(no subject)
Writing two entries in one night. God forbid I add livejournal to my ever-increasing list of habits.
An after midnight walk down Springarden is a good way to procrastinate. Better still is then writing about it. Every time I get the urge to delete this thing I think about having to actually start a paper.
I’m still enamoured with wearing my birkenstalks in leftover-wet weather despite the fact that I end up with the hems of my jeans soaked and pebbles and sand between my toes.
I borrowed a copy of the Bends and realized I need to listen to it over and over and over and over……
It’ll be my new Ziggy Stardust*.
I have the easiest paper to write in the world and the only thing preventing me from writing it is not writing it.
(believe me, that line of reasoning makes sense in my head)
I just want this week to start so I can enjoy it in a passive state- the benefit of being an audience member.) There is- Eternal Sunshine Monday, Triplets of Belville Tuesday, a Bergman and Passion of Joan Wednesday and Katie’s play on Thursday.
And then it will be the weekend and I’ll be another week closer to the rest of my life.
Blank pages are intimidating. I don’t want to leave this city just like I don’t want to write a paper. I know I have to but I’d rather curl up (foetal position style) in the moments of ease and certainty.
I sat on the steps outside Alex hall this evening and realized I was going to miss so much. There are fragmented moments I could construct in point-form (which would be quite humorous- especially with the insertion of quotes involving furry mammals) or I could write a novel. The grammar might not be stellar but there might be enough humanity in it to at least win the favor of the characters who would see themselves personified in the pages. It’s not that I’ll never see my friends again once this year vanishes, it’s just that I’ll never see them again in this setting. I’ll never see them FYP-frenzied, complaining about the confines of res and the disappointing nature of Sodexho food, while barely functioning in a sleep-deprived, drugified, frame of mind. I’ll never see hardened deserts wrapped in napkins on Scott’s windowsill alongside, now-unidentifiable, fruit. I’ll never roll out of bed and walk across the Quad to dalplex. I’ll never be this me in this moment again.
As American currency starts to look more and more foreign I realize what’s home to me. It’s not that I want an extension of life, I just want to put some of it on repeat for a while.
And I want to glue raisons to the wall.
I want to jump on my bed, smoke out the window and sing obscenely loud.
I want to have sushi in the Alex hall kitchen at 6am again.
I want more into-the-morning marathons of SFO, madlibs and conversation.
But I also want to win a cash prize in a cup of Tim Horton’s coffee and travel to anywhere and everywhere….
And I’m jealous of everyone who can sleep tomorrow. And I’m jealous of everyone who got to go home this weekend and drink beer with their little brother. And I’m jealous of anyone who is watching the sunrise or set in a tropic climate right now, not thinking about tomorrow.
---
*album I listened to in full (having first known only one or two hits from previously) but didn’t appreciate in the way that a good album (listen to, sing, and quote, obsessively) should be appreciated
An after midnight walk down Springarden is a good way to procrastinate. Better still is then writing about it. Every time I get the urge to delete this thing I think about having to actually start a paper.
I’m still enamoured with wearing my birkenstalks in leftover-wet weather despite the fact that I end up with the hems of my jeans soaked and pebbles and sand between my toes.
I borrowed a copy of the Bends and realized I need to listen to it over and over and over and over……
It’ll be my new Ziggy Stardust*.
I have the easiest paper to write in the world and the only thing preventing me from writing it is not writing it.
(believe me, that line of reasoning makes sense in my head)
I just want this week to start so I can enjoy it in a passive state- the benefit of being an audience member.) There is- Eternal Sunshine Monday, Triplets of Belville Tuesday, a Bergman and Passion of Joan Wednesday and Katie’s play on Thursday.
And then it will be the weekend and I’ll be another week closer to the rest of my life.
Blank pages are intimidating. I don’t want to leave this city just like I don’t want to write a paper. I know I have to but I’d rather curl up (foetal position style) in the moments of ease and certainty.
I sat on the steps outside Alex hall this evening and realized I was going to miss so much. There are fragmented moments I could construct in point-form (which would be quite humorous- especially with the insertion of quotes involving furry mammals) or I could write a novel. The grammar might not be stellar but there might be enough humanity in it to at least win the favor of the characters who would see themselves personified in the pages. It’s not that I’ll never see my friends again once this year vanishes, it’s just that I’ll never see them again in this setting. I’ll never see them FYP-frenzied, complaining about the confines of res and the disappointing nature of Sodexho food, while barely functioning in a sleep-deprived, drugified, frame of mind. I’ll never see hardened deserts wrapped in napkins on Scott’s windowsill alongside, now-unidentifiable, fruit. I’ll never roll out of bed and walk across the Quad to dalplex. I’ll never be this me in this moment again.
As American currency starts to look more and more foreign I realize what’s home to me. It’s not that I want an extension of life, I just want to put some of it on repeat for a while.
And I want to glue raisons to the wall.
I want to jump on my bed, smoke out the window and sing obscenely loud.
I want to have sushi in the Alex hall kitchen at 6am again.
I want more into-the-morning marathons of SFO, madlibs and conversation.
But I also want to win a cash prize in a cup of Tim Horton’s coffee and travel to anywhere and everywhere….
And I’m jealous of everyone who can sleep tomorrow. And I’m jealous of everyone who got to go home this weekend and drink beer with their little brother. And I’m jealous of anyone who is watching the sunrise or set in a tropic climate right now, not thinking about tomorrow.
---
*album I listened to in full (having first known only one or two hits from previously) but didn’t appreciate in the way that a good album (listen to, sing, and quote, obsessively) should be appreciated