(no subject)
It's a good thing I like being with myself ... or by myself rather. Maybe that has always made things easier. I am possibly the most unexpected loner there is on earth. Anyway, I've been in the library all weekend, and it looks like that's the way things are for the next two months. I just hope I don't forget how to talk to people ... develop an invisible friend ... or start talking to myself and speaking in the first person...
God, this thesis is kicking my ass. I was sick last week with a virus and don't remember most of it because I was laid out in bed hacking and cursing my existence. I haven't run in a week, and the surprise of losing weight rather than gaining has left me lazy enough to skip it until my appetite returns full force. The week almost got me down, but then I realized how lame it was to bemoan life all because of a little bug ... after all, I got to skip a history test. Although, I have to make that up tomorrow.
I am still waiting on replies from seven more graduate schools. Michigan State accepted me, but then I saw the Michael Moore film Roger & Me and began to question whether or not I really wanted to go to Michigan. I'm guessing Flint and East Lansing aren't exactly similar cities. I could be very wrong. Apparently it's a big honor to have gotten in there according to my professors' surprised reactions at my enthusiasm for getting into even ONE school. I'll take it either way ... and hopefully a few more too. I really would like to go to Denver. I have no legitimate reasons for it, but it sounds like a cool city. And really, that's been my motivation for everything I've done in life so far - the cool factor of New York and D.C. and some internships - and that hasn't been too bad.
I can't wait for spring and graduation and summer trips in Ireland and California and being myself again and getting ready for graduate school and seeing where relationships go and seeing my parents again and being able to run again and buying spring clothes ...
It's a shame when butterflies die in your stomach. When you build up all that expectation about someone and their cream-of-the-cropness turns into a meal you think you've already tasted before but don't remember where or when or with whom. And it's still good, but just not like the first time. What's more weird is the reasons why this guy digs me as much as he does. Not that he's perfect ... I mean, I'm sure he's not ... but I keep expecting him to say, "Haha! Gotcha!" Or find out I was on candid camera all the time. When did I become a girl who looks suitable enough to be a wedding cake figurine? He's got those eyes and that voice of possibility when we're together, and I wanna scream, "You don't even know my favorite color!" Well, maybe he does... But he doesn't know that I ate slugs when I was 2-1/2 or pretended to be Mariah Carey in the mirror when I was 10 or played with Star Trek figurines. And maybe he doesn't care, but what happens when I fall in love again? It's the end of an era. It's my conscience trying to devirginize me already ... and then, what if the sex isn't even good? Love and like and all of the gooey junk is so ridiculous sometimes ... like kisses when you miss each others mouths and accidentally find your lips over a nostril or something.
God, this thesis is kicking my ass. I was sick last week with a virus and don't remember most of it because I was laid out in bed hacking and cursing my existence. I haven't run in a week, and the surprise of losing weight rather than gaining has left me lazy enough to skip it until my appetite returns full force. The week almost got me down, but then I realized how lame it was to bemoan life all because of a little bug ... after all, I got to skip a history test. Although, I have to make that up tomorrow.
I am still waiting on replies from seven more graduate schools. Michigan State accepted me, but then I saw the Michael Moore film Roger & Me and began to question whether or not I really wanted to go to Michigan. I'm guessing Flint and East Lansing aren't exactly similar cities. I could be very wrong. Apparently it's a big honor to have gotten in there according to my professors' surprised reactions at my enthusiasm for getting into even ONE school. I'll take it either way ... and hopefully a few more too. I really would like to go to Denver. I have no legitimate reasons for it, but it sounds like a cool city. And really, that's been my motivation for everything I've done in life so far - the cool factor of New York and D.C. and some internships - and that hasn't been too bad.
I can't wait for spring and graduation and summer trips in Ireland and California and being myself again and getting ready for graduate school and seeing where relationships go and seeing my parents again and being able to run again and buying spring clothes ...
It's a shame when butterflies die in your stomach. When you build up all that expectation about someone and their cream-of-the-cropness turns into a meal you think you've already tasted before but don't remember where or when or with whom. And it's still good, but just not like the first time. What's more weird is the reasons why this guy digs me as much as he does. Not that he's perfect ... I mean, I'm sure he's not ... but I keep expecting him to say, "Haha! Gotcha!" Or find out I was on candid camera all the time. When did I become a girl who looks suitable enough to be a wedding cake figurine? He's got those eyes and that voice of possibility when we're together, and I wanna scream, "You don't even know my favorite color!" Well, maybe he does... But he doesn't know that I ate slugs when I was 2-1/2 or pretended to be Mariah Carey in the mirror when I was 10 or played with Star Trek figurines. And maybe he doesn't care, but what happens when I fall in love again? It's the end of an era. It's my conscience trying to devirginize me already ... and then, what if the sex isn't even good? Love and like and all of the gooey junk is so ridiculous sometimes ... like kisses when you miss each others mouths and accidentally find your lips over a nostril or something.