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EJess

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Quotes -- by / about the Irish [20 Feb 2005|11:25pm]
Health and a long life to you.
Land without rent to you.
A child every year to you.
And if you can't go to heaven,
May you at least die in Ireland.
--Irish blessing

May those who love us love us.
And those that don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.
--Irish curse

May the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind illegitimate children chase you so far over the hills of Damnation that the Lord himself can't find you with a telescope.
--Irish curse

Drink is the curse of the land: It makes you fight with your neighbor, it makes you shoot at your landlord, and it makes you miss him.
--Irish proverb

When we drink, we get drunk.
When we get drunk, we fall asleep.
When we fall asleep, we commit no sin.
When we commit no sin, we go to heaven.
So, let's all get drunk, and go to heaven!
--Irish toast

May you die in bed at 95 years,
Shot by a jealous wife!
--Irish toast

May your health be like the capital of Ireland --
Always Dublin!
--Irish toast

A toast to your coffin.
May it be made of 100 year old oak.
And may we plant the tree together, tomorrow.
--Irish toast

Here's to a long life and a merry one.
A quick death and an easy one.
A pretty girl and an honest one.
A cold beer -- and another one!
--Irish toast

We are all of us in the gutter.
But some of us are looking at the stars.
--Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)

It is better to spend money like there's no tomorrow, than to spend tonight like there's no money.
--P.J. O'Rourke

This [the Irish] is one race of people for whom psychoanalysis is of no use whatsoever.
--Sigmund Freud

God invented whiskey so the Irish wouldn't rule the world.

God made the Italians for their beauty. The French for fine food. The Swedes for intelligence. The Jews for religion. And on and on until he looked at what he had created and said, "This is all very fine but no one is having fun. I guess I'll have to make me an Irishman."

If you're enough lucky to be Irish, you're lucky enough!

I've drank to your health in taverns,
I've drank to your health in my home,
I've drank to your health so damn many times,
I believe I've ruined my own!

There are good ships, and there are wood ships,
The ships that sail the sea.
But the best ships, are friendships,
And may they always be.

In life, there are only two things to worry about, either you are well, or you are sick. If you are well, there is nothing to worry about, but if you are sick, you have two things to worry about; either you will live, or you will die. If you live, there is nothing to worry about, if you die, you have two things to worry about; either you will go to heaven or to hell. If you go to heaven, there is nothing to worry about, but if you go to hell, you'll be so busy shaking hands with your friends, you won't have time to worry!

What is Irish diplomacy?
It's the ability to tell a man to go to hell,
So that he will look forward to making the trip.

In order to find his equal, an Irishman is forced to talk to God.
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[28 Jan 2004|09:07pm]



friends only
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[18 Nov 2003|03:15pm]
[ mood | drained ]

Wow, it's been a while. It's hard to believe that just a few months ago I had nothing to do all day but sit around hoping there'd be something good to watch on the telly. Now I've almost forgotten what a telly is. I thought activity would lessen after Halloween, but no, no, it intensified.

My last post.. July. Now, November. I feel almost like time stopped and just stood still waiting for me, so that when I wrote again in LJ, everything would be the same as how it was when I left. But of course that's not true, and everything's changed and different and a stranger to me, and I'm actually almost surprised.

So, me, now: I'm trying to be both an editor and writer for my school paper, though I have to work with a co-editor who can't edit and an administrator who insists that I keep my writing at a fourth-grade level for fear of hopelessly confusing our readers (I can't use the word "deign" in an article. DEIGN.) I'm in WYSE, which makes the populace temble in awe, but which shouldn't, because I'm the stupidest kid there. I'm currently ranking ninth in APUSH, which is about the only thing keeping Mary from trying to walk all over me. She's gotten bolder as I've grown less vicious. Seventh in psych. This is pathetic, and I'm torn between caring or just.. not.

There's just too much to do, and not enough time to do it in. And all I want is to be able to have a nice, quiet, well-lit, comfy little corner of the world to read in, or maybe just to go to sleep.

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Effectively throwing an axe into the theory that I'm the "Sirius" of the group XD [30 Jul 2003|10:19pm]

What Marauder are you?

Created by legomyelfboy with help from goleafsgo
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Barbossa! [17 Jul 2003|10:41am]
That hideous face up there is Barbossa from Pirates of the Caribbean. Because now I'm making icons like there's no tomorrow. More can be found here. Yaaay, I'm an icon slut. :D Linda is also using one of my PotC icons, because PotC is damn cool. The one I'm using was my very first likkle icon, and I don't like the font, but I'm a sentimental slob so I'm not going to go back and change it. Or I might, but still keep the original intact. ^_^
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[17 Jul 2003|10:38am]
[ mood | bored ]

Jei Lee, your career personality type is ISTP

That means that based on the standard measure of personality traits, at work, you're the one people come to when a crisis is at hand. Your unflappable demeanor in the face of even the most unanticipated situations makes you the kind of employee all organizations value highly. You thrive under pressure and seek situations involving unpredictability and quick thinking. You prefer to leave the planning to others so you can grab an assignment and run with it. This does not mean that you are incapable of deep thinking; it's just that you use your mental strength and apply it to practical solutions.

You excel in one area and like being the go-to person for your expertise. You don't like being bogged down with planning, but rather thrive on execution. Your drive comes from within and once a task is accomplished, you're not looking back-you are on to the next sensation.

The reason employers and recruiters might be on the lookout for you is that only about 4% of the U.S. population shares the unique characteristics of your personality type. Research shows that businesses succeed when employers create a good balance of personality types in the office. And since only 4% of the U.S. population shares your type, that means employers are looking for you.


I was an INTP two years ago. I guess this means I'm still evolving. ^^

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[24 Jun 2003|08:49am]
[ mood | devious ]

Once again in the Crier office during the last twenty minutes or so before my summer school class starts. The key lady at the desk asked me what kind of work I was doing here, but I just made an unintelligible noise under my breath and skedaddled on out of there.

I'm printing out Teach Yourself Gaelic sheets. The printer in here is so frigging fast... it is God's own printer. This probably isn't going to help me learn Gaelic, really, just teach me a bunch of phrases, but I'll tackle the grammar and sentence structure stuff later.

Driving is scary. I don't like it much.

I'm stuck between which book I want to buckle down and write this summer, because I have to do one of them. I've already gotten so old, I don't feel like I have much time before I can't be recognized as a young talent. Ugh. I want to be a prodigy. This is so pathetic I'm just going to stop writing about it now.

And there are two entirely different pronunciations of certain words on different areas of the Net. I'm confused. But I'll stick with the one I'm printing 'cause it looks better.

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[16 Jun 2003|02:38am]
You're not evil, you're destined.
You're Mordred, son of Arthur and Morgaine. You
don't really want to kill your father, and
you're not really evil, but you realize that
you were put on this earth to kill him. Destiny
sure is a cold mistress.


Which main Mists of Avalon character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Wahaha. Wahahahaha. Waha. Ha.
Such a lovely boy. =3
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[13 Jun 2003|08:36am]
In the Crier office again. It's all about the perks, baby. Teehee.


[take the test] - [by krystaljungle.com]



But I suck at grammar... It's all about the spelling. Yay, words!

I think the carpet ate Stephanie. She's MIA.
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[11 Jun 2003|06:59am]
[ mood | blank ]

Well. The Finals are upon us. English and Algebra II today. I feel nothing. I'm vaguely worried about math, but that's about it. I'm not even excited about no-school-ness. Maybe 'cause I'll be taking Driver's Ed. over the summer. I don't want to drive no stinking car. I'm not even going to get a car. Not within the next ten years or so, anyway. I'm just taking it because it's required to graduate high school.

Anyway. I should be panicking about finals, but I'm not. Even if I completely, completely bomb my English final, the lowest grade I can get is a B. As for Algebra II... well, I just need a D or higher to pass the year. And it's multiple choice, so that should make it easier. I'm really going to try harder to pay attention in class next year. It's a promise. Even though according to everyone, trigonometry's all about memorizing formulas, which I can't do to save my life.

I should've studied. I'm going to at school today. I was supposed to yesterday, but I took a nap right after school that lasted longer than I'd wanted, then I watched Keen Eddie. Filled out my driver's permit slip. Wrote a little. Slept.

I'm more concerned about the book I want to write now than anything. Present tense or past? Present tense seems appropriate but I hate writing it. And it's turning slowly but surely from a realistic fiction piece to paranormal conspiracy. Yeek.

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[07 Jun 2003|08:01pm]
rofl
Me: blah blah blah couldn't speak; Elaine had to speak for me blah x3 maybe said 2 words to him blah blah..
Mom: He must've thought you couldn't speak English. Was he tall, too?
Me: Yeah.
Mom: Good figure?
Me: ...I don't know!
Mom: How old is he?
Me: Um. 43?
Mom: MY age? I should meet him..!
Me: He's married.
Mom: ...Okay.
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Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman Neil Gaiman Neil Gaiman Neil Gaiman Neil Gaiman. [07 Jun 2003|07:35pm]
[ mood | ditzy ]

OH MY FUCKING GOD. I saw him. Heard him speak. Took photos. Met him. STOOD DIRECTLY NEXT TO THE MAN, BREATHED THE SAME AIR, INHABITED THE SAME PERSONAL-SPACE BUBBLE. My arm brushed that infamous leather jacket whilst standing beside him for a photo. I AM NEVER WASHING THIS ARM AGAIN. EVER. EVER. HE DREW ME A MOUSEY.

Okay. Okay. Elaine's mum drove us (Elaine, Stephanie, me) downtown to Printer's Row Bookfair, which is huuuge and wonderful. Then to the library, the location of the reading/signing. I was practically hyperventilating in line, and they had to keep ordering to breath evenly and to stop rocking back and forth. And then THERE HE WAS, appearing with a puff of smoke and shot of sparks like the god he is... Well, no, he actually just walked on-stage and to the podium. He's still got the accent. I dunno, I guess I kinda expected him to lose it after spending so much time in the States. But he didn't. Eeehee.

He read "Wolves in the Wall" aloud, which is coming out in a couple months, and two poems. He's actually very funny. And really nice. And perfectly charming. In addition to being incredibly talented and fabulous and wonderful and marvelous. Then the signing. More hyperventilating. Then we got to him and I was freaking out and turned into a statue and Elaine had to do all the talking for me but HE WAS RIGHT THERE. I gave him my pitiful scented origiami flowers, he told me to "Write things. Finish them." scrawled a standard, impersonal signature accompanied by a mouse-head sketch, and that was that. I was in shell-shock mode for the next half hour.

I have beheld a god's visage and heard his voice, and my head did not explode. Yayness.

Went to McDonald's. Ordered a Happy Meal. Got a light-up, water-spitting plastic blowfish. Huzzah.

Never. Washing. This. Arm.

-------------

Edit: approx thirty seconds after submission.
I ran down to show me mum the mousey picture and autograph, then showed her the pic of Neil Gaiman on the dust jacket, and she snatched the book away from me, squealing, "He's THAT good-looking?! Why didn't you tell me he looks like this?! I would have gone! You're evil!" and made me promise to tell her if he ever comes back to Chicago, so she can go see him in the flesh.

@_@ Weirdo. XD

Ever.

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[05 Jun 2003|06:49am]
[ mood | awake ]

I love this song. Aaahh. Tu vas me detruire! Tu vas me detruire! Et je vais te maudire jusqu'a la fin de ma vie! Mua mua mua. I hate Frollo but this song just hits a spot.. It ought to be Elliott's theme song, for when he goes around the bend. Yeeeaah, I'm planning another insanity spree. XD

Got a perfect score on my French composition with an extra bonus point, yaaay. And. A B- on my last book report, goddamnit, with a bazillion notes around the edges about writing expository, even though she's been writing the same notes all year.

Let it stand in the record that I hate those little pop-up ads that appear waaay at the bottom of the screen, UNDERNEATH everything else, so you have to re-adjust everything to get rid of it.

Wow. A hectic week finally winding down. Mindless panic over getting everything prepared JUST RIGHT for Gifted Expo (insanely long entry on it in my xanga), harried rushing around, snatching this up and groping for that and punting this person out of the way and into that one who then proceeds to scream hysterically about display boards and styrofoam... Aaaahahaha. But it's over now. OVER! WHAT IS THAT I TASTE IN THE AIR? LIBERTYYYY! Aha. Okay. And now I have to study for finals next week and the Rules of the Road test, also next week, to get my permit. Huzzah.

Went to see my dad last night. Had dinner with him and my uncle's family in some casino boat restaurant. I could wring my kid cousin's neck. She annoys the piss out of me. But I like their doggy, even if any show of affection from it will destroy me with allergic reactions. Merrp.

Andrea: EJ's fickle mind hath chosen.. Anything Fruits Basket. @_@ <--swirly eyes of obsession.

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Edit: (like two seconds after submission) Did I write that I am now the editor for the Opinions column in my school paper? Probably. Oh, well. Just reminded of it 'cause I'm going to a Crier meeting in half an hour. Huzzah!

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[30 May 2003|06:08am]
[ mood | depressed ]

Neil Gaiman's going to be in Chicago in eight days.

And normally I'd sound a great deal more excited about that, and I did yesterday, when I first found out, except my mother has oh so politely informed me that SHE'S TOO MUCH OF A DUMBASS TO BE ABLE TO DRIVE TO FUCKING DOWNTOWN CHICAGO. Ireland may be too far away, and Stanford may be too far away, but now that god. damn. retarded. cunt. is claiming the city next door is...

I hate this. I don't know what that stupid bitch thinks she can expect from me, the spawn of a failed med student-cum-postal worker and some hypocritical twit who went to a community college and can't do anything right. She must've switched workplaces six different times in the past four years because she can't fucking get along with her goddamn co-workers. I can't stand the dipshits at school and you don't see me popping off to Hoffman or anything. And of course it must be because every single one of her co-workers are rotten, not because she's a brainless bitch with a stick up her ass. But the whole aggravation-in-the-workplace thing didn't stop her from trying to crawl back to one of her old bosses.

I'm pulling favors left and right just to be able to get things done. She isn't going to be at my fucking Gifted Expo, either, ignoring the fact that the entire purpose of the goddamn thing is for parents to trot along and see what it is their kids have been slaving over this past semester. Fuck it, I don't give a shit. She'd just do something stupid if she was there, anyway.

Hell with it. I'll take the goddamn train to Chicago. She's so fucking useless I can't stand it. It seems that all she does is get in my fucking way.

I'm going to see my counselor today and drop Physics for next year. I don't know what I'll do with the free time... Study hall just encourages me to be lazy, but it's saved my ass a couple times, too. I really should be getting the necessary classes out of the way, like consumer's ed. or health or some government class, but then I'd have nothing to do but English and Senior Survey senior year.

Shit, I don't know. I just don't fucking know anymore.

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[29 May 2003|11:25am]
[ mood | angry ]

So. I was beaten. Again. Relegated to second place. Again. By her. AGAIN. Well... she's never really beaten me at anything, but she was always THERE, the potential Rival, so like me and at the same time, so not. A good poet, possibly a good writer, but far more superior to me in other aspects. Like, for instance, the rest of schoolwork, or social status, or, hell, fashion sense. I don't care about that last one, but it's still a tally against me in the eyes of the world. She's a perfectionist, and I'm a lazy slob, but writing.. WRITING.. THERE I should be able to soundly TROUNCE her. But.. I don't know. I'm slipping. So I'll either have to work harder than ever before so I can beat her, or I'll have to KILL HER.

I feel like an anime character. "Must.. get.. STRONGER..! Must.. defeat.. RIVAL! ..URRAAAAAGH!"

In other, more amusing news, Elaine, Stephanie, and I have made a pact: for the first two weeks of summer school, they're going to turn me into a prep. Yessirree, you read me right. This all started from a heated discussion concerning whether or not I was prep material, with me on the defensive, so we all decided it would be interesting to see whether or not I could pull it off. Heh. A-heh heh. It's called Operation: Temporary Metamorphosis.

I'm gonna have to take notes on clothes, posture, speech, and attitude of preps in my school by the time finals swing around. And then, with the guidance of Stephanie and Elaine, I will be walking, talking, and looking like one of Them. I shall be reborn as... ::drumroll::... JESSIE. Uraaagh!

I wonder if they can SMELL FEAR.

Ohhhhh, and Lindaaaa... Your two Blade of the Immortal manga have been discovered in Stephanie's locker. X_X And the strangest thing is, I can't remember ever giving them to her, and she can't remember taking them. The only explanations are A.) I stashed them in there myself when I was using her locker, or B.) Sadistic alien creatures zapped them from my home and teleported them there in order to confuse me and muddle my mind in preparation for their total take-over of my being.

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[28 May 2003|11:33am]
[ mood | bored ]

Uggh. I feel sick and urine-y. I'm at school right now, doing computer junk when I really should be working on my French homework. AHHH, I have to do the oral quiz thingy, too. Damn me. Oh, well. It's the end of the year.

Can I succeed at anything if I fail math? Because that's what I'm quite readily doing.

Looking up stuff on Northwestern right now... And hey-o, they only require two years of lab science. Meaning I don't NEED to take physics next year. Meaning I can have room for something more important to me. Nyaha.

Gotta go.

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[21 May 2003|10:35am]
[ mood | tired ]

Very brief recap of Con experiences: www.xanga.com/myoclonictwitch

Okay. Hm. I was thinking about a variety of things when I realized that even in this rotten, putrid day and age I still have a moral compass, and her name is Linda Yang. Yessiree. Surrounded as I am by druggies, kleptos, gangbangers, drunkards, perverts, pathological liars, and the sexually overactive, Linda remains the shining pillar of purity and non-corruption. I smoke and I think, "Egads, what would Linda think?!" (Well, not really egads..) Or I'm sorely tempted to just walk away from a poorly attended kiosk with my coat stuffed with videos and the only thing that stops me is the idea that Linda would disapprove.

Feh.

I've become an immoral wretch in this modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah--Schaumburg! Thank the gods for Linda.

All hail! Hip-hip, hooray! I'm gonna go make a golden idol of her now...

rofl. Anyway. Thanks a million bunches, Linda.

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[20 May 2003|10:52pm]
lol

ukeseme
The Yaoi Selector: Which Uke are You?

brought to you by Quizilla
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[19 May 2003|02:13pm]
i. am. so. pooped.

more later. i promise.
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[15 May 2003|09:59pm]
Well, things have degressed to an all-time low. Scott brought Number 11 (his latest girlfriend.. dunno her name, so we refer to her by her number [I was Lucky 7]) to Writer's Club. I find it interesting he even comes at all, considering he isn't a writer and he mostly spends his time there cracking jokes at everyone else's stuff. Of course it probably doesn't hurt that three of my friends there shower him with attention as they're all, to some degree, smitten with the guy. I do not know what it is about him that draws 'em in like moths to a light; I'm beginning to suspect that it's some sort of illusion projected by the sheer degree of his god complex.

And he'd damn well better have brought Number 11 because she's a writer, not to show off his newest prize female. According to Elaine, he kept leaning over to ask her if she was okay, if she wasn't nervous. Like I'd really launch myself across the room to tear her throat out. I don't hate the girl, all she did was fall in love. I'm kinda really disappointed with myself for falling for a guy like Scott, but hell, I'm new at this stuff. I should be allowed a couple mistakes. =\

Huh. Maybe that's it. Elaine hates him enough for the both of us, loyally playing the part of angry, protective best friend, Steph defends him at every turn due to her growing crush on him, Anthony's inquiring on my love life, and I'm just irritated with myself. He wanted a wilting willow who he could sweep onto his white horse; I could pick up my own damn handkerchief, thanks very much. I don't know, I guess he just wanted the stereotypical female: quiet, demure, fragile, well-mannered, compliant. And I'm damn well not any of the above. He wanted a girl with a heart and no aggression, I wanted a guy with a brain and no serious mental instabilities, and I guess we both got short-changed.

Damn. I'm being insightful. Must.. return.. to oblivious state...

Oh, yeah, I got a haircut for the cosplay and now Anil's calling me a boy. >( ANIME CENTRAL STARTS TOMORROW AFTERNOON!!!
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