A Decade to Make One Proud

can there be growth without conscious direction and meaning?

nothing is more hopeless than planned happiness.

Li u

nothing like falling asleep to the pitter-patter of rain. is that you i hear, spring?

and i ask you, whats love got to do, got to do with it?

Slush.

dear winter,

YOU SUCK.

Bright

the backspace button was used much too often today, everytime i began to type the word 'sanctuary.' santuary.. saunctuary.. sanctary (they are all apparently incorrect)

joey has a strange kind of humor that makes me feel so comfortable, and accustomed. being able to smile when someone calls you an asshole, thats when you can give yourself a pat on the back for developing a rest easy friendship. while talking to him, i was chatting it up with joe sax, my former fellow delegate from the model un conference. i felt a constant fluster and nervousness, trying to keep up with his classical music, novel suggestions and palestinian-news outrage. talk about intimidating.

i have found a new love for brights. bright personalities, clothing, skies, teeth, eyes. i want to be around people who shine out their personalities, no matter what they contain. even if all they want to talk about is classical music and the koran. if it excites you, it makes me smile (even if just on the inside) do you think that maybe it is a subconscious thing, that bright colors attract others? maybe thats why generically, people with white teeth and eyes that sparkle are considered beautiful. so, if you have an equally glowing and exuberant personality, won't others be equally drawn to it? encouragement to all: spill out your personality, it is beautiful! you have nothing to lose!

and i hope that you especially, you little 'hip' girl, know that your brightness comes in so much more than the emerald gleam of your eyes and the straightening, sleek shine of your hair. you are equally as beautiful to the blind, as your warmth love and passion floods the hearts of all who surrounds you. you are a leader- leading those who have closed their hopeless minds- out to a world where everyone gets a second chance. where everyone gets time to tell their story, where everyone can be bright.

song of the day: gracie by ben folds. so much sweetness.

K@l3dge!

Currently, I am sitting on the 9th floor of the W.E.B Du Bois library on the umass amherst campus. All of the people around me are sitting, plugged into ipods, clearly escaped from pesky distraction of human interaction. I can't help but wonder what they are listening to, thinking about, caring about, concerned about. College life is weird. Everything seems to move very slowly, like they have all the time in the world. You have a week in between class sessions, every hour in the night to spend with friends, and a constant source of endless opportunities. Phoebe always says she feels like she enters a strange little oasis of euphoria when at school, so separate from the real world. Last night I met Pat and Dan, and we sat at dinner discussing what a 'sex column' would be like if responses were given by a man. I kind of lost my appetite, but more so from a laughter-driven stomach ache than from the actual content of the conversation. Oh! And revelation- high school drama does not end in high school. Oh, kawledge. Definitely a considerable light at the end of this wachusett tunnel we are all stuck in. 

I have STILLL yet to prove to myself that I have it in me, to finish all homework, thoroughly, with ample time to be stressless. They have a little coffee cart in the lobby of this library called "Procrastination Station." You can bet I took advantage of that thing. 

Scrim

Today was so surreal. School was fast paced and I felt like I had a scrim in front of my face the entire time. Like as if every single person who walked by me was hiding something HUGE, and I would strain my corneas to see passed the netting, but no luck.

When I got home, I watched an episode of 24 where Jack Bauer got kidnapped by Russian mobsters. He was purposefully putting himself in danger's way, so he could get to the conspiracy behind the nuclear rods. (Have I mentioned that I love 24? So much?) At the end, I fell asleep and dreamt of prom. Prom was [logically] being held in a shopping mall, and Mr. Bronson was there DPing it up. All of the sudden, I was being held captive by Russian mobsters, and I wasn't blessed with badass escape skills like Jack. As you can probably imagine.. this was terrifyingly realistic.

I awoke to the shake of my house's structure, as the basement door was slammed closed. My heart was booming with confusion to as why I was no longer being tortured by Russians. I remained sloth-like on the couch, realizing the consequences to sleeping with plastic in your eyes. The fire was blasting heat and my face was pressed and marked with couch texture. The scrim had just gotten twice as dark, and my entire house was soaked with silence. I urged myself to get up to make sure I was in fact conscious. Proceeding to pace around the house, I noticed my mom, book in hand, eyelids shut. It had started to snow, so silently. I ate a peanut m&m and winced with the echoing bang when the second one hit the floor. Damn scrim, I couldn't see anything. Why was it that my dreams were so much clearer and detailed and filled than my reality ? I softly fell back down into my imprint on the couch and decided that if this wasn't peace, there is no chance of it actually existing. I sneezed 3 times, read one page of my history text book, and then couldn't help but to surrender to the weight of my eyelids. Back into my scrim-less world I went.

Physical Aching for Spring

Kid, i miss you. Lets frolic and eat pesto and sit on the steps to a concert stage together, while the sun sets on Comet pond. Please relentlessly blast that summer mix, just like we did on those purest days of my life.