28 February 2009
♥ a dusty old memory
Your eyes are so beautiful
right after you cry, he said
I can't remember why he said it
(or why he said he said it)
But I knew then
why he always made my cry
2/28/2009
27 February 2009
♥ today:
- My boss yelled for "being careless" at me as soon as I got to work. His idea of "training" me was to set me loose and figure I would ask about anything I didn't understand. Everyone at work thinks I'm a moron.
- No one noticed my new haircut.
- My linguistics test was a thousand times harder than I expected.
- I can't find my favorite mascara.
- My skinny jeans are a little too skinny. I feel like a fatass.
FML.
2/27/2009
25 February 2009
♥ this too shall pass...hopefully
Why, oh why, did Steven Page feel the need to "pursue solo projects"? I am positive nothing he can do on his own will come close to matching the genius of BNL. What am I supposed to do now?!
2/25/2009
23 February 2009
♥ this would be my seven hundreth post
Just in case anyone was wondering...
2/23/2009
21 February 2009
♥ whoops
Last night was probably not the most intelligent night of my life. I am very much feeling the after-effects of my excessive alcohol intake. Still, I have a hard time saying no when I'm in a room full of my favorite people, and, of course, delicious Mike's. My headache will just have to be ignored.
2/21/2009
20 February 2009
♥ week from hell
There is no particular reason this week should have sucked, but somehow, it did. So today, to reward myself to surviving this horrible terrible no good very bad week, I got my nails done (a full set--how sophisticated!) and bravely had my eyebrows waxed (ohmygod that hurt). I got back and my room smells like vomit. No explanation. FML
2/20/2009
18 February 2009
♥ horrible terrible no good very bad day
It's a Murphy's Law kind of day... If there was even the slightest possibility something could have gone wrong, you can rest assured it did. I'm going out of my mind.
2/18/2009
12 February 2009
♥ but when will i start feeling like me again?
My new medication makes me feel better. It makes me feel less depressed, less like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, less like my life is falling apart. Still, I'm ready to just feel... normal.
2/12/2009
♥ shit! i totally forgot how to do this!
I didn't exactly have to write a lot of papers requiring citation last semester, and now that I'm in upper-level classes, this is coming back to haunt me. I am quite rusty.
Also, if your name happens to be "Kayla," or, more commonly, "Bear," I wish we still went to school together. You keep me sane and no one else knows how.
2/12/2009
11 February 2009
♥ i don't know why
I'm just itching to do something really, regrettably stupid.
2/11/2009
10 February 2009
♥ eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
This. Is so. Exciting.
2/10/2009
09 February 2009
♥ a rather severe case of writers' block
As much as I despise Mrs. Dalloway, I'm beginning to understand how Virginia Woolf felt until she thought of that first, perfect sentence: "Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself." I have so much to say, but I can't think of any way to put it all into words. It makes such perfect sense in my head, where my thoughts pitch little tents and camp out for days at a time, until they finally find their way out of the woods. But when I try to write it down, everything feels meaningless, inarticulate. Nothing seems significant or even worth saying at all, and I feel like I'm just vomiting all over the page: who wants to read my literary vomit?
I hope my contemporary lit teacher doesn't mind too much, because she's about to receive a thousand-word paper that seems an insult to Woolf for all its hollowness and (unintended) insincerity.
I hate to come off as a morose intellectual, but there's something about Woolf's notion of capturing the feelings we experience in a single moment of our lives, the idea that we might read something and think, Yes, that's exactly it, that I find so heartbreakingly captivating. I wish I could be a writer. I wish I could write down all these things I keep thinking; I wish I could make something so beautiful and tragically, poetically real that it would change someone's life, the way The Hours has changed mine.
"There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than anything, for more."
2/09/2009
07 February 2009
♥ sometimes i forget for awhile
But I am really, really lucky.
2/07/2009
06 February 2009
♥ this week i can't handle:
Headaches. And the early onset of senility. I feel like I'm going insane.
The assholes on the fourth floor, who insist on [recreational furniture moving / a basketball tournament / jump roping / throwing bowling balls from their lofted beds / training circus elephants] in the wee hours of the night/morning.
My short hair. It's been a month and a half. Shouldn't I know how to style it by now?!
Mrs. Dalloway. Forgive me, Mrs. Woolf, but I can't work up much sympathy for a spoiled aristocrat who chose to marry the wrong man.
Midterms. I can't believe midterms are already here.
Missing Maude. I feel strangely guilty for not having said a proper goodbye, like I've abandoned her. She must have felt very lonely when I left here there, on the side of the highway, falling apart. If there is a car heaven, I'm sure Maude is there. (Or, if there is still a chance of her revival, I'm hoping she doesn't go toward the light...)
The balance between work and play. Or, in my case, lack thereof.
...how long til spring break?
2/06/2009
05 February 2009
♥ i didn't choose this
It just happened
Life just happened
But one night
in my darkest hour
and after much deliberation
I chose life
So I guess I got myself here
after all
You promised I wouldn't regret it
and you're right
I don't.
2/05/2009
03 February 2009
♥ on the (house)hunt
I'm starting to freak out a little about where I'm going to live next year. I absolutely refuse to live in the dorms again; for some reason nobody does that at CU and I'm sure as hell not going to be the only sophomore living on campus. We've pretty much missed our window to apply for a four-bedroom at Bear Creek, which is the apartment complex I've liked best of all the ones we've seen so far. (Not that it had much competition; everything else is either a crackhouse/trailer park or ridiculously overpriced.)
Houses on the Hill don't really appeal to me either; there's something less-than-appetizing about the idea of living in a trashy dump where a bunch of frat boys once had a room devoted entirely to beer pong.
We're quickly running out of four-bedroom options unless we want to commute from Superior or Broomfield (we don't) or are willing to pay more than $800 a month in rent, not including utilities (we aren't).
So far, I hate being a pseudo-adult.
2/03/2009
02 February 2009
♥ senility, here i come!
It's really creeping me out that I keep forgetting what I'm saying as I'm saying it. Have I already said that?
2/02/2009
01 February 2009
♥ my neck really hurts
and I am quite loopy from a rather large dose of muscle relaxants. I'm also feeling pretty unhappy about the state of poor little Maude, and somewhat virtuous considering that for once in my life, this accident was not my fault.
Mainly, though, I am thanking my lucky stars--or whatever you believe in--that I made it to see another day.
2/01/2009
