Sold My Soul To Stop The Pain

dear God, I'm being so lazy. I've pulled out the old VHS tapes and started watching these old movies from the ninties - like Anastasia:


Or The Huncchback of Notre Dame:

(back when Disney actually used to be good.)

Seriously, I've barely written all day. Instead, I've knit for my hard drive:

(anyone, name ideas? Submit a name for Hard Drive!)


(this is actually some pretty fucking nice blue tweed my friend Rao brought for me from Ireland. It's itchy as hell, but as I said, it's still fucking nice.)

I really need to get on my writing (I have 113 pages written so far, but I got TWENTY done last weekend).

But anyways, anyone know of the "To Write Love On Her Arms" movement? I just totally joined in.

(The aftermath is secondary, too! The other bracelet is from my Gramma.)

It's supposed to help support those who suffer with addiction, depression, and to help people who cut themselves or attempt suicide (so basically, me and all mu suicidal glory). It's actually pretty awesome. Thought I'd spread the word . .

You know what? You guys know the judge guy from the Disney Hunchback of Notre Dame?

He's gay. I just totally see him as a gay pervert, hitting on chicks just to prove he's not gay to himself. I hate his face.

~Jinkied