I'm 22! My birthday was Monday. Unsurprisingly, I was stressed and tired and emo and ran out of family birthday dinner crying. That happy birthday shit is a giant lie. Like the cake. No actually, my birthday cake did turn out to be a lie. Twice. Long story.
I'm having a party on Saturday night, which I have no idea how many people are attending. Also, I must talk to my housemates about it.
Monkey madness continues, with at least 2 rehearsals a day this week. nothing I'm in is ready, and acts are due Sunday. Yeah.
Happily the Masquerave has been moved and will no loner be the same night as the fire show. Hallelujah.
My art is coming along. I finished the painting I was working on, it looks awesome, even if the pictures I took of it don't. I can't post them now, because I have to go to Women in Antiquity. I skipped Ballet this morning, tired and headachey and not wearing tights today. It just wasn't happening.
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