Feeling: Carried away
Listening to: Josh Groban- Come What May (I shall marry him someday.)
Reading/Watching: Finishing off Black Sheep- he's about to abduct her, oooh!

I should not listen to operas. They make me so emotional. Just sitting here with my mp3s playing songs from Moulin Rouge makes me want to run away to New York and become a starving artist.

It makes me anxious for the Valentine Cabaret- pretty much the only time all year that we can sing solos or pop songs. I am determined to find someone to sing Come What May with me, but I'm not sure I can find a guy with a gutsy enough voice. Without all the background music or microphones, he'd need a pretty powerful set of pipes (better than Ewan's) to carry that feeling of sweeping, soaring energy.

Two girls from my choir are in the chorus of a local production of La Boh�me. I am going to see the show if it beggars me, though I might not drag all my friends along in that instance.

I wonder if hearing a true diva sing Quando m'en vo is going to intimidate the crap out of me. Most likely yes. But will I still want to sing it? Hell yeah.

Briana bought me one of those aluminum balloons in the shape of Stitch, the toothy blue koala-looking alien from the Disney movie. He is just so cute. I keep imitating his voice like a big dork.

I swear, sometimes it's like I'm five. I love it. Keeps me entertained.

I really need to go grocery shopping- I'm down to one Pop Tart and a can of Campbells.

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