There's something that reminds me of high school and college and absolute independence/solitude about having my own bedroom. Perhaps because that is exactly what it is. Independence and solitude. The independence bit has perks, after all, my creativity needs a good, painful kick in the rear sometimes. Not to mention the sudden overwhelming need to propel myself into greatness, happiness, something, if only to leave the place with too much space and time and this awkward futon where I have no one to nudge me with his elbow, no tangled arms and legs and odd awakenings, no kisses either, just me and my thoughts.
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Taking out the pseudo-funny blurb on my love life. It's too unfunny and caricaturish--I know I have a tendency to caricature my life, but here I'd like something very true to form instead: imagine an exotic porn star plastered in this space instead. Fill in the blanks, this could be like a choose your own adventure blog blob.
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New beginnings: find job, take psych GRE, finish research writing/analysis, apply to grad school. Show world hot, amazing Marianna self. Talk like cave woman.
Oh and yeah, my folks have newlyweds staying over tonight. The girl's fresh from Ukraine, here to start a brand new life. I think I'll take her out dancing.
1 comment:
I like the way your thoughts leap and bounce off things. I like the flavour your words take. I sit here munching the croissant that is your blog, wishing that I drank coffee so I could sip it with my croissant.
I think the casual warmness of your blog could become contageous.
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