*

There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone. There is an off-focus light cast by the moon, and the streetlights are part of the spotlight apparatus on a bare stage set up for you to walk through. You get a feeling of being listened to, so you talk aloud, softly, to see how it sounds.

-Sylvia Plath

(outside my window)

Come on!

Today my professor for a GE literature class went ahead and blurted this in the middle of class (about a classic novel I've been wanting to read)
"I'm not giving anything away - so I can tell you how she murders her daughter. She pulls her head back and takes a saw to her throat."

Then he proceeds to read us the last page of The Things They Carried - once again reassuring us he wasn't giving anything away.
This is such a literary faux-pas I don't even know what to say. I wanted to plug my ears, but then I would have been that girl. I don't consider myself a book snob by any means, but he was being fucking ridiculous. Come on!

On a happier note I re-fell in Love with the comic "A Softer World"
Go here:
http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=373
It'll make you happy,
happy with dark humor and sexual undertones..

She sells sea shells

I took a walk on the beach today after work.
As I was matching my footsteps into the prints of a large dog I suddenly remembered the last time I'd been at that particular beach.

It had been a moody walk. One of those I'll take because I really need nobody in the world to know where I am at that exact moment. (Although I once played hooky in HS for this very reason and then Casey & Lindsay ditched school as well- to find me. It didn't take them very long to find me in Barnes & Noble. Fuck me...even my rebellion/depression is predictable)

So anyway, it had been one of those walks.
I was most likely moping, scowling at happy couples and giggling children, asking myself why I'd chosen a beach for social-escape in the first place.
Then as I was searching for seashells I saw one of the whitest seashells ever. It was so white. I stopped walking and stared down at it. It was one of those little shells that spirals up to a tip. The shell was sitting upright, basically pointed right at me, and I felt instantly happier. This perfect seashell had been waiting for me.

I leaned over to pluck the miracle shell from the moist sand and then squisgh my fingers mooshed right through it. I had pinched my fingertips through a seagull turd.

Despite my disgust and disappointment I still managed to marvel at the metaphor. When something in life looks perfect and feels special - it's usually a pile of shit.

So today I steered clear of any and all seashells. Someday I'll start looking again..

As if

I didn't already love Jason Segel enough.
He's such a funny, intelligent, nerd.
Listen. You won't regret it.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=102232289&ps=cprs

this interview makes me want to dry hump the "images" portion of his google results......wait what?

God?

Last February I got oral surgery for gum recession.
The surgeons front desk had a small glass bowl full of chapstick, glossy labels advertising the business. I took one before walking into surgery.
After the darkest hour of my physical life I snagged one more tube of chapstick on my way out - as a statement.
Both of them had their labels soon ripped off. I wanted no chance of giving them extra business..

The recovery was long. They'd told me it would be a quick recovery!
The recovery was very painful. They'd told me I might have some mild discomfort.

I went in a week later to have the stitches taken out and I snagged another tube of chapstick as my passive way of saying "up yours baldy!"

At the final 3-month checkup I acquired not one, but three more tubes of their fancy advertising chapstick. (That that Dr. QuickrecoveryMilddiscomfort) Labels were torn off and thrown away.

I recently ran out of my last revenge-gloss. I'd grown fond of the light vanilla scent and I felt a little panicked at the thought of finding a new chapstick. This morning I had a teeth cleaning. My dentists office happens to be right next door to the oral surgeons.

I'd constructed roughly three different conversations/scenarios that would be my excuse for going into the surgeons office.
1.) Hello I was wondering if you guys could give me a flyer on teeth whitening? This coffee has got me on a short leash harhar...
2.) I'm here for my 10am appointment. What I don't have one? Oh I forgot I'm next door today whoops silly me harhar...
3.) I'm fucking obsessed with your free chapstick give me more!

I walked in the door and saw the small glass bowl brimming with chapsticks. A man sat waiting for an appointment.
I stood at the counter, the bowl within inches of my folded hands. The receptionist was in the corner talking to the scanner. I was about to say something, but then she chuckled at herself and kept pressing buttons. Like a flash I snagged a tube of chapstick and slid it in my sweatshirt sleeve. HarHar!
I know for a fact the man waiting behind me saw every move I made. But I didn't care. I felt exhilarated.

Without waiting for the receptionist to turn around I left the office and went to get my teeth cleaned.

It's times like those I gaze up at the heavens and whisper a suspicious, thank you?

I Wish

Amidst the stress of finals and the fever of my sickness this week I came to a realization -
if a genie granted me three wishes I am fairly confident one of those wishes would be to dance like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mVEGfH4s5g

It was a blurry morning as I faded in and out of sweaty, sick, sleep, that I sat up straight in bed and decided this. I'm pretty sure a lot of my problems would be solved if I could dance like that.

Don't ask me what my other two wishes would be. Those are top secret.

Springtime is curling its warm body around our little coastal town lately. I feel like we barely got to spend time with winter. I already miss fog and rain. How am I supposed to be my usual depressive & cynical self when the sun is out?
My windows are open and there's a light breeze. Small purple petals from the dangling wisteria are falling like snow.
I guess spring isn't all that bad...

Courtesy Of

Miss Sara Madelyn
circa 2002
As mentioned in #4 of my 10 Things post.

Sara has only improved since these very early adventures with photoshop. Her imagination is a wild animal incapable of being tamed.

I miss you.

Oh and Happy St Patricks Day to you all! Nothing quite like driving around a college town at 10am and seeing dozens of drunken students dressed in green. Oh finals week -