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Lucy Montgomery [userpic]

(no subject)

January 21st, 2007 (09:43 pm)

Fucking ankle. Fucking working a million extra hours so they won't fire me. Fucking flu on top of fucking job on top of fucking ankle. Fucking dehydration landing me in the ER the other night; thank you Trudie for returning my truck so I could take myself. I owe you brownies for stealing my truck. How backwards is that.

I am now recuperating at home and accepting visitors and gossip rags. I'm sick as hell and I won't be cheerful or good company, but at least I'm here.

I'm so tired. My legs are shaky and I know I'm just not quite right-side-up yet. I hate being sick more than almost anything in the world.

Lucy Montgomery [userpic]

(no subject)

January 15th, 2007 (12:31 pm)

Okay, I have a two-part question.

One, where the HELL is my truck; and two, what the HELL is going on??

Lucy Montgomery [userpic]


January 12th, 2007 (02:14 pm)

All right, you yahoos. I’ve had a meeting with administration and they’ve agreed that having a newspaper is healthy and time-consuming (since all we apparently do is break the rules and hump each other). They are all for more committees forming (I hesitated to tell them that there is an informal committee called ‘Alfric Needs Intensive Therapy and the Stick Removed From His Ass’, which is probably why they listened to me).

My demands have been met and we actually have a space. We seriously have a newspaper office. It’s in the Home Ec wing and occasionally smells like burned pizza crust and cremated chicken by turns, but it’s an office!

Now, what I need from you. If you're interested or I've asked you, reply here. You know you want to. And then tell me what you're interested in writing about, and none of this wishy-washy "I'll write whatever you tell me to, Lucy" stuff, I really want to know. Do you want to be an occasional contributor? A regular staff writer? Thinking about being an editor? Let me know. Really and truly.

And then I'll go from there.

In other news:

how stupid does a girl have to be, i swear to god.

Lucy Montgomery [userpic]

(no subject)

January 2nd, 2007 (04:34 pm)

New Year's Resolutions:

-get the cursed and elusive school paper underway SOMEHOW.
-learn how to cook properly, not just baked goods for A. Brontë's spiritual well-being.
-keep a better journal.
-learn to rock-climb better than the one disastrous time Michael and Larissa tried to teach me.
-don't trust them this time, no matter what they say.

Lucy Montgomery [userpic]

(no subject)

November 7th, 2006 (11:56 pm)

Email to Larissa.Collapse )

Lucy Montgomery [userpic]

(no subject)

November 7th, 2006 (11:44 pm)

In response to Jane's vote-mongering, I should like to say:

1.) I am just as pretty as Jane is. (Howard Lovecraft, please keep all chivalrous comments to yourself, thank you!)

2.) My brownies are of a far superior quality and Anne Bronte would perish without my petits fours.

3.) I will make said brownies and petits fours for anyone who votes for me.

4.) Jane's not a princess. I am. (And if you vote for me, I'll let you come to my castle. I have one. I do.)

5.) What am I doing?! I am late for work. Augh.

Lucy Montgomery [userpic]

(no subject)

October 23rd, 2006 (09:15 am)

Private, e-mail to cousin Larissa.Collapse )

Lucy Montgomery [userpic]

(no subject)

September 29th, 2006 (10:17 am)

Do we have a school newspaper?

I should think we ought to.

Not to be the new girl who comes in and tries to revolutionize the world... although I suppose that's how it looks, no matter how you see it... but I only wondered.

Is there interest in one?

Lucy Montgomery [userpic]

(no subject)

September 24th, 2006 (10:21 pm)
current song: "Unbeauty" -Rachael Sage

Eupheme is pretty and quaint. From the way Papa Montgomery described it, I knew I would feel at home here; I've never lived anywhere but in a small town, and I love it already.

At night it seems so very quiet; I can almost hear the leaves turning their burnished colors and falling from the trees. The roads seem ruddy with them, so much so that I find I am reminded of the red dirt roads of home. A vial of PEI's famous clay sits on my bedside table, from my youngest cousin. He knows how much I'll miss home, the trips to the seashore, how much I long for Silver Bush.

But I will be back at Christmas. Until then, we will send care packages back and forth, letters and love.

I am thankful to my grandfather-- hereafer referred to as Papa or Papa Montgomery-- for paying for my schooling. He understood how difficult and awkward it was for me to be back with Father (he is always Father, formal and respectful, and never Dad or Daddy). I like Mary very much and can hardly remember my own mother, so I am not angry with her or feel as if she is taking my mother's place-- but it still remains that they are virtual strangers to me, though Father writes me often.

And so I come to Eupheme. The air feels strange here, as if there is excitement in it, but I am apprehensive. I'm not terrible at making friends, but I am used to having people around who share my blood and must love me-- it is a universal requirement that there must at least be a grudging respect between people who share common blood ties. (I realize that there are exceptions to the rule, but really.)

I have a lot of catching-up to do in my studying. It makes me feel a little overwhelmed to think of it. Lord, deliver me.

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