Lately

I've been putting the mental in sentimental. Dear God, I need to grow a pair and stop caring so much. That is all.

Thoughts not made for other eyes.

I'm sitting on my bed wearing red lipstick and a cowgirl shirt a la Rachel when she goes to the laundromat with Ross for the first time. I was attempting to have a photoshoot with myself, then remembered I don't live in the era of Myspace where self-portraits were acceptable. Hey. I really want to start having photoshoots again. Oh wait, that wasn't the point of this post. Anyway, I posted this earlier and then got nervous and deleted it the moment I got home from school but..I wrote this one million years ago and..well, there's this Sylvia Plath quote about how whenever you try to write something you down you can never capture it perfectly. Like, you always over or under dramatize it, and you never really get it right. This is an example of me being OH, so overdramatic. And silly. Most of it is silly. However. I have an urge to post it, so I shall. So judge me not. Especially the part where I whine about boys and get all pseudo-intellectual and insightful when it comes to Godard. Sigh. Should I stop apologizing? Probably.

Just kidding. Deleted again, lol.

My, my, my.

I'm becoming so predictable nowadays. My emotions are running on a cycle made up of really distinct patterns, and I don't really care for this.

And Jesus Christ, do I need to work out.

Ps, saw Bon Iver last night. I'm really happy I got the tickets so last minute because I was one million percent in the most to sit and soak in my mood via Justin Vernon.

Ps. Sigh.

This is the part of the blog post where I want to post a video to Skinny Love, but I think I have too much shame for that.

Oh wait, I don't.

Say you do.

Things that wine makes me realize:
I want OH, so desperately to have a photoshoot. I think I have a chemical deficiency from it now.
Boys have got to be the silliest critters on the planet. But also, probably the cutest. Sometimes. When they're not trying.
I want to live in a pile of books.
I wish to be Alison Harvard.
I wish I knew how to do makeup better.
Oh wait. I wish I was having a photoshoot right now.
Hmm..anything else? I need a new game to play. I wish something looked goooood. I wish Bioshock Infinite was coming out tomorrow instead of next year.

Okay, end.

Her hourglass body.

It's weird the things that make me ache sometimes.



Like this picture, for instance. I don't understand why I think this is so mental-wound inducing.



And this song. Which I don't really like and then kinda want to put on repeat at the same time. It doesn't really make a lot of sense to me.

The only thing preventing my week in Europe from absolute perfection was the lack of a kitchen to bake in and use of Netflix. If I'd had those two things, pretty sure I would have been content not coming home. And I could just ship the three humans I like over there with me and I won't ever need to return. Wah wah wah.

Memoirs of a Melodramatic

Hi, Earth. Today is July 26th and in two days I will be nineteen. I wish this wasn't such a horrifying thought and I really wish I didn't have this terrible hatred for the number nine. But I mean, eight is a really great number and eighteen kind of sucked a lot. So, you know. We'll see.

In a weird place, in a weird blog post. Bah. I'm getting really tan for no reason, it's kind of weird. I haven't listened to music in a really long time. All I want to do on my birthday is drink whiskey and smoke a cigar, even though I hate smoking, and maybe play some Mario Kart. Well. I actually want to play Street Fighter. And hang out with the five people in the world that I don't hate. And..have a cute dress to wear. Everything is really super weird right now and I want to ride the weirdness wave to the end so everything can be normal again. Well, "normal".

C'est fin, I guess.