hidy

And then it was-

You come home. You see the same people you always used to see.

You talk.

You laugh. You drink. You feel. Memories flood your brain and make you think things you'd thought a million times before. But you blew them off then. No longer. Because it's always different in the flesh.

And then you realize: It doesn't really matter.

'Cause we're all lost, and we're all confused. And there's nothing in this world that's ever going to be solid true.

Nothing that I can see, at least.



This song is perfect.

Yehp, I

just cried while watching Little Women. Uh huh. Cried.

You know which one, too. The one with Winona Ryder, pre shop-lifting.
Ah, those were the days.

Anyways, I was watching her AGAIN on AMC with monsieur Keanu AGAIN actually (I just saw Something's Gotta Give, too; you can't really complain about Direct TV, they do really have the best movie viewing options...or at least they've got some variety, we'll give them that), and that nice montage came on. The one with the Sufjan Stevens song about Christmas.

I've got my head set on finding that.

Ah, and there it is. I'm good.



Anyways, it got me thinking about this one Victoria Legent/Grizzly Bear song that CARRIED me through last year.

Carried...or buried. Not sure which. Either way...tis a lovely song. More than lovely. Many more.



Speaks for itself.

remind me

TO NEVER get back on facebook again.

god.

ignominiously

Since when am I nocturnal?

Oh yeah, since I finally got a BREAK from the tedium of school. It’s my own fault; I’m a lazy jackass who honestly deserves to flunk out of school, just so I can be faced with my misery. Then maybe I’ll make something of myself and finally DO something worth doing. Maybe then I’ll know. Maybe then I’ll stop “being afraid.”

Probably not though.

But damn. Why can’t I be one of those go-getting hard-working people who know what they want and who go for it? Why am I so lacking in anything? I feel like everyday I’m constantly being faced with my own inadequacy at life. Stuck in some sort of delusional alternate-reality state where I’m just wishing things to be what they’re not. All I’ve got are alternate endings and soundstrack listings and quotes. Endless. Unreal. Doesn’t matter how pretty the picture is. Or how interesting. It’s still a picture, and it’s still worthless.

I really want some Persol’s.

What the HELL is up with snuggies anyways? I mean honestly, no matter how convenient they may just be, they honestly make one look like a complete douchebag asshole. Honestly.

Oh, I’m watching TV that’s why. Surprisingly there’s quite a nice movie on. Not sure if you’d remember it. A Lot Like Love. Amanda What’s Her Name and Ashton Kutcher. I remember when I first watched it, I was like fifteen. I so projected my current feelings on that movie. My little fifteen year old emotions and dreams. God I was so...young. There’s really no other way to put it. Not pathetic, not stupid...just young.

Not that I’m any more mature or wise now. Nearly twenty doesn’t really do much to things like that. At least not when it comes to me.

Anyways...

What is it about hoodies that just instantly make me feel so much better? I’ve been lounging around my pjs all day, doing stupid chores (ok, not really stupid, but- oh my God what is it about that actor that played Kumar and that doctor from house who offed himself that’s just so awesome? I love that guy!) and I was wearing this really ugly pullover all day (no offense nata) but I had to change it finally because I made salmon and I smelled like salmon and then voila! Hoody. Instant awesomeness. Ok, well maybe not awesomeness but I just felt cooler..better. More myself. Not so much of a sad homebody. I guess that’s the truth about myself that I’ve never been able to own up to.

I’m a homebody. I always have been. Yeah, maybe I had this weird phase where I supposedly wasn’t oooh go to Adam&Eve.com and add some SPICE to your LIFE! Ha. God, late night TV is hilarious. Glad there’s no porn to worry about.

Seriously, I love this movie. It’s true. That’s what it’s like. Things are awkward and weird and it’s always about finding the right person. The one that gets you no matter what. Does that really make everything ok? Like no matter what kind of shithole your life is currently in, as long as you’ve got that significant other, you can deal?

I mean, for a lot of people that’s God. I know it SHOULD be God, At least for me. But for some reason it just doesn’t take anymore.

Anyways. The hoody. The hoody is home. Hanna’s little sister Talia once mentioned something about how she was iffy about this guy because he didn’t like to wear hoodys. I’d be iffy too. What a weirdo. Hoodys are america. Hoodys are the youth of our nation.

Peet. Amanda Peet. That’s her name.

God this is so sweet. I’m so depressed.

Honestly, this makes me think about the same person. Always. God, I was lying before. I was and am pathetic. And THAT is why I must move to france. Ha ha ha.

Ah! Now it comes to me! This movie made me love Brighter than Sunshine, by Aqualung.

“Don’t. You’ll ruin it.”

Oh, ah there it is. Look What You’ve Done, Jet. Jeez. I feel like all of my music comes from movies in some way or another.

Oh, yet another thing I wish. I wish I was a genius like Mark Zuckerberg.

Or like Sofia Coppola.

Sigh.

“Oliver, this is your life. Right now. It doesn’t wait for you to get back on your feet.” It had to be a deaf guy.

It’s like this cosmic sign.

Right?

oh yes let's just

DIE.

FALTA

poco :}

oh

dear oh dear.

what good is it to do anything if you can't do anything?

hunger. or boredom? or am i cold..?

will now scamp off in search of a pb&j.

possibly will have to steal some of roomate's peanut butter.

doubt she'll notice.

conscience will suffer; briefly.

ha HA

speaking of which...

i want a cat. yep. that's right. her name will be jack. and we'll be pals.
good ol' jack and I.

little miss jack.

(sigh)

Ah

ha ha, ha ha ha ha.

yes. i am DONE with 3 finals, one more to go.

vengeance will soon be mine. warmth and comfort and drugs and satisfaction!!

not really. god my teeth hurt. stupid whitening strips giving me gum sensitivity or some nonsense.

i just enjoyed a lovely bowl of oatmeal. sans milk. yep. i was feeling watery oatmeal today. it was quite quite delicieux. did i mention my teeth fucking HURT? because that's honestly the only thing i can think of right now besides the fact that my clothes is piling atop my poor sad bed/room in a manner that can only be described as vomitous? I know, i know, perhaps that sounds like i'm hyperbolating. No, i'm not actually. Well, maybe a bit. But i also feel incredibly slovenly and -did i let on that my teeth hurt? Yes, yes they do. all this for the pursuit of whiter dentrifices. stupidity. wait. perhaps not. because i know for a fact that white teeth look nice. yes. they look clean. people with white teeth are clean people. people with white teeth are nice. people with white teeth are the product of a healthy life. ah, perhaps my white teeth will even be a physical reflection of the purity and cleanliness of my soul!

did i mention my teeth HURT?????

but of course, white teeth = good teeth. but of course. and were it not for my white teeth (amongst the EXCRUCIATING PAIN of FONGING -yes, that IS actually a word) i would not be beautiful. my white teeth = beauty.

yes. that's right. absolutely.

now if i could just get a hold of some barbiturates....

ha HA. you thought i was serious now didn't you?? well i was most definitely not. one musn't trifle with that sort of thing. why, barbiturates and other such drugs are HIGHLY dangerous and addictive! no no. one must never utter the word.

oh dear. i feel that i musn't continue. else i should have to speak in "hushed tones." oh dear.

the inadequacy of it all.

MY TEETH ARE KILLING ME.

and to top it off, my apartment feels like the fucking Gobi desert minus the beautiful starry night (and hypothermic-induced death, of course). my pooah little toes. well, more like big toes. my feet are rather large. perhaps you didn't know that. well they are. i am convinced, however, that they were created this way for a specific purpose. such as balancing out my clumsiness, or serving me in some future life situation that i am sure will be highly dangerous and my survival will depend -believe it or not- on the incredibly LARGE SIZE of my feet.

take that DARWIN. natural selection my FOOT.

ha ha

mein gott my teeth.


i just popped two pills. ibuprofen. oh mon dieux i hope it goes away.

DIE

FEARDOG, DIE!!!!!!!!!


5 days til freedom.

or free-doom.

w/e.

excerpt

Just a spoonful of sugar.

Makes the medicine go down.

In an oh-so-frightful way.

(from "Broke" by N. VALENCIA)