what have you done?

thaaaanks sara...

i couldn't help it...

http://kevan.org/johari?name=asemiautomaticsmile

Try a little tenderness...

I've been listening to Michael Buble on repeat for approximately two hours now. It makes me want to old-person dance with a boy. And I want him to know the words and sing them in my ear. And I want people to see. Rather than being the one who sees the cute couples doing their cute things, I want to be the cute couple.

In that vein, I want to go on a real date. Not this fake college "maybe we'll stop by the dining hall and then head back to my room to 'watch' a movie." A real date to some place just a little different. The zoo, perhaps. Something involving walking outside. I miss walking and hand holding in the process. I wonder if I'm still capable of that kind of multitasking.

I want to be surprised. I want someone else to make the effort relationship-wise. I want to make someone nervous. I want someone to make me nervous. I want to hear "You and I" and not feel like I'm feeling right now - like I could put my head down on the keyboard and cry if it weren't for a fear of short circut-ing something. I want to never have to be in a pseudo-relationship again. I want someone to get excited to see me and to miss me right after the door closes. I want what every other hopeless romantic wants.

I want to be wanted - above all, before all, after all, all-in-all.

New World Symphony

My hair smells like camping. This reminds me of home and early spring weekends camping in the pine barrens. Hating it and growing to love it. Loving it and growing to miss it.

I walked home tonight alone. I wasn't afraid. I heard Piebald playing and I stopped and stared up at the Union. I felt left out for no reason. Walking by the football stadium my shadow looked very thin. My reflection in the mirror did not equate. I don't know why. I came home and on a Friday night listened to the classical music that everyone knows but no one knows the name of and decided to write an atypical and crappy post for some reason. It was after writing something more touching for the La Salle blog. I feel like a hypocrite.

Songs without words can make me cry. Every time I hear the Coming Home movement from New World Symphony I feel like my heart is too big for my chest. It has been this way since I first heard it in sixth grade. It was played in concentration camps. I often find myself shamefully desensitized to this point in history from studying it too much before I was old enough to understand. I don't feel that way when I hear this song. They used it on an insurance radio commercial once and I got mad because I felt they were exploiting it.

People make me feel like I'm doing something wrong sometimes. I make me feel like I'm doing something wrong sometimes. But I don't want to listen. This could prove disasterous in the long run. Or the short run. Nothing good can stay as I have a habit of being enthusiastic inappropriately or not recognizing when I have it all. I'm doing that now.

I wrote half a post at the end of the summer. It is highly depressing and will upset people should I finish it. I find myself compelled to finish it. For me. Formeformeformeferme. Ferme la bouche. That's French for 'shut up'. My high school french teacher was crazy and she said that a lot. I think I'll listen now.

You you you oughta know...

My La Salle blog has been picked up for another season...sweet. So you should probably add it to your list of places to stalk me. It's requiredthat I update fairly regularly, so there will be things to read there often. They will probably be superficial and positive.

Mean this one could get very dark very fast. Or obscure. Basically I'll be saying on here what I can't say on there. Must make the University look amazing, you know.

So it's right here - enjoy