General Update

Pros:

• dinner with my ex-roommate, in which we talked about salsa dancing, stutterers, and the Medieval Club
• also, when she hugged me goodbye, she paused while pulling away and said “Whoa.  You smell like a Cabbage Patch Kid!”
• no class on Fridays next semester, officially!
• our room smells like chili right now, which is one of my very favorite smells of the fall ever
• there was this commercial on TV just now with pipes speaking in crazy Eastern Bloc accents that cracked me up
• Bones reruns on TV right now
• shout out to my main man Glenn of Glenn’s Shoe Repair for fixing my brown flats, making them better than ever for a mere $8

Cons:

• it is hotter than the depths of hell in this room, JESUS GOD
• Bones might or might not be making me tear up a little right now; I blame the Christmas music, so shut up
• my intestines or something are revolting and attempting to scrabble their way out of my body

But really, my life isn’t even that bad right now.  Sometimes it helps to get that shit into perspective real quick.

Summa Summa Summatime

Hello.  I’ve missed you.  Like, a lot.  Only for some reason I didn’t realize it until it hit me hard in the face this morning.  And then I had to go to four hours of class.  Figures.  But because of my lack of writing over the summer, I decided that I should definitely do an extensive recap, in the same vein as this, but totally way better.  I’m trying to type fast here, which is hard on a practically empty stomach, plus I’ve got this funky Batman ring on, which is all sorts of awkward, but also all sorts of awesome, but I want to finish this soon because I feel like I owe this to…somebody.  Maybe myself.  So let’s talk about this summer, in depth and in detail:

This summer was so so SO different from last summer.  It was not the best summer of my life, and while I was in it, I didn’t appreciate it at all, but now, looking back, it was pretty fucking golden.  This summer started with tears in the arms of my (now ex-) roommate over having to leave so much of what I had loved and grown comfortable with.  The beginning of summer brought an end to something else; it brought an end to my “rescue year”.  The people and places I encountered through the year saved me time and time again, and leaving them behind was so scary because I knew that when I returned in the fall, everything would be different, would have changed.  And change is very hard for me.  So this summer was a little scary.  This summer I readjusted to being in Dayton, to working there instead of here, to being with those friends more often than BG friends.  This summer I didn’t have a freakin’ CAR for the first month-ish of being home, so I felt isolated and bored and frustrated alot.  My dad took me to and from work, so this summer was kind of like being 14, only I didn’t work when I was 14, so maybe not.  Anyways, this summer there was a Florida family vacation for my oldest sister’s wedding, which was understated and perfect and made me believe in true love and all that icky stuff.  This summer was waves and sand and dinners out and lots and lots of family time in the evenings.  This summer was Coldstone, Coldstone, Coldstone day in, day out, working with some people I knew and loved from last summer and some new people whom I now know and love, too.  There were regulars, Virgil the ice cream machine, a broken freezer door, and in general alot of fun that consisted of the last memories I may ever make there.  This summer was also pretty fattening.  This summer was a drunken late-night walk up ghetto Main Street in search of food; instead we found goth kids and prostitutes.  Not a bad trade-off.  This summer two of my very best friends in the whole wide world left for month long trips to Spain and Cameroon, and I felt stranded without them.  I threw myself into working as much as possible because there was not a whole lot else to do.  This summer I spent so much time with Martha, trying to make up for the fact that we won’t see each other a whole lot this year.  I think the people working at the local cheap movie theater started to recognize our faces this summer because of the sheer amount of nights we went to see crap like Obsessed and 17 Again.  Yes, I paid money to see both of those films.  We all know how I feel about Beyonce, people!  And Zac Efron…well, that was a sacrifice I made for Martha’s sake.  This summer I got Lost in Austen, and MY GOD it was horribly wonderful, and I highly suggest it.  This summer saw the return of the trip to Indian Lake for Martha’s yearly family reunion, which oh my GOD, I have missed.  Her family is HUGE and doesn’t mind when I get drunk on whiskey, and her cousins and uncles all do their best to charm me.  It always works.  This summer was a spectacular camping trip involving sangria and apple pie, as well as dirtbikes and whole flaming tree branches.  I like a mix of classy and hillbilly, sometimes.  I saw this band in concert this summer, only to be severely disappointed when their lead singer acted like a total dick, insulting other bands and actually criticizing the way Columbus was laid out, like when was the last time you worked professionally as a city planner, dude?  Shut your trap.  I spent alot of time this summer lonely for school and school people, which meant I traveled back and forth to Springboro alot to visit my future/now current roommate, after, oh yeah, I GOT A FREAKING CAR!!!  That might have been the highlight of my summer.  That or the time I threw up in an East Side Wendy’s parking lot.  Oh yes.  Highlights galore.  This summer was Gossip Girl, Dorm Life, and Mad Men at the very end, so this summer was super dramatic and award-winning.  Because I was so lonely for BG, this summer I also took a trip up here to see some of the people I missed the most.  The trip involved me touching snakes and lizards, standing by while a train sped past my face, eating dinner with a motley crew of friends and friends of friends, and having the exact same conversation with a drunken co-worker while he was well and truly plastered and then sober the next morning.  This summer was baseball, like every other summer, which is not bad, but cozy.  The Cold War Kids and My Morning Jacket came into my life this summer, so as far as music goes, this summer was pretty damn satisfactory.  You would probably be surprised how many times I carted drunk friends to Waffle House this summer.  Once, the cops were called, and the giant, imposing chef bellowed at people to get out.  They listened.  With good reason, trust and believe.  This summer I almost skipped the best barbeque of my life.  Thank God Martha is so persuasive, otherwise I wouldn’t have the memory of waking up (miraculouslyalone in my own bed at home, to an alarm someone had had the good sense to set for me) still drunk in purple frog pajama shorts on backwards with puncture wounds in both my arms.  No, it wasn’t heroin.  It was almost as trashy, though.  Sigh.  Can that be the motto of my summer?  Or, better yet, my life?  “No, it wasn’t heroin.  It was almost as trashy, though.”  That’s the life of every Daytonian.  This summer…wasn’t all that bad.  I’m glad to be back where I am, but part of me now misses it a little.  This summer, I was spoiled, working at an easy job, making decent money, driving around in a new-to-me car, seeing the people I love as much as possible, while still having PLENTY of me time.  So in the end, this summer was pretty OK.

Catch Up

It doesn’t feel like it’s been a month and a half.  I don’t understand how time is just flying by so quickly this year.  I still feel like it ought to be the middle of February, not the end of March.  I think that’s a good sign.  I’m enjoying myself.  Even though I’ve been gone for a while, and even though I know I’ve been occupied, I cannot for the life of me tell you with what.  Uhhhhh, listening to Beyonce and Ludacris on my iPod?  Yes.  Swooning after several boys?  Oh my God, yes.  Pumping the brakes as hard as I can so that this semester doesn’t ever end because I love this place that I’m in?  Yes, even though it isn’t working.  I’m just busy being happy.  Here are some things I’ve been thinking about lately:

• My Morning Jacket’s “Lay Low” makes me want to long for someone.  It makes me feel like I’m falling for someone I could never have.  I don’t know why, but it just sounds like wanting.
• I found this scribbled in my little notepad I keep in my desk drawer: “Why hasn’t Keira Knightley done Shakespeare?!”  On the one hand, something about how indginant I am over KK’s lack of Shakespearean acting just makes me laugh.  On the other: for real, though.
• Also in the notepad is a note to myself: “Meredith- You will always miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.  Take this shot.”  You know, sometimes you just need a pep talk.  And even though that particular shot didn’t pan out the way I planned, I’m still gonna follow that advice.
• Can we talk about Lexi for a moment?  I don’t think I’ve written about her before, but Lord does she ever need to be written about… She’s my TA for my Bio 101 Lab, and honestly, the only positive thing I can say about her is that she hasn’t murdered anyone in her lifetime (to my knowledge).  She is condescending, rude, inconsistent, bitchy, immature, unprofessional, and all around unqualified to be teaching anyone anything, except maybe how to be an unapologetically heinous beast.  I mean, I feel juvenile saying I can’t wait to write a course eval for her, but it’s true.  I just want to give her the worst write-up for being a snot.  I don’t even know if that will affect her in any way, but it’s the only reourse I feel I have besides maybe being an ultra-bitch and talking to my lecture professor about her, which feels waaaaaaay too dramatic a step to take.  So instead, I’ll just bitch about the bitch here! 
• This is the worst thing I have seen in the month and a half I’ve been away from writing; my German professor showed it to us today during our discussion on art.  The second guy, the guy who lays his head on that block of… marble?  clay?  talcum? and then turns and breathes on it like the creepiest serial killer who ever walked the Earth is the artist we’re learning about in our chapter.  Once, he covered his head in goldleaf and honey and carried around a dead rabbit, talking to it and explaining pieces of art to it.  And called it an art installation.  Like, people actually came to a museum and watched it unfold.  What the fuck, Internet?  I was so fucking bershon about this in class today, I was legit rolling my eyes like a sullen teen.  I was pissed off.  Ha, and then my prof asked the class our opinions about it, and the exact people I had expected to like this pretentious, avant garde artsy bullshit were the ones saying “I think it’s wonderful because it holds such deep meaning for the artist” and “It’s very interesting and a unique way to express oneself outside of the normal artistic modes” and when my prof asked me all I could say was “Ich finde das sehr, sehr blod” because I don’t know the German for “drama-queeny”, “insane”, or “intolerable”.  I mean, what feelings could you possibly need to express through conversing with dead animals?  Isn’t that called having a personality disorder?
• It is crazy how into T.I. I am getting.
• My urge to drive, and the amount to which I miss driving around with the wondows down and my music up, has started to manifest itself in completely unnecessary walks around campus with my iPod.  Sometimes after classes, I don’t head directly back to the dorms, but instead loop all around campus, into the old section by the chapel and the administration building, then over by the graveyard and up the alley between Anderson and the BA building, and then home.  It’s exactly like the loops I used to drive after getting off work at night over the summer.  Sometimes I’m just not finished feeling the wind on my face or listening to my very favorite music.  I’m just not done being in motion.

Trip Around The Sun, Part Two

Aaaaaaaaaaaand, apparently I have so much to say about last year that I ran out of room in one entry!  There’s a reason my father nicknamed me Gabriella von Flappingtongue when I was little.  So.  Here’s the second half of my year, in riveting detail:

July….man, the summer months run together in my head a little.  July brought my best friend to town unexpectedly, so you know it was good.  Honestly, most of the things I remember from June and July are things I already wrote about on here, which cemented them in my brain, so it feels kind of cheap to keep this up.  So let’s move onto August.  The Olympics happened, and I was in Florida with two of my sisters and several cats.  I spent my days at the beach, then reading, showering, napping, and snacking in various combinations, and my evenings out to dinner and then in my sister’s apartment watching the Olympics with some of the people I love most in the whole world.  It was pretty perfect.  It was exactly what vacation should feel like, that feeling of wet beachy hair and old armchair comfort while you just sit and listen to the people around you talk because you’re too golden to function at the moment.  In sad news, August brought the death of the best car known to man, and this death is on my hands.  I have still not dealt with it fully.  I miss that car so hard, all the time.  She was so… so stalwart.  And if I hadn’t totaled her, I know she would’ve stuck with me for at least the next three years.  I’m sorry I’m so serious about my car; I’m not sure how it happened, but I am sure I can’t stop.

August also brought my return here, to BG.  I was so panicked.  And then things turned out okay.  I don’t know how else to say it, because it really was that simple.  The world did not end, it only got better, and I know I am really one lucky bitch.  September flew by.  Really.  My sister got married and looked good doing it.  I got to see the Florida sister for the second time in as many months, which is so rare and so happy-making.  I threw up in the bushes outside of my house one night after a taxi ride home in which my driver may have popped some pills while stopped at a red light.  Incidentally, this was the night before the wedding.  Funny how these things happen!  I feel like mostly in September I just got to hang out with a bunch of cool people and get to know them better.  Did you know that I’m also at school?  You wouldn’t, from the way I would describe my September.  There’s nothing of note school-wise that happened in September, and that’s weird to me.  Anyways, September also brought a job that sort of tumbled into my lap, as all the jobs that I have ever had have.  Again, I am one lucky bitch.  October brought glorious fall weather.  It started to get cool and breezy and the leaves changed and it was gorgeous.  I love the change of seasons, so I was in bliss.  I think that in October I began to find every single boy around me attractive; there’s a lot of eye candy around here, man, and in October I took full advantage of it.  October also brought four migraines in eight days, so therefore, there was one week where basically all I did was go to bed early and lie around moaning and feeling nauseous.  But!  I also went to the doctor and got these magic pills that melt under your tongue and get rid of your headache.  I have never experienced anything that did that ever before, ever, besides an hour-and-a-half nap, and I have literally had migraines for my entire life.  Thank GOD for October, then.  I feel like October was more of the same socially, but that is the furthest thing from bad, because for once in my life “the same socially” is not crying and constantly worrying about what others think of me and wondering if I’ll ever have friends and if I’ll ever fit in and stop wanting to go home and why does nobody like meeeeeee?  Yeah.  No more of that.  As the clock changed from October to November, I cast my vote for change while listening to “Charlemagne in Sweatpants”.  And four days later, surrounded by the people that have been my saving grace this fall, I watched him give his acceptance speech and held back tears.  It was breathtaking.  I remember when the family walked onstage, smiling and waving to the adoring crowds, I freakin’ squealed with glee, “Awww, look how great they are!”  It was one of my favorite nights of the year.

I’m sorry, I know that this second part is sort of a copout on month-describing, but November too feels like it went by really fast.  I went to classes, had lazy weekends, ate lots of bacon, spent a disgusting amount of time dicking around on the internet, probably drank some beer, got new brown boots, ate turkey, called people and asked them for money.  You know.  Same old, same old.  December was a weird, patchwork month, because half was spent at school and half was spent here at home.  Exams were gross, but I attended a silent dance party (glowsticks included!) and ate Mexican food, and spent many a night staying up talking to and laughing with my adorable roommate.  And packing up to go home, I was actually sad.  I had people I loved and would miss over the next three and a half weeks, and I had trouble leaving them for home.  That was a new feeling.  And then I came home and was absolutely engulfed by family time.  I don’t see my sisters enough, but over break I got to spend a LOT of time with them, and I’m glad that happened.  There wasn’t a whole lot of time with friends because of all of the aforementioned family time, but there was just enough for me to be happy, and I know there’ll be some more here in the next few days, so it’s all good.

Aaaaaaand, that was my year.  The first four months? I’d like to keep the tags on and return ‘em, please.  But the last eight were amazing, better than I ever expected, and now I think 2009 will be absolutely magical, so anything less than the absolute best simply will not do.  Even though two hours into 2009 saw me vigorously scrubbing at carpet to get out the vomit stains, I still have high hopes for the next twelve months.  I’m wishing on an eyelash I won’t be disappointed.

Trip Around The Sun, Part One

Hello.  I just wanted to sit and reflect a little bit on the last year of my life.  Actually, this part of the entry is being written on September 11th, because my mind kept wandering to this topic during English class instead of actually paying attention to Wimsatt and New Criticism and all that boring bullshit.  I’m just so much happier than I was last year, so happy that things have changed for the better here, and I thought that instead of just marinating in the juicy sauces of joy (ETA on October 27: What the fuck is up with this imagery here?  What was I doing with that, exactly?), I thought I’d make myself a tiny little bit more miserable by revisiting parts of the past.  Let’s do the time warp (again?)!

It seems a little melodramatic to start with January, but it’s…the beginning, so I’ll just dive right in.  January was rough, y’all.  I remember very vividly one single night smack-dab in the middle of the month that involved desperate midnight crying, a momentary turn to Jesus, and alot of talking to myself, practicing breathing exercises.  Okay, so basically like every other day around here, come to think of it.  Moving on.  It was the start of a new semester, which offered some hope, but I think that by this point in the school year, I was resigned to a bitter, awful ride til the end.  I was not wrong.  February…uhhhh, I don’t remember alot about February.  Two years ago in February, I read Crime and Punishment, if that counts for anything.  Probably not, huh?  I do remember getting a box of Valentine’s candy from my mom, because I will never really be cool.  And I’m not ashamed to say that I can’t wait to get yet another Valentine’s box this year.  Best! tradition! ever!  March was my birthday month!  I was hungover.  Not for the whole month, just for my birthday.  My friends went to lunch with me and then left for Dayton, and I spent my birthday chilling in my room, watching other people I didn’t like get drunk, and editing other people’s English papers because they were too stupid to pass their class without me.  I am still a little bitter about this past birthday, but then again, I couldn’t even tell you what my best birthday was.  I think it may have involved Marian’s, which is not too shabby, but I am not a “let’s celebrate my birthday, because clearly the day I was born is monumental and epic!” kind of person.  I am not one who likes the limelight, although saying that makes me want to peer over my shoulder for someone pointing at me and shouting, “WRONG, you lying, attention-whoring princess!”  That person may or may not be one of my sisters.

Oh my God, anyways.  Do I remember anything else about March?  Nothing comes to mind.  Some things probably happened.  Was this the month I wrote a paper drunk and then had my professor call its prose “enviably beautiful”?  Oh no, that was April.  Whoa, maybe I am an attention whore…  Things seemed a bit more bearable in April, because I knew the end of the school year was coming.  However, there was the weekend where my ex-roommate’s little sister appeared on a Sunday night to stay and hang out that night and the next day because her spoiled sophomore-in-high-school ass had the Monday off.  Anyways, I had some sort of panic attack that night and took a walk around campus by myself at 1:30 in the morning, which in general is something I guess you’re not supposed to do.  I did not get raped.  I also distinctly remember the evening I wrote said drunken paper.  It was about 7:00, and I decided to walk to Starbucks, because I knew I had a long night ahead of me.  That walk may have been the happiest I was all school year.  Is that overly dramatic?  I just remember that the sun was setting and it was a beautiful day and there was this boy I liked, and I wasn’t worried about my paper and I knew the end of the year was coming soon so things would be alright.  I still remember that night alot, because it was one of precious few memories I enjoy from last school year.  Other than that, I think my favorite April day was my oldest sister’s birthday, April 29th.  I was sitting in my bed on the phone with her, taking down the things I had hung up on my wall to remind me of home, and I just remember this incredible feeling of happiness, of, of, of relief I guess, of a return to wholeness, like finally, I made it, things can go back to normal now.  Two days later it was May, and it rained and I moved out; I remember sitting on the unmade, unlofted bed of the girl across the hall from me, in her unfurnished room thinking to myself : “I’m going to remember this for a very long time”.  I suppose there were a lot of things that were ”un-” that day, but happy is not one of them.  And I remember very well the ride home because GOD I was overjoyed.  I’m sorry, I know I sound like a melodramatic baby with all the talk of the horrors of freshman year, like girl, why didn’t you just move your ass out of there at the first, second, or 75th sign of trouble?  And I can tell you that the reason is because I am a pussy.  Seriously, I am the biggest wuss about standing up for myself.  The first step, I hear, is admitting you have a problem. 

So, May.  In May, one of my close friends had a beautiful baby boy named Alan.  He only weighed four pounds when he was born, and the day he was born I didn’t even get to see him becuase he was in a special nursery, but now, he’s just fine.  He’s better than fine.  I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I also went to New York with my three best friends in May.  That’s one of the single most important highlights of the month, and probably of the year, but it’s only September right now, so maybe someone will surprise me with a 4.0 or a free pony or a home-cooked dinner or something.  I am ever hopeful.  But seriously, I think that’s basically all that happened in May, and I remember thinking that when I came back, things should probably start happening to me, like this is the point in the movie where I get swept off my feet or offered a life-changing internship or get hit by a train.  Come on, New York!  Spit me out something good!  June meant more minor traveling, like to Yellow Springs for a camping trip and Kentucky for a sister trip.  June was a pretty perfect representation of what summer should be like, all lemonade and heat.  I’m pretty into June. 

To be continued….

Saccharine-ing In The New Year

Things are about to get a little bit cloying.  You’ve been warned.

Right now, after such a mundane but amazing day, I feel so lucky.  I just…. I realize how freaking lucky I am.  I remember how shitty I felt just one year ago, hell, less than one year ago, and I look at the way things are now, and just smile.  And tonight, sitting in the backseat of my best friend’s car, I was just overwhelmed by this strange feeling.  I was hopeful, and I just realized, “You know, everything’s going to turn out all right.”  And then I came home and danced in the shower, and when I got out of the shower I put on two of the songs that make me feel the most hopeful and I danced some more.  And I couldn’t stop laughing, and I couldn’t stop smiling, and I can’t stop laughing and I can’t stop smiling.  I am one lucky bitch.  Last year was, I think, the unhappiest I have ever consistently been in my life.  I am not usually an unhappy person.  I have rough days, or even rough stretches of days, but things always look up, and last year, when they didn’t, it came as a serious shock to my system, and I just did not know how to deal.  Or I did, but I didn’t have the balls to.  I am not generally known as a ballsy person.  But I made a move (literally) to change things at the beginning of the school year, and change things it did, and for that I could not be any more grateful.  I just….wonder.  Things could have been so different this school year, and believe me, there were a few days in the beginning when I was terrified that nothing would change, but then…well it wasn’t even miraculous, or even a big thing.  I can’t pinpoint when or how it happened, but everything turned out fine.  Better than fine.  And again I say: I am lucky. 

Happy new year.  This one’s gonna be great.

Thanksgiving ‘08

Man, my Thanksgiving Break was pretty great.  I spent the majority of it either with the people I love or curled up in my favorite chair at home reading TIME magazine and watching football.  I saw one of my sisters whom I hadn’t seen since Wedding Weekend, and I ate lots of food not purchased from a school cafeteria.  I woke up early Thursday morning to watch the parade, and I have to say, one of my favorite experiences of break came that morning when, amongst all the other “Happy Thanksgiving” and “Eat lots of turkey!” texts I had already received, I got one from my best friend Emily saying “Rick Roll is on the parade!”, which is something that probably only makes sense if you a.) are in my group of friends, or b.) play World of Warcraft online.  These two circles don’t generally overlap.  Seriously!

Anyway, the day itself was pretty nice, lots of cousins and food and football.  There was family crossword-puzzle bonding time, Sudoku with my sister, an adopted brother stopping by, and lots of talk about Christmas and the perfect gift.  Friday night I went downtown to see our annual Chistmas tree lighting at Courthouse Square and got caught up in the freaky, theme-less parade afterward.  I mean, what do unicycles, Star Wars, and trolleys have in common?  Historical roots in Dayton?  The capacity to conjure up fond childhood memories for, like one person each in the crowd?  I…don’t know.  Come on, Dayton!  Don’t make me make excuses for you!  Anyways, so Saturday night I acted like a 40 year old and got together with three great friends and drank sangria and played with a baby and was home by midnight, which is great because I was falling asleep.  Should have my hip replacement scheduled aaaaaaany day now.

And, since I feel like this is absolutely worth noting, my roomie just yelled, “I can’t stand it anymore!  I’m taking my pants off!”  You have no idea how often I want to say exactly that.

A Million Little Paragraphs

I woke up this morning with “Bury Me With It” in my head and briefly considered just rolling over and going back to sleep and skipping Chemistry class, but forced myself up since I plan on skipping Monday’s class.  Wandering back from the bathroom, after I had been awake for less than ten minutes, I noticed that someone had scrawled a message about making love to Edward Cullen one day on my board.  I reallllly did not have the energy to deal with that shit so early in the morning, so instead I just stood there and glared at the message for a minute and then shook my head and went inside. 

On my way out of the dorm, I opened the door into the stairwell and it collided with a cardboard box stuffed inside of a trash bag, and do you know what my first thought was when this happened?  ”What if there were a baby in that trash bag?”  What the hell?  I mean, I had been awake for at least half an hour when this happened, so what the fuck was I thinking with that?  I mean, whose first thought upon seeing a trash bag in a stairwell is “Hmmm, maybe someone’s abandoned their child in there”?  Who thinks like this?  I do.  On a Friday morning before I’ve had Starbucks when all I can think about is turning around and going back to bed, I do.

This morning was the coldest it’s been all school year, and I really had forgotten the way the cold can cut straight through your pants.  Three minutes into my 15 minute walk to class I was so cold my teeth hurt.  And the wind was back too, the kind of wind that makes you want to stop and through a temper tantrum in the middle of the sidewalk, like “We get it!  You’re freezing fucking cold and plan on blowing in my face for the remainder of my walk, constantly and irritatingly.  Consider your point made!”  But then, you know, you’re just the girl that yells at invisible things in the middle of campus, and that’s really not a label I can deal with at this point in life.

Then I was at Chem class, and there was a girl with a really bad weave sitting in the front row.  Now, I’m not normally a person who knows what a bad weave looks like at all, but I mean, this one basically looked like a mop had settled comfortably on top of this poor girl’s head.  So I guess the moral of this story is that if even I can tell your weave’s fucked up, you know it’s bad.

Would you like to know the kind of things I think about during International Relations?  Artie, from Pete and Pete.  You know, like “the strongest man in the woooooooooorld” Artie.  I ate that shit up when I was a kid.  I though that was fucking hilarious.  (I still kind of do.)

So after class, I headed over to Starbucks, and while I was waiting for my drink to be made I was sort of checking out this totally adorable guy in Weezer glasses, a button-up-the-front sweater, and a bow tie.  He was sitting up really straight, quietly reading and there was old-timey Christmas music playing and I’m pretty sure I fell in love for a minute.

I stopped to get some snacks on the way back from class and Starbucks, and my cashier at Chily’s was really friendly and happy and babbling away about something.  Her accent was so heavy I couldn’t understand her at all, but she was making herself laugh so hard that I couldn’t help but to smile and laugh along.

And then my walk home was nice and not as cold as this morning and I got to the lobby and picked up my free copy of The Road and there was a handwritten note inside that said ” *Congrats* “ and this girl who looks like she’s from the ’90’s said hi to me like she was some character on Saturday Night Live and I’m pretty sure the first half of today was almost perfect.

The only lowlight I have is that my precious, beautiful show Pushing Daisies got canceled by the fools at ABC.  There will be a little less happiness and gorgeous set design on my TV next fall…