sausages, and Spaghetti with a cheese sauce. I thought the spaghetti tasted like poo (not real poo because I don't know what that tastes like, just poo in a general bad way); but Geoffrey seemed to like it so much he ate the leftovers this morning. And Mum asked me what I put in it - I don't know if that's good or bad. When I'm flatting I'm going to be living on Pasta, Mince, and Sausages because they're the only things I know how to cook.

And just now, I took a picture of myself. I don't know why, but my hair's been acting awful funny today. This morning it looked like a duck.

It doesn't any more, as you can see.

Hey! I should go to bed!

1 Comments:

At 11:42 AM, Blogger Ireny said...

Your writing is tiny.

 

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