we open our hands.

Lime water punched me in the face today.
It tastes so good that I wish it was all I could drink. I am so, so very bourgeois sometimes.
I have embarked on creating an extravagant gift. I love creating gifts.

Sam, if you read this. I think about you often. I miss you and your family.

I've felt like blogging less lately. I really haven't updated any of the sites that I routinely contribute to.

I want spring to come. I need a job. It's not as dark as it used to be. But I want cigarettes and polaroids in summer, without the cost.

I want nothing but to put out my hand. with nothing to offer. and for you to take it.

I pray Him come.

Morning.



Every so often the trick I do where my alarm clock is on the bottom floor of my loft and I am sleeping on the top... yeah, that trick occasionally works. I am sleepy, but decisively out of bed a good hour before I need to be at class. This is probably a miracle of sorts.

I'm sliding away in my philosophy of art class, which I missed last night. I just sent my prof an email to negotiate an essay option for me to get a handle on all the quizzes I've missed. Gah, the stress. I wish to God I could drop this class. I love z/s classes with a fiery passion, but three classes with her is too much to really want more class besides. Her classes should be worth at least three and half credits on their own without me having to take another class on top of it. Plus there's this thing where I really don't care much for other classes right now. I am a little enthralled with z/s at the moment. I've heard that by fourth year this will fade enough for common sense to return, but right now...

Okay. I have wasted a good half hour on this thing. So I have to brush my teeth, throw on a toque and head out the door. To check an essay and find that z/s has marked me harshly on it, so that I can spend this weekend rewriting it.

I need more OSAP. More life. Less whiny cat. More grape juice.