At least my soul isn't a cesspool
where emotions go to DIE.
PLEASE CONTACT ME VIA FACEBOOK. There are very few Daras at Emerson. I assume you'll be able to find me, if you haven't been found already. Maybe you don't want to be found, though, and that's okay.
You see, I'm living in this dream in which I do something noteworthy ... but I've heard that's only for the notable. If Zach Braff met me, he'd probably put a gun to his temple. (If only we were blessed with such luck.) I'm something of a culture junkie. I'm also a publishing major, and I'm unsure why, exactly. I'm not a good student, because that requires my attendance. I live for my friends.
She likes: A general sense of decency. Hamsters. Diners. Disorganization. People who tip. Black tea. Tattoos. MAC. Stringed instruments. Philosophy. Vitamin Water. Poetry. Pathology. Anatomy. Theology. Roller Coaster Tycoon. Your social sciences, in all 5 flavors. Cigarettes and alcohol. German obscenities. Snow. Trip-hoppy music.
She hates: Trends, somewhat. Fingerless gloves. Neoclassicism. The eager. Bacardi 151. Ann Coulter, but that's like saying one hates Nazis. Nazis. Frisee: the awkward lettuce. The smell of patchouli. Identity theft. Homophobia. Nickelback. Pedophiles. Anglophiles. General cruelty. When you have to give a presentation in class and you realize that your nip-nips have inexplicably gone rock-hard ...
Dusting is a good example of the futility of trying to put things right.
You all die at 15
Diderot, to the adolescent Sophie
Turn, Counter-Turn
and Stand
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
"Every time that I think of the crucifixion of Christ,
I commit the sin of envy."
No snowflake in an avalanche
ever feels responsible