Hey there.
I'm Meg.
I hate that name.
So, just whatever.
Everytime I see the pop-ups that procalim 'winner' my hopes get dangerously high.
I'm into weird stuff.
I love colorful things.
But sometimes I dress in all grey.
What to say?
I dunno. I'm completely uninteresting.
Oh well.
Something interesting.
I love to talk to people.
Sned me a message...
so that we can talk.
I love to talk to people that I don't know.
And depending on how much I like you, I will actually talk to you.
About writing and stories and serious things.
So whatever.
Because no one will take me seriously.
I like music alot, and I think that music is what inspires me most... Because when ever I try to write something long (like a novel), the main character always ends up in a band. (Which sucks, because half of the things that I've tried to write like that, the characters are completely not band-y or anything)
Whatever. I like all music. I mean, I can listen to anything, but my (current) favorites are: the Format, We are the Fury, Love Arcade, the Dresden Dolls, PlayRadioPlay!, Creature Feature, Rise Against, Daft Punk, Billy Joel (yeah, I realize he's kind of been done, but I really really love him), the Kooks, the Aquabats, Making April, Frank Sinatra, JamisonParker, Jack's Mannequin, Motion City Soundtrack, Ben Folds, Tegan and Sara, and classical music, like Chopin and Franz Schubert.
We're all Just Kids: Okay, so the reason I was stumbling so awkwardly (if you noticed, I'm not quite sure if it is noticable or not) over the words subway and metro and underground train ( I don't think anyone says that) is because I'm from a small city, and have only been on one of those once three years ago, so I'm not the brightest in the bunch. Don't tease. I'm just trying (And if anyone cares... this is what the girl who I pictured to be doing all of these things looks like...) I realize that she looks completely odd...
Believed to be his Life's Work: So, I know it seems really silly, and not flowy enough. I'm not really proud of that one because it seems like I'm trying too hard to get the story across, but it was just so pretty in my mind, and I wanted people to see it too. And just ignore the constant image of the lunchbox. It isn't like I'm trying to make this person (Grace) me. I just happen to have a wierd connection to lunchboxes
now that is passion: Well, we all know that I wasn't talking about you, I was talking about me. But anyway. Even though I was sitting there, like, yelling my thoughts, don't tease. I just found that flipping through my notebook... Thanks for not teasing.
Daughters of Those Mothers: Oh dear. Don't ask.
music: please be nice. this is my first real poem. I wrote it in my agenda during study hall... yeah. I was going to add more when I got home, but I think the poetic spirit sort of left me because nothing else I wrote was good enough, so I left it the way it was.
non-conformity, right?: oh, wow. I wrote another poem. go me. whatever. I don't have anything to say about it...
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