Before Sunrise

Daydream delusion
Limousine Eyelash
Oh, baby with your pretty face
Drop a tear in my wineglass
Look at those big eyes
See what you mean to me
Sweet cakes and milkshakes
Don’t you know me?
Don’t you know me by now?

I wish I could take credit for such a master stroke,

Aunt Jemima Puddle Duck

Here Comes the Sun Again

I hate this 'dark so quickly' jizz.
How am I supposed to run long and not get hit by cars?

I've got green tea, and I failed my Calc test and... I feel all warm on the inside.

And I meant to say, in yesterday's post--

Now that I have your attention,
let me lose it by talking about myself.

I backed out of writing a Gay Marriage (for) argument paper today.
In retrospective, I'm not sure why I would do that.
Most of the time I am directly inflammatory and though you're not supposed to approach these sort of essays with the kind of attitude that says 'hey, I'm going to be intentionally inflammatory of everyone's really backwards and conservative views', that's what I believed I would do with this. I would throw their stupid homophobia.

But, when she called on me, with my hand raised, I blurted out "I'd like to do my essay on electric cars, and I'm against them". This clearly wasn't what I had chosen to, and had made up my mind, to do. But that was what I spit out. And it got me thinking that if I can't even talk about this subject comfortably, or write a three page (three pages, for God's sake, a trifling amount) paper about it, then I am no better than the homophobics of my school. This saddens me, because I do support gay rights, and if I can't voice an opinion on it then does this make me a coward? Clearly, the electric car topic was weak sauce compared to this.

11:18

My Mechanical Toothbrush!

And other witty things that vibrate.

So now that I have your attention....
Come in for...
A Hot BOWL OF...
Soup

I'm trying to put more thoughts into blog form since it's creative/ thoughtful/ caring/ compassionate/ loving/ fondling/ getting/ a/ little/ handsy/ ach!

PUMPKIN PANCAKES and WOOL SOCKS are the only things I want in life.

If I had to give a self-description of myself I'd put in it that I'm the mounds of laundry I never do because I only think about myself and I drop the s-bomb in English.
But only when provoked.

When the cops ride behind me with their lights on I find that I get more butterflies in my chest then I whenever I talk to guys. Because, when guys are hitting on you, you're supposed to get all fluttery right?
Too bad cops are the only ones that have that effect on me.
This all sounds despicable...
if it weren't for the fact that I've had two close run ins in the last month

I believe it's true that we both hate and fear what we do not know.
Like, how I fear calculus.

Just GO with it

I'm not dead. Haha.
So, I carved my pumpkin today, and it'll be on display at Baine's. It's a wise owl.
I'm thinking snoopy and woodstock for the other giant pumpkin that's mine though.
I have a ten-o-clock bed time tonight, I've got to get back into good health.
Which isn't being helped by all these peanut m&m's and half-hearted frisbee. But, actually, my frisbee skills are improving with time. Which means rec sports in college? Probably, not. College, college is this ache in my heart right now, college....college, love me please college. I hate begging for someone to like me, but I'm doing it now.
I keep falling asleep in class and having these dreams where angry men yell at me, like taxi drivers in New York, if I ever were to drive there, that's the kind of yelling that would happen to me.
Currently reading: three books at once! Canterbury Tales-- in the analyzing process, Into The Wild --less depressing that the movie, and the Chocolate War --hoping it's not a waste of my time, I hate football.
And what I hate worse are the stupid football players that yell at the XC team while we're doing speedwork.
If I see one more thing about cathedrals, I might die.
Districts is Wednesday.
ACE is Wednesday.
Work is Saturday.
XC King's Dominion trip is Saturday.
My life is all give up and go with it.

My skin is clear, and you can see what I'm thinking.

It's been an eventful last week here on Lake Woebegone.

I can't even begin, begin to tell you about your judgement, so I'll stop, I won't let you win.

The college clock is ticking down.

The concert was spectacular. Thank God for friends.

I'll be running along to work soon.

They keep telling me not to grow up, and then other people tell me to grow up. Surely there's a Goldilocks zone? Not too hot, not too cold.

Just right.

Too cool for Mondays, since it is Tuesday

I haven't meaked out any music in nearly ages.
But, I've been trying to put together an enjoyable fall car listening, driving through leaves as they crunch, goldenrod afternoon, orange haze, pumpkin seeds in the oven, playlist.

you've got the love- The xx
jacksonville- brandon flowers
sometimes- miami horror
casimir pulasi day- sufjan stevens
heartbeats- the knife
spanish pipedream- the avett brothers
tightrope- yeasayer
once in a lifetime- the talking heads
feel it all around- washed out
you'll see it- washed out
see the leaves- flaming lips
mrs. robinson- simon & garfunkle

i'd also just like to address, for the sake of addressing, one of my dear friends and her responses in conversation with me

"Sorry I can't hang out, I have a visitation to go to"
Her:"Oh, that bums."
--yeah, it bums cause I called the man my uncle for my whole life

**we were talking about our parent's marriages, or something along the lines of that topic
Her: "Yes, my mom has taught me how good wives should be submissive to their husbands"
--My mom skipped that lesson

**And when the topic of religion comes up, all Hell breaks loose
Her: "Christianity is not a religion! It's a way of life!"
Me: "Uhmmm, right? How about those dinosaurs..."
--Actually, it is a recognized Religion by all those faiths you can't force to convert, if it was a way of life, well... wouldn't we all be Christlike?

There was a man in the front in Oakleys and work boots playing the cello with his six other identical sisters and brothers.

A small child in a backpack decided to rub theapple that was on my table. That backpack was attacted to a leash. She kept petting the apple. I lost my patience.

All around was the sound of PAWP PAWP, from the pop guns and pop explosives and popping gum.

The noise echoed up and down and around the town as I ran my way through the opening booths, the first gyro stands opening up, the smell of grease and peppers hot in the ten-o-clock air.

Lost Highway and their cowboy yodels as I squeezed lemon after lemon, like doing a fist pump over and over until all the lemony goodness was out.

Haggling with vendors.

Getting extra apples for being sweet to the farm vendors.

Feeling like a zombie as I eat my chicken on a stick and wander down through the streets, emptying their crowds as the vendors close up.

Watching the fireworks through the front windows as the street dance blared dance music and the train flew by.

Eating too many scones.

Going to the Texas Inn for the first time. I don't care how gross the cooks look, it's so awesome to sit at a counter in a real diner where they have their own language. "Cheesy plain with a Denver and an Apple" (pie), that is.

The marching band at the Teddy Bear parade.

Coming home, and sleeping it off.

"That is what to the pain means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever."

Running and racing are two different things.

So today, we had a tri meet against Nelson and WC and we have a double meet week, one Monday and one Wednesday, and it's pretty killer on the whole homework and staying warm and sleeping along with working a ton this week because of railroad.

But this is inconsequential.

In comparison to the fact that I MUST BEAT NELSON. They are a plague to Appomattox and our rivals in all sports and because half of their girls cross country team is composed of soccer players, it's just too easy for me to hate them. Tri meets just make it acute how close I am to them without actually being able to finish them off, like seeing how everything plays out in front of you and all you can do is run to see it sooner. Since it's just me trying to get points even though the middle schoolers beast up all the time I WANT TO KICK THEIR ASSES SO BADLY.

So, that means dropping time really fast at the end of the season, which.... hurts when I'm not properly prepared. But pain wins over seeing the dejected faces of Nelson runners ANYTIME.

:]

They were hawking my stroller. My means of transportation! Utterly upsetting! My five year old mind could not comprehend this unfair exchange of paper for a comfy hammock with wheels. I was consoled when my dad took my hand and we went to get Superman ice cream from a stand at the Flea Market, the kind that turns the whole lower half of your face blue as you lick your lips in satisfaction. Satisfied I finished my ice cream off in an unrealized lesson in life.
I watch the old ladies dragging along their grandchildren through our maze of piled high tables and trailers full of baby clothes and watch as the kids ask for the mermaid I didn't even realize we owned until my parents pulled it out of a box for the yard sale. Two quarters for a new(to them) toy. A pittance, but the lesson is passed on to the grandchild as they clutch the half woman, half fish to their chest, and just like the Ice cream the mermaid is the vessel of the lesson this time.
Some call it recycling, some call it getting rid of old junk, but the lesson is the same. Thrift. I wish it hadn't taken so long for it to sink into me, but watching unused items that my family had stock piled for our yard sale walk away in the hands of new owners I realized that a valuable lesson had been taught to me back when I was five. Because thrift doesn't only work through Goodwill or Flea Markets, it works everywhere. Saving things for the use of other people and giving to them what can be given again. Recycling the old for the new and useful to you and me. It can be almost anything, boxes full of baby clothes being resold, newspapers being recycled, collecting leaves from you town for compost instead of a life in a landfill.
My lesson of ice cream with money from a stroller and other items we had set up at our Flea Market booth that one day when I was five will be with me through my whole life. Utterly upsetting, no, completely empowering, yes! Because thrift is transferable to anything, and if you resell in the name of thrift, than you recycle, if you recycle, than you reuse, and by reusing you reduce.
Now that calls for some Superman ice cream.

The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful.

--e. e. cummings

In another title, this post would be called "My Sister is a Palindrome, or might be"

But it's raining outside.


My Sister might be a palindrome. But she might not appreciate it.
I might wear my watch right side up, so that you may read it.
I might like freshly ground coffee with only honey or only sugar and half & half. Never milk.
I'm might be reading, now, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius.
I may or may not have Dyscalculia.
It might be raining outside. It might also be that my feet are FREEZING.
I might like my soup burning hot. Scalding even.
I might like you. But, I might not talk about it.
I might be in love with The Battle at Isus.
I might not be fast.
I might love the cold.
I might go puddle jumping.
I might throw Rice Krispies at you. The ones with the writable packaging.
I might sit and wonder why.