...one last rejection letter...

Dear Shirt,

I am very sorry to inform you that it is not possible to offer you admission to the suitcase of 2006-2007. I wish I were writing to report a different decision, but the competition was so rigorous this year that there were many outstanding other options to whom we could not offer places.

Nearly twenty-three thousand shirts applied to the entering suitcase. The great majority of the applicants could certainly have been successful here ,and most other options were also "top" candidates (PUN TOTALLY INTENDED). The Committee was, therefore, faced with the necessity of choosing a class from a great many more talented and highly qualified shirts than it had room to admit.

We wish it were possible for us to admit more of our fine applicants, and we understand how difficult the year abroad packing application process can be for shirts and their matching accessories and pants. While the Committee conducted its deliberations with the utmost care, we know that no one can predict with certainty what an shirt would accomplish during this next year or beyond. Past experience suggests that the particular trip a shirt is worn in is far less important than what the shirt does to develop his or her strengths and talents over the next many years (in the basement bish!).

We very much appreciate the interest you have shown in Noam's Suitcase. We hope that you will accept the best wishes of the Committee for success in all your future endeavors.

.

Sincerely,
Noam Q. Roth
Dean of Admissions and Financial Aid

(you were the shit, really. but i haven't worn you in five years, and not only does my head not really fit through the hole (that uni education really does something for ya), but seeing as uh, style changes rapidly, you are really tacky and unfashionable. actually i think you were nerdy and ugly when i bought you too...oops? So its time to put you in the big brown box labeled "noam's old clothes" as opposed to the closet/pile on the floor containing packing material. Sorry about the rash decision, but our acceptance rate is 15% and you just didn't make the cut! )


p.s. yes i am wearing my harvard hoodie right now and yes it is the softest comfiest thing ever. and i don't think i'm taking it, so there ha!

...someone could tell me...

Ok so, even though I'm not done with About a Boy or From Beirut to Jerusalem, and I haven't even started my two reading list books, I also just started reading High Fidelity. Yay for reading 5 books at once. This is what I used to do when I was in grade school. So, High Fidelity: "At seventeen, we were becoming as embittered and as unromantic as our parents". The problem with books is sometimes they accuse you of things, but they do it so subtly that its really your fault that you even feel accused. I lose!

Alright alright in other news, I really need to figure out the whole new blog thing. I hope it will be awesome and great. And I need a camera, and I need to choose a photohosting thingy. And I need to clean my room ladeda. Oh well, time to go swimming I guess.

...this is why i'd rather be alone...

It's yucky! yucky yucky yucky. Like it always is after it rains I suppose. Not perfectly dark or light, gloomy or happy, right in between and really unsure. and yucky. Blechhhhh.


Going to see Romeo and Juliet tomorrow! Hopefully it won't be dumb, or dumber. Knowing the stars and the reviews, it won't.

In other news, I have tons of stuff to get done for work. And the birthday high ended, obviously. I need to also get some full nights of sleep. Silly.

She's growing old, its getting late.

...happy curfew day!!!...

SWEET!

I had a pretty kickass birthday!!!

One: lots of people told me happy birthday which was awesome. Of course this is mainly thanks to facebook, but still others, and it was rawesome.

Two: Lillian is back! time to party!

Three: MACBOOOOOOK. so hott.

Four: Relationships with various people are happy.

Five: I'm SEVENTEEN people. It's exciting.

Loooove.

...lips move, they say, it'll be okay...

Song lyrics of the week: No more messing around and living underground and new year's resolutions. By this time next year, I won't be here.

Sweet: tomorrow I turn 17! (I feel young and old at the same time)

Time to go watch Israeli movies and prepare myself for a year of...I don't know what you can do at 17, nothing interesting probably.

...i was the one worth leaving...

Dude guys!!!

http://www.qwantz.com/index.pl?comic=809

It's about friendship! I love friendship! Also, I guess I'm the ultimate friend, cuz I think I know what color most of my friends' eyes are. And I wash their dishes daily. All of them.

Time to rawk this town apart with parties. Who's with me?

...arrrr matey...

Class movie viewing turned out to pretty much rock, despite the fact that I was in a terrible mood. Why? Because Johnny Depp is hott basically. So, loyal blog readers, watch POTC II, cuz its good. Not quite as good as the first, but definitely one of the better sequel movies I've seen.

Skipping work today! I have appointments and stuff, plus we have to make me a bank account, so I can store all my booty. Money that is. Sorry, pirate mode. Its too bad they didn't have much gold in this movie, cuz that was cool. There were so many things that went right though, like a certain direction of the compass for Keira Knightley. heeheehee.

Anyways, Mr. Garvey Day was a...success? We went to pages and screamed at metaphysics and Mo brought the traditional boy of interest, so two new traditions. We did like... one quiz but whatever. We didn't really learn anything, but we already knew the answer. Also I didn't see any Mr. Garveys but I wasn't really looking. Lame!

Then my car broke! But everyone is already used to me complaining about this so I'll shut up. Anyways, I was traumatized and pissed, and that night was an extremely angry night in general.

But it was the last July 6 till...next year I guess! I don't know if I'll be in town.

P.S. I miss Lillian and Ariana bunches, and its weird that Ariana comes back before Lillian! but man, stupid foreign countries, who do they think they are, stealing my loves. Lame!