February 2012
60 posts
She writes like she’s starving and reads like she’s feasting.
– R.D. Larson (via thatkindofwoman)
Mrgh.
Lots of traveling up and out to Grand Ol’ Seattle the past few days. Lots of updates to be had on 1. Running, 2. Life, 3. Fantastic Breakfasts, 4. Why I Think I’m Funny, and the like.
To give you a sneak peek: I befriended two Armenian guys at a Greek restaurant and visited a crepe store (crepe store?) that was definitely a drug coverup. I also ran a 5k and learned a lot about pole...
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Real Conversations, February 22 Edition.
Me: Today at lunch one of the dining halls served spinach salad with goat cheese and apples and walnuts. I was so excited and took a whole plate. Midway through eating, I stumble across a piece of bacon. Bacon? How peculiar. I thought it was a mistake, a pleasant one at that, and kept eating.
Me: BUT THEN I FOUND ANOTHER PIECE OF BACON.
Me: Some genius decided to put bacon in the perfect salad, thus making it even more perfect.
Me: I think they also put crack in it.
Me: Diary of an ex-vegetarian.
Friend: You just sent me 6 texts about bacon in salad... I've never been more proud.
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You can only be as good as the love you’re able to muster.
– Justin Vernon - Bon Iver: The Craftsman
I have the images of forests and men and seas burnt into my eyelids to look at when I’m going to bed. Everyone makes fun of me for reading books with pretty pictures, for enjoying standing in front of a portrait for thirty minutes or so, for stealing touches of the smooth Roman sculptures they have in the Cantor Center to try and understand how they smoothed the marble to look softer that my...
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Not to brag
…but I bought an apple and orange at the farmer’s market this morning for seventy five cents total, drank some Earl Grey, and am currently sitting at a sunny outdoor cafe with a gallery in the back, thinking about art and voyages and water and stuff. I chatted with my mother and best friend for a little while and listened to some German seniors talk about lasers and Munich at the table...
Seventh floor, far corner to the right. Or maybe it’s the left. I’m completely surrounded by books and it’s kind of eerie being hidden in the stacks. There’s a window that doesn’t open and my chair squeaks and I’m sure plenty of students have sat at this wobbly desk into all hours of the night, feverishly writing papers and glancing up occasionally to see books...
We’re all lonely for something we don’t know we’re lonely for. How else to...
– David Foster Wallace (via quote-book)
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Me: I think all I'm going to do this morning is watch toddlers saying cute things on YouTube.
Roommate: ...can you please put in your headphones?
Me: ...
Smiling like a fool. There are so many good things going on right now. I now own a glow-in-the-dark Nalgene bottle. I ate Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I sat and talked with PSP for an hour or so over some tea and learned a lot. There are so many wonderful opportunities and chances and races that I can’t help my pulse quickening.
There was a point where I would joke around about being in love with...
waldosia
dictionaryofobscuresorrows:
n. [Brit. wallesia] a condition characterized by scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there, which is your brain’s way of checking to see whether they’re still in your life, subconsciously patting its emotional pockets before it leaves for the day.
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So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
– F. Scott Fitzgerald (via nantucketyouth)
Chronicles of Getting Over a Boy, Part VI.
I’m wearing gingham and pearls, returning from two “dates” (read: meeting with my Pre Major Advisor and a brainstorming session with my godsend of a writing professor) and I’m feeling good.
Today is Valentine’s Day.
I returned to my room to find flowers in front of my door. I made a stupid grunt, expecting them to be for one of my roommates.
Nope. Fresh and bright...
It’s a rainy day in California. Rain and wind and wet jeans from bike riding and extremely frizzy hair because the hood to my rain jacket doesn’t stay on. Everything is comfy cozy warm well lit at my desk and my favorite songs are playing and I can hear the rain drops for once and I’m excited to go outside to run so I can take a hot shower afterwards. I’ve been doing a lot...
How Your Cat Is Making You Crazy →
Never owning felines. Ever.
9:42
…for the 3k. A PR no less, but I’m starting to get hungry again. Getting into that mindset of dedicating everything to the sport; living the life style and staying focused. Some of the girls say that it’s dangerous and that you need balance, that there are more important things than racing, but I’m hungry and want this more than anything.
Here we go.
There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no...
– Jane Austen (Northanger Abbey)
Points of Interest.
…and/or real things that happened today:
I snot-rocketed at least nine times.
I ran, full speed, into a bike. It was the last ten minutes of the run, and me and a teammate were cruising just under seven minute miles, and then I ran into a moving bike. I really gave the rider a shock. Nothing happened to me besides some bruising on the knees. I didn’t even fall. I took 1.8 seconds to...
Dead tired and it’s Tuesday.
The girl I typically hash with on Tuesday nights wasn’t able to make it to dinner, so I cleaned dishes with my favorite sophomore boy on the team. He’s also from Long Island, is really quiet, and took the trek upstate with me. At another Christmas party, he got really drunk and we talked about boys and the different sorts of relationships....
Red.
My bedroom in Stony Brook overlooks a scraggly backyard and a bumpy driveway. We have a white picket fence and some wrought iron furniture on a brick patio, and my dad rebuilt the deck this past spring. The bushes are patchy because of the snow last winter and grass doesn’t grow in some places. There’s an old basketball hoop in the driveway, and a boat trailer that holds a boat for...
Things to Worry About →
michellelynking:
noraleah:
Birthday/hometown twin for the win.
In 1933, F. Scott Fitzgerald ended a letter to his 11-year-old daughter, Scottie, with the following:
Things to worry about: Worry about courage Worry about cleanliness Worry about efficiency Worry about horsemanship Things not to worry about: Don’t worry about popular opinion Don’t worry about dolls Don’t worry about the past...
Every Saturday night should involve a bonfire and water pistols.