A. Responde cada una de las preguntas debajo del cut usando el buscador de imágenes Flickr.
B. Elige una foto de las tres primeras páginas.
C. Copia el URL de tus fotos elegidas aquí.
D. Compártelo con el mundo.

 

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01. First Name



02. Favourite Food



03. Hometown



04. Favourite Colour



05. Celebrity Crush



06. Favourite Drink



07. Dream Holiday



08. Favourite Dessert



09. What I Want To Be When I Grow Up



10. What I Love Most In The World



11. One Word That Describes Me



12. My LiveJournal Name



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y ya


ay pues no sirve el maldito lj cut. no se que sucede.

De no leer nada me he puesto a leer dos libros, o mas bien tres, uno es Battle Royale que es la adaptacion a novela del comic de Koushun Takami y la pelicula del mismo nombre. Trata de una clase de preparatoria que fue escogida para participar en un juego llamado Battle Royale, que es parte de un programa autoritario del gobierno y es un experimento en el que un grupo es seleccionado para ser llevados a una isla en donde se les proporciona un arma al azar y tienen que asesinarse los unos a los otros, al final debe de haber un ganador  o sobreviviente pero el juego tiene muchas reglas asi que nunca es seguro que sobreviva alguno. Pero ¡nada que ver! La trama es la misma pero los personajes son mucho mas complejos, la historia es más complicada y en ocasiones hasta cómica. La película la he visto fácil unas 10 veces y no me canso (sobre todo porque en lugar del sádico Sakamochi aparece Kitano como Kitano). No he leído mucho, más que nada porque me dedico a leer en las noches y estos ultimos dias he aprovechado que mis roomates no estan y tengo un poco de tranquilidad (mucha, de hecho). Ahhh en la película sale Go Go Yobari, la ninja asesina de kill bill, y el personaje de Chigusa es muuuuy bueno. Asi como que las japonesas ya nacen con el instinto asesino.
Tambien empecé a leer anoche The Travelling vampire show de Richard Laymon. En realidad no se mucho del libro pues no lo he buscado en internet pero empezó muy bien, es de esos libros que te atrapan con la primera página, no puedo dar una sinopsis porque he leido dos paginas asi que comentaré entre más lea. Tambien tengo que leer pet cemetary de Stephen King y me da miedito.

Las 10 personas que se fueron todavía no regresan y no las extraño, pero la casa se siente tan sola que siento que me vuelvo loca.

Y asi este fue el resultado de mi estrés. Creo que el estaba mas nervioso que yo pero decía que temblaba nada mas porque tenia frio. O porque se estaba recargando mal en un brazo. Excusas.
Fueron los 6 dias mas increíbles de mi vida (hasta ahora). 22 años no significaban nada hasta que entro a mi vida. Lo amo con locura y lo mejor es que el tambien me ama igual. Lo extraño taaaaanto pero tengo la vista puesta en las 3 (casi 4) semanas que pasare con el en diciembre. Ya hasta mi suegra me quiere.
Y nada más, que mi vida en estos momentos es perfecta.

Pesos a euros, euros a libras, libras a pesos.
Yaaaaa estoy harta de tantas conversiones y de que el euro siga subiendo tanto!
¿Por qué no me puedo ganar la lotería?

Mañana en la noche me embarco en lo que podria bien ser mi propio cuento de hadas. He traido un dolor de cabeza insoportable desde que desperte y no creo que se deba a que dormí de más (17 horas) si no por todas las cosas que aún debo (creo) hacer. Yo creo que en la vida habia hecho cosas tan femeninas, las tiras depilatorias y yo no nos llevamos muy bien, y les tengo miedo a las cremas. La verdad es que toda esta situación me frustra, y más porque no tengo ni la más mínima idea de lo que va a suceder cuando me baje del avion y lo vea, con mi sueter enorme y la mochila en la mano, con un total de 2 horas de sueño  y el cabello desaliñado, quien sabe lo que vaya a pensar.
Tengo miedo. ¿Porqué no puedo ser un poquito más positiva y pensar que todo va a salir muy bien? Que todo va a ser como un sueño, muy bonito y perfecto, y que nos la vamos a pasar muy bien, que las cosas no se van a apresurar y que estaré como en una nube.
¿Porqué me cuesta tanto trabajo aceptar que por lo menos una semana seré feliz?
No tengo miedo, estoy aterrada.

me he olvidado de como hacerle modificaciones al LJ,  creo que es hora de abrir el PS y buscar algunos layouts...

*edit*

Me he resignado a utilizar por ahora los layouts preestablecidos, no esta tan mal el que estoy usando por ahora, la verdad es que me dio flojera pero ya baje un layout para modificarlo y espero poder hacerlo pronto (cuando regrese de londres) y que ya tenga la laptop de mi padre porque esta está a punto de morir.

Por lo menos tengo mas de una userpic ahora (que ni modifiqué tampoco pero bueno...) pero prometo que pronto demostraré que soy buena diseñadora y que me merezco el titulo.

ya me canse de no escribir, y esque a veces te cansas de escribir pero yo ya me canse de no hacerlo. ingles o español, que más da.
Ah y me caso en una semana, todos invitados.

Wide awake she lay, staring at the spotless ceiling and blinking slowly as her mind drowned the sounds of her partner’s snores beside her. His breath hot on her neck and his arm thrown not very graciously over her torso she barely noticed anymore. The soft light of dawn danced its way through the curtains, but she paid no attention to the time or the place, too engrossed in her own thoughts to notice anything else.

Thoughts that went way back in time, 3 years almost. To that fateful day when she had finally stepped out of the boundaries that represented her family and the life she had led for 20 years. Each step was harder than the previous one, feeling as she was walking against a rubber band that would force her to stop and throw her back at some point. But nothing happened. Once she had closed the cab’s door, she was very slowly driven away from everything that had been holding her down.

And now she found herself lying down next to an incredibly sexy man after a long night of very fulfilling activities that would’ve otherwise knocked her out cold for several hours, but instead she found herself unable to close her eyes or shut down the thousands of thoughts that felt like a hurricane in her head. She turned on her side, trying very carefully not to wake him up but as she examined his face, she decided that it would take a marching band to so much as make him stir for she had found out that he was quite the heavy sleeper.

( .... )


thats about all that there is now. stay tunned for more :]

Today its kind of cloudy.
I like cloudy days, cloudy days are very nice.
I wish it was coudier.
cloudier would probably even mean that there'd be rain.
and I love rain.

The door slammed behind you as you made your way out of the room. I stared at the place where you had been standing, still frowning, still biting my lower lip, still trying to be angry, to be furious at you for any reason that I could hold on to. And after the room had been silent for a few minutes, I still couldn't understand why I wanted to hold on to that. I didn't want to be mad at you. I wanted to run after you and pull on your shirt, and cry and beg you not to leave. I wanted to demand of you to remember what you had said about not leaving me. Because I knew that if I let you go, you'd realize how much better off you are without me.

But inside I told myself I couldn't do that again. I couldn't be that childish person, that egoistical person. I already had been that through the weekend. I wrapped my arms around myself, and allowed the tears to fall, silently, a sob breaking through the grip my teeth had on my lip and I cried. I fell on my side on the couch and wept for as long and loud as I could. Eventually I felt the need to get up, to wipe my face and nose, because I knew that the only thing I get from crying is nothing but a stuffy nose. And a stuffy nose doesn't let me sleep at night.

And because I knew that that particular night I couldn't deal with anything else but those tormentous thoughts of you, of your face and the tone of your voice before you turned around and took a couple long steps to the door, yanking it open and closing it behind you. Putting more than that door and the wall and the stairs and the whole building in between us. And I know that each step that you take down the street, around the corner and further away, is straining my soul and my heart like some rubbery string, that stretches as long as it can and its only a matter of time before it snaps and hurls back to slap the place it was originally attached to.

I walk over to the kitchen and absently pull out the bottle of apple juice, and suddenly I remember that you mentioned that morning that you loved that applejuice, and I made a mental note to leave it for you. But then the bottle is smashing against the wall and theres your juice spilled all over the wall, the stain a darker shade of that creamy color, pooling on the floor. The plates come next. and soon I realize that there's nothing else I can throw at the wall. And my arm aches, my hair is sticking out in every direction and I notice that my nose is runny again, and that I have been crying. My throat feels sore so I must've been screaming too.

The floor is cold but I know that it makes no difference where I lay. But at least there's a small space between the fridge and the counter so I can't really move around much but it doesn't matter, the bed is just too big and its just as cold.

When I was little I used to believe that there were creatures that lurked in the dark, and I would've never ventured on my own to the kitchen unless i left a trail of lit rooms behind me so I wouldn't have to run my way back to my room. I smiled cause in my head it seemed a bit silly, and I imagined a long fingered dark creature crawling disjointedly towards me around the corner from the counter. I would've jumped and ran to the room, where I would've found you, sitting back against the headboard of the bed, reading something. You would've looked up as I ran and crawled under the covers next to you. There would've been laughs. you would've teased me. I would've pouted and you would've kissed me.

I turned my face, my cheek against the hard cold floor and wept.

Hello Las Vegas.

I'd be more cheerful if my throat didn't feel constricted from the intake of smoke during last night's outing. I quit. Sure when you're there you feel like just another cigarrete wont do you any harm, and you go like that until you hit your fifth and your throat starts to complain about the smoke. It feels torn. It burns you.

And the next morning you wake up coughing your guts out. 5 cigarretes aren't worth this.

Last night I also realized that I can't dance. They say that curvy women can hit it off pretty well but I'm one of the many exceptions. Shakira will tell you that my hips lie and they lie badly. But it is fun, nevertheless, to (after 4 or 5 beers) stand up with your much more drunk alcoholized friend and dance in a restaurant, not particulary designed for dancing like THAT.

In any given case, in this blissfully ethilic state you do not care about the stares that most of the women of the place are giving you. Women that you, in your very self concious state would've considered prettier than you. Or about the guys; because it is not for them that you dance. You dance because you're pretty hammered you're feeling for once, confident of yourself. no, you really are pretty hammered. And you know that you're not the kind of person that often goes out and gets drunk to make an ass out of yourself have fun. You don't need alcohol to have fun, you can have just as much fun in your bedroom with your folds pulled shut, and dancing to the Scissor Sisters. Or reading the latest book you've bought.

Or baking cookies.

Or playing videogames. Who says girls can't play?

Or surfing the net.


But truth is that nothing compares to those very sporadic outings with a bunch of friends, grabbing a couple of beers, singing along to songs that you swore you hated but you know by heart. Dancing like you know your hips are being completely honest.

And waking up to the hangover of your life.


Las Vegas, I wonder if you'd  be the death of me.