that was drownded

I'm in the library. I shouldn't be in the library. I have none of the books I need with me. I should go home, retrieve the books, and then return to the library prepared. But that would mean stepping outside. Which would mean freezing to death. Which would mean not making it to 24. Which would mean I died before I even finished growing. And I feel like I have at least another inch before I reach the height of potential. Ha. Height. Potential. Laugh.

Allie once told me she wanted to date Edward McCullen because vampires drive fast cars and he could come pick her up wherever she was. I thought that was weird. Now i think she's spot on.

Definitely not a Nashville Party

"When, in The Spectator No. 411, Joseph Addison situates the "pleasures of the imagination" between "sense" and "understanding," he puts a broadly literary category in the place of two similarly-structure assertions of "the human": Philip Sidney's location of "humanism" between the bestial and the divine, and Thomas Reid's identification of society (or of what we called "culture") between "the brutes and devils below, and the celestial orders above." What are the implications, practical and/or theoretical, of Addison's critical gesture? How does his project compare with Sidney's and Reid's with respect either to literature or the category of "the human"? Does it (or does it not) significantly resonate with or differ from Plato's or Aristotle's ideas concerning literature?"

So...is mfhd still an option?

it's an Orca. Orca Bitte.

This morning I stepped outside, took a deep breath, and began my run. Every great day begins with a run, and this day felt especially great. The sun caressed my chilled skin, warming my very existence. With each step I took I could sense the cosmos aligning in my favor, fate smiling on my freckled face. My pace quickened as I pondered the majesty that was the world around me, and the power of positivity boosted every stride. How wonderful it is to be alive, I thought, how lucky I am to live this day. Nothing will conquer my spirits. And then i tripped.

But her will alone could sink it.

I think it might be a bit telling that I find marriage prep uber boring.

Watch this.

The other day someone asked me about the soul. About what souls really are, and whether or not every living organism has a soul. And if every living organism has one, and we're made up of l43 gagillion different cells, does that mean we're full of that many separate souls? To me the soul is nearly synonymous with personality, so the question made me laugh, because I pictured one cell, bouncing all around my spleen or whatever, turning excitedly to another cell, saying, "let's go for a bikeride!", and then the second cell, dark and pouty, "no, I don't feel like it." One cell in the brain reading James Joyce, another watching Walker Texas Ranger.

I guess it would explain the mood swings.

Double-cuff love

"You're so tan"
"No, you're so tan"
"Shut up- I am not"
"Yes. Like way tan"

Lightning seven seconds thunder

I pull to a stop behind a long line of cars. In the distance I spot an ambulance and squad cars. Obviously there's been an accident. Obviously someone's hurt. Obviously there's cause for alarm and concern. I feel both, but only because I have 5 minutes to travel a 10 minute journey, and I'm looking at an appointment cancellation which means another week of dark roots and too-long bangs. Someone may be dead or attached to a machine for the rest of their existence, and I'm panicked because it's just so hard to reschedule.

Do you ever stumble upon a song, one you've ignored every other time it's popped up on shuffle, only to realize it's absolutely incredible and perfectly sums up everything you're feeling in melody and lyrics and you listen to it on repeat for the rest of the week and call someone just to recite the lyrics and tap your fingers to the beat in your head during every class?
Me neither.

Deep Blue Sea Darlin'

I glared. Partly in disbelief, but mostly because I wanted the swarm of strangerse striding through campus to know that I was in disbelief. At this girl. Singing, outloud. It's important that these strangers know I have no relation, let alone fondness for this leapord-print-sunglass-wearing-wack-job. I called her that in my mind so that whoever is reading my mind knows that is my opinion of her. But then I listened to what it was she so melodiously declared. The lyrics were as follows: "I'm singing outloud. I'm singing out loud." She repeated this, oh I don't know, like 84 times. And her feat BLEW MY MIND. She declared what she was doing, and what she was doing was declaring what she was doing. But then I remembered that I hated her. And then another goof walked by singing tenor and I thought "I go to crazy school", again to impress my mind reader who at this point probably thought "Man, weak zingers." BYUSA handed me a
flier and I told them no, I won't go their Fallfest, and when I overheard the conversation a few feet away erupt in "He's probably a really great kisser" I imagined a mouth turning green and falling out of a head. "Don't do it, I thought". I cant' eat a sandwich and declare that I'm eating a sandwich in the same action. I can declare that I'm eating a sandwich, then take a bite, but it is two different actions at two different moments, and my declaration and action are not one in the same. This kid just came between me and the guy next to me in the computer lab. Very much in my bubbble. I wanted to push him away, and tell him to wear a different hat. But I wonder how many people have seen me today and thought "Wow. She's wearing bright yellow pants." Because I am wearing bright yellow pants. I can't run and declare that I'm running and have it be the same thing. It's the same moment, but not the same action. The quill and the sword tent is just outside the library, housing the medieval-garbed. "Now really" I thought. But it was shaded and the had a lute which I've always wanted to try. I suppose I could say "I'm talking outloud", and what I was doing would be declaring what I was doing which is declaring what I'm doing. But I wouldn't be sung, so who would really care? Because what leapord-print-sunglass-wearing-wack-job was doing was philosophical and profound and beautiful and I hope that she didn't realize that it was so because that would ruin it don't you think?