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Those who know me know that when I was 11 in 2007, I fell madly in love with Garrett Hedlund after seeing him in Eragon.


I became entirely obsessed with him by April and called this disorder Garrettitus. (Technically where there's a U there should be another I but I was dumb at age 11 and I just got used to spelling it that way)


I was so infatuated with him that I SWORE I loved him. Lol, yes, I was such a silly 11 year old. I had started puberty a few years earlier at age eight, so my hormones were raging....xD


Anyway, summer of 2007 was a memorable one. I spent it obsessing over Garrett Hedlund, playing the Sims 2 for ps2, drinking red Vault as a "cure" for Garrettitus (I really just liked the caffiene xD), making a Garrett character on the Sims 2 and making him marry me, writing bad fanfiction about Garrett Hedlund, collecting a large amount of pictures of Garrett Hedlund, experiencing a quite frightening rollercoaster ride of confusing puberty-induced emotions, writing multiple love letters to Garrett (which I never did send xD) and writing the first of my love poems and songs--all about or inspired by Garrett.


Yeahhh there was a lot more to summer 2007 (that summer was frikkin' awesome!!) but that's all that's relevant to this story...


Anyway, as the heat of the summer faded into fall, my love for him faded along with it and defending him to the death transformed into laughing and agreeing when he was insulted. My obsession with him turned into obsession with My Chemical Romance and time passed like he did not exist.


In 2010, I was at my best. I was a Beatlemaniac, Monkeemaniac, Trekkie and Renthead all at once. I was getting somewhere with my music and I was more cheerful than ever.

This has no relevance other than to bring you up-to-date with who I had become in the years after Garrettitus Phase 1 had ended--all of the above mentioned are still traits of mine. =)


Then it was Saturday, December 18, 2010. The day of the annual Winegard Christmas, the first Saturday of my winter break, and the day I fell back on my face.


Yes. That evening at 4:30 or 5:00 I attended a showing of Tron: Legacy. Worst and best thing I did during winter break.


I figured, ah, well, it's a Garrett Hedlund film, but I'll be able to focus on the film, cause I'm completely over that crush, right?


I was wrong. Obviously. xD


The moment he arrived on that ginormous screen, my heart skipped a beat and my fingertips tingled. (It's weird, but that happens when I REALLY like someone, lol.) And I'm all like, "Well, okay, I still find him cute. That's fine. Whatever."


But as the movie progressed, it was like reliving summer 2007 all over again. All of that crazy puberty-induced hormonal stuff of March to September 2007 over a period of about two hours is hard to handle, lol. So maybe it wasn't THAT intense. xD But still. Pretty awesome. But annoying at the same time.


So, once I walked out of that theater, God threw another one of his frikkin' Frisbees at my head, but this time it said, "You STILL like him, idiot." xD Oh, God and his Frisbees...But they're nice Frisbees.


And as my response to his Frisbees usually is, I was like, "Ew, you're right." And proceeded to blabber about how I used to be President of one of Garrett's fan clubs and had to give up Presidency when I left the site it was on (it wasn't a Garrett site, anyway, it was actually a Narnia forum) due to personal reasons and blah, blah, blah and no one else really cared but I kept blabbing until my sister said, "Beth, no one cares."


Then I realized I had embarrassed myself and shut up. xD


That night when I got home I went to my room and wrote the first song I'd written in weeks--a love ballad for Garrett Hedlund, basically telling the whole story, but in minimal detail so it could really work for anyone who's smitten with anyone. It's not the greatest song I've written, but it's simple and I'm pretty happy with it and even recorded an early version of it on my mp3 player accompanied with my guitar that very night. It's not as good as the renditions I've come up with lately, but I was so excited to have written a song that I recorded it right away.


So once I fully came to terms with the fact that I'd entered Garrettitus Phase 2, it was all good---I re-collected the old set of Garrett pics I once had but then deleted in 2009 and added more to the set and began to rewrite a story with a character inspired by him in it that I'd written that same summer.


Well, I suppose that's it then. Here I am now. I just felt like writing out the whole story.


By now a few of you might know I have started a Rent fanfiction. Only started. It has only gone three paragraphs. However, it has already gone through several plot ideas.

One of the earliest plots was very, very, VERY bad. I've already decided that this fanfiction will play on a sort of alternate universe type thing, meaning things will happen in it that might have been impossible in the musical.

Don't kill me for the first thought you are about to read, because I hated it, too. I scrapped it immediately. It's embarrassing to admit the thought even crossed my mind, as briefly as it did, so have mercy and don't be mean.

So I had this thing in my head for there to be a love triangle.
Angel, Collins, and a man I made up who was enamored with Angel.
I thought up this idea as I was falling asleep, and that's mostly to blame for its idiocy.
I won't go into the gory details that make me hate myself, but basically, Angel was seeing this other dude behind Collins's back in this plotline.

This idea was scrapped literally within moments. I never even wrote any of it down. I mean, come on. That's not Angel. Neither Angel or Collins would let anyone interfere with their relationship. That's what makes them so special--their love for each other is so strong and they are so devoted to each other and they don't have issues. I could never bring myself to ruin what made me adore them as a couple in the first place. Besides, the two-timing Angel plot made Angel look like total Maureen. He would never go for any guy but Collins and vice versa. Their love is so true.

This lead to my second idea, which didn't have much to do with Angel and Collins. Instead, it was mostly about Mark. It was in his point of view, and because I always felt bad about him being alone, I created a girl for him. A sweet young photographer (not filmmaker, just still photographer) named Galina who had a bright smile, grey eyes and wavy black-brown hair.
As much as I adored this plotline, there were too many holes in my outline. How would Mark and Galina meet? Once they met, how and when would they fall in love? After that, where would the story be headed?
It was difficult to let this plot go, especially since certain scenes were already finding their way into my mind and my fingers just itched to get them onto paper. I never wrote any of the Mark and Galina story down. But I plan to maybe use it later--they are too perfect of a couple to just throw away and never think about again.

Now, here comes the biggie, which I'm thinking about keeping.
I've decided to stick with the alternate universe thing. Not alternate to the point of Angel being a two-timer or Maureen being a prim, proper, businesswoman. But to the point of not killing Angel.

That's right. I went there.

So it would really screw with the storyline. But if it's an alternate universe, what originally happened is happening in the other universe. Like on Star Trek. So I asked myself, What if Angel survived? What would happen between him and Collins after that?
That's when the wheels started really turning.

I started to have invisionments of Angel and Collins getting married and became quietly obsessed with the idea. I even considered changing Angel's name on my Angel RP page to Angel Dumott Collins to get used to the idea. Or I guess it would be Angel Dumott Schunard-Collins. Either way, I loved that idea.

Then reality kicked me in the behind and said, "HELLO, dimbulb! Gay marriage probably wasn't legal in very many places yet at the time!"
And then my devious side nudged reality and whispered to me, "Angel's a transvestite, anyway. If he were to dress as a female for the wedding, no one would even know it was a gay marriage taking place.
Sneaaaaky. But it sounds very fun to write. And can you see Angel in a wedding gown? I've decided he would make his own, seeing the references in Maureen's eulogy at Angel's funeral that he makes his own clothes.
The opening of my Rent fanfic as it stands now is more like a prologue, consisting of Angel sitting in front of his mirror "transforming" from a beautiful young woman back into a handsome young man. AKA, removing his makeup and wig. As boring as this sounds, it was incredibly fun to write using special literal elements and words to make it kind of emotional in an odd way. I remember the first line goes something like,

"Angel sat in front of his vanity and looked in the mirror. Gazing back at him was a gorgeous young woman with silky, short black hair, light reddish lips, and long eyelashes."

That's not the greatest, but it gets better as he "transforms."

Anyways Idk how I got into discussing the first lines, but whatever.

I'm thinking about combining the Angel marriage idea and the Mark and Galina idea into one story which bounces from Angel's point of view to Mark's point of view.

What I need from YOU, dear readers, is OPINIONS. Only positive ones, please, negative ones please keep to yourself and if the whole thing falls to pieces you can sit back and laugh at me, okay? xD

Should Angel and Collins get married? If they do, should they then adopt a baby together? Idk how hot I am on the adopting a baby thing, but I'll let you all do the deciding.
Also, if I make the story a type of double-story and have the Mark and Galina thing there, should it be a double wedding--Angel and Collins and Mark and Galina--or should Mark and Galina's relationship remain just a bf/gf thing? I think I like the idea of it just being an Angel and Collins wedding better than a double wedding, because, well, it'll take FOREVER for me to build up Mark and Galina as a couple to where I'm comfortable with sending them to the wedding chapel. But, again, I want to hear what the readers would want to see happen.

Do you have any suggestions for other ideas I have not mentioned?

Thank you,
Liz


I'll Cover You

I'll Cover You

ANGEL
Live in my house
I'll be your shelter
Just pay me back
with on thousand kisses
Be my lover
and I'll cover you

COLLINS
Open your door
I'll be your tenant
Don't got much baggage to lay at your feet
But sweet kisses I've got to spare
I'll be there and I'll cover you

BOTH
I think they meant it
When they said you can't buy love
Now I know you can rent it
A new lease you are my love
on life Be my life

Just slip me on
I'll be your blanket
Wherever whatever
I'll be your coat

ANGEL
You'll be my king
and I'll be your castle

COLLINS
No you'll be my queen
And I'll be your moat

BOTH
I think they meant it
When they said you can't buy love
Now I know you can rent it
A new lease you are my love
on life all my life

I've longed to discover
Something as true as this is

COLLINS
So, with a thousand sweet kisses
ANGEL
(if you're cold and you're lonely)
COLLINS
I'll cover you

With a thousand sweet kisses
ANGEL
(you've got one nickel only)
COLLINS
I'll cover you

ANGEL
With a thousand sweet kisses
COLLINS
(When you're worn out and tired)
ANGEL
I'll cover you

With a thousand sweet kisses
COLLINS
(When your heart has expired)
ANGEL
I'll cover you

BOTH
Oh, lover
I'll cover you
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Oh, lover
I'll cover you
--
My fave RENT song. Angel+Collins= <3 Forever
Angel and Collins singing &quot;I&apos;ll Cover You&quot;. <3
....Now that I know how to put pics in my posts...my posts will probably be a LOT more interesting...

Peace and Long Life,
Lizzy Nimoy


FISH---A short story.


This is my pride and joy, closer to me than any other story I have ever written in my life. I was listening to the Monkees when this came into my head, so I always credit them with the inspiration even though this is not a Monkees fanfiction and has nothing to do with them. Well, except for the character named Mickey, who I named after Micky Dolenz. Originally the name was a placeholder until I came up with a different one. Once I finished the first few paragraphs, it was too late. The name Mickey stuck with the character and suddenly while I was writing it, in my head, he totally looked like Micky Dolenz. And with the nature of the story, that really disturbed me, but made the feelings in the story easier to convey in words and brought me to tears.
Yes, this was it. This was the first non-fanfic story of mine that made me cry. It is very dear to me and has gone through a lot of editing and refining, (Much thanks to my wonderful 8th grade writing teacher Sue Miller who helped so much) and this is the final copy. I already submitted it to my deviantart and TeenInk accounts. Here it is. Hope you like it.
---

FISH

by E. Margaret

 

            I couldn't help being jealous of her.

            She was so beautiful, so successful. She had everything I wanted. I didn't think she needed him, too.

            I don't think he ever realized how much he meant to me. He was so sweet, so kind. He made me smile and I loved everything about him. But he never knew. I was too much of a coward, and she was who he wanted. So I waited. I still talked to him and laughed and listened to his problems. We would always be friends, but I would always feel like there had to be more than this.

            One night, walking down the street, I saw him, in tears, clutching a bouquet and standing on her doorstep. No matter how much I wanted to tell him he was stupid to think she wouldn't break his heart, I sat beside him on these steps and tried to comfort him as he sobbed heavily onto my shoulder. I patted his back and told him the same old "plenty of Fish in the sea" speech, wanting so badly to say, "And your tears are soaking the shoulder of one particular Fish who really, really loves you."

             He looked at me, his normally sparkling eyes wet with warm tears.

            "I'm running out of Fish, Sheri," he said softly.

            I glanced away.

            There's still more, I thought. You just don't see her.

            "There are many types of Fish, though, Mickey." I picked at the frayed laces on my sneakers. "You see, you're looking in America. America's not the only place in the world. There are Canadian Fish, Mexican Fish, French Fish, British Fish, Irish Fish, Russian Fish," I looked up and grinned. "...Fried Fish, Fish 'n chips, Fish Sticks, Gold Fish, Cat Fish, Bass Fish..." I went on listing all the types of Fish that came to mind. Mickey tried to laugh for my sake, but even I knew I wasn't funny. I was trying though, because that's what friends are for. You know, making stupid jokes so they laugh when they get dumped instead of telling them, "I told you so, you dumbass." It never helps, but it's better than making them feel bad.

            "Why Fish?" Mickey asked suddenly.

            "Huh?" I had been thinking up different kinds of Fish I hadn't named yet.

            "Why Fish? They're slimy and scaly. Why do they say plenty more Fish in the sea when you break up with someone? I mean, no one wants to kiss a Fish. That's just nasty."

            I frowned.

            "Ummm..." I stared at him. Then I laughed. "Only you would wonder that, Mickey."

            "What? I'm serious! Why Fish?"

            "I don't know. I really don't."

            Mickey stared at the bouquet of flowers he had bought for Jennie, his now ex-girlfriend.

            "About twenty dollars down the drain," he muttered, kicking the dozens of roses and lilacs and baby's breath to the ground. It was gorgeous and there were blue ribbons tied around the paper it was wrapped in. They all spilled out over the steps and onto the ground. Suddenly they looked just like garbage, nothing else. Mickey looked at me. "She said that there was another. This...George guy." He wrinkled his nose. "I dunno. Anyway, apparently she's been seeing him for quite some time now. I guess I'm glad she came out and told me the truth. I just wish..." He swallowed. "I just wish I knew what was wrong with me."

            "Come, now," I said softly. "Don't get yourself cryin' again. She's not worth it."

            "All right," he murmured. "Come on, Sheri, I'll walk you home; it's late."

            "That's all right, I'll be okay. What I want to know is, will you be okay?"

            He sighed.

            "I don't know."

            That was the last time I saw my best friend and only love.

--

 

            I remember waking the next morning to my Mother's voice, slightly shaken, speaking softly to me.

            "Sheri, dear, I think you should get up. Honey, please get up," she said. Surprised, I opened my eyes. Usually, if she needed me up right away, she just shouted up the stairs for me to get my butt out of bed.

            "Yes, Momma?" I mumbled, half asleep.

            "Honey, Mickey's dead," she whispered.

            I bolted upright.

            "What?" I shouted. "Momma, what is this, a sick joke? Oh, Momma, it can't be true, I just saw him last night and he was perfectly healthy!"

            Momma shook her head slowly.

            "Oh, honey. He wasn't sick, no. I know this is going to be hard on you.” She took my hand into her own gentle, warm ones. “They found him on his bedroom floor this morning. He slit his wrists."

            Trembling suddenly, I leapt out of bed. I hadn't slept the greatest, and the assumption that this was my imagination immediately came to mind.

            "This can't be true!" I yelled. "You're lying! No, I'm dreaming, aren't I? I'm still sleeping!" I ran out to the living room and sure as I was standing there, his face was on the news, the reporter talking about the "unexpected tragedy" that had occurred. My best friend was dead. He had committed suicide.

            Momma came to me.

            "Honey, please calm down," she pleaded.

            I knew why he had killed himself. He wasn't all right last night. He wasn't all right at all. Jennie had cheated on him and he felt like he wasn't good enough. It was all her fault. Mickey was dead, and Jennie was to blame.

            "Damn it! Damn her! How could she be so thoughtless? Damn her!"

            "Who, dear?"

            I didn't feel like explaining. Instead, I fell to my knees on the floor and sobbed into my hands. Momma knelt beside me and wrapped her arms around me.

            "There, there, honey. Shhh, it's all right. God's holdin' him now, baby. God's holdin' him."

            "Oh, Momma," I cried. "Can't God give him back? Can't He?"

            "I'm afraid not, baby. It's gonna take some time to heal. But in the meantime, try to smile. That's what he'd want."

            "Momma, he's so cruel. He's so awful."

            "God, honey? No, He isn't. He doesn't mean to seem that way."

            "Not God. Mickey. Didn't he see that there were people here that loved him every bit as much as he wished Jennie did? Didn't he see that by killing himself he'd only hurt us? Hurt me? Momma, how could he be so selfish?"

            "I don't think he realized that there were so many more Fish in the sea other than Jennie. He really cared about her. I think that feeling blinded him. The feeling of losing her probably overwhelmed him to the point where he wanted to die. I can see why you're angry at him. You have every reason to be angry and grief-stricken all at once."

            "I loved him, Momma," I whimpered.

            "I know you did, sweet pea. But you also need to see that there are more Fish in the sea."

            "I don't want a different Fish," I sniffled.

            "That's the same issue Mickey had," she said.

            "I know," I whispered. "I know."

--

            A few days later I somehow found enough strength to attend his funeral. I had barely eaten or slept in days and even after a shower and applying makeup I looked absolutely wretched. I pulled on a black skirt, blouse and black heels. That was the day I learned to hate black. Yet I began to wear it so often. The sky was dark and overcast that day. It was supposed to rain later, so they had the funeral early, before the ground began to turn muddy and suck itself together whenever they tried to dig. I stared at my feet as the preacher recited a few passages from the Bible. Some birds were singing, as if to mock my sorrow. I wanted so badly for them to die, to drop right out of the trees. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Jennie, bawling into her hands. Such audacity she had to show herself here, when she was the reason for his suicide! How dare she come and act as if she cared? Worse, beside her, his arm around her, was her new boyfriend, George, the one she had left Mickey for, the one she cheated on him with. Must she torment Mickey even in his death? I hated her even more than ever today. I hated Jennie, I hated George. I hated the preacher who tried to make such a tragedy as death sound glamorous, I hated the birds that sang so cheerfully in the trees above us. I even hated Mickey for being so selfish to kill himself and inflict this pain upon all of us. More than anyone, I hated myself, for not telling him I loved him when I still had the chance. Now he was gone, and I'd never see him smile again.

            Each of us in turn went to the casket to pay our respects to the deceased. I thought I could never bring myself to go up there, but I did. I rested my hand over his cold, dead one. I gazed at him, tears glistening in my eyes. He didn't even look like himself, all gussied up in a suit like that, his hands forced into a folded position on his chest. The tears drizzled down my cheeks and I tore myself away from the remains of my best friend. My mascara smudged, but I could've cared less. I began to cry. I cried longer and harder than I ever had, and the worst thing was I knew it wouldn't do any good--Mickey was never coming back.

            It began to rain as Momma and I walked home. We walked in silence. No words were needed to explain what we were both feeling, because words would only make it worse. When we finally got home, I remained on our porch, watching the rain make the ground into a mucky soup.

            "Coming inside, baby?" Momma asked.

            "Not yet, Momma," I murmured. "I'm gonna stay out here for a while. Is that all right?"

            "Go ahead, honey. Come in when you want to." She walked inside and shut the door quietly.

            I leaned on the railing of the porch, not really caring how the rain had soaked me through to the bone, raising the goose bumps on my skin. My hair was plastered to my head, the curls flattened out by the relentless raindrops. The streets were bare for a Saturday, as if the world had shut down in memory of Mickey. I caught a glimpse of someone walking down the empty street. It was Mickey's mother, Donna. She crossed the street to our gate, opening it and walking up our sidewalk to our porch.

            "Hello, dear," she said.

            "Hello, Donna," I said.

            "Mickey...he really did care about you, honey."

            I didn't know how to reply. She stuck her hand in her pocket and dug around for a while, then pulled out an envelope. It had my name on it in Mickey's familiar handwriting.

            "We found this on his dresser after we found him..." She broke off. "Anyway, we thought we oughtn't read it. It was addressed to you, after all. Here." She handed it to me.

            "Thanks, Donna," I murmured. I pocketed the envelope. We looked at each other for a moment, then we both burst into tears. We hugged, crying on each other for the longest time. How many tears had I shed in these past three days, I wondered? How many thirsty children could be quenched from the waters that had rushed from my eyes?

            "Go read it, dear," Donna said, letting go of me. "It may bring you some peace."

            "I will. Take care, Donna."

            "You too, Sheri."

--

            The envelope remained on my desk for weeks. All I wanted was to forget everything about Mickey and Jennie and his suicide. I wanted it to all just go away. It wasn't going to go away and I wasn't going to wake up and realize it was all a dream. This was real life, and I had to deal. One night, one of the several I awoke past midnight crying, my eyes glanced toward the envelope.

            Go read it, dear. It may bring you some peace. Donna's words echoed through my mind. Taking a breath, I reached for the envelope. I opened it and pulled out the folded paper inside it. My body ached with sorrow when I unfolded it to see Mickey's handwriting covering it. It was hard to think this was written the day so long ago when he killed himself.

 

            Dear Sheri,

 

            My eyes filled with tears again at just the first two words. I could hear his voice, as if he were right there, talking to me.

 

            Dear Sheri,

            By the time this gets to you, I will have been long dead. I know it's hard for you to understand why. I think I've just had enough of everything. Sometimes, it is all too much. It's not just Jennie cheating on me that makes me feel this way, though that has been a very large factor in this ending. Over the last few months, nothing has felt quite all right. It's just not worth living anymore. I don't like what I see when I get up in the morning. Every day there are people dying, children starving, bombs being set off. And what good does any of it do? It doesn't. The world gets worse and worse and nothing changes anymore. I feel so worthless, Sheri. I can't do anything to make a difference. I can't do anything to ease any of the pain that anyone is feeling.

            I can't stand that no one is happy anymore. Seeing everybody so unhappy makes me feel like doing something--anything­--to make them smile. I want everyone to be happy. But I can't make them happy, Sheri. It's completely out of my hands. And it drives me mad. If I can't make any difference in the world, what good is it for me to be here?

            I was thinking of what you said about Fish, and how there are plenty of them in the sea. All those Fish, so to speak, are different, and each of them has their own problems and dreams and worries. Most of them will never find the solution to their problems, and each Fish wants that one Fish they can never get. Sheri, I thought I could never live without Jennie. But I can. I've opened my eyes now--who has been there for me this whole time? Who has made me smile? Who has cried with me and laughed with me through all these years? You have, Sheri. I think you're the last thing in the world that's worth it. However, this Fish is too cowardly to tell you he loves you. I love you, my Fish, but it's time for me to go. I cannot do any good in this world. There's nothing to live for. I hope you understand this jumble of words. I can hardly make any sense of it myself. All I know, Sheri, is that I don't want to go on living. I'm not as strong as you are. I can't smile through the pain as easily as you do. I wish to God I had your strength.

 

Goodbye, my Fish, and I love you.

 

Forever yours,

Mickey.

 

            With tears blinding my sight, I could barely make out the ending letters, and the P.S. at the end.

 

P.S.

 

F.I.S.H

Find In Sorrow, Happiness.

Don't cry, Sheri. In your sorrow, look around a bit. There is happiness remaining, also.

 

            So I found happiness.

            I smiled through my tears, because I had the strength. I carried on, never giving up even though I'd lost someone I loved, because there is always hope. There is always hope, and there is always happiness. Mickey believed in me, and I devoted the rest of my life to making a difference. I donated money to charities worldwide. I went on missions to take food to children in Africa. Whenever I saw someone with a frown upon their face, I did the best to turn it into a smile. I only wished that Mickey had been alive to see that, yes, you can make a difference, whoever you are. All you have to do is Find In Sorrow, Happiness, and try to share that happiness with those around you.

 

The End.


Hello everybody!!


Yeah, so have I mentioned how absolutely obsessed I am with the screencapture option on my computer's DVD player?
Well, yeah, I'm mentioning it now.
I spend way too much time screencapping Monkees episodes and currently have 4,461 images in my Monkees file. The episodes I have screencapped are...
Monkees Watch Their Feet
Monstrous Monkee Mash
Fairy Tale
Hitting the High Seas
Monkee Vs. Machine (Only 1st season episode I have. It was on my 1st Monkees DVD, "Our Favorite Episodes".)
The Frodis Caper
The Picture Frame
I Was a 99 Lb. Weakling
The Devil and Peter Tork
A Coffin Too Frequent
Art, For Monkees' Sake
The Monkee's Paw
Monkees Mind Their Manor
It's a Nice Place To Visit
Monkees In Texas
Hillbilly Honeymoon

The Monkees music videos I have screencapped are...

Daily Nightly
Pleasant Valley Sunday
Randy Scouse Git
Love Is Only Sleeping
No Time

I have also screencapped the TV special "33 1/3 Revolutions Per Monkee" and I have individual shots of each Monkee from each episode. I am totally open to requests for any shots anyone might want from any Monkees episode, providing that it is in the 2nd season. I have yet to acquire the 1st season on DVD.... =( Anyways, I'm always glad to share and make screencaps for people! =D Like I said, I have like, this screencapping addiction...Lol.
Just for fun I'm going to type out how many of each individual Monkee I have.

Davy: 756
Micky: 608
Peter: 507
Mike: 388

....I always feel bad when I look at the amount of Mike pics compared to the amount of everyone else. The thing is, in the beginning of my fandom, Mike was lower than scum to me (looooong story) so I never bothered to save many pics of him online. But then when I got my first Monkees DVD, "Our Favorite Episodes", I slowly began to learn more about Mike and the kind of guy and musician he was and I sloooowly (but surely) fell in love with him just as much as I was in love with the other three.  So I did screencap shots of him, but the thing is, there are a few episodes I've screencapped that he either isn't in at all or he doesn't show up a lot on his own. So yeah. My bad judgement in the beginning is a lot to blame. I thought he was a snob for not rejoining the Monkees for some reunions but now I can kind of see it from his point of view. Well, better than I did. Oh, and his speech about "If you love music, you can play music" in "The Devil and Peter Tork"? Yeah, it totally made me fall in love with him. I think that was the first episode that really did it for me. And "Fairy Tale"....well, it's just priceless. It was the first Monkees episode I ever saw. Great first episode. =)

Anyway, again, if anyone wants to request any shots from any Monkees episode from the 2nd season, I'll be glad to get them for you!!

Sincerely,
Lizzy


Just joined

Hey. I totally just joined. Yeah. Kinda confused, trying to figure everything out. =)
You can call me Lizzy. =)
I love the 1960s, especially the Beatles, the Monkees and Star Trek. I love writing and singing and I cannot live without music. I'm a big Trekkie but mainly of the original series. But the Next Generation and Deep Space Nine are cool, too. I'm always happy to talk to other Trekkies, Beatlemaniacs and Monkeemaniacs. =) I also love Elton John, Donny Osmond and Michael Jackson. Lotsa other stuff...
Spock is my fave Star Trek character, I looooooove him. Yes, the Leonard Nimoy Spock. Hasn't he got the prettiest eyes you ever saw? ^_^ Though I do like the new Star Trek movie, too. Chekov is my 2nd fave character and I totally missed my chance to meet Walter Koenig. (*cries*)
Though I have met Johnny Yong Bosch, an anime voice actor and he played Adam Park on the Power Rangers. He was really sweet and cool and down-to-Earth. There's more about that on my profile page or whatever you call it.

Anyways, that's all right now!!

Live Long and Prosper,
Lizzy Nimoy