Pulling in, I remembered back to what they said. “You can’t just expect him not to, you know, he just wants the best.” But I figured, that if what we couldn’t agree to wasn’t best, than I should just leave. Normally, that was how I did things anyway. Shirking the right to a good full on fight. Scared of what it might cause. I can’t help it if I left the coast. It was only my nature….
The driveway was short and circular for the first house I pulled into, and I could see immediately that it was completely wrong. All over the property there was Virginia pines, broom straw and other scrub, where there should be a lawn. No shade could be offered to the roof of the house and the brick screamed a fiery red in the noon time blaze. The soil was a cracked and dusty, the same Virginia clay that the house was made with, baked into a solid brick acres wide. In the back, the hum of the air conditioner carried on the air like the buzz of hornets.
“I’m glad you found it ma’am” he said, reaching out a sweaty palm to me. I took it and shook it loosely, nodding. Once we unfastened I wiped my hand off on my dress as he stood there, watching.
“It sure is far out here, but it was no trouble finding it. Hot day, isn’t it?” I said, rearranging my dress. He made me uneasy, with a wrinkled shirt that was sweat stained where it contacted his body. “I’m really not sure it’s what I’m looking for, too big, you know?” That really wasn’t my trouble with the house. It was gorgeous in its design, a real modernist’s approach to the classic Southern planter’s home. But the surrounding area, and the total attitude of the house was wrong. He waved me inside and I followed obediently, my curiosity to search the inside overwhelming that sickness that comes when I walk into an empty home. It was cold as a Frigidaire as I stepped into the living room, steps echoing from blank dry wall and hardwood floors. I rubbed my arms, skin prickling with cooling sweat. He showed me around and blabbed on about the square footage and whatnot but I tuned him out and only responded to the silence with mmhhms, to show I was listening. The view out past the windows was horrendous, a real scraggly nightmare. I started heading back to the front door and he followed and I shook his hand there and told him goodbye.
“You’re not interested in the house ma’am?”
“No, I don’t think I am. It’s not what I was looking for at all, but thanks anyway.” I knew the only reason he had assigned me to the listing was because my price range was so high and he was looking for the extra money so I left him inside to lock up and walked out my car, cranking the windows down in the baking interior.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
The corn was small, dry in its rows. Row after row.
I drove down through the fields, acres and acres of them, along the back roads. Looking for the lane I slowed down, encountering no traffic except for the occasional slow moving truck. Other than that all that took up the roads were blackbirds that flew up as I came through and then settled back down onto the black top. Heat mirages waved up as the road stretched out between its shadier, curvier sections. Winter wheat, yellowing on the stalk and drying in the sun, frizzled and fried like a blonde burnout.
My hair kept catching the wind, both windows down, the humidity sticking my dress to me along my back and chest, sweat edging my upper lip. There wasn't any wind here to clear it off like there was on the coast, the air all full of spit. And there wasn't a shady cloud in the sky, the sun magnified and reflected off the hot flat open.
All the houses along the road up to that point were either cinder block three room homes, sometimes covered in vinyl siding, or they were dilapidated farm houses. But as the farmland began to stretch out in dusty expanses, the houses grew larger,with trees in the front sometimes shading a moss-like yard extending out from a front porch covered in chairs. But these were few and far between, the roadside littered with dumpy little villages of three or four houses built right on top of each other, yards littered with rusting cars and plastic swingsets and yard furniture. Scruffy dogs barked from chainlink prisons as I drove by, paying little heed to their calls.
Men in the fields were gathering sweet hay, all covered in denim and long t-shirts in defense the of hay dust which made your skin itch to the bone and your eyes swollen. They were red faced and sweating, but raised a hand in courtesy as a greeting of my travels. This was a custom here as I had learned, and even though growing up on the coast I had encountered this kind acceptance, what I encountered more often were the cold or wandering stares of tourists, you can never seem to keep their eyes, or their hands for that matter, to themselves. People here waved from porches, from the drivers side of their cars, from tractors, and from lawn chairs sat out in their yard, where they keep a watchful eye on the road during the heat of the day.
Camomille flowers and a small yellow wildflower lining the road swung in my wake as I watched them through my rear view mirrors. Dragonflies flitted to the left and right before clearing a path before me and then taking off into the oak trees lining the road. I slowed down more here, taking a gravel road off the state route as my directions told me to.
To be continued...
I drove down through the fields, acres and acres of them, along the back roads. Looking for the lane I slowed down, encountering no traffic except for the occasional slow moving truck. Other than that all that took up the roads were blackbirds that flew up as I came through and then settled back down onto the black top. Heat mirages waved up as the road stretched out between its shadier, curvier sections. Winter wheat, yellowing on the stalk and drying in the sun, frizzled and fried like a blonde burnout.
My hair kept catching the wind, both windows down, the humidity sticking my dress to me along my back and chest, sweat edging my upper lip. There wasn't any wind here to clear it off like there was on the coast, the air all full of spit. And there wasn't a shady cloud in the sky, the sun magnified and reflected off the hot flat open.
All the houses along the road up to that point were either cinder block three room homes, sometimes covered in vinyl siding, or they were dilapidated farm houses. But as the farmland began to stretch out in dusty expanses, the houses grew larger,with trees in the front sometimes shading a moss-like yard extending out from a front porch covered in chairs. But these were few and far between, the roadside littered with dumpy little villages of three or four houses built right on top of each other, yards littered with rusting cars and plastic swingsets and yard furniture. Scruffy dogs barked from chainlink prisons as I drove by, paying little heed to their calls.
Men in the fields were gathering sweet hay, all covered in denim and long t-shirts in defense the of hay dust which made your skin itch to the bone and your eyes swollen. They were red faced and sweating, but raised a hand in courtesy as a greeting of my travels. This was a custom here as I had learned, and even though growing up on the coast I had encountered this kind acceptance, what I encountered more often were the cold or wandering stares of tourists, you can never seem to keep their eyes, or their hands for that matter, to themselves. People here waved from porches, from the drivers side of their cars, from tractors, and from lawn chairs sat out in their yard, where they keep a watchful eye on the road during the heat of the day.
Camomille flowers and a small yellow wildflower lining the road swung in my wake as I watched them through my rear view mirrors. Dragonflies flitted to the left and right before clearing a path before me and then taking off into the oak trees lining the road. I slowed down more here, taking a gravel road off the state route as my directions told me to.
To be continued...
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Clean-up and Maintenance
True to my word, I cut off more of my hair. I was resolved to do it all winter, and now its finally gone. Hello heat, meet short hair, less heavy and warm than long hair. The sweet peas are blooming and so is the honeysuckle. It's all over the roadsides here and it smells delicious when I'm running and it's so sweltering. Swelter swelter.
But anyway,
what I really can't take, are those people that make you feel bad in your skin. They could possibly be your best friends, and they say that they aren't judging you, but then you say something that they don't agree with, and their face turns upside-down and gets a bit cloudy for a couple moments, and then they lie to you and tell you it's okay. Or, they stay silent, and utter out a few uhms, and let the subject pass. To something lighter. To something easier. They consider for a few moments, how they are on top of the world, and much more cultured or sophisticated or intelligent than you are. How they have everything together. They make you tense.
However, there are those people that are just at ease.
They say: "Oh, you did that? Me too."
Or they say: "I totally understand where you're coming from"
They don't judge, they don't lie, they discuss, they analyze, they show you what's right in their eyes and what they consider wrong.
they do not lie.
they do not lie.
But anyway,
what I really can't take, are those people that make you feel bad in your skin. They could possibly be your best friends, and they say that they aren't judging you, but then you say something that they don't agree with, and their face turns upside-down and gets a bit cloudy for a couple moments, and then they lie to you and tell you it's okay. Or, they stay silent, and utter out a few uhms, and let the subject pass. To something lighter. To something easier. They consider for a few moments, how they are on top of the world, and much more cultured or sophisticated or intelligent than you are. How they have everything together. They make you tense.
However, there are those people that are just at ease.
They say: "Oh, you did that? Me too."
Or they say: "I totally understand where you're coming from"
They don't judge, they don't lie, they discuss, they analyze, they show you what's right in their eyes and what they consider wrong.
they do not lie.
they do not lie.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Body Work
CAR THEMED TITLES WEEK
Ok, okay guys
I chopped off all my hayur! I know, this is crazy talk! I haven't had it this short since 5th grade. Not to say that I haven't cut my hair, but jeez Louise is it light and different. I had goddess hair some days...not to sound conceited, but it was nice and curly and lush. Not to say that it isn't now, but it's different. And Im not even done with those scissors. You're right, once you start you can't stop.
In other world news, my AP Enviro exam is next week. Joy joy joy. Yak.
Gov school ends in less than three days!! Ohmygod I can't stand it, not even, it makes me all smiley and happy to know that that abysmal hell is over. And the last day is a picnic. No really, it is! But of course, who has physics homework out the ass for tomorrow? This kid.
Promenades are over (at least the planned ones). Mine was more chill, but not without its hang-ups and collisions or its good parts either. No stores are open at 4 in the morning for celebratory donuts.
So much still to happen:
Regionals- I almost forgot!! Holy Cow!!
My birthday
graduation (Anfony's)
school's out (forever)
SAT retake...goddamn collegeboard
Well it is lovely outside....
Ok, okay guys
I chopped off all my hayur! I know, this is crazy talk! I haven't had it this short since 5th grade. Not to say that I haven't cut my hair, but jeez Louise is it light and different. I had goddess hair some days...not to sound conceited, but it was nice and curly and lush. Not to say that it isn't now, but it's different. And Im not even done with those scissors. You're right, once you start you can't stop.
In other world news, my AP Enviro exam is next week. Joy joy joy. Yak.
Gov school ends in less than three days!! Ohmygod I can't stand it, not even, it makes me all smiley and happy to know that that abysmal hell is over. And the last day is a picnic. No really, it is! But of course, who has physics homework out the ass for tomorrow? This kid.
Promenades are over (at least the planned ones). Mine was more chill, but not without its hang-ups and collisions or its good parts either. No stores are open at 4 in the morning for celebratory donuts.
So much still to happen:
Regionals- I almost forgot!! Holy Cow!!
My birthday
graduation (Anfony's)
school's out (forever)
SAT retake...goddamn collegeboard
Well it is lovely outside....
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Night Car
Backseat pretty sleepy
camping out on those nights, in a car carpeted in silk
in sweat
in Clapton
and there is a hush hush
whisper whisper
shift
with a pretty in the backseat
pretty sleepy
In a morning summer, dark with fogged dew
clinging to the outside of the Night Car
driving us up and down through the outer reaches of
my fingertips
of the galaxy
through your eyes
The feeling going down
is like twangs
and bass
on my insides
butterflies rushing my windshields
and climbing down my throat
down to my toes
every breath I bring out
flutters and lifts to the top of the ceiling
ripping the upholstery
breaking glass
shattering every thought
for the first time
never a last time
The backseat
pretty sweet
may carry us down hallways lined in, gold
takes me to places I've been,
but swore I wouldn't return to
not for a long while
gilted in fresh promises
and new problems
but it's all whispers, sticks and stones
shaking hands
rattling bones
in the Night Car
we'll travel pretty far
with a beaut in the backseat
camping out on those nights, in a car carpeted in silk
in sweat
in Clapton
and there is a hush hush
whisper whisper
shift
with a pretty in the backseat
pretty sleepy
In a morning summer, dark with fogged dew
clinging to the outside of the Night Car
driving us up and down through the outer reaches of
my fingertips
of the galaxy
through your eyes
The feeling going down
is like twangs
and bass
on my insides
butterflies rushing my windshields
and climbing down my throat
down to my toes
every breath I bring out
flutters and lifts to the top of the ceiling
ripping the upholstery
breaking glass
shattering every thought
for the first time
never a last time
The backseat
pretty sweet
may carry us down hallways lined in, gold
takes me to places I've been,
but swore I wouldn't return to
not for a long while
gilted in fresh promises
and new problems
but it's all whispers, sticks and stones
shaking hands
rattling bones
in the Night Car
we'll travel pretty far
with a beaut in the backseat
Monday, May 17, 2010
What Heart? My Heart.
Me Gustas Tu- Manu Chao
Laid- James
Help Me Rhonda- Beach Boys
Giant of Illinios- Andrew Bird
Crystallize- The xx
I'm Not The Girl- LMNTL by Angela McCluskey
Sweet baby James- James Taylor
Indian Summer- Jonsi and Alex
Saw- Tanlines
Goth Girls- Wavves
Girl I Love You- Massive Attack
Lemonworld- The National
Hellhole Ratrace- Girls
Skulltaste- Mux Mool
Helicopter- Steve Aoki
Make It Take It- Amanda Blank
Laid- James
Help Me Rhonda- Beach Boys
Giant of Illinios- Andrew Bird
Crystallize- The xx
I'm Not The Girl- LMNTL by Angela McCluskey
Sweet baby James- James Taylor
Indian Summer- Jonsi and Alex
Saw- Tanlines
Goth Girls- Wavves
Girl I Love You- Massive Attack
Lemonworld- The National
Hellhole Ratrace- Girls
Skulltaste- Mux Mool
Helicopter- Steve Aoki
Make It Take It- Amanda Blank
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Me gustas tu
Work was, amazing tonight. It was the first time that it had been chill, not awkward, just silent and whispering and laughing, and there was this jazz husband and wife duo that came in and knocked our socks off, her on the piano and him on the trumpet. This weather is sombre...sombre enough for sweet, loud jazz hitting the ceilings.
Foggy weather is a good time for jazz, when the streetlights and houselights get fuzzed over like they are covered in muslin. When that mood strikes me and it makes me want to dance slow or curl up and read Sylvia Plath...ok, maybe not Sylvia Plath, but to read and to stare at the ceiling with my favorite person and talk about future plans. And then, sleeping long, long hours and walking around in socks and making french toast and huddling on the couch together with said person and watching The Office, or Scrubs, or Life of Brian. For the world, and school, and everyone else to just glance off into that other direction, of empty space, like some challenged spiraling satellite. The slightly chilly pea soup afternoons, like today, when the cold fronts push in and and the outside of my car windows get all foggy, rather than fogging up on the inside and the fields down the road are long and tall with hay that bends and turns silver with the condensation beading along the stems, which makes me want to run through and create tiny rain showers with my own chaotic motion.
The same condensation stuck to my bare feet as I walked, out around my house, cutting flowers and playing with the dog and by the time I got back inside the flesh of my feet had turned to green grass. So I tiptoed upstairs and ran my feet under the tap in the bathroom and the shivers got all tangled up in my spine, the well water is always chilly and prickly on my toes. With the radio sitting in the bathroom pumping out piano concertos and talk radio, playing jazz part of the day. When I finally decided to take a shower tonight and wash out my fuzzy braided hair, my shower singing was pushed around and diluted in the water streaming down on me, the tune unclear if someone was to be positioned outside the bathroom. The sleepiness hit soon after that and the warm soup smelled delectable wafting from downstairs as the evening news bleeped in and out. Then that dark blue haze of sleep sort of caught me hanging, floating out in bed ,and pulled me gently down.
Find a job you love. Find a swinging place.
Foggy weather is a good time for jazz, when the streetlights and houselights get fuzzed over like they are covered in muslin. When that mood strikes me and it makes me want to dance slow or curl up and read Sylvia Plath...ok, maybe not Sylvia Plath, but to read and to stare at the ceiling with my favorite person and talk about future plans. And then, sleeping long, long hours and walking around in socks and making french toast and huddling on the couch together with said person and watching The Office, or Scrubs, or Life of Brian. For the world, and school, and everyone else to just glance off into that other direction, of empty space, like some challenged spiraling satellite. The slightly chilly pea soup afternoons, like today, when the cold fronts push in and and the outside of my car windows get all foggy, rather than fogging up on the inside and the fields down the road are long and tall with hay that bends and turns silver with the condensation beading along the stems, which makes me want to run through and create tiny rain showers with my own chaotic motion.
The same condensation stuck to my bare feet as I walked, out around my house, cutting flowers and playing with the dog and by the time I got back inside the flesh of my feet had turned to green grass. So I tiptoed upstairs and ran my feet under the tap in the bathroom and the shivers got all tangled up in my spine, the well water is always chilly and prickly on my toes. With the radio sitting in the bathroom pumping out piano concertos and talk radio, playing jazz part of the day. When I finally decided to take a shower tonight and wash out my fuzzy braided hair, my shower singing was pushed around and diluted in the water streaming down on me, the tune unclear if someone was to be positioned outside the bathroom. The sleepiness hit soon after that and the warm soup smelled delectable wafting from downstairs as the evening news bleeped in and out. Then that dark blue haze of sleep sort of caught me hanging, floating out in bed ,and pulled me gently down.
Find a job you love. Find a swinging place.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
sweet, silly things. leaking out of my ears.
I want to know what my interests are!
Of course, I already have a job.
But.... how will I want to know...what I want to do...later?
Interests/Preoccupations (of everyday life)
school? as in viable school, not this Online AP garbage, I actually like school, I'm just burnt out. 5:30 wake up calls for 8 months? Finally...it's getting better. You know it's bad when waking uo for AP tests late feels like a vacation.
rantrantrant
soccer -which employs my time from 5:30 to 7:30 and sometimes 3:30 to 10:30, but more than that, I've discovered a little of a talent of it, and even though sometimes I don't do as well as I should I still have so much to learn. It's just so, uh, challenging and skilled and when done right it looks flawless and beautiful (for the winning team).
music- FAVORITE BANDS or ones that I listen to right now (not in any particulr order)
Amanda Blank
Steve Aoki
Mux Mool
Kid Cudi
The Flaming Lips
The Chemical Brothers
The Beach Boys
Big Star
She & Him
Peaches
Kimya Dawson
Allison Krauss
Iron & Wine
Broken Bells
The xx
Feed Me mixes
Deer Tick
James Taylor
The Doors
The Velvet Underground
Girls
Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings
Charlotte Gainsbourg
Beck
Matt & Kim
Justice
The White Stripes
the Beatles
Pink Floyd
Billy Idol
Billy Holiday
Apollo Sunshine
Arcade Fire
Beach House
Blitzen Trapper
Yeah yeah yeahs
Mumford and Sons
Conor Oberst
Cold Play
Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
Feist
Fleet Foxes
Grizzly Bear
The Hives
Iggy pop
Jimmy Buffet
Rafi
The Killers
The Kinks
The Kooks
Major Lazer
Of Montreal
Ok Go
Passion pit
Pearl Jam
Phoenix
Radiohead
Rokyskopp
ratatat
the ramones
Santogold
surfer blood
vampire weekend
the who
Muse
Of course, I already have a job.
But.... how will I want to know...what I want to do...later?
Interests/Preoccupations (of everyday life)
school? as in viable school, not this Online AP garbage, I actually like school, I'm just burnt out. 5:30 wake up calls for 8 months? Finally...it's getting better. You know it's bad when waking uo for AP tests late feels like a vacation.
rantrantrant
soccer -which employs my time from 5:30 to 7:30 and sometimes 3:30 to 10:30, but more than that, I've discovered a little of a talent of it, and even though sometimes I don't do as well as I should I still have so much to learn. It's just so, uh, challenging and skilled and when done right it looks flawless and beautiful (for the winning team).
music- FAVORITE BANDS or ones that I listen to right now (not in any particulr order)
Amanda Blank
Steve Aoki
Mux Mool
Kid Cudi
The Flaming Lips
The Chemical Brothers
The Beach Boys
Big Star
She & Him
Peaches
Kimya Dawson
Allison Krauss
Iron & Wine
Broken Bells
The xx
Feed Me mixes
Deer Tick
James Taylor
The Doors
The Velvet Underground
Girls
Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings
Charlotte Gainsbourg
Beck
Matt & Kim
Justice
The White Stripes
the Beatles
Pink Floyd
Billy Idol
Billy Holiday
Apollo Sunshine
Arcade Fire
Beach House
Blitzen Trapper
Yeah yeah yeahs
Mumford and Sons
Conor Oberst
Cold Play
Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
Feist
Fleet Foxes
Grizzly Bear
The Hives
Iggy pop
Jimmy Buffet
Rafi
The Killers
The Kinks
The Kooks
Major Lazer
Of Montreal
Ok Go
Passion pit
Pearl Jam
Phoenix
Radiohead
Rokyskopp
ratatat
the ramones
Santogold
surfer blood
vampire weekend
the who
Muse
Monday, May 10, 2010
The end is only the beginning of the end.
Prom. Prom was good. Prom was great.
It had its ups and downs.
Ups: being, finally, in harrisonburg again, on my own, with a car.
Downs: the police
Writing this is like flicking through a mental slide show of what happened. It was great in some ways. Really really great, sort of like...generic high school prom great? And I guess way more. I finally got to meet those people that I wanted to meet, and that have apparently, without my knowledge, have wanted to meet me too, and always greet me with "I've heard so much about you." This greeting is hard to respond to. You can't lie and say, "I've heard so much about you too" if you haven't, you have to say "I love being here" or, "It's great to finally meet you." The road trip was really great and that evening, with all those people and Iron Man and my dog cake and everything was really really nice. And there was staying up late into the night and as Larry likes to put it "The bumpin and grindin and sex and butt doing on the dance floor". Thanks Larry for eating my cake, it was really nice seeing you. One more prom to go, which is mine and will be incredibly more chill I believe. Just going to play some wii and dress up and watch some stars and dance to some really bad music. I think that that is my only huge beef with prom. The music. I would really appreciate some decent techno, even though the DJ played Sandstorm, which I believe is about as good as its going to get. Oh well, maybe one day they'll have actual DJs- that means you Jerm. Sorry to all those people I never texted back and thank you to Nevin, who so willingly let us into his home and let us pet his cat. Yeah...try not to take that in the wrong way.
Downs: Chinckening out
Ups: My first ever I-hop
It had its ups and downs.
Ups: being, finally, in harrisonburg again, on my own, with a car.
Downs: the police
Writing this is like flicking through a mental slide show of what happened. It was great in some ways. Really really great, sort of like...generic high school prom great? And I guess way more. I finally got to meet those people that I wanted to meet, and that have apparently, without my knowledge, have wanted to meet me too, and always greet me with "I've heard so much about you." This greeting is hard to respond to. You can't lie and say, "I've heard so much about you too" if you haven't, you have to say "I love being here" or, "It's great to finally meet you." The road trip was really great and that evening, with all those people and Iron Man and my dog cake and everything was really really nice. And there was staying up late into the night and as Larry likes to put it "The bumpin and grindin and sex and butt doing on the dance floor". Thanks Larry for eating my cake, it was really nice seeing you. One more prom to go, which is mine and will be incredibly more chill I believe. Just going to play some wii and dress up and watch some stars and dance to some really bad music. I think that that is my only huge beef with prom. The music. I would really appreciate some decent techno, even though the DJ played Sandstorm, which I believe is about as good as its going to get. Oh well, maybe one day they'll have actual DJs- that means you Jerm. Sorry to all those people I never texted back and thank you to Nevin, who so willingly let us into his home and let us pet his cat. Yeah...try not to take that in the wrong way.
Downs: Chinckening out
Ups: My first ever I-hop
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Hush
So Please
please
please, let me
let me, let me, let me
get what I want
this time
The Lancers are coming.
please
please, let me
let me, let me, let me
get what I want
this time
The Lancers are coming.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
My Favorite Game
- The Cardigans
Those favorite people of mine. The games they play. The secretive suprises. The great vibrations. The wonderful excitations.
Those favorite people of mine.
Larry R. and Anthony T.
The ones that jump in a car together and come visit me on a whim. They lie and they show up at my house on a Sunday aftrnoon and there is hugging and sweaty reunions and them hanging out of my car. Not only do I love them both, but I will be friends with them forever. We're Harry, Ron, and Hermoine. I love Larry like Mary loves Jesus. We'll even let Larry's girlfriend into the group. 'Cause they are my handsome, loveable, completely senseless, heartwarming, suprising favorites.
Did I take you shopping? ...Even if you're my sister? Did we buy scandalous things together?
You're my favorite, Hannah T.
Do I know what your favorite music is, and talk to you almost everyday, for hours? Even if we don't talk in person that much? And we can always, always talk music.
You're my favorite, Jeremy B.
Are you always the first friend I go to, cause we both know you're one of my bestfriends here and I know you can always give me the right (morally right) answer to my problems?
You're my favorite, Rebekah S.
I know my favorites by what I say to them.
Did I send you a text a midnight? Was it your birthday?
You're my favorite, Andy G.
Have you gone through that high school hell for me? Are you there waiting for me to show up so that me can read The Onion and Drudge Report and have become my number one friend this year, all just because we bondedover politics thatone day and we hang out all the time? I make you CDs and you stand up for me and you're going to take that Korean girl to prom if I have to beg her?
You're my favorite, Palmer G.
Will we always be friends and live parallel lives and fight for the highest chem grade? Will we always have deep conversations about family? Soon? Will you teach me to climb trees and play guitar? Will your brother date my sister again? Will I always be mocked for "not washing these knives"?
You're my favorite, Jude S.
Do we have those great, slighlty awkward little siter/big sister friend conversations on the bus twice a week and have become pretty good friends over the past months? Do we have the same tastes in schools, music, men, clothes? Do people mistake us constantly for one another? Do you walk like a dinosaur?
You're my favorite, Zaina N.
Do I always love seeing you? Do I think you're a brilliant, incredibly gorgeous musician/icon/friend? Do I think we Should hang out more? More and more. Yes. Is there so much more to say about you that I can't put into words?
You're my favorite, Nora K.
Those favorite people of mine. The games they play. The secretive suprises. The great vibrations. The wonderful excitations.
Those favorite people of mine.
Larry R. and Anthony T.
The ones that jump in a car together and come visit me on a whim. They lie and they show up at my house on a Sunday aftrnoon and there is hugging and sweaty reunions and them hanging out of my car. Not only do I love them both, but I will be friends with them forever. We're Harry, Ron, and Hermoine. I love Larry like Mary loves Jesus. We'll even let Larry's girlfriend into the group. 'Cause they are my handsome, loveable, completely senseless, heartwarming, suprising favorites.
Did I take you shopping? ...Even if you're my sister? Did we buy scandalous things together?
You're my favorite, Hannah T.
Do I know what your favorite music is, and talk to you almost everyday, for hours? Even if we don't talk in person that much? And we can always, always talk music.
You're my favorite, Jeremy B.
Are you always the first friend I go to, cause we both know you're one of my bestfriends here and I know you can always give me the right (morally right) answer to my problems?
You're my favorite, Rebekah S.
I know my favorites by what I say to them.
Did I send you a text a midnight? Was it your birthday?
You're my favorite, Andy G.
Have you gone through that high school hell for me? Are you there waiting for me to show up so that me can read The Onion and Drudge Report and have become my number one friend this year, all just because we bondedover politics thatone day and we hang out all the time? I make you CDs and you stand up for me and you're going to take that Korean girl to prom if I have to beg her?
You're my favorite, Palmer G.
Will we always be friends and live parallel lives and fight for the highest chem grade? Will we always have deep conversations about family? Soon? Will you teach me to climb trees and play guitar? Will your brother date my sister again? Will I always be mocked for "not washing these knives"?
You're my favorite, Jude S.
Do we have those great, slighlty awkward little siter/big sister friend conversations on the bus twice a week and have become pretty good friends over the past months? Do we have the same tastes in schools, music, men, clothes? Do people mistake us constantly for one another? Do you walk like a dinosaur?
You're my favorite, Zaina N.
Do I always love seeing you? Do I think you're a brilliant, incredibly gorgeous musician/icon/friend? Do I think we Should hang out more? More and more. Yes. Is there so much more to say about you that I can't put into words?
You're my favorite, Nora K.
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