precious

so much in so little

The Box Man knows that loneliness chosen loses its sting and claims no victims. He declares what we all know in the secret passages of our own nights, that although we long for perfect harmony, communion, and blending with another soul, this is a solo voyage.

The first half of our lives is spent stubbornly denying it. As children we acquire language to make our selves understood and soon learn from the blank stares in response to our babblings that even these, our saviors, our parents, are strangers. In adolescence when we replay earlier dramas with peers in the place of parents, we begin the quest for the best friend, that person who will receive all thoughts as if they were her own. Later we assert that true love will find the way. True love finds many ways, but no escape from exile. The shores are littered with us, Annas and Ophelias, Emmas, and Juliets, all outcasts from the dream of perfect understanding. We might as well draw the night around us and find solace there and a friend in our own voice.

One could do worse than be a collector of boxes.

- "The Box Man", Barbara Lazear Ascher

wear me out

'ts been four months with a couple of previous lack luster posts. i still have no idea what i'm doing but woe and behold i got a 4.0 and my concentration is still fleeting. so i'm into my fourth term where this routine is key: college, lectures, assignments, due dates. everything else is just so obscure. i can barely tell the days of the week anymore.

sometimes i feel like i take so much for granted. and then i don't.

the king

this is total bullshit.

people have no heart or respect. disgusting.

http://thesuperficial.com/2009/07/michael_jackson.php

hard day's night

gone like yesterday
high like heaven
strong like music
slow like honey

- fiona apple

'crafty'

someone stab me. right there in the jugular.

goddamn fever is giving me such an awful headache, i'm better off pounding my head in with a sledgehammer. i'm 17. i feel 70.

oh friends, i can drive now. legally. the test went well. the officer was nice. too nice. it pissed me off. the bugger had his hand on the handbrakes the entire time. asshole.

i should go easy on the refined sugars and carbohydrates. shit.
---
may: so is dinner on the house?

drey: no no! its in the restaurant!

lather rinse repeat

loved the rat pack week! though i prefer muse's rendition of feeling good compared to adam's. mm, matt belamy.

thesis. assignments. i want sleep! damnit.
which i didn't get much of the past week. or ever. i'm so out of it everyday. i woke up monday morning thinking it was wednesday. which is today! fml.

so i watched the unborn with kristy a few nights back and it sucked. no, gary oldman didn't make it any bettah. oh irony of ironies - the mirrors, the exorcism crap, the freaky kid. don't. watch.

i'm poppin chocolate cupcakes like pills. time to study up a storm!