Bucket List: Graduation Edition

An unoriginal idea, I'm aware, but hey. THIS IS MY LIST. SO THERE.

I'm not gonna post my list here, mainly because some of my goals are embarrassing and may lead to some trouble. *shifty eyes* But regardless. I've got 29 things on it as of now. I'm so excited.

Just wanted y'all to know I have one.

I love how

-Janis Joplin's laugh reminds me of Ms Kennedy's.
-there are rules for everything, ever.
-I'm a California girl.
-Formspring fails. Hard.
-I thought Andrue was the most clever motherfucker in the history of the couplings of clever and motherfucker.
-I'm so hungry all the time, and I gain weight, and I'm a whale, but I'm still cool with it. Something tells me I should care more than I do.
-I get to skip playing Star Wars Risk to stay home and sleep, and have embarrassingly symbolic dreams.
-when everyone else gets senioritis I'm just getting warmed up.

I miss the days where I felt like this

It's disconcerting, now, to think of liking someone. That swooping of your stomach, the butterflies that reside low in your gut, the stupid smiles that creep unbidden and hang themselves on your face, the sheen of sweat that graces your palms; it all seems so Hollywood.

I've forgotten what it's like to like someone.

When he asked me what I thought he should do, I thought it so easy to tell him to let go. I had to forcibly remind myself that it's not the same for other people; this decision would actually matter in the morning, and the morning after that, and onwards onto who knows how long. When he told me of his plan, I found it so dreary. Not because it was unoriginal, or not romantic. It just seemed so put-on, even though I know he meant it all.

I wonder if he'll wake early this morning. I wonder if he'll rise from bed in a couple hours and stumble to the bathroom; I wonder if he'll get dressed and look himself in the eye in his mirror and rise up on the balls of his feet and tell himself that today is the day that he wins back his woman. He would say that, too. His woman.

I wonder if he'll actually do it. If I'll see some evidence of his quest. If I'll see them holding hands by Monday. I hope I do.

I'd hate to be that girl,

that's always posting things she finds everywhere else, and never really thinks of anything on her own, but this was just too good to pass up.

My teabag just proclaimed something to me. It said, "Without realizing who you are, happiness cannot come to you."

It makes so much sense though. Honestly. I know a major theme in every person's life, most notably in their late teens to mid-twenties, is the search for self. A thousand cliches abound: "I don't know who I am," "I've got to find myself," "How can you know me if I don't even know myself?"

They're never happy with not knowing. Ignorance is bliss but once you're aware, you're off like a shot, upturning every leaf and stone to find yourself. We never really think of self and happiness going hand in hand; at least, I never did; but now it just seems silly to think of these journeys as separate entities.

I'm not so much looking for happiness as looking for self right now. But it's nice to know that when I find myself happiness will be there shortly after. It's like we're meeting up there. It's comforting.

In Econ

I saw a statue with a saying, and I just had to stop and stare.

"A writer must write what he has to say, not speak it," said, or perhaps wrote, Ernest Hemingway.

Truer words have never been written. I always thought there was something dreadfully wrong with me. I always thought I was dealing with karmic retribution for some cosmic sin in a previous life. Always thought my shortcomings and faults were so irredeemable.

But now I know. It's not all of that. I'm just a writer.

Who'd Have Known?

I always feel like I have to watch what I say now. How cryptic.

Even though today was terrible, it was also amazing. Who'd have known? Commentary went wonderfully, even though I nearly died from teh sickness. One acts went superbly, even though I almost died from anxiety. My brother's basketball game went SPLENDIDLY, even though I almost died from suspense. They were down by one point with five seconds left on the clock- I screamed myself hoarse when we won. Swish, fuck you, good night.

I'd skip school tomorrow, but c'mon; I've absolutely got to finish Pride and Prejudice. The sexual tension is unbearable!

"Who'd have known, who'd have known? When you flash upon my phone, I no longer feel alone."

The Ever Attractive Mr Darcy

We've decided that 2005 movieverse Pride and Prejudice Mr Darcy was, in fact, Jane Austen's Regulus Black. He has all the haughty mannerisms of Severus Snape, but all the obvious attraction of Sirius Black. Who better to personify such characteristics than his very own Death Eater brother? The characters are not unalike, in many ways. Soon upon introduction they are both painted as villains, but later they are revealed in all their misunderstood goodness.

I've been listening to Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, the Rolling Stones, the Animals, Simon and Garfunkel (sparingly) and the Cure lately. A motley crew, perhaps, but I revel in them immensely. It's gotten to the point where when I hear or read the phrase "The End" I no longer think of The Beatles; rather I hear instrumentals of the Doors' "The End." Elisa may be dismayed, but hey. I cannot help it.

I give a fuck about Oxford commas.

Night before commentary: I feel somewhat prepared, despite not having any real practice in. But the couple times I actually tried I got to eleven minutes before stopping, and that was only due to Ms Bickford's untimely interruption. Oh, bless her heart. It was so surreal seeing her today. Felt like a time out of time.

I've been so overworked with the one acts. I'm looking forward to next week, just because all of this will finally be over.

I have a surprise for my parents, if all works out. But I won't say more; my mother tends to creep. Mom. Stop creeping. You... creep.

Grey's Anatomy has stolen my heart. I blame Elisa. Then again, I thank her. But wait... Denny died. Goddammit. It's a blessing and a curse, loving this show.


I miss you, too.

Sirry.

Of course I mind that you hate me.


I also mind that you find me childish, weak, and schizophrenic.


It's easier just to say you're right.