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update de ma vie. [24 Oct 2007|10:47am]
When I get to that certain point of a certain situation that seems to get more ridiculous every minute, I can't help but scratch my head and mull it over for a few minutes and go 'well.  that was dumb' and then step left.
I'm there.
[pull out your parachute]

Randomness. [07 Mar 2006|09:50pm]
[ mood | full ]

My stomach hurts.
Niki and I just consumed copious amounts of ice cream, which is the most likely cause for my current state of abdominal discomfort.
I want to get into Art 190. Now.
I cannot concentrate.
I took my practice math final today, and by taking I mean wrote bits of poetry across the blank spots that were supposed to be filled with related rates problems.

I miss you like I miss trigonometry
in all its dependable order and intricate simplicity
I find comfort and peace
I need you like I need calculus
somehow you help me
define and explore the mysteries of myself, the universe.
I understand you like I understand derivatives
my equations express nothing as they sprawl across wasted time, pages.
I stop you like I stop mathematics
every so often
promising to return
when I am passionate again.

Write me a letter.
infuse lifeless pages with your thoughts
your scent lingering in the fibers,
caressing the classic blue lines and mundane margins.
Leave it under my pillow,
So I can fold a piece of you,
save it in the dark recesses of my drawer.
No doubt,
your words will outlast the fleeting definition of us.
Someday, I will rediscover you,
and sit silently savoring each syllable like a sumptuous dark

[1 second too late][pull out your parachute]

[06 Jan 2006|12:14am]
Tonight, the floor had a tea party. Which was great.
My mum brought me chicken soup. and a robe. and grapefruit juice. and airborne. so exciting when one is so sick.
I smoked with chris before tackling my math homework. We have this extremely smooth method down. No more getting caught in the dorms. Which reminds me. I left my febreze up there.
Big day tomorrow. Followed by a big night.
[pull out your parachute]

I am going to whine. sorry. I'll make it so you can't see it. okay? [05 Dec 2005|12:29am]
alright. the deal? I'm obcessed with this girl. wondering if it's even worth it. it's probably not and I'm going to crash. and. and.
I wish I was less transparent.
I wish I could just be quiet, and serene, and sure, and okay.
and I piss myself off.
and I'm cold all the time.
I just feeeeeelllll unworthy. not enough again, as usual.
she's waaaaaaay up there, and I'm waaaaaaaaaaaay down here.
hey. at least I can talk to her, right?
but it's never enough.
I'd slit my wrists if I thought that could solve anything.
but, I'm too mature for that.
[pull out your parachute]

wow. [03 Dec 2005|05:27pm]
she is incredible.
[pull out your parachute]

Hello. [30 Nov 2005|10:52pm]
[ mood | creative ]

Can I spill my guts?
It'll actually be more of a regurgitation. Pouring, spilling is a bit dainty for me.
I am sitting in my room, typing on my computer, drinking a miller high life light my roomate handed me about 5 minutes ago.
I am attempting to stop biting my nails, so I got acrylics, which I got frustrated with today and cut, which was entertaining.
Chani and I are becoming more and more serious. Last night was incredible. I've never had such great sex. Honest. But that's all it is...
It freaked me out, and I haven't called her today.
I should, but closeness like that can be hard for me to get used to.
Then there's elevator girl, as I've dubbed her. I am of the opinion that I could never get enough of her. I don't know her name yet. Actually, I don't know a thing about her. But man-oh-man.
I think I might just take a few shots, walk up to her and introduce myself.
But, that'll take another week or so to muster the courage to take the shots.
I can be such a wuss.
And around all this, I have work and class. An interview tomorrow. My brother. My mom. Parties. Friends.
I wish there were 72 hours in a day.
That would be helpful.
I bought a pack of cigarettes.
Shoot me.

[pull out your parachute]

[30 Nov 2005|10:51pm]
yes. I'm still alive.
[pull out your parachute]

Posession [31 Oct 2005|03:27pm]
Until today, I thought I was a minimalist. 'Materialistic' would be one of the last words I would use to describe myself. Food. Books. Clothes. Stuff. It's all relative and unimportant. Or was, until today.
At 11:30 am, I placed my favorite clothing items in washer 'A5.' My absolute favorites: ezekiel jacket, lux jeans, brown gap pants, black helly hansen fleece, cow socks and frog pajamas. That is how I describe them, because that is all they are to you. Color, brand names, and a few animal prints.
To me, they go far beyond the labels. The jacket I got at the beginning of summer and have worn everywhere. The jeans sarah got for me for my birthday. The black, half-zip, oh-so-light fleece used to be the basis of my uniform at Starbucks when life was uncomplicated. The pajamas and socks my mom brought to me last september at Spring Creek, even though I really didn't deserve them.
Every article of clothing in that washer had meaning to me. Sarah might as well have been in the washer with them for all the memories tied to her. My sister would kill for that black zip-up. And those stupid brown pants are the only ones my mom seems to approve.
For twelve agonizing minutes, I thought everything was gone.
And suddenly, I cared. I cared not necessarily about the things themselves, but that I was somehow loosing links to my history, the essence of who I am. Everytime I grab that ezekiel jacket, memories flood back of all the other times I've put it on, or someone has taken it off my body. What am I supposed to do if my connection is lost, misplaced, borrowed or stolen? Forget? I don't want to forget.
Back to washer A5. Someone accidentally restarted it.
My clothes were safe inside.
But I didn't discover that until the cycle stopped.
The clothes are now folded and dry, happazardly placed on my bed. My books are disorganized. I haven't a clue where my trash can is and, judging by the mess of candy wrappers on my desk, it's obvious that I need to find it soon.
But I'm beginning to wonder if I should call my mom, to tell her that I love her. Sorry for everything. Thanks for the pajamas and socks. I'll wear those brown pants more often.
[pull out your parachute]

[15 Jun 2005|07:49am]
[ mood | sleepy ]

Sarah's mom is so frickin awesome.
I just swallowed my gum.
A shower is definitely in my future.
Work today from 9-6.
Lunch with my father.
Discussion of my naughtiness as of late.
I am still the same.
Next entry will be less poetic.

[pull out your parachute]

[07 Jun 2005|07:25pm]
[ mood | calm ]

There's no point in updating all that's happened to me in the past year.
So I'll just start where I am.
I am at Sarah's at the moment.
And who is Sarah you might ask?
||devious laugh||
Wouldn't you just love to know...

I live with my parents again. The rest of my family is doing as well as can be expected, considering the circumstance. I mean, I am a bit stressful to have about again.
I miss all my friends from 'military school.' Life feels empty without them.
My fish is still alive.
I'm going to the UW next fall.
I work at Starbucks. Dream job.

Right now, I am alive. I love that feeling.

[2 seconds too late][pull out your parachute]

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