pixie sticks and magical wishes

Failure is sometimes (or at least it can be) a self-fulfilling prophecy.
I’m going to try to be as busy as I can this year and do as many amazing, incredible, fulfilling things as possible.
Now that you’ve had enough platitudes from me: LET’S DO IT.

That was one of the most hilarious (and a little awkwardly painful) conversations I’ve had in awhile. Thanks squishy.

It’s bad news bears when you slice your hand open. It makes you remember that your opposable thumbs are really one of the only things separating humans from you know, not evolving. And makes me wish I were ambidextrous.

I can act just as drunk while stone-cold sober and/or sleep-deprived. This is, of course, reassuring.

Shooting. That is all.

Deliciously hot soft-shell tacos please.

I just want to have a giant dance party. Or a gathering where we all stomp our feet in unison (a la “You and I” of course).

There are too many thoughts all mashed in my head, which I need to get down on paper. There’s all this collision and circular thinking in my brain, slowly driving me crazy and only spilling out involuntarily (and when I least expect it). Which clearly backfired on me. And this makes me a little afraid. So I need to sort through everything.

Also, school is SO SOON. Also, it is rather difficult trying to function only using your left hand.

-my wonderful roomie, as we walk through Costco with clinking bottles in a cart that could fit elephants.

Maybe it’s like a scab, it gradually fades away, becomes smaller; little bits get picked off until there isn’t anything left (now if only the massive scab on my left calf would go away). And I honestly didn’t think it would get this far, I thought I would be stuck in this terrible stage for quite some time. But honestly, it’s been long enough. So I see this as a good sign.