I SURVIVED HOMEWORK HELL 10/19/14!!!!!!
… The rest of this week is gonna be kind of tough but it’ll be super fun too so I think I can put up with finishing my English research paper and my philosophy paper and my physics project and all the other obnoxious daily homeworks because then I’ll get to support my friends at the chemistry department magic show and the sorority Oktoberfest and the Southeast Asian Students Association dance recital and the comedy show and then we’ll get to shop for Halloween costumes and play lots of board games and DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS which I made my super amazing character for today and IT’S GONNA BE A GOOD WEEK!
next week, though, with a physics test and a linguistics presentation and starting to actually work on my jazz final essay and all that obnoxious stuff… that’s gonna suck
i’m rapidly approaching the point where it’s time to take a break and go to qdoba
like damn this is one of those nights where i could really use john dropping in to say hey and chat for a little bit so i can take a break from this stupid frustrating work and reinvigorate myself!!!!
but i don’t feel like that’s gonna happen and i don’t wanna be sitting around here pining for it so maybe i’ll just go out, which is helpful anyway because i didn’t eat dinner and i’ve been working basically nonstop for almost four hours now and that’ll probably help me focus again!!!
… so i guess it’s time to peace out and see how that works for me!
okay i finished that other essay and it wasn’t so bad!!!!
now i have to write one about on the road that’s half the length but… i’m dreading it because it just occurred to me that i fucking hate on the road
this essay shouldn’t be so bad but i’m really not feeling it right now so i think i’m gonna go on to do some other readings for a bit
a week ago today i held his hand while he cried and wouldn’t you say that’s real, when he texts “i love you” at 3 in the morning? sitting on his bed, running your hands through his hair, and he can’t wait to meet your dad, and you were dancing, and he told you, he told you that he……..
well, it doesn’t matter now, i guess, there’s a way to frame everything to make it look the way you want
He had grey eyes and a grey soul, and he called it perspective. He called everything what he wanted it to be, because he knew that that was 99% of the battle. He reviled the idea of optimism, though— it wasn’t shameless, shameful idealism, he’d say of his approach, rather it was “beneficial realism”.
He had a way with words, he did. That way involved twisting them to suit his purposes which of course, he knew, was the reason words had even been created in the first place, and still existed at all. He was unapologetic, and not even always when he didn’t have something to apologize for. It just seemed foreign to him, to be sorry, when you could be so many other things instead.
He had big plans. He never said he wanted to do big things, though. It wasn’t a matter of wanting anything. He knew he was going to.
He knew a lot of things, actually, regardless of whether or not they were even true. For example, he knew that truth was subjective and that meant he could really truly be wrong. Most other people didn’t know this and never seemed to figure it out, but hey, that wasn’t his fault.
Well I can’t stop thinking so I can’t stop writing and my thoughts are winking and my mind is fighting and I like you or I love you and I’m glad I came and there’s a poem in my stomach every time you say my name and I always might remember that first night you held my hand, oh it was short and it was clammy, it was pointless, it was grand, I had a hand around your shoulder, you had one around my waist and I was looking at the floor while your eyes looked me in the face and well we stuttered and we muttered and we joked and we advanced and the we tried and sighed but never cried since after that we danced, or at least we sort of kind of did, at least it almost counts, but soon you had to leave me so I stood and watched you bounce, and I thought about the walks we’ve had and all the sides you’ve shown and how there’s nothing quite so special as being together alone, and I thought about the talks we’ve had under the light of moon and the stories and the glories and the way I’d always swoon, I’d shoot glances as you sat there with your eyes upon the book, there was music in your heart and head and I just got to look, we’ve shared jokes and we’ve shared laughter, dinner tables, even hands, and I don’t know where this is flying but I hope it never lands