Endurance

When you're tea-drunk it's very easy to almost post a personal blog to your class blog.  Strongly advise against blogging while tea-drunk.

And I've been thinking about the inevitability of things...

That it's sure to happen someday - soon or a little later - that I'll forget you and you'll forget me and that'll be functional.  Because it's already happening in small degrees - different structures - opposite paths - flying two different kites and even sharing the same gust of wind isn't enough.

So quickly people pass in and out of each other's lives, and most often times they lie to themselves about being around forever - about never leaving - swearing that distance can't possibly be a factor.  It's wrong - they're wrong.  Distance will always wedge - time zones, hours, days... even non-physical distances - you're five feet away but in your mind you're miles away from any point we could meet.  And as we get older, the effort becomes too much - always busy trying to build a life, trying to play house, HURRY HURRY I HAVE TO GROW UP AND FILL THE GAP.

That dreaded gap.  Emptiness.  Chasm.  It hurts, doesn't it?  That's why there are two parts to every event - one foot in the door just in case - and if it doesn't work out, you never fully committed anyway.  It makes it easier, it lifts the guilt - at least until you hit the pillow at night and fail to fall asleep for hours, claiming a sort of natural insomnia brought on by forces supposedly external to your control.  We fool ourselves in this way.  It was the tea, the red bull, the ex, the job - never our own mind - never... our own fault.

I've been thinking so much lately about theoretical spaces, that I haven't been paying attention to the actual ones - the space in between two people.  The divide.  The inevitable divide.

You can easily be forced into a corner.  You can easily sink down, pull your knees to your chest and regard the rest of the room, determining that for now there's no possible way to go sprinting out without being noticed.  But they can't stay here forever - they'll leave and then it'll be easy to bid the same four walls goodbye.  

It's only a matter of time before you turn in.  Question is - will I take his hand and allow him to help me up from the corner, or will I wait until you're all gone and slowly, inevitably, make my exit.

Academic writing wears me out at times

I've been doing a lot of research, lately - some of it for my book and some for class.  Sometimes I feel an odd sense of detachment after a long bout with searching the internet over and over for snippets of news, recycled opinions and theorists that think-in-line.   I walk away from the computers and to the nearest window and I let my mind wander away from diligence - long enough to remember something beautiful - a touch, a hug, a joke.

It's spring?  Today it was warm (Michigan warmth: 65 degrees) and I rode home with the windows down and reveled in the fact that my hair was a mess and I didn't give a shit.  Which reminds me - I've been allowing myself to feel a lot of things, lately: confusion, love, loss, uncertainty - fuck.  Sometimes all of them in one day and yes, I'm a little overwhelming on those days.  Smiles one moment - your face - grumbles - smiles - oh no I'm really a grownup now - snarles - SHIT JUST HUG ME PLEASE BEFORE I EXPLODE.

Yes.  I keep it together considering I seemed to have been carrying a sign around for months which read: "YOUR PERSONAL EMOTIONAL WASTE DUMP"  I guess maybe I'm just a comforting individual?  I mean, how can so much chaos breed clarity?  They see it differently, I suppose.  And man, let me tell you - some days are downright difficult.  Not in the "oh, depression" sense but in the "I get lost in smells and within inches from you do they notice that I'm staring at the parts of your neck I used to like kissing?"  Can I even say that?  Yes, I can say whatever I want because I have a free pass to be "over it."  And I can be on any given day but I'm allowed to take a trip down Memory Ln. every now and again - I've got a timeshare on that block, ya know.

Bicycle weather.  My livelihood.  I have made investment plans for the summer - new bike, cycling gear/shoes - longer distances (mentally and physically) - independence.  I remember when I used to hang out with TONS of people ALL the time.  I was never alone, and for that reason I never listened to myself (mentally or physically.)  Now I invest in ME - and it's not that I like to be "alone" but I like to focus on my existence - can you make sense of that?  I'm that person who prefers three or four CLOSE, AMAZING, DEEP friendships rather than having 98344 faces on a networking site and being able to identify %4 of them in public, maybe twice a year.  Not knocking it - used to be that girl - just don't dig it anymore.  I'm good with where I am (Well, I would like to be in a small apartment with nothing but a rice cooker, a tea kettle and a really nice commuter bike.)   Holy shit, am I a hippy?  Nah.  Just... want to live simple, want to be simple.  Want to live small, want to be small(ish?)  Want to be calm, but still righteously indignant enough to write write write.  

I like re-invention.  I am inspired by change - evolution.  I talk about it a lot and it probably annoys those close to me.  The whole "Here I come, there I went."  Let me show you what I can become - stick around - please hold - wait for the tone.

I'm a good student.  I've resigned myself to the fact that this is who I am - I will have little time outside of teaching and writing and just 'becoming.'  A professor - a contributor - a traveler - a lover.  To find a lover who'll identify or coexist perfectly - love and respect each other's doings, creations, shortcomings.  To come home to laughter and smiles always - he must be funny and not just any funny, but an absolute riot - and he has to know the right things to say and do to make me smile - and when I'm all "OH MY FUCKING GOD" he can say "I love you, imperfectly" and we can fall asleep to Elton John and talk about tomorrow or even today even though the past is tired. <-- The past, exhausting.  But he'll say "Babe, your books are on the coffee table" when I'm in a rush and I'll smile in a rush but I'll take two minutes to scribble a note and leave it under his wiper blade.  "I love how you always know what I need"  We'll do the cute things, and that's how it'll stay fresh, true and simple.

Marriage, and kids - yes, awesome.  When settled with a career and they'll grow up surrounded by books and culture and smiles and health - and they'll know the world.  Yes.  Awesome.

But it has to be absolutely perfect.  To hold the same hand forever.  See how academic writing wears me out?

I'll delete this later

But for now, this is a reminder for me to write about what I just watched on Leno.

Jay Leno talking about how he doesn't understand Twitter and essentially how he doesn't understand why someone would type "LOL" when they could simply laugh out loud.

There are many things wrong with this attitude - and when I'm not so busy and preoccupied, I will list and expound upon them.

And you can fill in the blank

I should seriously change the name of this blog to "Welcome to my identity crisis" or something far more witty that I can't think of at the moment.

I've come to the conclusion that I need a change of scenery. Perhaps I just needed the change of seasons - even I will admit that this winter seemed to drag on far, far too long. Now the daylight will stick around longer and perhaps it'll spare some light to shed on the course of my life. That was about as poetic as I'm willing to get.

Point is: I'm not inspired. My home life is comfortable and functional but it bores me. I've fallen into so much routine that I can't structure my thoughts. I've been riddled with change in the last year of my life, but I find myself wanting more. I think "Ok, I've done this so why not try this, now?" I can't get enough - and now I'm restless. I can move the room around, throw clothes away, rearrange my shelves, start a new workout - but I know nothing will suffice until I find myself between different walls.

I want a roommate or two in a small apartment downtown. I want to bike around campus - live a life of strict minimalism - consume smart and small - invest in books and technology and spend my time snagging the campus wifi on the lawn, researching and chewing gum, listening to jazz through my earbuds, squinting in the sun, watching people pass by - never far from intellectual life and academic circles. I want immersion in what I love.

I don't know why I never felt this disconnect as an undergrad - I can hypothesize that it was because being an undergraduate student was itself a very distanced feeling insofar as being "finished" was something that either felt impossible or was just altogether too frightening to ponder. Graduating meant that you actually had to make decisions about your life that went beyond spring-break destinations and whether or not you wanted to take that extra class that would push you to 15 credits next semester - and most of the time, you just thought for whatever reason you'd never make it anyway.

But now it's almost as if you were absent for the whole process, and you woke up with the next five years of your life staring you in the face - you can't remember how you got there, and you're afraid to move just in case it pounces you and pins you down - and you don't wanna go out in your pjs.

I should probably just quit thinking so much. I should probably just live. I should remain fluid, in the moment, avoiding those foolish consistencies that my imaginary mentor so poignantly reminds me. But, I should still listen to my body and my subconscious - I should pay attention to the methods, the melodies and the environments that pull energy from every pore.

Pay attention to the affectual relationships you have. Heed them.

Keep changing. Evolve.

In which I digress about my best friend

I used to really enjoy buying things. I can't quite remember why - but I'm pretty sure in retrospect, it had something to do with compensation. For many years, I lacked any sense of fulfillment in life. I had a direction - that was easy enough. Get up, go to work, go to school, do well at both - check, check, check. On the outside and from a distance, I looked like a happy, successful young woman on her way to a career and a pleasurable little spot in the capitalist dream. On the inside...

*crickets*

Yeah, therein lies the problem. Inside? That door was stuck shut for years and I'm pretty sure I just lacked any desire to wrestle with it. I was too busy - too preoccupied with my laundry list of things to hate, rally against, disarm, etc. I was overly-concerned with this image that people had helped me build over the years - that I was this angry person with an agenda to tear everything and everyone apart. For that reason, not many people dared come too close. It was lonely. I got used to it.

And then fate happened. Chance happened. Maybe none of that really happened - maybe I had just finally had enough. I needed change - I craved it. I began to feel empty, listless, lifeless and bored. I wasn't bored in the sense that I had nothing to do, but in the sense that I was tired of myself. The image was old and warn out.

I made several changes. I changed jobs, I changed habits, and I started to chip away ever-so-slightly at the bitter facade that was my face, my voice and complete embodiment for years. For... my entire life.

I somehow found myself in the company of people who liked to smile, and did so often. People who didn't care for drama and cared even less for those who thrive on it. I found an avenue for my honesty and a team of friends willing to support the way I operate, quirks and all. I was completely immersed in unbridled love and affection without hesitation. It was so odd at first - someone who wasn't afraid to hold my hand when I was afraid or simply to assure me that I wasn't alone even in a good moment. Almost out of nowhere, a person came into my life who, without words, said "It's alright to feel loved on all levels - and it's alright to show it."

This person's actions spoke with such force that my ears ring to this day, "I can tell you I love you, because I do - and there's no pressure in that - and there's no expectation in that - and you may take it this way or that way, but you can't change love - you can't change the fact that I want you here, that you're special to me and that no matter what you want to believe - you need me, too. We're friends - and we traversed the blurred lines and made sense of it all because when all is said and done - we're visionaries because we have each other - because we gave each other hope when we didn't even know that's what we needed. And we never lied, and we always felt and gave and continue to give. There we were, and here we are - and through it all, you make me better."

And this unspoken discourse made the soundtrack to the world change from an angry guitar riff to a pleasant piano tune. Because I have so much more in my heart, I find myself wanting for less. So many people (including myself in the past) have said that love is a complex emotion. I don't know if I agree with that much anymore. To me, love is simple - and there is beauty in simplicity. Yes, love can lead us to face tough decisions and cause us to make choices that might not be the best course of action to a logical individual - but we cause those problems when we mix logic with love instead of following love TO logic. You shouldn't have to break love down, dissect it, turn it into a science - because when it is true, it transcends every part of your life, every fiber of your being. Even when you're not sure what to do with love, when it's real you will always find beauty somewhere and it will regenerate. Love gives you a lens.

There are so many aspects of growing that scare the shit out of me. For so long I wanted to be on the true path to my career - and now that I'm ready to embark, I feel like turning around and making a break in the opposite direction. Sometimes I feel like going out on my own, and in the very next moment I am completely comfortable staying put. I am confused about where I'm going and not entirely convinced that I can even make it there - but when I'm around you, it doesn't take long for doubt to subside. And it's nothing that you've done directly or on purpose - it's just your love of life, your faith in goodness and your appreciation of beauty. Our laughter - our moments - our story - our point A's and point B's and everything in-between. Your life and my life and the point at which they fit. What we've learned, how we've grown, and all the ways we managed to take difference and enrich each others lives with it.

I've never had a more positive force in my life. I've never had a better friend - I can say that with the utmost certainty. If you have a best friend, tell them you love them. I urge all of you - if there is someone in your life who has made an impact, let them know. Trust me that one day that love will save your life.

While listening to my Ben Folds Pandora station this evening, I came upon this song:



This is the best version I could find - but if you pay for this song I promise you won't be disappointed. It is my new favorite song and I can't stop listening to it. Look up the lyrics. It's simple. It's beautiful. It's everything I thought I'd never be, but everything I'm so very happy that I've become.

I don't know me at all?

I still have no idea who this new person is. I still raise an eyebrow in the mirror. I still pause momentarily after she smiles at strangers or takes extra time to listen. I still marvel at her patience and willingness to endure short-term pain for long-term happiness.

Who wouldn't have a bit of an identity crisis when so many things change at once?

I do not dare call it "hope," but there is a sense that if I just keep fighting the good fight, everything will come together - and it will feel right.

I'll elaborate later

What do you do when you feel like people can't keep up with you? How do you curb your expectations?

In happier news, it's nice to log in and see this:

Current Program
Doctor of Philosophy
Level:	Graduate
Program:	PhD in Liberal Arts & Sciences
Catalog Term:	Fall 2009
College:	Liberal Arts & Sciences
Campus:	Main Campus
Major and Department:	English, English

Prison Break (Not-the-awful-tv show version)

Clarity. Transparency. Absolution.

In my life, all of those words (independent or combined) carry a hell of a lot more weight than simply getting what you want. The unfortunate part about this life is that there are times when your personal growth and all the absolutions that are required in order to progress are often contingent upon another individual. Sometimes even when we find ourselves so immersed and enthralled with another human, we never stop to question if we trust them enough to give us what we need at any given moment. Are they strong enough to tell us what we need to know - not what we want to hear? I'm sure you know a lot of people you can trust to answer a distressed call, but how many will never show up on the side of the road with a can of fix-a-flat when you really need a whole new tire?

And because I can't be completely deep and serious all the time - enjoy some Chi City:

Growing pains

I created this blog with the intention of devoting its entries to my academic research and political interests. Despite what the majority of this blog would indicate, I am actually very socially aware and even more willing to write about various socio-political issues. For whatever reason, though, every time I sit down to blog I can't seem to wrangle my thoughts - I've even tried notes and outlines but to no avail.

I'm almost certain that the reason for all of this has to do with the intense personal growth I have experienced in the last year of my life. I realized in the last couple weeks that I have done everything but truly acknowledge just how much my world has shifted beneath me - and the only way I am going to fully embrace change is to pull everything into the foreground.

Sometimes I lament the person that I used to be. Part of me wants to believe that we never shed skin completely and that we always have the potential to revisit any portion of a past persona. Whether or not we're able to make the conscious decision to recycle ourselves is something that I still ponder. And yet, there are times when I think that the reasons I want to go back are rooted in escapism. There is a fear that looms - that with every footstep ahead the ground becomes softer, the atmosphere is dense with fog and it'll be many hours before the sun rises again. I feel as if someone swept me off of my feet on a lovely date - a beautiful day of bliss - and then drove me to the middle of nowhere, pushed me out of the car and left me to find my way home. Suffice to say, it's a lonely feeling.

But the sort of, "meta-feeling" involved in all of this is that with the new (arguably improved) me, comes an annoying re-vamped realism - one that borrows from all half-full containers. Almost every aspect of my self-destructive nature has dissipated. I have learned to dust myself off like a champion, and stand up to fears that would've crippled me as little as a year ago. That may sound like sunshine and rainbows, but I assure you there's a catch. There's always a catch.

I still want to be weak. I still long for the escapism I used to be so good at - it was something I had perfected. It was the best defense mechanism and a damn fine survival tactic. If it hurts - run - far, far away until you make new memories that put old ones to shame. Re-define, restructure, recover. I've been running for as long as I can remember and because of it, I have never had time to actually grow. My person has never evolved because I kept forcing myself back to square one. Outward chaos was peaceful inside - and now for the sake of learning to accept and endure all of the hurdles, I suffer an internal hurricane while heading into the biggest endeavor of my life.

I hear the words "Be patient" echoing in my brain whenever I think about taking a step back. Patience is one of the hardest behaviors to harness for me - I'm a person who has always lived for the moment and inherently yearns for instant gratification. I'm not selfish, but I am assertive and I've had a rather consistent history of getting what I want, when I want it. Humility is very new to me - and I really don't like admitting that. What I do like is how human I feel whenever I realize that I'm genuinely humbled. I tell myself that with every day, there is an opportunity for improvement. If we want to be better, we have the capacity to do so.

I've come a long way in the last year, and I'm tired. I'm exhausted, but I think I've finally had the first glimpse of what I want out of life and I have no problem taking small, careful steps to realize it.

Round, round, get around

I've been thinking a lot lately about my car. It's a reliable vehicle thus far - it's almost over the hill (100,000 miles) and it's endured some of the roughest weather and terrain this state has to offer. Though I treat my car very well (tune-up's, obsessively-regular oil changes, transmission flushes, tire rotations, etc) I still have every reason to be thankful that the little American-made four-banger turns over in sub-zero temperatures. It never fails to get from point A to B and for that I give it a little tap on the trunk and occasionally clean all the empty water bottles and gum wrappers from its floorboards.

The problem is - I'm not sure I want to drive a car anymore. Some of you might be thinking "So don't, what's the big deal?" Unfortunately there is a big deal and it's larger than my singular progressive forward-thinking self can sometimes fathom. The issue is a social stigma that may very well be quite sweeping, but in my experience is very concentrated in the midwest - particularly Michigan and even more so, this "Motor City" I love so much.

Growing up in Southwest Detroit had very few advantages. Living blocks away from a huge steel mill in one of the most crime-infested areas in the entire nation was not an ideal situation - but it was the best that my mother and stepfather could provide. The environment always gave me one strong feeling - the need to escape, to explore, to expand - and the easiest way to achieve this was to get a license and car as quick as humanly possible.

On top of the escapism built the pressures of adolescence and being "cool." Everyone in high school wanted to have a car. Never once was there talk of walking (that's what people without CARS do, DUH) or riding a bike (That's what kids do, DUH) or taking the bus (That's what poor people and bums do, DUH!) Alternative transportation didn't exist in my world and I have a feeling my experience wasn't too far from that of many others.

This nasty stigma around pooling, biking, and mass transit is a large reason why it's so difficult to actually participate in any of those activities in the state of Michigan. 3 months of brutal cold and heavy snow make it nearly impossible to bike - but it doesn't rule out hoping on a bus. Even in the warmer months, the lack of bike lanes also makes the two-wheeled commute challenging and dangerous at times. To add insult, every time I chain my bike outside of an establishment, people stare at me with a facial expression that reads "Wow, she must have more than a couple DUIs."

I'm not sure what I'll do when my current vehicle finally kicks the proverbial bucket. Perhaps I'll be in another state by then or maybe I'll live closer to all point B's of great necessity. Either way - I'm over 4 wheels.

I need a fuckin' revolution.

Under Pressure

Tonight I was invited to sit in on an 8000 level graduate course. In order to sit, I had to agree (after a quick review of the syllabus) to commit to all of the required work.

The work includes one 8-10 page proposal, consistent participation on a class blog as well as a 20 page final paper.

I'm incredibly flattered that a former professor of mine would want me to join such a high-level course, to sit next to people who have put far more thought into their dissertations. I will be a bud amidst partially-bloomed flowers.

Thing is, all of this will be going on while a committee meets to decide whether or not I should be funded in my freshmen year of graduate school.

I'm nervous, but determined. I know I can own this. I plan on walking into that classroom Monday night and getting right down to business.

When life lifts you up, but he lets you down

So, your dream came true. You're well on your way to becoming a college professor and an author. You're involved in projects that promote literacy, stress the benefits of integrating comics into secondary education classrooms, and advocate clean transportation around your home state.

You've come from a poor, underprivileged school district to earn a Bachelor's degree from a major research University. You've gone from being an awkward, unpopular teenager to having the confidence to stick your foot in any door - to shake any hand - to make your presence known in any way. You're not afraid to smile, even though it shows that your mother never had the money to fix a few crooked teeth. You're not afraid to work harder at staying healthy because you sacrificed insurance coverage for full-time education.

You've watched drugs ruin the lives of immediate family members, and you've endured the depression of losing a loved one. You live with two chronic illnesses and yet you rarely let it get you down - even on bad days, you never call off and never skip out. You could've settled many times, but you listen to your heart and let your passion guide you. You believe in hard work, service, education, and innovation. You've always been honest and loyal. You're determined to prove that tattoos and distended earlobes simply decorate an individual - they do not define them.

You've done a lot - but you're going to do so much more. Very little gets you down, because you were raised to hold your head high no matter the task, no matter the challenge. You were raised to understand that you are nothing if not part of something greater. You tell yourself that if it hurts, think of how it could be worse - slam your fingers in the door when someone steps on your toes.

And here you are almost every evening thinking about how it could be worse. Amidst all of your accomplishments, you can only focus on one failure. And yet, you remain selfless through it all - concerned more about his feelings than yours. Letting your unanswered questions fester for the sake of respecting a complexity that you don't quite understand. You've been swept into an undertow but you'd rather drown than ask for help.

What's wrong with you? That's the question, indeed. The question you ask yourself when you look in the mirror. The question they ask when you keep giving excuses for sticking around - for enduring the embarrassment and pain in hopes that some day it'll fade. But it won't dissipate. Every single time he gives you that sympathetic smile, you only feel the suffix. If everyone knew, you'd be a joke. It's a good thing for the most part, this is buried in your own ribcage.

Just shy of good enough - the ultimate insult.

The long and the short of it

I've never really been big on "resolutions," but I do love making lists. My desk at home is littered with post-it notes (a mini-obsession of mine.) Most of them have my monthly bill payments and writing ideas scribbled down - but a lot of them have lists of short-term and long-term goals. I create lists mostly because I seem to have inherited a shitty memory. I haven't done a drug in my life and yet I have to work extra hard to memorize things. It's wild - but, the harder the work the more rewarding the payoff, right? Right.

I have a couple lists that are important to me. I want to post them partly because I enjoy sharing several aspects of my life and also because this list is less likely to be lost in the chaotic battleground that is my desk.

To achieve by June 2009:

- Lose another 15 lbs (Which will take me to 150 lbs - a total of 55 lbs lost in 15 months)
- Eliminate three of the six credit card debts I currently pay down each month.
- Keep my savings account above $2,000
- Completely wean myself off of weekly comics. Limit myself to one new graphic novel a month
- Get the last two sessions in on my left and right sleeves.
- Become accustomed to drinking green tea
- Achieve the minimalism I'm content with. It's alright to wear the same two pairs of jeans, the same old hoodie and the same three lame tank tops all the time - having a ton of clothes is overrated.
- Never buy another t-shirt - I never wear them.


A more short-term list:

- Start strength training with my cardio, again.
- Buy a rice cooker
- Early to bed, early to rise. No more mid-morning naps
- Now that the PhD application strain is over - start reading nightly again
- Finish two chapters of my book before the end of February
- Get the Mac repaired. I miss it.
- Take advantage of the free cookbooks Rodale sent and start making dinner for Grandma for a change
- Get a hair trim

Real-life Revolutionaries

As it turns out, becoming a graduate student is a business that requires a lot of footwork. Call this office, pick this up, drop it off here - send this in, pay this fee, sign this, email that - so on, and so forth. All of the while your goals, dreams, and the next five or so years of your life hang in the balance.

Not too stressful, right? Hah.

Today I had the task of getting my undergraduate records transferred to the director of Graduate studies in the English department. Sounds simple enough - call Graduate Admissions, tell them what you want - done.

Wrong.

Approx 1:30 PM - Call Graduate admissions and get placed on hold
1:36 PM - After 5 minutes of dead air, hang up and call again
1:37 PM - Get a different person at Graduate admissions who completely misunderstands my request and transfers me to the English department
1:39 PM - After explaining to the receptionist in the English department that she's talking to me due to the folly of the Grad admissions office, she transfers me to the records office
1:40 PM - Records office requires three different explanations of my very simple transcript request
1:43 PM - Records office informs me that there is ONE individual employed by the ENTIRE university who handles transcript requests - she rattles off his number, tells me to call him.
1:44 PM - Me: "Couldn't you just transfer the call?"
1:45 PM - Call transferred to "Mark" at Records
1:45 PM - Mark at Records answers the phone and immediately takes acception to my qualms with the Records office and the University's phone etiquette as a whole. He and I exchange laughs about how much we hate ignorant people.
1:48 PM - Mark informs me that instead of having me jump through flaming hoops, he would like to personally deliver my transcript to the English department. "Mark, you are a true revolutionary sir!" "Thank you so much! I haven't been called that in years!"

When I arrived on the 4th floor, I called Mark and moments later he walked through the door carrying my transcripts. The moment he stepped into the hallway, I thought "Yeah, this dude was definitely an activist early in his life." He looked like a 5'4 version of Icabod Crane! Short, hyper but pointed with his energy - his long white hair sloppily wrangled into a pony tail. We eagerly shook hands, grinning like kindred spirits.

Mark and I flamboyantly delivered my transcripts to the department's main office. A professor standing nearby watched the entire display, simply uttering "Impressive." I wanted to turn around and say "That's exactly who I am, and that's exactly what I do!"

It's remarkable to me sometimes - that we can go our whole lives never reading every book, never seeing every thing of beauty, and never meeting every person who could brighten even a portion of our day - but we can still be happy with what we have. Today, one person made me happy with my ability to connect and let my personality be my guide through tough situations.

Thank you, Mark from Records. One day, you'll have a pack of Marlboros in your mailbox courtesy of yours truly.

For now, I'm reading comics, working out, and hitting the hay. Hopefully tonight I'll actually get some sleep.

Oh, but here's some photos:

Twitter<3


Finally able to grab a pull for the first time in a few weeks


Now that it's all over - I think I'm going to treat myself to an eyebrow wax and a hair trim. I deserve it.