*dances around in excitement*

Just updated my journal to a paid account...I'm in love with my 15 icon space. For those who dont' know how to view the full collections of someone's icons, you can go to the user info, click on their icon, and oogle all that they have. I happen to have fifteen HP related, including two memorials (Cedric and Sirius), several Tom and several H/D.

Just...don't tell Mere I did it. I have yet to tell her about it and am trying to figure out how.

On a completly unrelated note, I'm going to do something very wicked to my Dr. if she doesn't give me a clear and concise awnser to what the bloody fuck is going on with my...er...breastal region. Either it's a virus, it's a bacterial infection, or it's some other odd thing that likes to give me painful lumps. It's NOT heat rash as she tried to pass off last time (yeah, heat rash I've had since I was fourteen...WHERE did this woman go to school?)

It's annoying, it's painful, and it's ruining my clothes. It's also rather embaressing when people ask why you're bleeding across your chest.

*dances around in excitement*

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Just updated my journal to a paid account…I’m in love with my 15 icon space. For those who dont’ know how to view the full collections of someone’s icons, you can go to the user info, click on their icon, and oogle all that they have. I happen to have fifteen HP related, including two memorials (Cedric and Sirius), several Tom and several H/D.

Just…don’t tell Mere I did it. I have yet to tell her about it and am trying to figure out how.

On a completly unrelated note, I’m going to do something very wicked to my Dr. if she doesn’t give me a clear and concise awnser to what the bloody fuck is going on with my…er…breastal region. Either it’s a virus, it’s a bacterial infection, or it’s some other odd thing that likes to give me painful lumps. It’s NOT heat rash as she tried to pass off last time (yeah, heat rash I’ve had since I was fourteen…WHERE did this woman go to school?)

It’s annoying, it’s painful, and it’s ruining my clothes. It’s also rather embaressing when people ask why you’re bleeding across your chest.

Happy Present Day...

Just got my Tom Felton Presentation, a nice picture of Tom (with auto) anda film strip from the Buckbeak scene. Even Mere likes it. I keep oogling it.

My PoA poster arrived as well, the Snape and Draco character poster will look awsome in my room once I finished painting.

Yes, I'm sadly obsessed, but I have prezzies so I'm happy.

Happy Present Day…

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Just got my Tom Felton Presentation, a nice picture of Tom (with auto) anda film strip from the Buckbeak scene. Even Mere likes it. I keep oogling it.

My PoA poster arrived as well, the Snape and Draco character poster will look awsome in my room once I finished painting.

Yes, I’m sadly obsessed, but I have prezzies so I’m happy.

Five years...

A lot of people (for some asinine reason) have been asking me lately, what I want to do in five years, where I want to be. The awnser hasn't changed since five years ago, but I think that time is slipping away for it to happen. I mean, in five years...I'll be twenty eight.

But for those who wanted the awnser, and those that don't...this is the life I want for me in five years.

I want to be living in London (or anywhere in England but preferably London), still attempting to figure out the British Pound. I want to have a job I love, preferably in the arts. I want a close group of friends that I meet with every weekend at the local pub to bullshit about our week and how we're all going to run away someday to a tropical island.

I want my son to be wondering around trying to get into trouble while I attempt to write a new scene for my third book (yes I have no plans to finish number two and three soon). I want to watch him chase after the dog and giggle when he stumbles and ends up on his arse, pouting (and then give him ice cream).

I want to watch the sunset as I snuggle with a fluffy black kitten named Snowball and know that I'm content with the life I have.

Five years…

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

A lot of people (for some asinine reason) have been asking me lately, what I want to do in five years, where I want to be. The awnser hasn’t changed since five years ago, but I think that time is slipping away for it to happen. I mean, in five years…I’ll be twenty eight.

But for those who wanted the awnser, and those that don’t…this is the life I want for me in five years.

I want to be living in London (or anywhere in England but preferably London), still attempting to figure out the British Pound. I want to have a job I love, preferably in the arts. I want a close group of friends that I meet with every weekend at the local pub to bullshit about our week and how we’re all going to run away someday to a tropical island.

I want my son to be wondering around trying to get into trouble while I attempt to write a new scene for my third book (yes I have no plans to finish number two and three soon). I want to watch him chase after the dog and giggle when he stumbles and ends up on his arse, pouting (and then give him ice cream).

I want to watch the sunset as I snuggle with a fluffy black kitten named Snowball and know that I’m content with the life I have.