STRESS.
moving stress woke me at 4:20 a.m. I can’t imagine finding sleep again until I reach california. CALIFORNIA?!?!?! WHY AM I MOVING TO CALIFORNIA?!?!?!?! too much stress!!! so much to do!!!! what if I forget something?!?!?!
I know people move everyday all over the world, but sheesh it’s hard. 

STRESS.

moving stress woke me at 4:20 a.m. I can’t imagine finding sleep again until I reach california. CALIFORNIA?!?!?! WHY AM I MOVING TO CALIFORNIA?!?!?!?! too much stress!!! so much to do!!!! what if I forget something?!?!?!

I know people move everyday all over the world, but sheesh it’s hard. 

some post-graduation positivity:

after the initial shock of “ohdeargod what do I do now?” I established my first after college goal (beyond, naturally, finding employment and successfully moving out west).

so in all its shining glory my first post-grad goal = finish the time’s 100 by summer’s end.

already 20% complete. feeling pretty invincible. I CAN DO ALL OF THINGS!!!!!!!!!

one day we’ll be best friends. 
cynical, glasses-wearing, best friends.

one day we’ll be best friends. 

cynical, glasses-wearing, best friends.

I think

that really, deeply boring things are especially worthwhile. 

I’ve just finished reading “the pale king” and am having trouble finding closure with this unfinished novel.


today was a nice day for reading

until I reached the Author’s Foreword sixty-six pages into The Pale King. and then it really hit me that David Foster Wallace would never write another novel. he’ll never write another essay, another short story, never lecture at another commencement. 

how deeply depressing. 

nothing feels as good as belting this song feels.

- Postcard, en route westward

At last we are near
breaking the season, shedding
our coats, the gray husk

of winter. Each tree
trembles with new leaves, tiny
blossoms, the flashy

dress of spring. I am
aware now of its coming
as I’ve never been -

the wet grass throbbing
with crickets, insistent, keen
as desire. Now,

I feel what trees must -
budding, green sheaths splitting - skin
that no longer fits.

Natasha Trethewey; “March 1912”

whoops:

: I realized today that the entire time I was active in Delta Suck I never received the lovebook.

I must not be fun. 

whoops.

I enjoy correct pronunciation, correct punctuation, comic books and video games, dusty novels and cardigan sweaters.

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