Craftiness strikes again.
I basically took the longest and most painful test of my life today, and after eating a lot of Olive Garden food, I did this:
Oberlin sends everyone a tshirt after they accept you and it's a size large, so I was like ummmmm I'm significantly smaller but I should just make this a pillow! An hour later, I feel accomplished and like I should be a poster child in the brochure or something.
In other news, I had a breakdown yesterday, like a real breakdown, like a go-and-cry-to-Katie breakdown, and it had been building for about a week and it is hard when there are so many stressful factors that have built up and don't get released. And I really do know what its cause was and I'm too much of a pansy to stop it.
But seriously, since when is higher education something to frown upon? Finding a job is nearly impossible because I am going off to broaden my horizons. I understand it from an employer's standpoint, but seriously, I feel like I'm just another obnoxious college kid who needs a job and that there's nothing that they can see from my application that makes me Me. Fuck this.
Amy lent me some awesome Disney music so I have been a hermitish geek. I also realize that I'm a masochistic Facebook and LiveJournal-aholic. I guess I've been doing it forever but I'm only starting to realize now that I'm just hurting myself in doing that. You know how it goes.
Have you ever gone through a period where you can't stop pointing out awful traits about yourself? It's frustrating.
Have you ever heard conversations you've had with people in your head so much that you can like feel youself sinking back to another time and then you suddenly snap out of it, and usually are more sad because these conversations remind you of things you miss? I dunno. Just a thought.
"Mademoiselle played a soft interlude. It was an improvisation. She sat low at the instrument, and the lines of her body settled into ungraceful curves and angles that gave it an appearance of deformity. Gradually and imperceptibly the interlude melted into the soft opening minor chords of the Chopin Impromptu.
Edna did not know when the Impromptu began or ended. She sat in the sofa corner reading Robert's letter by the fading light. Mademoiselle had glided from the Chopin into the quivering love-notes of Isolde's song, and back again into the Impromptu with its soulful and poignant longing.
The shadows deepened in the little room. The music grew strange and fantastic - turbulent, insistent, plaintive and soft with entreaty. The shadows grew deeper. The music filled the room. It floated out upon the night, over the housetops, the crescent of the river, losing itself in the silence of the upper air.
Edna was sobbing, just as she had wept one midnight at Grand Isle when strange, new voices awoke in her. She arose in some agitation to take her departure. 'May I come again, Mademoiselle?' she asked at the threshold.
'Come whenever you feel like it. Be careful; the stairs and landings are dark; don't stumble.'
Mademoiselle reëntered and lit a candle. Robert's letter was on the floor. She stooped and picked it up. It was crumpled and damp with tears. Mademoiselle smoothed the letter out, restored it to the envelope, and replaced it in the table drawer."
Yeah yeah.
Oberlin sends everyone a tshirt after they accept you and it's a size large, so I was like ummmmm I'm significantly smaller but I should just make this a pillow! An hour later, I feel accomplished and like I should be a poster child in the brochure or something.
In other news, I had a breakdown yesterday, like a real breakdown, like a go-and-cry-to-Katie breakdown, and it had been building for about a week and it is hard when there are so many stressful factors that have built up and don't get released. And I really do know what its cause was and I'm too much of a pansy to stop it.
But seriously, since when is higher education something to frown upon? Finding a job is nearly impossible because I am going off to broaden my horizons. I understand it from an employer's standpoint, but seriously, I feel like I'm just another obnoxious college kid who needs a job and that there's nothing that they can see from my application that makes me Me. Fuck this.
Amy lent me some awesome Disney music so I have been a hermitish geek. I also realize that I'm a masochistic Facebook and LiveJournal-aholic. I guess I've been doing it forever but I'm only starting to realize now that I'm just hurting myself in doing that. You know how it goes.
Have you ever gone through a period where you can't stop pointing out awful traits about yourself? It's frustrating.
Have you ever heard conversations you've had with people in your head so much that you can like feel youself sinking back to another time and then you suddenly snap out of it, and usually are more sad because these conversations remind you of things you miss? I dunno. Just a thought.
"Mademoiselle played a soft interlude. It was an improvisation. She sat low at the instrument, and the lines of her body settled into ungraceful curves and angles that gave it an appearance of deformity. Gradually and imperceptibly the interlude melted into the soft opening minor chords of the Chopin Impromptu.
Edna did not know when the Impromptu began or ended. She sat in the sofa corner reading Robert's letter by the fading light. Mademoiselle had glided from the Chopin into the quivering love-notes of Isolde's song, and back again into the Impromptu with its soulful and poignant longing.
The shadows deepened in the little room. The music grew strange and fantastic - turbulent, insistent, plaintive and soft with entreaty. The shadows grew deeper. The music filled the room. It floated out upon the night, over the housetops, the crescent of the river, losing itself in the silence of the upper air.
Edna was sobbing, just as she had wept one midnight at Grand Isle when strange, new voices awoke in her. She arose in some agitation to take her departure. 'May I come again, Mademoiselle?' she asked at the threshold.
'Come whenever you feel like it. Be careful; the stairs and landings are dark; don't stumble.'
Mademoiselle reëntered and lit a candle. Robert's letter was on the floor. She stooped and picked it up. It was crumpled and damp with tears. Mademoiselle smoothed the letter out, restored it to the envelope, and replaced it in the table drawer."
Yeah yeah.