kiss me with that country mouth so plain.

and all the kids in the south end

sing the greatest love song ever written

and carry each others' hearts

close

and they know all the words

and when to sing

and when to weep and

the words mean everything

close to everything worthwhile:

something something something else

trying to make better what i do what i do

but you can't make this better

if the roadblock is you.

rinse.

repeat.

walked along the sidewalks with a ghost and wondered if anything was worth saying out loud. how do we reason with the ones who can't see past themselves? what about when you knew them before they were consumed by themselves, before the time they thought everything that couldn't be understood in the measurement of self was either an attack or something to be discarded?

"stop being a victim" was all i wanted to say, but patience and courtesy are my two biggest vices, and so i let it pass. he wouldn't have understood.

everything's so damn lovely save for the things people won't let be. even the brokenness of everything. i mean i know life's not rainbows and sunshine, but if the beauty of all the downs and outs are overlooked just to race toward the onlys and the ups...... there's a great amount of life left incomplete.

oh.

we can't fix each other so we gotta just move and dance and save ourselves...

more later.

why am i on this journey anyway?

underwater turtle taxi

the fact of the matter is that i haven't been inspired to write.

it's not that i'm sad or depressed or blah or uninspired or whatever, i just go through waves where i don't feel like writing. i've been doing a lot of moving. walking. being. turning. moving myself away from all the things that have become normal or the things that i fear will become normal.

oh and i have a shit ton of homework to finish before winter quarter 2011 finishes me.

why do i work so damn hard to not fall into a pattern of anything when the truth is that i function best when i have a pattern to follow? i love patterns. i love math, which is no more than a series of patterns. i love making coffee, and that's nothing more than a series of action-patterns (with a keen sense of knowledge, i might add).

i hate monotony.

there we go.

i like everything too much to get stuck in monotony. it's a pretty big fear... and somehow it's all very comforting, and i keep turning this idea over and over in my head and try and make sense of it all... like if i read it enough times or delete it and re-type it it'll somehow make more sense to me or it will read as something more plausible than what it actually says.

because i mean exactly what i'm saying:

i'm terrified of getting stuck in a routine but i find routines so comforting.

i hate them, but i need something solid to depend on because my life is batshit crazy by nature.

no. ok hold on i take that back. my life's pretty average, i just happen to run into lots of crazy shit that i'm positive other people don't run into regularly.

that's why the better part of me craves a routine: i'm so used to things being so not normal.

everyone's batshit crazy.

i'm tired, a little pissy, and i have a mountain of homework before spring break.

i'm half counting down the minutes till happy hour at my favorite dive.

half not.

on a lighter note, it seems like the only routine i've managed to keep up lately is wearing this same navy sweatshirt for the last three weeks or so.

-love-

writers block

writers' block

again

again

again

today: i'm already over you. tomorrow? i'm over you, too. people come and go, but the days don't go anywhere, they just hang out and pass by and i'm still tired of them, save for those few hours when the world seems to fall into place (why not fall sooner than later? i guess i won't know that one).

i've spent the last few weeks listening to myself hum the same songs over and over and over again, like they're going to reveal some sort of excellent secret when i'm through with them (but not over them).

bon iver.

borrowed clothes.

same car.

different everything.

i don't know what i'm doing.

more later iguess.