keep the customer satisfied.
I can be incredibly happy without seeing a single soul but my dad and my dog. Said dad thinks this is weird, anti-career behavior that suggests the loss of fundamental social mechanisms, but in an indulgent, look-at-my-daughter-the-sociopath way. (He also thinks I am the only twenty-something that listens - frequently and fondly - to classic rock. The internet disabused me of both notions at, like, tender thirteen.) Right now? That’s mostly what I’m doing: hanging out with dad, dog, and some plants. And also (hello middleschool my old friend) a stackful of Tamora Pierce books, because at crossroads moments, ain’t nothing like nostalgia.
“Crossroads?” Just graduated from college, holmes. “Did you do well?” Well enough. Didn’t clean up, but I’m not at the bottom of the class; there’s a lot of friends I liked, but don’t think I’ll be talking to again. Like: all of them, perchance. Well, not all, but a vast majority, which feels like +19 Alienation but is probably just some end-of-the-year social exhaustion combined with my love for that fresh start, the carte blanche of the new beginning. Just makes me want to be eloquent say “Eff you guys,” and that’s hardly a healthy attitude to four-year friends, you know?
/ WHITEGIRLPROBLEMS
“Plants, you say?” Plants, I said! “Don’t try to pull the wool on me -- are we talking a dying lucky bamboo or real fucking plants, missy?” Real plants, I promise! I got this summer green thumb going (knockonwood, zomg) where I put some terracotta pots on chipped saucers in my window, with basil, oregano, tomato, and spinach seeds. (And one exasperating pixie lily bulb.) And a lucky bamboo shoot, but that was a present from my room-mate. “You call that a green thumb?” I do, when I’ve basically been the public enemy number one of kingdom plantae. “Zomg. Is that a taxonomy pun?” Oh, shoosh.
To the new people: Hi, I’m Sophie! I abuse italics and second guess myself through quotations. Fun, yeah? I’d love introductions, if we haven’t met yet!
“Crossroads?” Just graduated from college, holmes. “Did you do well?” Well enough. Didn’t clean up, but I’m not at the bottom of the class; there’s a lot of friends I liked, but don’t think I’ll be talking to again. Like: all of them, perchance. Well, not all, but a vast majority, which feels like +19 Alienation but is probably just some end-of-the-year social exhaustion combined with my love for that fresh start, the carte blanche of the new beginning. Just makes me want to be eloquent say “Eff you guys,” and that’s hardly a healthy attitude to four-year friends, you know?
/ WHITEGIRLPROBLEMS
“Plants, you say?” Plants, I said! “Don’t try to pull the wool on me -- are we talking a dying lucky bamboo or real fucking plants, missy?” Real plants, I promise! I got this summer green thumb going (knockonwood, zomg) where I put some terracotta pots on chipped saucers in my window, with basil, oregano, tomato, and spinach seeds. (And one exasperating pixie lily bulb.) And a lucky bamboo shoot, but that was a present from my room-mate. “You call that a green thumb?” I do, when I’ve basically been the public enemy number one of kingdom plantae. “Zomg. Is that a taxonomy pun?” Oh, shoosh.
To the new people: Hi, I’m Sophie! I abuse italics and second guess myself through quotations. Fun, yeah? I’d love introductions, if we haven’t met yet!