(no subject)
the one downside to going on trips is that there is always so much to tell that i never know where to start. and i won't now, the thought alone exhausts me. just this: quebec is as beautiful as i left it last summer, more so when i explored it hand in hand with the one i love -while my mother shot us death stares, two steps behind, harhar. i cannot bear to clutter up my journal with unremarkable posed photos but i am bursting to share.
let us observe a moment of silence in memory of flash gordon. earl will never be quite the same without him.
summer always seems shorter when working full time. i am never able to take advantage of the four-month respite from academia offered by universities, having thrown myself into the workforce upon the end of freshman year. my job has since kept a noose around my neck and the more i try to exercise some freedom during the season that promises more of it, i feel it tighten, pulling me back into the world of humming hard drives and ergonomic desk chairs wheeled across carpet. i haven't gone to the polluted lake we torontonians call the beach and this depresses me. the closest thing i have to a body of water is the half-gallon bowl sitting on my desk, in which the iridescent betta fish i kidnapped from tony ponders its sexuality as it turns from pink to blue and back again. i have plans but no time to see them through.
i think of you whenever i'm with them, during lunch breaks that extend past the hour. i wonder what opinion you'd have of them as i watch, lips pursed, while they fling balls of stained serviettes through an obstacle course of mcdonald's burger boxes and styrofoam containers from fit for life or listen to looping conversations about foot-long subs, ridden with sexual innuendo. i see you in their polos with the contrasting embroidered logo and in the sunglasses balanced on top of their heads. but they don't possess what you had in spades, that charm that won us all over at one point or another. you hung a pink pine tree on your rear view mirror and that seemed to sum up your entire being. how are you now?
i can never keep up.
let us observe a moment of silence in memory of flash gordon. earl will never be quite the same without him.
summer always seems shorter when working full time. i am never able to take advantage of the four-month respite from academia offered by universities, having thrown myself into the workforce upon the end of freshman year. my job has since kept a noose around my neck and the more i try to exercise some freedom during the season that promises more of it, i feel it tighten, pulling me back into the world of humming hard drives and ergonomic desk chairs wheeled across carpet. i haven't gone to the polluted lake we torontonians call the beach and this depresses me. the closest thing i have to a body of water is the half-gallon bowl sitting on my desk, in which the iridescent betta fish i kidnapped from tony ponders its sexuality as it turns from pink to blue and back again. i have plans but no time to see them through.
i think of you whenever i'm with them, during lunch breaks that extend past the hour. i wonder what opinion you'd have of them as i watch, lips pursed, while they fling balls of stained serviettes through an obstacle course of mcdonald's burger boxes and styrofoam containers from fit for life or listen to looping conversations about foot-long subs, ridden with sexual innuendo. i see you in their polos with the contrasting embroidered logo and in the sunglasses balanced on top of their heads. but they don't possess what you had in spades, that charm that won us all over at one point or another. you hung a pink pine tree on your rear view mirror and that seemed to sum up your entire being. how are you now?
i can never keep up.