Time goes by, so slowly...
Ganked from Lilybugs
ASK ME UP TO SIX QUESTIONS.
No matter how random, revealing, rude, or pointless. I promise to answer them 100% truthfully, if I can. Repost this to see what others ask you.
My holidays went well. I'm always slightly overwhelmed by the mess that is my family, and it usually always takes me a few days to recuperate and make my head stop spinning. I won't elaborate on the material aspect that involves gifts, but it was nice. Everything was nice. We placed a picture of my grandfather up on the mantelpiece while we ate dinner, and it seemed to fill the void of an empty chair at the dinner table, that has been there for almost two years.
I've been reading a lot during my time off, which is so ridiculously filling. Throughout the semester, it seems that all I do is read for my courses, and while I enjoy it, it's obviously not the same thing as reading leisurely. I have such an unbridled passion for books that nobody seems to grasp, save for a few. I'd forfeit a night out for coffee with friends, just to sit down and read a book. To have time to myself.
I abhor this whole social stigma that seems to be attached with being a "loner". Socially handicapped, whatever you might call it. I despise how keeping to yourself is viewed as some horrendous "disease" that renders you positively inadequate at human interaction. I am not inadequate. I am not socially handicapped, I just see more pleasure in sitting at home with a good book rather than going out and yapping away about things that just don't interest me anymore. Personally, I'm far more intrigued by people who tend to amuse themselves in silence than those who feel the need to talk and never quite shut up.
On that sour note, I'm also ridiculously annoyed that my sister's fiance has taken to calling me chunky. I'm not sure I'd have such a problem with it if weight wasn't something I so constantly beat myself up about. I've told him off on more than one occasion regarding it, but I'm not exactly about to hang my laundry out in public, either. Short of informing him of the eating disorders that almost killed me, I don't think he'll stop. And I'm not about to bring up something that I've tried to bury since, oh, forever.
Alright, I'm through being emo now, I swear it. I'm so utterly numb because I just watched a documentary about lifeguards off the coast of California. Fucking hell. Seeing the ocean and the waves and the sun just makes me ache This is why I believe it's so entirely possible to be heartbroken over something other than a person. The ocean is what I live, breathe, it's what I ache for, and it's fucking heartbreaking.
No more emo. I promise.
Read Bryce Courteney's new book, Brother Fish. So damn good.
I made Dean's honour list again this semester, yay for me and all that jazz. I went over to my sister's apartment to help her make a potato salad, she's so incompetent in the kitchen that it's hilarious. Save for some aggressive allergic reactions to her malicious cat, I had fun. We got into a potato fight, and it was difficult to remember if we were 22 and 19, or 7 and 4.
Time flies way too fast.
ASK ME UP TO SIX QUESTIONS.
No matter how random, revealing, rude, or pointless. I promise to answer them 100% truthfully, if I can. Repost this to see what others ask you.
My holidays went well. I'm always slightly overwhelmed by the mess that is my family, and it usually always takes me a few days to recuperate and make my head stop spinning. I won't elaborate on the material aspect that involves gifts, but it was nice. Everything was nice. We placed a picture of my grandfather up on the mantelpiece while we ate dinner, and it seemed to fill the void of an empty chair at the dinner table, that has been there for almost two years.
I've been reading a lot during my time off, which is so ridiculously filling. Throughout the semester, it seems that all I do is read for my courses, and while I enjoy it, it's obviously not the same thing as reading leisurely. I have such an unbridled passion for books that nobody seems to grasp, save for a few. I'd forfeit a night out for coffee with friends, just to sit down and read a book. To have time to myself.
I abhor this whole social stigma that seems to be attached with being a "loner". Socially handicapped, whatever you might call it. I despise how keeping to yourself is viewed as some horrendous "disease" that renders you positively inadequate at human interaction. I am not inadequate. I am not socially handicapped, I just see more pleasure in sitting at home with a good book rather than going out and yapping away about things that just don't interest me anymore. Personally, I'm far more intrigued by people who tend to amuse themselves in silence than those who feel the need to talk and never quite shut up.
On that sour note, I'm also ridiculously annoyed that my sister's fiance has taken to calling me chunky. I'm not sure I'd have such a problem with it if weight wasn't something I so constantly beat myself up about. I've told him off on more than one occasion regarding it, but I'm not exactly about to hang my laundry out in public, either. Short of informing him of the eating disorders that almost killed me, I don't think he'll stop. And I'm not about to bring up something that I've tried to bury since, oh, forever.
Alright, I'm through being emo now, I swear it. I'm so utterly numb because I just watched a documentary about lifeguards off the coast of California. Fucking hell. Seeing the ocean and the waves and the sun just makes me ache This is why I believe it's so entirely possible to be heartbroken over something other than a person. The ocean is what I live, breathe, it's what I ache for, and it's fucking heartbreaking.
No more emo. I promise.
Read Bryce Courteney's new book, Brother Fish. So damn good.
I made Dean's honour list again this semester, yay for me and all that jazz. I went over to my sister's apartment to help her make a potato salad, she's so incompetent in the kitchen that it's hilarious. Save for some aggressive allergic reactions to her malicious cat, I had fun. We got into a potato fight, and it was difficult to remember if we were 22 and 19, or 7 and 4.
Time flies way too fast.