Another 'it's exam time' post.
All I have done today, is obsess about myself, freak out in different rooms, stare at the ceiling for very long, take photos of my sleeping dog on photo booth, watch parts of the notebook (which is a good weepy day film except they keep shifting focus from the beautiful people to some old people who are the beautiful people 20 years later and NO ONE WANTS TO WATCH THE OLD PEOPLE, OKAY!?)
Fuck, I'm becoming a horrible person.
Then I opened more tabs of universities I wanted to go to and imagined a life there, then I felt bad that all the post-colonialism that had moved me to grins in the middle of class because of the very intelligence of it was lost on me. Then I looked at old photographs and compared people's lives on facebook. I discovered an ambition and another and another on a second and third google chrome tab. I clutched my 10th anniversary addition of American Gods and talked to it. I imagined what it would be like to be the love between Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman. Not either OF them, but the air of the room in which they breathed together. I sent an email to my friend at Cambridge asking him if my chances of applying were officially over forever. I licked the Guardian opinion clean for articles on facebook and saw myself as a conscious victim of the opressor. I finished half a season of Game of Thrones and decided which Dungeons and Dragons character I wanted to be. (For now I am half elf, half human, Sanza Swifteye, taken prisoner at a young age, archer assassin and barkeep, in search of her parents, on the way I win the dancing sword from a weak young prince and fall in love with fallen Icarus after I rescue him from the sea.)
My brain feels dead and my hands itch to flip pages and feel words pop out of my head like in a Lichtenstein. On a note of melancholy that I feel no more because I have exhausted it by doing the afore mentioned and weeping on my bed as Chet Baker croons about looking for the silver lining, I have watched myself being unable to move, bathe, I have felt a battle raging inside my head, I have set expectations and failed them in a second, and by the end of it all I have been able to laugh at it and myself and look at the clock and it is 3 a.m and I have another episode left and I hope that I will wake up tomorrow and do something differently. I am constantly amazed by how quickly moods change but maybe that's just me.
you know how I keep saying my blog isn't pretty
All I have done today, is obsess about myself, freak out in different rooms, stare at the ceiling for very long, take photos of my sleeping dog on photo booth, watch parts of the notebook (which is a good weepy day film except they keep shifting focus from the beautiful people to some old people who are the beautiful people 20 years later and NO ONE WANTS TO WATCH THE OLD PEOPLE, OKAY!?)
Fuck, I'm becoming a horrible person.
Then I opened more tabs of universities I wanted to go to and imagined a life there, then I felt bad that all the post-colonialism that had moved me to grins in the middle of class because of the very intelligence of it was lost on me. Then I looked at old photographs and compared people's lives on facebook. I discovered an ambition and another and another on a second and third google chrome tab. I clutched my 10th anniversary addition of American Gods and talked to it. I imagined what it would be like to be the love between Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman. Not either OF them, but the air of the room in which they breathed together. I sent an email to my friend at Cambridge asking him if my chances of applying were officially over forever. I licked the Guardian opinion clean for articles on facebook and saw myself as a conscious victim of the opressor. I finished half a season of Game of Thrones and decided which Dungeons and Dragons character I wanted to be. (For now I am half elf, half human, Sanza Swifteye, taken prisoner at a young age, archer assassin and barkeep, in search of her parents, on the way I win the dancing sword from a weak young prince and fall in love with fallen Icarus after I rescue him from the sea.)
you know how I keep saying my blog isn't pretty
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