Jul 28th, 2010 7:05:42 pm - Subscribe

It seems like I don't have anything world altering, or thrilling to share. I feel like my life should be snappier.

We live in a world of Current Facebook Updates, and Tweets and yet my life just plods along.

Unlike high school self, sort-of-grown-up-self is not thrilled by every wayward glance, nor is she half as hopeful for a perfect relationship, and no financial worries, and a beautiful home and a great job and the right clothes. She is more realistic than that.

She doesn't have a snappy update for twitter every hour on the hour. Her facebook profile doesn't make me happy, nor sad.

I am average. She is average. Average. Why is that word so devastating? So- unsettling? And yet, if average is just that... then by standard... what is extraordinary?

I am not special. Not really. My interests, my knowledge, is shared by hundreds. Likely more than that. My genetics are slightly unique, but I am just parts of others.

I am me. Which happens to be pretty average.
Perhaps a little more introverted than most.
But wholly uninteresting.
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Jul 15th, 2010 7:06:44 pm - Subscribe

Creates the look I dare acheive.
They make me smile, and swoon and check,
Still my beating heart.

They are blue ones,
Gray and orange,
Dance lightly in a wreath.

The knot, tied tight,
Clinches around my windpipe in a lazy sense,
Too tired to try and close the deal.

Too tired to dry and wilt,
Too tired to let me rest.
To sleep.

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As of late I have been happy. In a romantic sense. By romantic, I mean romantiziced way. I live in a 'state of happiness'. Whatever the fuck that means these days. I guess I refer to the the preversion of self.

I have convinced myself that I am happy; therefore I am happy.

I ramble; therefore I am full of shit.

Chipped teacups. Floral print. Miniature buttons. Wide stripes. Bicycles. Birdcages and effortless tomes.

All things I surround myself mentally with. I am falling down the rabbit hole. Through the looking glass. I am slowly going mad, or coming sane.

These days, who can be certain which is which?
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Jul 1st, 2010 7:23:36 pm - Subscribe

I've been waiting to watch 500 Days of Summer for almost a year now. I knew it would be one of those super cute movies, and Joesph Gordon-Levitt is my celeb crush, so how could it be wrong? Right?

It was like watching a fast forward of my life. A slightly altered flashback. A nighttime dream gone bad. I have this sick feeling like that is what I am doomed to. Heartache and woe.

Heartache and woe, heartache and woe.

I wish I was a more positive person. With an upbeat personality and quick witted lines and this unwavering sense of self. One where I knew who I was. Where I was going...

Instead I watch Hollywood movies and let them ruin my day. I am that sad.
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Jun 1st, 2010 4:43:11 pm - Subscribe

Bruce Haack has a diiiirty voice.

"Lie Back, Lie Back, Lie Back, Nothing else for you to dooo...."

My birthday was a bust. The wedding was a fabulous drunk. The hangover day made me love him more than ever. And then Monday came and wrecked it all.

I wrecked it all. Why do I feel like I need to lie. It just makes me look guilty. Constantly. It was a simple little thing, but I know it makes him furious; why do I continually do it to myself? And to top it all off...

My bank account got drained by some scum of the earth hackers. Unimpressive. My rent was supposed to come out today, and instead I get an eviction notice. AWESOME.

I want it to be Sunday all over again. Potato Pancakes, and head pats, and dinner like we used to, and secret sleepovers and snuggly-laughs.

My new years resolution... I finally figured it out. I resolve to no longer lie. Not even white lies. Not even clear lies. Not even invisible lies.
I resolve to be up front with how I feel. No matter whose feelings get hurt.

Because I am tired of lying to myself.
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May 17th, 2010 4:53:55 pm - Subscribe

Awkward.

Things in my life are almost always described as awkward. I suppose one could thusly deduce that I am an awkward sort.
I am so tired as of late, it’s nearly unbearable. It seems like I have a bajillion and twelve things on the go constantly. This month is always the one that stretches me the furthest.

May. The month of birthdays, weddings, graduations, camping, trips and heartache.

How’ve I missed thee.

For my birthday I want a few things:
A debt-free life
New bedding
A day devoted to me.

Perhaps a night of girly dancing and fruit-filled drinks?
Perhaps just a good nights’ sleep.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Perhaps I’ll grow up, and old and carelessly carefree.
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