and he reached for that halo she had when she first caught his eye
-cowboy junkies

well. hello! miss me? i want to write, i do. i have lots to say, but i am afraid of the Tech Guys. Crossborder Tech Guys, even.

*

an overripe kiwi has smushed everywhere in my bag and it truly looks like someone vomited lime jello shooters all over all my notes. [and, tragically, i know all too well what vomited lime jello shooters look like]. I just can't clean it up. i don't want to. Why do i always get stuck with these rando(!) disasters.

*
i have more to say than that.. like how i make resolutions that disappear with a drink. but what's healthier than a rando(!) makeout session here and there between friends, right? right.

I am moving to Little Italy in two weeks and i'm simultaneously thrilled and guilty and exhausted at the idea. I fluctuate depending on whether I'm sitting in with my tired-out parents or I'm wandering around all afternoon cause i can and i feel like it. PR's dad says you can't live tied to apron strings, and i know my parents would say that too.

if only they'd say it.

Also, i can't wait to build up a whole new community of people i won't have time to keep in touch with whenever i move again. Gah. And i know i'll be fine if i can just hang on to my god damn sense of adventure, damn it. Hard when it's being crushed by 9-5 (ha! try 8-7)

*

Today someone was surprised at how squeamy i was about the crunch when i killed a spider. I was surprised at the surprise. I was particularly shocked to be described as tough. Tough! me!

I'm not normally afraid of spiders, but i do hate the fastfurry ones, and i was just trying to pick him up and move him outside but he was too fast and i suddenly I was like Lenny.

But oh, i am so not tough... for the record, I am truly, sqeamily, afraid of a lot of things:
the dark
change
slimy lake rocks
murky lake bottoms
other people's realities

In no particular order. Except for the dark, which has to be first.

*
I just realized there is a theme to this entry, but only i know what it is.

I am listening to a great deal of bloc party, and although it is SO much better when in song format and not italicized in an online journal (lame. but we love them, don't we?), i believe i will end with lyrics anyway.

What are you holding out for?
What's always in the way?
Why so damn absent-minded?
Why so scared of romance?

This modern love breaks me

10:39 p.m. - 2005-06-28