*The person who first patented potpourri was a genius. Dried, perfume-sprayed forest debris...why on earth do I need this in my bathroom? Of course, my Mum's obsessed with the stuff.

C.O.T.

*Daana's Cheer-The-Hell-Up Manouvre after a hard day: head straight for your room or any place you can be alone for a while with a radio/cd player, put on the skankiest, dibbiest clothes you own, and some sturdy heels (at least 3" high), blaze up some dancehall or rap (sorry, rock just won't cut it this time)and getteth thine eagle on!
10 more points if there's a mirror nearby. This can work if you're a guy too, but you may want to make extra sure that you're positively alone.


C.O.T.

Recently I've been thinking...belly-button ring! A nice, sparkly, dangly one! I'll probably get over this notion soon, but geez, tha'd be a fun addition for me!
As common as tattoos and body-piercings are, I'm still absolutely facinated by them. I guess there's something to be admired in people who fight the natural instinct to avoid pain, all in the name of adornment.

There are some people with whom one can converse, and have a neutral experience. Y'know...nothing negative, yet nothing too inspiring either.

There are people with whom one can converse and have a very positive experience. These people lift your spirits, motivate you, give you new ideas etc. They make you want to be in their presence.

And then, there are those people with whom one finds it extremely difficult to converse, because they're enveloped in a pervasive, stifling aura of negativity. These people are unhappy and they seek to spread their misery to the otherwise joyful souls around them. One is usually on the defensive with these people, because these people are constantly using their words to attack, and in this way, they drain one's energy.

When faced with this type, it's only natural for one to want to drop everything, and get as far away as possible, from where this person is standing. They seem to speak with this heavy, spirit-dampening Voice of Doom.

I happen to live with one of these Voices of Doom. It's rough. Mostly because they'll never realise the harm they're doing, or worse, because they don't care.

Ya can try to spread the joy around, but some people just don't want it in their lives.

The almond tree outside my room has been chopped down, and the stump has been wrenched from the earth. I know it was a threat to the house during a hurricane, and yet I miss it horribly.
So many memories...
I used to climb and hang out in its sturdy branches, enjoy it's delicious shade, until I'd remember that I was outnumbered by bugs and lizards. Then I'd get the hell outa there.
But that tree meant something to me, dammit. Serious sentimental value there.
I swear my bedroom is 5 degrees hotter since my tree was abducted. I look out my window and now there's nothing.
Great, now I'm really gonna have to make an effort to draw the curtains when I'm dressing.

C.O.T.

Recently I've been wondering why it is that it's slightly more acceptable for children to see violent death scenes in movies, than it is to see sex scenes.
Kind of an indicator of our attitudes to sex, huh?