Insanity is not when you start talking to yourself, it's when you stop listening to yourself.
The City That Never Sleeps
Insanity is not when you start talking to yourself, it's when you stop listening to yourself.
Insanity is not when you start talking to yourself, it's when you stop listening to yourself.
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posted : Thursday, December 2, 2010
title : bonjour, zis is the sam speaking.
For once in my life I write in here :3 BECAUSE I DONT HAVE A LIFE. PEOPLE ENJOY LABELLING ME AS THAT. THANKS A LOT. JUST WHAT I NEED TODAY. AND ITS 6 IN THE FUCKING MORNING. JOY. REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAW.  So, I threw a fit cause I was denied of my brunch. NO THANKS TO MR. DELIVERY MAN. >:( yeeeeuuuuu suck. >:( Listening to Maroon 5 makes me a lot like  HAHAHA. just with a nicer face :) I kinda have to rely on Google at the moeee. Because. IDK. because. :) and so my routine from now on :)  to be inspired. toodles yaaaaaaaw "To live is like to love--all reason is against it, and all healthy instinct for it. Samuel Butler" |
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posted : Sunday, October 31, 2010
title : Carrington & Elliot
Carrington was just readjusting the last of her coffee table books when there was a knock at her dorm door. The Bobst Library had long since been replaced with the warm comfort of her campus dorm/apartment at Union Square, and Carrington was just finishing the last of her organizing for the new year. She brushed her hands down on her yoga pants and jogged over to her door, peeping through the little hole before pulling the door open. A man stood at her doorway, holding in his hands a box containing what looked like books and several models of human anatomy. He stared at her for a moment, and she to him; clearly they weren't expecting each other. "Um - hi," He smiled at her uncertainly, and peered inside the room carefully. "Is this the Wyatt dorm?" He asked her politely, flashing her a lopsided smile, which to her amusement, resulted in a dimple. Carrington nodded slowly. "This is the Wyatt dorm room," She told him, and smiled at him encouragingly. It wasn't uncommon for the NYU students to have roommates of the opposite sex, but the last that Carrington had heard, they usually were run through the college residency system first. "Were you looking for someone?" She inquired with a friendly smile. He was tall, with a dark head of hair and a rather somber disposition about him that wasn't entirely unapproachable. The man was probably a few years older than she was; although obviously he couldn't be that much older if he was to share a dorm with her. His eyes were a dark amber, and were currently staring at her with an odd expression on his face. She blinked. "Can I help you?" She asked him again, propping her free hand on her hip. The man blinked, and shook his head before offering her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, it's just that my cousin's supposed to be sharing a dorm room here with Wyatt. Do you.... know him?" He asked her tentatively. It wasn't an unlikely possibility that this young woman was Wyatt's girlfriend, but he figured that he'd better hold his tongue against an assumption of that sort. He didn't want to be the reason his cousin to start off on the wrong foot with her roommate. Carrington raised an eyebrow at him, and straightened against the door. "I am Wyatt," She replied, and giggled at his preplexed frown. "Carrington Wyatt," She amended, and held out her hand for his to shake, and then pulled back when she realized that he couldn't exactly shake it. Not with the box in his hand. She smiled sheepishly. "Come in," She stepped back, and allowed the man entrance into her apartment/dorm. "I'm sorry about the mess though - I was just finishing with my unpacking," She explained, propping her hands back on her hips casually as she watched the man lower the box beside her coffee table. "Oh the mess is fine - Sam has the tendency to be an organized mess anyway," He straightened, and offered her a friendly smile. "Elliot Sullivan, at your service, ma'am," Brushing his hand down on his jeans, he finally offered his hand out to her to shake, and smiled at her as she took it. "Designated load carrier," He flashed her a dimpled grin, much to her joy. A smile danced across her lips, and Carrington beamed up at the man. He seemed amiable enough; polite and gentlemanly, and his eyes barely went lower than her neck - which was saying much, given her tank top and yoga pants. Most boys that roamed the block would've aimed a water balloon at her by now. "Is there anything else that you need to bring up? I'll just clear up my things here and then you can bring up Sam's things," She told him, and then smiled nervously at him. "It is Sam, right?" She hadn't met her roommate before; all she knew about her was that she was a girl. How nice. Elliot softened as Carrington gnawed on her lip nervously. He was sure she would be a wonderful roommate for his cousin; she seemed nice, and there weren't signs of track marks or the stale scent of alcohol lingering around her. "It is," He assured her, and moved towards the door again. "She's gone up to speak with the residency head about some things; she'll be around later," He told her, and then motioned to the hallway. "I'll just bring up the rest of her things," Carrington nodded. "Of course," She watched as the man disappeared down the hallway before smiling to herself. He really was a nice man; good looking too. Tall and fit - she could see the definition of his arms through his sweater when he lowered the box, although not overwhelmingly buff. He had a nice svelte figure, one that Carrington found herself admiring a little too much. She shook her head firmly. No ogling the new roommate's cousin! She huffed to herself and turned her attention back to her boxes. She needed to unpack. Labels: carrington, elliot, first meeting |
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posted : Tuesday, February 16, 2010
title : The Non-Beginnings of a Friendship.
New York winter. Cold, windy, and downright murderous. At least, it made her murderous. At the moment she was intent on skinning the next man she saw and using his skin as a nice leather wrap for her arms and legs. Why God refused to have built-in heaters inside Adam and Eve when he created them was beyond her. Snarling bitterly to herself, Carrington tightened her McQueen leather military jacket around her and strode across the New York street swiftly. In this weather, she hardly wanted to spend any more time than required in the open. Ah, home. The New York University campus in Washington Square was the home Carrington never wanted to leave. Settled deep in the heart of Greenwich, Carrin felt safe, comfortable and most importantly, happy. With the New York chill nipping at her heels, Carrin jogged across the Square, moving in the direction of her favorite coffee stand - - Starbucks. "Hey Jim, my regular please," She greeted the familiar barista with a friendly smile as she fished out a bill from her jeans pocket and slid it over. She stomped her feet away from the cold and waited eagerly for her café au lait, wrapping her hands around the Styrofoam cup thankfully when Jim slid the steaming coffee over to her. "Ah heaven," She sighed happily and sipped at the steamy liquid. I've had a little bit too much All of the people start to rush. Start to rush babe. How does he twist the dance? Can't find my drink or man. Where are my keys, I lost my phone. Carrington stared about her startled as the music began to blare from some Godforsaken source. "What in the world..." She murmured as she craned her neck to catch a glimpse of a wriggling ass at the center of the Square. Dancing, in the middle of winter in New York. What's go-ing out on the floor? I love this record baby, but I can't see straight anymore. Keep it cool what's the name of this club? I can't remember but it's alright, alright. Carrington moved closer towards the gathering crowd and peered over the many heads to see a girl in the middle, dancing beside a large boom box. Her eyes widened in alarm as the strange girl began gyrating her hips. Just dance. Gunna be okay. Da-doo-doo-doo Just dance. Spin that record babe. Da-doo-doo-doo Just dance. Gunna be okay. Duh-duh-duh-duh Dance. Dance. Dance. Ju-just dance. Carrington watched in mortification as the hip gyrating intensified and the woman seemed to be having a seizure on her makeshift dancefloor. The song continued to play, as did the girl's dancing, until finally someone found the sense to call the Campus Police, who promptly disengaged the crowd and sent the dancing girl on her way. As Carrington moved away with the crowd, she could just barely make out what the screeching girl was saying. "You do NOT stop the dancing of the Gaga. You. DO. NOT. I am Pene -" The rest was a blur as she stepped into the Bobst Library. Labels: carrington, penelope, the beginning |
All about Carrington, all about Penelope, all about Sammie. All about the dramatic exaggerations of Carrington's years in NYU and beyond.
