Today I had my very first graduate course. Here I am, Lauren Rosales the graduate student:



Of course, being the first day of class, not much actually occurred. And since I only had the one class today, from 10:55 until 12:10, the day itself has not been much different than other days. But it is, symbolically, significant nonetheless.

The course I went to today was Modernist Arts in Britain. Here is a brief snippet from the course syllabus:

"We will pay particular attention to the arts of modernism in early twentieth-century Britain, focusing on three interrelated and overlapping areas: 1) The near obsession with houses, rooms, their interiors, and the narrative representation of interiority in modernist fiction; 2) Modernist magazines and the manifestos through which various arts groups (the Vorticists, Omega, Bloomsbury) and individuals (Wyndham Lewis, Roger Fry, Virginia Woolf) promoted their versions of the “new”; 3) Modernism and public/popular culture, including the 1924 Empire Exhibition at Wembley, exhibition posters, the London Underground, advertisements, and documentary films."

I am excited to consider Virginia Woolf through her use of public spaces in London, and to see how her own writings on the city might be able to inform such an angled reading of the novels. I bought a book this summer called The London Scene which has I think six essays that she wrote on the city; obviously, my own love for London is very compatible with the angle that this class is taking. Oh, sweet London. I miss thee.

After class, I joined a couple of my classmates for sushi in the mall up the hill from the main library. We discussed the difference in size of our previous schools, and to explain how small Hendrix was I mentioned the tradition of the senior superlatives. Both my companions denounced it as "awful" and rather catty, to which I of course agreed. Tradition or not--the more I think of it, the more I see Hendrix's student body as a mean-spirited bunch. I know I myself am rather harsh and judgmental, as well as prone to bitterness, but that doesn't change anything. Perhaps I fit in more than I thought.

In any case, I have officially begun graduate school as of today!

It's totally fine if you aren't going to answer my letter. I realize it is an outdated way to communicate and that it actually takes time and a conscious effort, and that we weren't super-close friends to begin with.

But by God, do not get on Facebook to send me a message asking me a personal favor and then try to tempt me by saying that you are going to respond to the letter when you actually aren't. And please don't make a show of asking for my new address if you aren't going to use it.

Thanks.

Since I last posted, a few things have happened:

-on Friday, the English graduate orientation, where I became acquainted with the other 13 incoming graduate students during a tour of the building and at a bar/restaurant afterwards (incidentally, the bar/restaurant, The Mill, had delicious cheeseburgers as well!)
-on Thursday, I managed to switch into The Ethics of Close-Reading, and dropped Modern Confession; to sell the books I had bought for the class I went to The Haunted Bookshop and ended up spending all of the money I had made in trade
-also on Thursday, I volunteered to be the 3rd senator from the English department on the Graduate Student Senate (GSS) and was thus appointed
-yesterday I went to El Cactus, a Mexican restaurant recommended to me by a professor at the English orientation, with Sydney (the Physics grad student) and enjoyed a decent enchilada, pretty good taco, and quite good rice and beans before heading downtown to Joe's, a bar where grad students hang out, for a PBR

During the tour of the EPB (English and Philosophy Building) on Friday, I felt occasionally disappointed that I'm not teaching this year. Everyone else in my tour group was greatly enjoying pointing out their offices to one another, and discussing using the copy room as they claimed their individual mailboxes. I felt left out, and had to remind myself that it is actually a good thing, a mark of my perceived intellectual worth and diligence, that I am on a fellowship and not teaching just yet. I imagine that once my classes begin and I can dismiss the bout of ennui I have been enduring, that I will be thankful to have the extra time on my hands. I do look forward to setting up a routine for myself, between meals and classes and going to the gym. The past few weeks have been unreal... and I am ready for reality to sit in. I have one class tomorrow, and then it will all begin.

For later this evening: Butternut Squash and Rosemary Pizza

Today was the orientation for all graduate students. Initially, it wasn't all that useful. There were a bunch of booths, each representing either some type of student organization or some type of student services. I put my name on the email list for Hillel, and talked to a priest about when and where I can go to confession. Luckily, at the recreational services booth, I learned that there is intramural Ultimate Frisbee, but only in the spring. Still, that is better than nothing!

I sat through talks on payroll and health insurance that were pretty useless in that all of the information I was getting was available on the website.

Afterward, however, I decided that I would stay for the reception. There would be food involved, and I didn't feel like biking home to make shrimp scampi at that moment. I sat down at a table with a girl who had, like me, been searching frantically for the restroom after the talks. As I sat down, she complimented my dress, introduced me to the Asian girl sitting next to her, and we were off. Her name is Sydney and she is in Physics (GAH! I know, like actual physics, like, she wants to shoot lasers and study their effect on atoms for the rest of her life), and the other girl is Vicky and she is studying to be a Rehabilitation Counselor, which sounds like Psychology to me. It was overwhelmingly refreshing to be chatting with people who were not cashiers at the grocery store--almost for the first time in weeks. After we stood in line for food, we found a whole group of people congregated at our table. They all turned out to be English people! My English orientation is on Friday, so I would certainly be meeting these folks soon. But it was nice to know that they exist and that they don't all already have an MA or an MFA or some other PhD (or, like someone who added me on Facebook, a JD... from Harvard).

After eating, a great number of our table decided to hit up the Farmer's Market. When I was unlocking my bicycle to walk with the group, one of the pedals somehow scratched the back of my heel where a blister was forming. I didn't feel it until a little later, but realized as we trekked on that my foot was bleeding profusely, onto and into my beloved Sperry Topsiders. To save the shoes, I went barefoot. All my companions voiced their concern and I was very embarrassed.

The Farmer's Market was very unlike the one I went to a few times in Little Rock. The one in Little Rock was always more expensive than what I could find at Kroger, and so I always felt kind of cheated when Alex and I bought overpriced fruit and it went bad quickly. This Farmer's Market, which is on the ground floor of a parking garage to shield it from sun and rain, hosted incredibly reasonably-priced produce, as well as various vendors of jellies, breads, pies, meats, and spice plants. One vendor sold small boxes of different fruits and different peppers. I sampled a few salsas (a habanero salsa with apple and peach in it was not bad) and even a BBQ sauce (very unimpressed; it was a Memphis-y vinegar-based sauce). I found a booth where a man was selling salsas, guacamole, and tamales. We had a nice chat about the importance of using tomatillo salsa on chicken enchiladas, and he wrote me out a coupon for his restaurant for free drinks! Then I bought 8 tamales to freeze upon my arrival home. Tamales are so grievously bad for you... but I couldn't resist. They will be something easy to throw in the oven when I get back from my evening class.

After the market, Sydney suggested we could try to fit my bicycle in her car so I wouldn't have to walk barefoot all the way home. This turned out to be quite the hilarious adventure indeed, as she ended up having a Toyota Corolla and we foolishly attempted to squeeze the bike into the back seat... where it inevitably got stuck and we spent the better part of 20 minutes just trying to get it out again. Eventually, after much giggling and after I managed to snap the buckle on my new favorite belt (a skinny brown belt with a gold buckle with a little sail boat on it--$8 at Blue Velvet), we got it out and situated it as best we could in the trunk. She dropped me off and I came inside to figure out how to get blood off of my Sperrys.

All in all, a pretty good day.

I should probably explain that Iowa City is nextdoor to Coralville, and that it is about a 15-minute drive to Coralville, if you get stuck at all the traffic lights. (I inevitably do). You don't get on any highway to get to Coralville, so it doesn't even feel like you are driving into the next town over. The best way to note that you have entered Coralville is by the big-name businesses you begin to see, such as Walgreen's, and various fast food establishments. Iowa City is comprised almost entirely of small, local businesses--it's so small that it can do so-- which is great from a buying-local standpoint, but kind of a pain in the ass when you just need that one damn thing from Target or Best Buy. Then you have to drive all the way out to the mall in Coralville, which is about 20-30 minutes of traffic lights. (It may be less than that, but my father continuously bemoaned the "half hour" spent in the car whenever we had to go back to Target when he was still here).

Today, that "one thing" for me was a sports bra. I have been going to the gym 6 days a week, and I don't want to have to do laundry every 5 days to accommodate this practice. But the sports bras had apparently been on sale, because the entire shelf was wiped clean. Bloody hell.

Anyway, on the way home I got a new wall charger for my cell phone, having lost the last one somewhere in Oregon. I have been charging my cell phone in the car for a month now.

My apartment, as you probably know, is one unit in a "fourplex." When I arrived home, the guy who lives in the basement unit, Jared, was smoking a cigarette outside so we chatted. He is probably in his late 20s and works two jobs while simultaneously doing his own independent film-making activities. He told me he was currently attempting to convert a short film into high-definition on his laptop, which is apparently an intensely tedious and time-consuming process. After giving me his phone number and email address he dropped a short screenplay by my door for me to read.

I spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on Covert Affairs, the new show on USA that comes on every Tuesday at 9pm. I am getting a little hooked, almost certainly because I have a huge crush on the blind analyst, Augie.

Now, the moment I am sure you have all been waiting for: my dinner.

Asparagus Taquitos


5 6” corn tortillas
10 thin stalks asparagus, cleaned, ends trimmed
1 15-oz. can black beans, drained and rinsed
1/2 cup shredded queso quesadilla
chili powder
olive oil

-Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
-Heat the beans in a small saucepan over medium heat until heated through. Mash with the back of a fork until nearly smooth. Set aside.
-Microwave the tortillas on high for 20-25 seconds or until pliable (in the absence of a microwave, wrap the tortillas tightly in foil and bake at 350 degrees F for 10-15 minutes).
-Gently spread each tortilla with a thin layer of beans. Top beans with two stalks of asparagus and a sprinkle of both cheese and some chili powder. Roll tightly and place, seam-side-down on a clean plate. Repeat until all ingredients are used up.
-Place taquitos in a small baking dish and brush olive oil on top. Bake in oven for 30 minutes, until browned and crispy.
-Serve with sour cream for dipping.

(Adapted, once again, from BrokeAss Gourment, here. The original involves frying and I opted for baking.)

Overall, QUITE good. I had a serving of Spanish rice with the meal, and would probably next time only make myself four taquitos rather than the five.I recommend this very highly--particularly with the sour cream as a condiment.

Now, to settle in for the new Covert Affairs and pick out a new book to read.

I set off on an adventure today. You see, I don't really like to cook meat. This makes me a kind of hypocrite-meat-eater-who-is-too-lame-to-be-a-real-vegetarian, I know. Alex was always the one to handle the ground beef, the spicy Italian sausage, the chicken breast, the pork chops, and the salmon fillets. But I found a recipe on Broke-Ass Gourmet that was irresistible. I had to try it... and it required uncooked shrimp.

At Hy-vee, the Kroger-ish grocery store here in Iowa City, the only raw shrimp still had little legs and, worse, even eyes! I was mortified. I went home in defeat.

But, today, I ventured to the New Pioneer Food Co-Op that is a couple of blocks downtown in search of an avocado. I took a gander at the fresh meat window and counter, and saw that this raw shrimp was not so raw that I would have to deal with eyes and legs and shells. I think it is called "deveined." I bought a half-pound.

So, this evening, for the first time in 22 years, I cooked shrimp.

Almond-Crusted Shrimp over Mixed Greens with Lime Dressing





1/4 lb medium raw shrimp, de-veined, tails-on
1/4 cup raw almonds
2 tbsp whole wheat flour
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 cup half-and-half
2 tbsp olive oil
juice of 1 lime, divided
1 clove garlic, smashed
mixed greens
cherry tomatoes, halved
1 avocado, diced
Newman's Own Light Lime Vinaigrette

-Combine 1/2 lime juice and garlic in a bowl. Add shrimp and toss with hands to coat well. Set aside.
-Crush almonds (I used my new Pampered Chef smasher thing). Combine almonds in a bowl with flour and salt. Set aside.
-Set up an assembly line of the seasoned shrimp, the half-and-half, and the almond-flour mixture. Dip each shrimp in the egg white and then dredge in the almond-flour mixture. Set on a clean plate.
-Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan over medium-high heat. Cook shrimp for 2-3 minutes on each side, or until the outside of the shrimp becomes brown and crisp. Drain on paper towels.
-Drizzle salad dressing over mixed greens, tomatoes and avocado. Toss well. Add shrimp.

(I had to adapt the original recipe because I had forgotten to purchase a few of the ingredients. The picture above is off the Broke-Ass Gourmet website as well.)

I would recommend the recipe, absolutely. I only wish I had used more shrimp!

Pear Scones

1 3/4 cups flour (I used whole wheat)
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 pinch salt
1/3 cup butter, chilled
12 cup half-and-half
1 cup chopped pear

-preheat oven to 375
-sift together flour, brown sugar, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt in a large bowl; cut in butter until mix has a crumbly texture
-whisk together egg and half-and-half in a separate bowl, then stir into the dry ingredients and mix until combined
-still in pears
-drop large spoonfuls of dough onto ungreased baking sheet and bake in preheated oven for 15 minutes or until golden brown
-rest briefly to cool before serving

Some of you may remember these--I made them quite a few times last year. I'm not sure how many of them the recipe is supposed to make; this time I had seven. I suspect I made them a little too large and there are meant to be 8.

I am going to set a chair on my little porch and drink some iced pear white tea and eat a scone with it as I finish up Virginia Woolf's The Years. I wish I had someone to share them with!

I finally did it. I finally went to a Mexican food restaurant in Iowa City.

It is, frankly, quite amazing that I managed to hold off this long. My father was here with me for three days, and this is the man who raised me on Tex-Mex at least once a week, and, truly, often twice (though usually we did not inform my mother of the fact). I have been hesitant because, well, it's Iowa City. When I first went to the grocery store, the cashier at Hy-Vee did not recognize a poblano pepper that I was buying, and when I told her what it was she asked me what it was for. In addition, when I visited the university in April, every single person (students and professors alike) that I spoke to told me not to bother with the Mexican food here. Chipotle, they insisted, was the best that Iowa City has offer a gal from Texas.

But this evening I had a conundrum. The pizza dough I was making did not rise, so my butternut squash and rosemary pizza was out of the question. The corn tortillas in the refrigerator had not thawed, so I could not pursue the asparagus taquitos, either. I haven't been to the co-op to purchase fresh shrimp yet, so I could not make the shrimp scampi or almond-crusted shrimp salad with lime dressing. (Note: when I do finally make these things later this week, you will be sure to read about the attempts, possibly complete with photos and recipes). And I was getting hungry.

In my failure to be a decent chef, I sought comfort. And if you know me, you know that my comfort food is Tex-Mex.

I decided upon Carlos O'Kelly's Mexican Cafe because it is very close to my house, and I have noticed on my trips to the grocery store that it often has a pretty good crowd. I ordered the "Enchiladas de Poblano" because I am on a poblano kick. The chips and salsa that came before the meal were extremely disappointing. The tortilla chips tasted like Tostitos straight out of the bag, and the salsa was very tomato-y. It needed cilantro, desperately.

My enchiladas were not bad. The chicken filling was nice and spiced, and moist. If the tortillas were not good, I did not notice. The sauce was different. I expected a sour cream sauce, with poblano peppers throughout. Instead, I got a very poblano-pepper-y sauce that might have had some sour cream for consistency, but you couldn't taste it. They came with a lime on top, but I couldn't get any juice out of it, which was a shame because I think it would have added a lot to the enchiladas.

The beans and rice were no good. I could not eat the rice, which was dry and spiced with all the wrong spices. The beans were sub-par, but only with the addition of the poor salsa.

For 10.00 plus tip, I would say I was disappointed. My meal was worth about 7.50 to me. But hey, at least I know that Mexican food in Iowa City might be edible. I feel up to the task of further exploring the other Mexican establishments, at any rate.

I think it's important

I think it's important to have somewhere other than tumblr for me to post to. First of all, tumblr does not seem to me to be the type of place where one has actual posts with text in them. Secondly, it's just time to have somewhere a little more private to post to.

It has been a long time since I used this blog. A lot has changed. I hope I can keep up with it this time. It might be my very first emotionally-mature blog! What a concept.

The URL is four (five?) years old, dating back to my obsessive love for Achilles. Forgive me my rich fantasy life.

no no no no no no

I know I'm pretty singular, quirky--irreplaceable. It's a good feeling, when I can remember it.

Silliness with Meghan and Kara as well as nighttime Darjeeling Limited viewing with Harmony have saved my night I think.

If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all, right? It might be slightly immature to ignore a message that contains unwanted questions and brings up undesirable insecurities, but at the same time it can't be worse than responding in all-out Lauren-Passion. Pondered answers range from viciously cynical to gut-wrenchingly punctuated and precise. The mature thing to do, I feel like, is to wait until my existential crisis is over. I am being very conscious about every decision I make and what it says about me right now. My decision to postpone a fb reply may seem childish, but it seems the lesser of all the possible evils. In any case, I feel like I deserve to be sought out in person or at the very least via telephone.

Harmony and I have bright ideas and aspirations for the near future, including early morning WAC ventures and a sex-zine and

"to say yes to everything, even if it's shocking and painful."

So, I don't really work as a person. I've got to change something and it has to be me, all me, completely internal, done myself out of pure will.

Gavin once told me over the break that my only real, serious flaw is my dependence on others. I can see more clearly than ever what he means. Obvious example being Alex.

Alex stays 3-5 nights a week, generally. The sex is pretty good, the snuggling seems sincere, and before the sex the dialogue is almost always fabulous. But I need to stop feeling like I need him (/just anyone?) to be in my bed at night (not even for sex, but just for holding). I don't need it. Alex is my best friend and sex+snuggling=bonus points. I am going to have to teach myself to enjoy spending time alone again. I used to love alone-time for reading and writing and listening to music purposes. Now I feel like I tend to consider this alone time more of a failure on my part to attract people to my side. Obviously this is not the case--I have several great friends here at Hendrix and of course back in Austin and all over the place. I see a lot of Meghan and Kara and Lily and Zach and Joseph. Harmony and I chill a lot at the House, and I know I could always call Katie and Anna. I've even hung out with Gavin a handful of times, and I never eat lunch in the caf alone. So really it just boils down to Alex, and that is just unhealthy.

Mostly I came to this realization very suddenly last night while listening to a new Decemberists song from Gavin and sitting with all my stuffed animals. I just sort-of burst into tears and started thinking terrible thoughts, and even sought out housemate Zach for sleeping pills. Of course, he wasn't home so I mostly just cried until I told myself to snap out of it and just fucking deal.

Alex most likely does not want to date me, has no romantic feelings for me. It doesn't matter what other people think about it, it doesn't matter what my English major nature wants me to reveal. He's my best friend and I have to TRUST the things he says to me, and I am going to TRUST his October words and his words from Saturday night when he said "we're friends and if you wanted to date someone we would have to stop sleeping together" which I feel like means "all I want from you is your friendship although the sex is a nice bonus." So I am going to have to stop focusing so much energy on it. Guh. Read more and do other things, think about something else.

Anyway, that's my only real epiphany for the moment.

Harmony moved in today, so my existence in this house is infinitely less awkward. We cleaned up the kitchen, gossiped with John Drew, bought dish soap and then cooked pasta with yellow bell pepper for dinner and John Drew made a good salad with feta cheese in it. It felt like a real house finally, and just in time, too. People start arriving tomorrow. Elliott is moving in in the morning. I'm picking Gavin up at the airport around 8 in the evening and Alex is arriving, too. I told him I'm at his disposal, he said he would call me around 2:30 and that he hopes I enjoy running errands and moving boxes.

I am scared.

The last time I saw Gavin was when he came to visit me in Austin, and we said goodbye in the Austin airport tearfully and with kisses and I pleaded with him not to forget me. It is going to be so odd to see him and not be automatically just... touching him. I mean we'll hug and everything but the context is so different, I feel so displaced already. It's easy for us to talk on facebook and gmail chats and to text each other as friends, although the conversations sound exactly the same, Muffin and Schmoo and all. I wonder if that's healthy.

And Alex? He'll call me to say he's here. I guess I'll invite him to stop by the Brick House so we're only in one car and so he can see it. But that will take us upstairs to be alone in my room. And when he steps out of his car, we'll hug but am I going to tug his hair, is he going to feel my curves, and importantly are we going to just kiss? When we said goodbye at the Goodge St station I hugged him and he kissed me, the kiss was all his doing, I didn't know if he would want to leave it on that note but he did, and then I cried when I turned back at the lift to see him still standing there, watching me.

So my question is, what the hell do I wear on the day I am going to see both my most recent ex who still calls me Muffin and the boy I slept with in 6 different countries who is my best friend and may or may not want to continue to sleep with me? I don't know if I can ever look good enough to step outside my house on a day like that. I don't own the right clothes or the right body! I'm not sure anyone does.

I'm sitting here in my huge room in the Brick House and laughing at myself. Because we're not sick of hearing about Alex yet, let me say something on the subject:

I actually just spent 5 minutes trying to think of how I could refer to him. OU lost the championship and I sent him a message that originally said "I'm sorry, hon," and then realized it might be a little to affectionate and familiar and so changed it to "I'm sorry, friend."

Friend? Really? Oh, dear. I am actually ridiculous.

In other news, I'm sitting in my huge room in the Brick House. Oh my god. Hendrix better not really try to take this away from me. I love this room. It's huge. And I have my own bathroom and a door that opens to a wooden staircase outside so I don't ever actually have to go into the rest of the house (I'm not saying I don't want to, it's just cool that I could). There's a recliner a previous resident left and I'm sitting in it right now. Serious bonus points. I have a mini fridge and a microwave and a sink with cabinets and hooks above it that I dangled some mugs from. I have a desk I don't need because I always write papers lying on my tummy in a bed, but whatever it looks more professional. The only problem is that the house was already lived in when I got here... by 4 boys. It is a mess. It is trashy. It's huge and has potential to be beautiful and amazing. The kitchen is a real kitchen but a complete mess. And it smells. The fridge was not cleaned out before break and is full of bad things. Dishes were not washed before the break and are scattered across the countertops. Most of the cookware is going to be gone with Drew who is dropping out, so hopefully the mess will be cleaned but I don't know who is going to empty the fridge so we can start anew. The living room is trashed with loose magazines and papers and clothes and old beer cans. Stuff is just everywhere. It's kind of disappointing--everything needs to be vacuumed and mopped and Windexed and everything needs to be sprayed with Febreeze and the cat just kinda poops wherever it wants (Harmony's soon-to-be-room whenever she gets here, the one next to mine, has cat poop in it so I don't envy her and I would like to thank Blake from the bottom of my heart for keeping our door CLOSED to the cat unless he was supervising. Although Blake also did not take out the trash and I desperately want to vacuum my room and windex all the mirrors and clean the bathtub.

I will have pictures eventually once Gavin gives me the rest of my posters back so I decorate completely. Right now I've only put up one concert poster because a screw was already in the wall perfectly above the mini-fridge.

I don't know where everyone is--Drew's out and Zach was here earlier in a towel but I guess he put clothes on and left, and Harmony was supposed to come this evening but hasn't, so it's just me and the cat. The pooping cat. It's name is Hobbes but it isn't orange so I'm not feelin' it. Also I'm a dog person but we'll see how that goes.

I'm playing that silly game again. I'm getting up at 6:30 in the morning to make 9 hour drive and I still find the time to play this stupid game. Oh dear.

so this is the new year

Official Score

Frisbee: 1
Me: 0






















...Okay, I know I shouldn't be looking at it that way. I should be mature, self-confident, and not feel threatened. But he knows I'm driving up to Conway on Tuesday. He chooses Monday to go up and then changes his mind to going on SUNDAY in order to "play Ultimate" and he "is so excited."

It's difficult not to feel slighted.

And I can see where this is going. This means he has friends in Conway already. This means when he moves in before classes start, it's them he's going to call to help him move and to hang out with and to go shopping for furniture.

I honestly feel like I should just say good-bye to Alex now and get it over with. Because our last good-bye involved a kiss I'm not sure it really counted, and the long messages and skype conversations since were also kind of a hitch in it. But now, now that I had begun to convince myself that continuing a close friendship was possible... it's time. He said he was glad he talked to me at midnight on new year's as well, but I was tipsy so he probably just didn't want to upset me. Oh well.

I really need to get back to Hendrix so I can find some other things to think about.

1. What did you do in 2008 that you'd never done before?
really truly cook, trip on shrooms, take absinthe, have sex while others were in the room, cook naked, drink beer in the shower, a great number of things involving foreign travel and living in England

[2.] Did you keep all of last year's resolutions?
I doubt it as I probably resolved to lose weight, which I did but I gained it back.

[3.] Have you any resolutions for next year?
Absolutely.

[4.] What countries did you visit?
England, Ireland, The Netherlands, Belgium, France, and Spain.

[5.] What would you like to have in 2009 that you didn't have in 2008?
some self-suffiency, less dependence on others, more of a sense of self-worth

[6.] What date in 2008 will remain etched in your memory?
December 4, the day I left London. I'm not big with dates, so I think I might also say I don't think I will ever forget that beach in Barcelona.

[7.] What was your biggest achievement of the year?
I'm not sure. Probably not getting disasterously lost/mugged in any of 6 foreign countries.

[8.]What was your biggest failure?
anything involving the opposite sex from September to December

[9.] Did you suffer any illness or injury?
I had either the stomach flu or food poisoning back in I think February and that was kind of awful. I told Gavin to bring me "the big knife" so I guess that means I would rather have died than been experiencing it. I also had a kind of epic cold from Thanksgiving until a little while after I returned from London.

[10.]What was the best thing you bought?
That's difficult. The red dress with white polka dots from the vintage store in Paris is up there because of the memories associated with it, although one could also say all the plane and train tickets I bought to other European countries were the best. Maybe even the shrooms in Amsterdam.

[11.] Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?
Probably my own, to be honest.

[12.] Where did most of your money go?
Pints of Guiness, Foster's, and Hoegaarden.

[13.] What did you get really really really excited about?
Ethnic food! The weekend my roommate went to Barcelona and I got to cook and eat naked--and yes, not alone.

[14.]What songs will always remind you of 2008?
Werewolf by cocorosie, both God of Wine and Motorcycle Drive By by Third Eye Blind, I'm Yours by Jason Mraz, Inherited Scars by Sage Francis

[15.] Compared to this time last year are you :
[A] Fatter or thinner? about the same
[B] Happier or sadder? just as confused as ever
[C] Richer or poorer? so much poorer

[17.] What do you wish you'd done less of?
crying for no reason

[18.] How will you be spending Christmas?
It was nothing special.

[19.] Did you fall in love in 2008?
Yes, although that did not ultimately work out.

[20.] How many one night stands?
None.

[21] What was your favourite TV show?
I got really into Reba.

[22.] Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
No.

[23.] What was/were the best books you read?
To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf, She Came to Stay by Simone de Beauvoir

[24.] What was your greatest musical discovery?
My Brightest Diamond, Shearwater, and probably most notably Alex is instilling an appreciation of rap and hiphop in me.

[25.] What did you want and get?
A lot of sex. Seeing Okkervil River in London. Dresses in Paris.

[26.] What did you want and not get?
clarification, the joy of completing a short story, skinny

[27.] What was your favourite film this year?
I didn't see many new films this year, but I continued to watch The Darjeeling Limited constantly.

[28.] What did you do on your birthday and how old were you?
I turned 20, and drove with Gavin from Austin to Conway. Hollis had made me cupcakes which was the best surprise of the day.

[29.] What one thing would have made your year more satisfying?
if I had cried less when drunk, and handled things with Alex much better at the beginning

[30.] How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?
cinch belts and high-waist skirts, or skinny jeans with cowboy boots

[31.] What kept you sane?
quite possibly sex.

[32.] Which celebrity did you fancy the most?
I remember telling Alex in a bar in Barcelona when the music video for "Make it Mine" came on the telly, "Jason Mraz is the epitome of my type of man." James McAvoy gets points from Becoming Jane.

[33.] Which political issue stirred you the most?
the economy sucking has sucked

[34.] Who did you miss?
Gavin, intensely.

[35.] Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned this year?
Chill out.

[36.] Quote a song lyric that sums up your year...
"How do I get back there to
The place where I fell asleep inside you?
How do I get myself back to
The place where you said

I want something else
To get me through this
Semi-charmed kind of life
I want something else
I'm not listening when you say
Good-bye"
--from Semi-Charmed Life by Third Eye Blind

I want to write an anthology of short stories called "These Things Happened."

I absolutely refuse to be the first to speak. He knows I'm on facebook, I know he's on facebook. He knows when I'm on facebook that I'm on skype. And three or four times this has led him to log onto skype and say something so random or irrelevant it's awkward. I know I'm thinking about it too much. If he wanted to talk to me, he would. I want to ask him to call me at midnight on New Year's. What purpose would that serve? Whenever I've even vaguely referenced anything leading back to our sentimental/sexual moments he's dodged them. It could be that the references were so vague that he didn't get them, but I tend to imagine the worst. I want to say "since you aren't doing anything on New Year's Eve I thought you could call me at midnight; after all, if we were in London you would be my midnight kiss."

WHAT A BAD IDEA.

He never sent me any postcards from Greece. What the hell should I expect? I thought I could maybe count on his friendship, since he answers my messages. But this is absurd. The moment we get back to Hendrix all I will know is an overwhelming disappointment.

and right now, I honestly truly believe that I think I wish I had never gone to stupid London or at least never shared that stupid bottle of wine that stupid first potluck night with previously mentioned stupid person and I definitely wish I had never gotten lost on Oxford St that night after Walkabout on Lily's birthday with him and MORE THAN ANYTHING I wish I had never stayed in the room with him that Saturday and gone out with everyone else and not stayed and not had sex and not fallen asleep and not kept doing it for months on end and I wish I had never cried or vomited or confessed or given that handjob or ANY OF IT particularly fall break and Barcelona and I HATE THAT RED DRESS with the white polka dots and I hate dinosaur ties and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and the word "sous-cheffy" and the phrase "so it goes" and I hate myself a lot right now too.

I spend a great deal of time at work, which is a little frustrating because I never have time to just sit at a coffeehouse and read. Yet I am making a decent amount of money, and I do enjoy talking to the ladies I work with. So much for writing about my daily life, eh? Alex and I have been sending messages back and forth ever since we left London, and today I realized I had nothing interesting to say about my day without going into unnecessary detail about a not particularly interesting job. Does anyone actually want to hear about the how clueless the north Austin store was and how cute this old lady was who kept trying on ugly jackets? No, not really. I spent all day in the fitting room though, in my black skinnies, surrounded by mirrors. So if I learned anything today, it was that I need to be hitting up the WAC quite a bit upon returning to Hendrix in, what, two weeks?

I think about that return more often than I should.

Each December I have ever experienced in college has been one where my position in life and with certain people was completely unclear to me. Now that Gavin and I are most certainly only going to be friends, I have no real base to begin from. I have no idea who I will spend my time with, who will want to see me on a regular basis and not just "every now and then" (the words I got from Gavin when I asked if we would still do our homework together and read each other interesting bits from our textbooks). Despite what I tell him, I'm still terrified that Alex is going to conveniently forget my existence when he gets back with his frisbee comrades. I sneakily get him to say that we will do things in January so that at least if he does abandon me, I can be self-righteous and smug and say that he lied, that he was breaking promises. It's either very immature or very clever, and I can't decide which. I don't know why I distrust him so. I trust everyone else from London to keep in touch, and that's silly because he's the one who writes to me every day! He responds to my messages without fail and I haven't gotten Zach to reply to my texts half the time... and yet I absolutely believe in Zach's friendship.

In reading She Came to Stay (by Simone de Beauvoir), I began to absolutely question myself. I question how I see myself, how others must see myself, what exactly "myself" even is. Sometime I wonder if I am doing things in layers. If I am consciously acting out a conscious version of what I pretend is my subconscious, if that even makes sense. Am I fooling myself into fooling myself? I don't know. My head hurts just thinking about it.

So it's a good thing I'm reading Invisible Monsters now, because it's well-written and not as deep, certainly not philosophical. I'm entertained mostly by the number of things I find that are obviously being referenced in Panic! at the Disco's song Time to Dance.

I need some serious New Year's resolutions, but the only ones I can really think of are

1. lose weight
2. save money
3. write more
4. stop being effected by every damn thing ever

And on that note, I am going to write or read now.

I am considering a revival, don't worry. More when I am not exhausted.

What exactly have I been up to? Besides, that is, drinking incessantly, and somehow catching an inconvenient cold from one of my companions.

Last weekend I went to Dublin. I am not sure how to sum up the experience, to be honest. We went with no plans but where to sleep (because I had spent days finding and booking the hostel, and no one else wanted to do any of the work I imagine). In retrospect that was a bad idea. The other two ladies on the trip went on day trips to see the Irish countryside, whereas the two blokes and I wandered around the Temple Bar district and Trinity College on our first day there. Dublin, it turns out, is one of the most expensive cities on the planet, and not just as a result of the euro. On Friday, Alex and Joseph and I went to Burger King before a rugby game and our meals were 8 euro. Almost 16 dollars. And while we were ashamed of stooping to Burger King, it was really all we could afford. At least pubs and restaurants had lunch specials during the day, but in the evening an average dinner was 14 euro. So we ate at Burger King.

The three of us went to a rugby game that was enjoyable. You know how mascots are usually elusively silent? The person wearing the lion suit at the game was not so. He had a very heavy accent and yelled at the crowd that they were not cheering enough, which I suppose was true to a certain degree because what was coming out of their mouths weren't exactly cheers. Alex kept a list going and the one I remember best is the guy two rows behind us who stood up and yelled "you fucking wanker!" As for the game itself--I had trouble understanding it. Like football, all the players often ended up in a pile. However, unlike in football, the referee would only very seldomly blow his whistle at this and usually someone would emerge from the pile victoriously with the ball in hand. I never figured out what caused penalties, or why the game ended when it did. The time stopped at least 15 minutes before the game did, and we started to leave twice before realizing that the game wasn't yet over. However, I had a good time trying to piece together what was going on, and it was faster-paced than football because time was never stopped.

On Thursday we had gone to a pub by our hostel, but this night we felt compelled to branch out a little and go to the famous Temple Bar area. However, none of the pubs there would let us in because we are under 21. The drinking age is undoubtedly 18 in Dublin, so we still don't understand what kept us out of the pubs that night. Luckily we did not have the same problem on Saturday and got gloriously drunk before our 8am flight back on Sunday morning.

As for Saturday, we had planned a trip to the Guinness storehouses and Dublin Castle, but we lost one of our number and instead spent most of the day sitting in the lobby of our hostel, falling asleep on each other's elbows jackets and taking shifts to go eat at nearby pubs. The waitress at the pub we ate lunch at was a real hoot and a half, though.

We returned on Sunday morning and from what I understand all collapsed into bed for most of the day before performing some last minute homework miracles.

A typical day for me here in London begins with the toasting of a bagel in my oven and then eating it with cream cheese and a towel on my head as I either read Ginny/Draco fanfiction or perform general facebook stalking. I have one class each day, usually for 3 hours. Before class I usually eat another small snack, and then walk with my headphones on if it is being held at our classroom, although half the time we have class at a museum or we meet at a tube stop to have class as we walk. Afterward I will usually grab a cheap bite to eat with some of the class and then go back to my room to read before fixing myself dinner, then going out to the pub, which is usually followed by Greek takeaway. We've been frequenting a club called Roundabout on Thursdays because they have Jack and Coke for a pound fifty, which is fucking amazing compared to the three to four pounds we pay for pints at pubs.

This weekend is my first solo weekend. I take the train from Waterloo to Alton on Friday and stay at a Bed and Breakfast that night and Saturday night before heading back to London on Sunday to see what messes my comrades have gotten themselves into whilst intoxicated. I imagine I'll be spending most of my weekend walking and reading Sense and Sensibility. It will be pretty tame, to be honest. If you think it sounds like I drink a lot here in London, it's because I do. We get 80 pounds a week for food, and I always put 20 aside for future travels. Of the 60 pounds left I spend about 20 on groceries. Of the 40 left I spend almost all of it on drinks and late night Greek food runs. Maybe a lunch or two. Although to be fair I did go see My Brightest Diamond last week and bought a shirt for 15 pounds (mistake) and the week before I bought a pair of skinny pants at H&M for the same. But I do drink a lot. What can I say, I'm enjoying it.

Next Friday we are all heading down to Brighton (the coast) to visit one of our professors. She has promised to take me to Virginia Woolf's old house and to the spot where she drowned herself. I'm going to try to finish To the Lighthouse before then in order to prepare myself. The weekend after that begins our fall break, over which I am going to Amsterdam for 3 days, Brussels for 3, and then Paris for 4. I'm not sure how I am affording any of this, to be honest, so I will probably be paying my parents back for the next decade of my life. So far however I believe it has been worth it.

Alright, alright, I have Internet now. I've had my classes but who wants to hear about those? I'm sure everyone mostly just wants to hear the story of when I accidentally met Paul McCartney.




Which hasn't actually happened yet, but I'm still here for two and a half more months so give me time!



All of my RP friends will be pleased to note that on my first tourist day here in London, I went with some of the others on my trip to King's Cross where we saw Platform 9 3/4. Let me say--not as exciting as I would've hoped. It's not even actually between platforms 9 and 10, just off to the side. They've got half a cart glued to the wall as if someone were coming back through the barrier I guess, but it looks kinda cheesy. On that same day we went to see Tower Bridge, which is famous apparently, although not that exciting, to be honest.

There is a pub right down the street from us called The Malburough Arms (probably spelled differently)that we go to every couple/few days and get some pints (3 pounds each!). That's been rather fun, actually, which I am sure ought to be frowned upon. But I do like the beers they have on tap here in London.

This past week I went to see a few plays. One was an Ionesco play called Exit the King that was meant to be absurdist although I didn't think it was so completely absurd. I liked it, the themes centered around death which is always ever so uplifting. That play was double billed with a truly odd play called The School of Buffoons by some Romanian playwright, and its message in the end seemed to be that art is inspired mostly by cruelty, although I didn't understand that until the last few lines which were the head buffoon yelling "CRUELTY" over and over again while cracking a whip at the floor. Those two plays were actually in the upstairs room of a pub called The Lion and Unicorn pub, which was pretty neat. A couple nights ago I went to see Fragments by Samuel Beckett, which was basically five short bits in one play, kind of like some short stories in a collective anthology. I still have mixed feelings about it, but had been very pleased to see old people in the audience.

Last night I ate some truly delicious Chinese food. We accidentally found this one restaurant while looking for a different one, and out of pure hunger chose it instead. For an appetizer the four of us (there are 12 of us on the trip and 3 are boys, so it was myself and the boys) ordered some kind of duck that we put into sweet tortilla-like pancakes and it was seriously tasty. I had a chicken and sweet corn soup for a second appetizer and then my main course was stir fried beef over crispy noodles. For dessert they served us oranges! Anyway, for all of that and my Chinese beer it was only 11 pounds. I was very pleased.

Afterwards we went back to the flat and retrieved two of the other girls before setting out to go to Bloomsbury Lanes--a 50s bowling alley turned into a club. It still retains its bowling alley, and there is also a bar and booths to sit in with 50s American food being served. It would have been fantastic if it hadn't been so crowded--the bar was even out of the cheap beer it had on tap, so the boys and I were drinking gin and tonics all night. And despite having about 6, one of which was a double, I never got drunk because the line at the bar was always so long that I had time to completely recover from whatever I'd been drinking. The highlight of the place was definitely the large hipster boy clientele. We want to go back for dinner and drinking during the week and think we will enjoy it better then.

I had some kind of cheap Greek lamb thing at about midnight and then trekked up to bed. Today my roommate and I have been planning a trip to Dublin for the 18-21. The weekend after that I am going to discover Jane Austen.

I'm here.

We don't have Internet yet, and I don't want to pay to have it, and I don't have a converter plug thing ANYWAY, so god only knows when I will be able to update regularly. (Don't even get me started, I'm pretty effin' irked about it).

But, I am in London, after all. Our flat is tiny, and we have to trek up several flights of stairs to get to our room, in which there is a small kitchen and two slender beds, and a hotel sized bathroom.

Mostly we walk around a lot, and are trying to deal with things like groceries and having to buy our own TP at present. Fun to come later.

So I leave in less than a week, but it still feels like years.

I planned my Bronte and Ireland excursions in great detail, and Liverpool in general. I still need to go to my parents with the list and get the amount of pounds approved, although I don't think I will have much of a problem because none of these trips are very extravagant.

I hope I get excited soon... right now I'll just be glad to get out of this damn house.

I think I will apply to work at the American Apparel on Oxford St. in London, as well as the Urban Outfitters. You never know what might happen.

So far, I have purchased three concert tickets: Shearwater, My Brightest Diamond, and I THOUGHT St. Vincent but she canceled and now I am trying to get Gavin to call and get a refund on my ticket because it makes me nervous to use the telephone. If I can get my St. Vincent ticket refunded, I may go see Camera Obscura with Frightened Rabbit, or just save the money and use it on Okkervil River. Oh God, London, I love you already.

I have planned my Jane Austen pilgrimage, and am waiting to hear back from a bed and breakfast in Haworth concerning my Bronte trip over my fall break. I ought to plan Galway and Liverpool but I'm getting afraid of money so I am going to wait a little.

Before I go, I need to eat copious amounts of Mexican food. What, me, gorge myself on tacos? Ha. Never.

I don't want to be worried about money, but I am.

I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control, and at times hard to handle, but if you can't handle me at my worst the you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best. - Marilyn Monroe


I'm headed to "the bay" tomorrow with my mother and with Kristin. I am taking a shitload of books. I want to read, maybe write, and definitely relax.

I've just returned from Chicago, and I'm not sure what to say except that something has got to change. Perhaps it's perfect that I'm going away to London for these few months, perhaps when I return I will be a different Lauren, one I can stand, one who actually deserves... things.

Against the unfamiliar background of Chicago I think I have remembered why it is I should not like myself in the first place, and although I felt like a giant hippo around all the hipsters, my loathing had much less to do with weight than I predicted. I don't feel unattractive when Gavin is around--period. I sometimes feel like I'm the chubby girl on the arm of the attractive boy that passersby glance at and wonder, "how the hell did she get him?" but that wasn't the main problem.

It's difficult to explain, but, things will be different now.

I've been planning my literary pilgrimages in England, and they are not going to be cheap. This is made extra-stressful by the fact that Coldwater Creek is giving me less than 20 hours each week. I've started to look for a second job, but I don't think it is going to work out very well. I emailed a resume to several places on Craigslist, and I am turning in applications to Michael's and Barnes and Nobles, but in reality I think these places are on the look-out for someone with an open availability and who... I don't know, isn't me.

Sometimes I wonder if I even know myself. Once Ben told me that I could not possibly be selfish because I hate myself so much. I don't know if that is true.

I know that it's difficult to balance emotions. I'm stressed out right now because I don't know where I will live when I get back from London. I'm lonely because I don't spend time with people outside of work. But I'm happy sometimes--at work, talking to Gavin, or even just reading. Yet even at those times, there is a hint of the rest... it's difficult to explain. Am I just always a little bit depressed?

I was on my way to Mozart's earlier this evening and I just randomly burst into tears and could not stop crying. I don't know why. It must be a mixture of things--the stress of the brick house, lack of friends, confusion over Ben, my house falling apart, missing Gavin--but I had to pull over in the parking lot of an elementary school and call Austin. Of all people? But I called him, and he said to give him 30 minutes. Where could I go? I went to Barnes and Nobles and immediately bought a copy of Jane Eyre. God only knows why.

Anyway, Austin met me there and we stood in the parking lot and talked for half an hour. I tried to explain why I was upset, but it was difficult. We ended up just having a normal conversation and I felt like I had kept him up past his bedtime for no reason. This I know is absurd, because I had been so so upset just half an hour before... there is something wrong with me.

And I can't decide what I want for myself. I want to be thin so I feel attractive and am thus happier in general. But what if I can't get thin? I still feel attractive sometimes, so what if I could just feel like that without losing 30 pounds? Some girls are bigger than others. Thanks, The Smiths.

I really should not be listening to Placebo right now.

I came to Mozart's to write and to calm myself with an italian soda, but all I'm doing is being angsty on my blog.

Strangely enough, after that nostalgic blog entry below, I received a mysterious (and wordless) email from Ben that contained an mp3 to a song in Spanish. I'm still trying to figure out what it means. I went to http://freetranslation.com but because it makes my life easier I am not thinking about it. All I can say is that sending me little messages like this (the last was a package of some of my clothes from 9th grade that had no note and was postmarked from New York) is not alright--it seriously fucks with me psychologically because I know it has to mean something (he was the one who taught me that belief!) and I don't know what. I am not the type of girl you never get over. Am I? Me? Chubby little faux-poet with literary aspirations? I'm pretty quirky. I might be unforgettable, and god knows I've stirred up some weird emotions in people, but I never saw myself (really) as that girl who is impossible to fall out of love with. And even if he thinks he is still in love with me (if he really even was to begin with), it's not ok to do these sorts of things when I have a boyfriend. It's just as bad as what Gina did with Austin, if not even worse.

This morning I received a facebook message from Blake. He is not in fact ignoring me and is not mad at me, just not quite sure, apparently, how to tell me that I may not have anywhere to live when I get back to Hendrix in the spring from London! I don't know how to talk about this one right now, because my feelings are so intense on the subject.

I'm reading THE story, the novel-length Beatles fanfic I discovered in the 6th grade and learned all about sex from. It always brings back strange memories for me because I have always associated my sexual adventures with it, because when I had them I thought back to the story to compare description to actual experience.

And even more than just sex, I learned about mature emotions from it. I relate to it every time I read it for new reasons, and can link certain passages back to certain boys.

Ben was the first boy to really touch me, the first to turn me on. He was my first real kiss, first serious relationship, my first notion of what love was supposed to be. Every expectation I have of boys who claim to love me was originally set by him; he conditioned me, in a manner of speaking, to take every detail to mean something important, to be suspicious and jealous, to expect both a selfless lover and a boyfriend who would literally do nothing without thinking of me and acting in my interest. How awful. Although I have always possessed a more sentimental nature than normal, I firmly believe that I owe most of my inclination towards melodrama to him.

Paul was the first boy I dated who saw me naked. He was also the first I went down on, the first I brought to climax entirely on my own. He was also the first (and only) one I have cheated on. He was the first (and only) to write me poems because he felt like it and not because he felt obligated to. I have learned in retrospect from my relationship with him that crying out "love" is possibly the heaviest matter of all.

Austin was my first of so many things. He was the first boy I spent the night with, and of course, I lost my virginity to him. He was the first person I seriously would have married. Although I believe I may have loved Ben, Austin was what we in cliche romanticism would term my "first love." He was the first boyfriend I have actually traveled with, and the first one my parents took seriously. He was the first to actually, truly break my heart. He gave me my first orgasm. He was the only boy to this day who has spent a holiday with my family and whose family I myself have spent a holiday with.

And Gavin. Gavin is the first boy I have lived with, which entails countless other firsts. It's more difficult to describe a relationship when it is still happening.

The point of this entry is that I am feeling nostalgic towards my romantic and sexual past. I am 20 years old and sometimes I really do feel mature, although usually it is not something I consciously consider.

I'm also more conscious of my physical appeal. I go to the gym everyday and it is beginning to show. I dress well. A lot of times I walk with the confidence of a young woman who knows she is truly loved, which I am aware in itself adds a copious amount of attraction to my appearance. Boys looked at me today--in that way, and they flirted a little. I learned that one of my co-workers, Nikki, who I went boating with a couple of weeks ago, has been denying her boyfriend's friend who went with us my phone number. Apparently he will not stop talking about how I am cute (in my bikini??) and her boyfriend Andy is continuously pestering her about getting my number but she has held fast and insisted I am quite taken and very happy about it.

I just need to hold onto this confident feeling and keep it going.

i was out of your league; you were twenty thousand underneath the sea

I go to work, I work out, I talk to Gavin. I go to Barton Springs with Stephanie and sometimes others (read: Mary, Austin). It isn't the most exciting existence ever, but it is not a depressed one for the most part, and as long as it carries me quickly to July 17th, it t'will serve.

Blake has yet to answer my letter and I think he is just going to ignore it. This frustrates me and occasionally upsets me, but if he is not mature enough to respond and confirm his unexplained anger towards me, what can I do? I keep telling myself that he might be out of town or simply just not had a chance to respond, but I can't disillusion myself forever. Sam cut me gracefully out of her life by blocking me on AIM, and I imagine that Blake is trying to do the same. I wish I knew why, but to actively seek answers would only create more drama and this is the one thing that this friend-group (former friend-group?) does not need.

I've been trying to read, and after two quick successes I have come to an obstacle in Edith Wharton's House of Mirth. I dislike the heroine and care very little of what will happen to her, but as there are less than 100 pages left, I feel I ought to go ahead and complete the novel. I don't know what I will read next. Austin offered me the book he just completed by Ayn Rand, but I don't think I'm going to stray from my own bookshelf unless it is to read something contemporary from the list that Dr. Stuber emailed me.

Speaking of Austin, we hung out. It's rather exhausting to explain it. I didn't cry, I didn't get upset, I didn't long for physical interaction, I did talk about Gina, and he did avoid the subject of Gavin. I'm not even going to try to do anything about that, because I love Gavin and he makes me immensely happy and has managed to actually make me take care of myself like no one else ever could.

I'm trying to write again! I wish I knew where to go next, how to polish it. My angst about the future is heavy, but at the present I am just trying to live practically and keep busy to bring my week with Gavin closer. I don't think I have ever missed anybody this much.

if you were here, would you calm me down?

These days (that is to say, summer), I try to do practical things. I go to the gym in the morning before work, I read classic novels, and I go to Mozart's at night to work on my writing. It's productive. Between work and the gym alone, I feel grown-up and accomplished.

Then, I talk to Gavin at night.
I miss him, as would be expected.

I'm trying to remember if it was this difficult when I was away from Austin back during my freshman year at Hendrix. I think I was probably busier, so it was probably not as hard to avoid just lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling wistfully. Also, having a roommate made it more difficult to cry at songs and from bad dreams.

Still. I'm 20 years old. I am most definitely an adult. It's seriously time that I started doing adult things--maintaining a long-distance relationship of substance without unnecessary drama is one of them. I can be an adult about this. It is less than 2 months before I go to Chicago to visit for a week. Of course, then we'll be apart for, oh, 6 months.

I'm trying not to think about England, which is difficult because everyone I talk to is super-excited about it for me. I don't want to think about the money or the absurd separation from Gavin, although I have a feeling that it will be much easier to be in London and be away from Gavin than it is to be here. I'll be busier and I will have so much more to say to him in letters and so much to send in packages. Right now, here in Austin, everything just seems so stale. I have uninteresting days for the most part. As long as they go by quickly, however, I really don't care what they are like. Just get me to Chicago and then get me to London.

Get me to Chicago.

don't give me that

My love life sounds much too interesting for a gal my age and with my weight in those previous posts.

In light of the fact that I'm going to London in 4-5 months' time, I am going to revive this blog and get back into the habit of updating it. Then, when I am abroad I will continue to update this for anyone interested in my adventures. Some lucky ones will receive letters, but I know how poor you all are at responding to them, so...

My gpa is going DOWN. I will almost certainly receive a B if not a C in Lit Theory, and a B in Po-Mo Lit. I should pull an A in Sports, and an A in Screenwriting unless he is too severe with attendance. My major gpa is sinking. I am getting more and more terrified of grad school as time goes on and more and more seniors that I know with better grades than I are getting rejected. Is there no hope for me?

I think I want to go into RTF at UT or Magazine Writing at NYU.

I think I may give up on my PhD in Literature.

Christ, that's sad.

see, I'm a man with a plan to use my hands, i'm touching yours, you're the girl who wanted more

I don't feel like any of this is real.

What with a new apartment and new classes, the structure of Hendrix has greatly changed for me. The 'normality' and status quo dissolved. Also, having a new boyfriend only adds to the utter unfamiliarity of something that was once so tried and true, systematic if you will.

My classes are Screenwriting, Post-Modern and Contemporary American Lit, Literary Theory, and Sports, Leisure and Escape. Ah--and Bowling. Does that even count as a class? It's too early to know if I will enjoy these classes, but my Lit Theory professor already knows me and he looks like an indie rockstar, so at least there is that.

On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I go to my sociology class and yawn through it before going back to my apartment for lunch and then to Lit Theory where I sit with Blake and Sam and also, bonus points, Shannon. Yesterday after class, Sam and Shannon and I went to the Murphy House and drank tea while talking. It was nice, although when Shannon and I had to walk back to College View without Sam it was more difficult. I find it hard to say anything to him because I can't say what I want to say, which is something along the lines of "excuse me, is there a reason we never had sex?" I imagine he is thinking something similarly awkward although not necessarily similar in subject.

On Tuesday and Thursday I go to Screenwriting in the art building off-campus and them come back to my apartment for lunch before going to Po-Mo American Lit with Joseph and, yes, Shannon. Then I have bowling--with Austin. It's pretty fuckin' great, let me tell you. A school of 1200 people and more than half of my classes are with the only two people besides my current boyfriend who have seen me in my skivvies.
Gavin has spent every night thus far. It's nice. Also a little strange. I mean the logistics of the situation are that I jumped headfirst into a relationship with him while still in a pseudo-mess with Shannon and here I am sleeping with him just a few doors down from said Shannon, and praying that our paths don't cross. So far, they haven't, not unless in a group (example: coming from the liquor store last night; Sam and Gavin and Hollis and I delivered Blake and Jared and Kirby's alcohol to them in #11 while Shannon and Blake watched a movie Shannon said he would call me to watch--which he did not).

Facebook message from Sam: "in fact, when i was over there tonight after you left, he was talking to blake, jared and i about gavin, and he sounded very jealous, & i was like, i think he seems like a very sweet and cool guy, and he is very good for lauren, & he was like, "i don't think he does anything for her!" in a drunken sullen way. he's basically a butt head"

God only knows. I mean I secretly I always wanted to be a bit of a Helen of Troy but this so is anti-climatic and nonconfrontational that it is just silly.

Pictures of the new apartment and our first tea party coming soon.

can you teach me how to fight? show me how to give back pain.

I packed my things (dishes, new clothes, old clothes, records, and books)and we packed the car. I finished Christmas shopping for everyone--except Shannon. I don't know what the hell to give him. He gave me two books and wrote something nice on the inside cover of one of them, but that was before the break. Originally I wanted to get him something on vinyl but at the moment I am too pissed off.

I don't even really know what I am pissed off about, when it comes to him. Honestly I think I am just irked that I still don't know why we never progressed from falling asleep together and living together to anything else when in the end, once it was too late, it turned out he desired me after all.

I hate facebook. It's probably the bane of my existence. Naturally, I bring it on myself, however. Nobody forces me to look at the facebook of Gina. I just do it for fun. Honestly, it tends to be entertaining because she is clearly not as intelligent as I am and mispells words like "anatamy" and "independant." Also her wall was empty for most of the break, implying that she has no actual friends at Hendrix (which from what I've heard is basically the truth). However, because my intelligence level is [modestly] rather high, I manage to be 'sneaky like a freak' and see what she writes on the walls of others. Every now and then she will write on someone else's wall and reference Austin as her boyfriend. For instance, she wrote on his roommate's wall "when will I get to spend more time than you in your room again?" And clearly that question had nothing to do with Kerry and was made completely in order to be like "hey guess what guess what Austin is dating me and I sleep in his bed ooooo!"

I am trying to decipher what I feel about this. I think it may actually be bitterness that Austin has found such a poor replacement for me. Or, as I am sure you readers are all thinking, that he has found a replacement for me at all. That may have originally been the case, but let's be honest. I have a boyfriend now, and I am no hypocrite. It really is just Gina specifically I hate. This may have something to do with the fact that before he even broke up with me she bounced up to him and said "if you were single, I would date you." Who the fuck does that? It's against girl-code, and come on. It's pretty damn slutty. She must think God is smiling down upon her pale miniscule ass. After she said that phrase and less than a week later Austin dumped [the wittier, more intelligent, and even I, who find myself unattractive, will admit, better-looking] me. She probably thinks her words had an effect on him. Maybe they did. But he is not in love with her. In fact, despite having spent all his time with her from mid-September to Thanksgiving Break, he was not even infatuated with her. He liked her somewhat, but found her to be too pale and veiny, as well as full of herself and not very intellectual. He told me she did not make him happy, not even content. When asked what he liked about her, he said "it's easy," implying that she is not emotional. HA.

(Listen. I am totally emotional, but I am totally worth it. Asshole.)

But anyway, she is going to probably tell him she loves him, and he is going to be like "oh shit." And that'll be the end of that.

And meanwhile, I, who actually waited until I liked someone to date them instead of just letting some squinty-eyed redhead attach themselves to me, am happier than he. And she will soon realize that I'm pretty amazing, and there is no way that after me, someone could descend to falling in love with her.

Ouch.

You're right. I am bitter. I just can't help it, because she smirks at me whenever she sees me, and because I am quite sure she believes she has won. She hasn't. I just want to make that perfectly clear. So I mutter mean things when I am on her facebook and then blog about them. It's okay. I can do that. Because at least I am literate.

In other news, I'm going to Hut's later to eat dinner with my three Austin (TX) friends who are still here. I'm so hungry I may eat a meat burger instead of a veggie one, despite the fact that I find myself to be too fat. Next stop, size 6 I hope. Perhaps by my birthday. Once I get back to Hendrix I am no longer eating out, and I am no longer eating desert foods or fried foods or meat. Also I will start going to the WAC (the gym) Monday-Friday for two hours each day and drinking water all the time. Honestly, I can't stand looking like I look (this is absurd, because I went down a pant size already, two months ago). I need to be able to feel attractive, because that's my only weapon at this point. I'll probably see Shannon several times before Gavin gets back to Conway, and with my luck I will probably run into Austin and Gina, too. So I am going to feel like shit if I don't look good when I do.

I'm not shallow, I'm just honest.

don't walk away then turn and say "I love you" anyway

I am making a resolution to update this regularly for friends who want to keep up. But I am warning you, it may have things like drinking and sex on it. I'll mark those entries with a rating, like movies!

This is rated R.

Let's update you:

Shannon
Things never began to make sense. His ex, Jessica, came to Hendrix before Thanksgiving break--mostly because she was freaking out that I'd been sleeping in his bed. She flew in from D.C. She is actually insane. Anyway, after she left, things went back to 'normal' with Shannon, which means I was sleeping in his bed again and we were almost pointedly not having sex while somehow appearing to be in a relationship to the outside world. I started keeping a toothbrush in his bathroom, and instead of only staying on the weekends, I would rush to class in last night's clothes at 7:45 in the morning. I took showers over there and cooked and cleaned. I basically lived there, even writing papers on my laptop in his room.

But it was strange. We didn't kiss, not on the mouth. In heated moments he would grasp me to him and kiss my neck, reaching up the back of my shirt, or groping my ass. But no kisses.

I got fed up, and one night I even said it was too hot in the room and stripped into my underwear. He did not get the hint.

Before finals week, we spent entire days together, too, and rented a movie like a couple and held hands while we watched it.

Gavin
This will come as a shock, as it certainly did for me. One of the freshman I am an Academic Peer Mentor for, Gavin, was also in my Existentialism class. Hollis and Lana (also a mentee in my Existentialism class) playfully suggested back in November that Gavin and I should hook up, because we both love indie rock. Haha, funny joke.

Yeah well, during finals week I was pulling an all-nighter while writing a paper on The Tempest and Gavin wrote on my facebook that he was awake, too, and obviously it was just a bad night for everyone. I invited him up to my room for tea. He came, and, both of us in pajamas (and at 3am) we drank tea and talked for an hour. No big deal, I think.

Ther next day we have an Existentialism paper to write. He asks me to be on his radio show about Radiohead's new album at 11pm and then to have tea again at 3, I agree.

Shannon and I walk around together and he hugs me goodbye before I leave him at the library. I tell him to call me after he's done for the night.

I go on Gavin's radio show, and Shannon calls while I'm there. I call Shannon back after the show, and the two of us talk on the phone for an hour. Then I work on my paper until Gavin calls around 3. I go down to his room.

Gavin and I talked for a good hour and fourty-five minutes before suddenly the power went out. We took our laptops to a classroom and worked on our papers there until 7am, when we drove to the cofeehouse down the street and worked on them there while eating breakfast.

I meet Shannon for lunch after turning in my paper and then collapse in his bed for a nap.

That night, our Existentialism class meets at the professor's house for a snack and review, our final being the next day. Gavin and I glance at each other surreptitiously all evening, and it is obvious to two people besides me, who, in the car on the way back to campus, say they were drawing hearts around our heads when we sat together on the couch.

I then spend the night with Shannon.

After lunch with Shannon I find a postcard from Gavin thumbtacked to my door that suggests we meet at the cofeehouse to study before the final. I meet him there and then we drive to the final together, and once we get the essay prompt, drive back to the cofeehouse and write our essays there before driving back and turning them in together.

The next day Gavin and I talk until 5am. Between 11pm and 5am we went from sitting apart on my bed to lying apart, to lying together, to snuggling slightly. When he mentioned having a final in the morning, I said he needed to go to sleep. "But I'm happy," he replied, and what could I say? I offered to let him stay the night. He did. We kissed, once, briefly, but it still prompted me to wonder what the hell was happening. In the morning he went to his final and I ran into Shannon on my way to find Hollis.

Shannon and I went to lunch. That evening he had a fight with Jared and I lost my chance to ask him if he was emotionally invested in me at all. Instead I invited Gavin over to Hollis' where a small gathering was happening, and we all drank. Shannon showed up for about 5 minutes, just long enough to see Gavin hug me from behind.

That night:

And then we went back to Gavin's room and I stayed the night and, yes. We had sex.

In the morning I had two texts from Shannon:
"can you come over? i want to talk"
"its now or never"

I did go over to Shannon's. He was hungover, lying on the couch. He pulled me in to lay with him.

"Did you sleep with him?" he asked.
"Would you care if I had?"
"Of course I'd care."
"...Yes."

He said he was not mad, but very upset.

"Well maybe if you'd kiss me more so it didn't seem like an accident everytime it happened..."
"I'll be the first to admit I've been unfair to you."
"Yeah. You have. Because don't you know, if it came down to it, I'd choose you. I've wanted--"
"What did you want? Sex? A relationship?"
"Fuck, Shannon, I don't know--you!"

And then he started kissing me. We made out, there on the couch, me confused and not knowing what was going on. Who was stringing along whom? Shannon me, and me Gavin? I didn't even know. My head was spinning.

"Did you ever desire me on any level?" I asked.
"Of course I do!"

And he told me I'm beautiful, and that even before we had ever met he saw my picture and wanted to know me. He told me he'd been begging Blake to get me to hang out with the group after Austin left me. We snuggled, we kissed some more. But it still didn't make sense to me.

"I-- this is a bad time to ask this, maybe, but, what do you have to offer me?" I inquired.

After a long pause, he said, "I don't think I'm right for you."

That wasn't the question, but it was enough of an answer, especially when he also said Jessica was still coming down for New Year's. I made him lunch and brought him Advil anyway. He held my hand while he ate with the other hand. He kissed my cheek when we lay back down. I said I had to go write a paper. He kissed my hand.

"Thank you for coming over, Lauren."
"I'll always come when you call me, Shannon."
How fucking true.

That night I drank wine with Gavin and his roommate Tyler and Tyler's sort-of girlfriend named Lauren. I took the plunge.

"So when I go home can I tell people you're my boyfriend?"
"Of course. And can I tell people in Chicago that you're my girlfriend?"
"Yes."

We went to my room and he spent the night that night. I found out that the night before, I had taken his virginity. Oops?

But I have a boyfriend, named Gavin. And we talk almost every day either on AIM or on the phone.

Whatever happened with Shannon, you ask?
We parted with a hug after I found out I was living off campus with Hollis this semester. I'd been lying in bed with him, holding his hand, when she called me to tell me.
But over the break we only messaged each other once.
Jessica did visit him over New Year's. I know because the pictures are on facebook. And in one of them, I can see my toothbrush still sitting in his bathroom. Go figure.

And what about Austin?


Austinb
He and Gina are dating officially. When i first found out at the beginning of December I screamed and ran and ran and sobbed and sobbed. At this point, however, I've seen them together and I've seen Gavin and me together. Gina likes Austin much more than he likes her, and he has obviously gotten in over his head and regrets it a bit. I am happier than he is, which I think he resents a bit. But we're friends, we've got a class together this semester, and my goal is to hang out with him and Gina. I want to know her. Why? To judge her, really, but also to prove that I can. To prove that I am bigger than this and stronger and anyway--I am happier.

So that sums everything up I think.

games that never amount to more than they're meant will play themselves out

Ugh. If I didn't know what was happening last time I updated, I most certainly do know know now.

On Wednesday I drank over at Jared and Shannon's and got pretty drunk, I'd say. I don't remember going back into Shannon's room with him, but I did. And I don't remember what I said to start the conversation, but I do remember crying and I do remember him saying that he doesn't want a relationship, that he just can't (I think he said because he is a senior)be in one right now. I kept putting my cowboy boots on and he would look up at me from the bed and say, "Where are you going, Lauren?" "I don't know," I would reply, and then put them back down.

But somehow I spent the night. I skipped my two morning classes and we lay in bed. And for someone who had seemed to be rejecting me hours before, he was very sweet. He kept saying things. Let's list.

"You're so, so pretty."
"You are too cute, too cute for your own good."
"I love snuggling with you."
"Your skin is so smooth."
"Can we please just lay here forvever?"

On Friday we watched The Spanish Apartment together and played Taiko Drum Master before going to bed--together. It was as if nothing had changed, although now it was quite obvious that he wanted me on a sexual level, too. It's difficut to explain, but every now and then he would grab me tightly and my body would respond to press up against his and his hand would go briefly up the back of my shirt and almost desperately trace over my skin, his face buried in my neck. These moments tended to be short but pretty blatant in nature.

In the morning we held each other. We were allegedly going to be going camping with Jared and Anna and Kirby later, but we just lay there sweetly.

Then: "I don't think we can do this anymore."

"...Why?"

"I think you have an idea."

"I don't. So tell me."

"[beat] Jessica is supposed to be coming down for New Year's."

"..."

"And I... want her to."

"..."

Frankly I'm shocked, impressed, that I did not burst into tears. I just nodded. Repeatedly. As if I was not surprised... I suppose I wasn't?

"If you keep spending the night, Lauren, I... I have to hold you. I want to hold you. Obviously I like it when you stay with me. I just don't know if it's for the best."

How did I even find words? I will never know.

"Well... did you ever think, don't you think, that it says something, that you want that?"

"I want what is the best for us both."

?? What does that even mean? Silence ensued as my mind raced. Mostly it raced with lyrics, it raced with irony, and it raced with a desperate hope to find a loophole, anything.

Lyrics won.

"Okay, Shannon. That's... just give me one more night. We're supposed to go camping. Just give me tonight and then, then we'll just... have conversations I guess."

This all happened around 11:30. You would think he would kick me out of bed? Think again. At 1:00 we were still lying together. It was as if he was afraid to let me out of his bed, as if, if he stopped holding me, I would slip away and never return. Which is odd, you see, since he had told me hours before that that was exactly what he thought needed to happen.

When Jared assigned us a couple of tasks, we lingered still. Finally, Shannon asked, "Do you want to go camping or lay here for the rest of the day?"

This is not the sort of question a person who wishes to no longer lay with someone would ask.

"Can't we lay there, camping?"

"You're right." And he got up and took a shower.

Then we finished Jared's errands with time to spare. Coming back into the apartment, I said, "we could still be asleep."

"Yes." And he took my hand and led me back to bed where we instantaneously curled up together again as if this Jessica character had ceased to exist.

As if all of that is not confusing enough? Camping happened.

At first it made sense. He seemed to be spending most of his time with Jared, but then when we were setting up tents he claimed one as "ours" and helped me set it up. Sitting by the campfire he lay on a rock with his head in my lap. When Kirby and Jared and I smoked, he linked arms with me and gave me water when I coughed. We crept into our own tent later and changed clothes right in front of each other (he's pretty shy about this sort of thing, to the point of usually wearing jeans to bed when I am there-although this week he started wearing shorts). I had on two jackets over a t-shirt and a pair of his pajama pants. We curled up.

Now I am not going to lie. I had been wanting to have sex with him pretty much all week. More than my attraction to him, I think it would be liberating. Also, if I don't get to fall asleep with him anymore, I think I deserve it. So who knows, perhaps I was playing it up (but I was a tad stoned, so that seems highly unlikely). But it was getting hot in that tent beneath his comforter. I took off each jacket seperately, but the moment that I took off the last one and was just in a t-shirt and the pajama pants, it was like he sort of lunged for me. I mean, literally. I lay down and suddenly he was VERY MUCH THERE, grabbing me and turning me sort of so that those integral parts of our bodies were saying very intimate hellos to each other. He was no longer shy about lifting my shirt in the back to stroke my skin, and he was nuzzling my neck.

[to be con]

how can I confess when I know not what I am doing?

1. Austin broke up with me on 9/21.
2. He lets a petite redhead named Gina sleep in his bed, and they kiss and things.
3. I've been upset about it for over a month.
4. I lost so much weight I need new pants.
5. He said he might come back.
6. On Saturday he said he was holding her in bed and thinking only of me.
7. On Friday night I spent the night in Shannon's bed. There was kissing and touching. Drunk.
8. On Saturday I spent the night with Shannon again. Tipsy.
9. And on Sunday. Sober.
10. Shannon visisted a serious girlfriend over fall break, less than a month ago.
11. I don't know if they are still together.
12. Austin doesn't know where I've been sleeping.

And I, I don't know what I'm doing, although I think this is what college was sort of supposed to be about.

I liked sleeping in Shannon's bed, off-campus at the apartment he shares with Jared. I didn't care about the loud trains because I like how he holds me, I like how we talked for 6 hours in the dead of night and did not get sexual, I like how he kissed my cheek or my head or even my hand whenever he woke up before going back to sleep.

But I'm not going to lie, I also liked each time our bodies became entwined and he leaned down and began to kiss me. I like that I didn't feel sick (while drunk or sober), and that I wasn't imagining Austin, just how nice his fingertips felt on the back of my neck and that it would have been nice if he had unzipped my dress.

It hurts Blake, who had a thing for Shannon, that I spent the night, that something may be evolving between the two of us.

I don't know what's evolving. It's not about sex, and he hasn't tried to hide me. He came up behind me and put his arms around me while I did dishes at Hollis' apartment and last night we walked around campus at night to look at the trees and he slipped his arm around me.

Scene: Jared and Shannon's apartment.
[the sound of a train can be heard]
Jared: Kirbey said she was coming. I guess she got lost.
Shannon: Or run over by the train.
Me: I bet that was it.
Shannon: You should go save her, Jared.
Jared: I think Kirbey can handle it.
[Kirbey arrives 20 minutes later]
Jared: You didn't get hit by the train. Good.

---1 hour later---

[I realize I left the cheese in my dorm and run to campus to get it and back, getting trapped by another train going by]
[I text Jared: "I got run over by a train."]
[Arriving at the apartment complex, Shannon opens the door and waves]
Shannon: Did you get run over?
Jared: [sort of pulling me aside] Shannon actually peeked outside to see if you were.
Me: Oh, no, I managed to survive.

--2 hours later, I am leaving with Hollis to go back to campus and drive to UCA---

Me: I should be going.
Shannon: You're walking back? Do you have enough time?
Me: Unless I get hit by another train.
Shannon: NO! [He grabs me around the waist and holds on tightly].


So that was all today. I mean, he is not hiding his attraction, that's for damn sure. We certainly have a "thing." I just don't know what.

And then there's Austin. Who doesn't want me... at this time? But we spend some time together and he texts me each night before bed.

Like I said.
I don't know what I'm doing.

your mind is racing like a pro now, oh my god it doesn't mean that much to you

ACL was this weekend, and what was amazing was:
-chicken flautas
-The Arcade Fire taping
-The National

So it was a good time, because all of those cancel out the shitty things:
-too hot
-bitchy girls before Regina Spektor
-not meeting The Decemberists
-feet dying during Andrew Bird

I do regret not staying in the front row to see Ghostland Observatory, because I had no fun at their show at Stubb's.

Meanwhile back at Hendrix I have so much effing work to do. And I need to work off A LOT this week, and who knows what my weekends have in store because I do not think that my friend group is going to survive. Bleh.

when your mind's made up, no point in trying to fight it

Things to Do:

-quit sucking thumb, for good
-paint picture frames black
-stop spending money
-call Hollis
-clean room

Things that Will Actually Happen:

-read more of The Shoebox Project
-wait around for Sam to want to RP Sage/Geore, go to bed disappointed and too late at night
-absently suck thumb while reading RP journals
-spend money on clothes

I hate being at home now, after my dog almost died but then didn't and now has a hole in her neck like smokers who have smoked too much and can't breathe properly through their mouths anymore. Now that all the furniture is covered in sheets so that the goo from the hole doesn't get on anything valuable, and now that someone has to be at home at all times to make sure the dog doesn't scratch the hole. I hate being at home now because I hated thinking my dog was inevitably being put to sleep and having already mourned it's like I spent that night wrapped up in grief for no reason and someday I'll have to do it all over again.

I hate money, I hate mirrors, I hate "mostly sunny" days, and I hate monotony and other things that start with the letter m, and even things that don't.

where did you get that penchant for destruction in the way you talk

I've been thinking of a few things lately:

-money
My parents have money. My father makes quite a bit and then gets a large bonus at the end of the year. FAFSA laughed at my application for financial aid, I am almost positive. Ben used to hold it against me that my father has money, and that I was not completely on my own to pay for things. Sure I was buying my own clothes, but when it came down to it my dad would still offer me money whenever I said I was going "out." Four years later I don't have to pay for my auto-insurance, my car's upkeep, or my gas. I don't have to pay for any of my college expenses, including but not limited to tuition, textbooks, laptop, or even dormitory furnishings. Sometimes I feel guilty about this. I shouldn't. I am not a spoiled rich girl. I don't get money whenever I ask for it, and I do have a job. I pay for my own clothes, food, and entertainment. That's still something.

-writing
I need to write more. I don't remember the last time I wrote a poem, and I haven't attempted to write anything other than fanfiction in months. This is a problem. I've been asked repeatedly by co-workers and customers alike what I plan to do for a living with my degree in English and I always tell them that I want to be a college professor eventually and also write. I think I'd like writing for a magazine, or something. Really I just want to set up a nice fluffy armchair in academia and hang out there sipping my tea and reading classic literature for the rest of my life. What are the odds of that happening? I think we all know that I want to work at a bookstore too much for it to actually ever occur.

In other news I have started reading Crime and Punishment but I don't think I like it. It's a bit stressful, and I cannot relate to any of the characters even the slightest, which makes it very difficult for me to care what happens to them in the course of the novel. I honestly wish I could just abandon reading it and move on to Mansfield Park but I told Joseph, amazing literary boy I desperately wish to be friends with, that I'd read it and so now I must.

Speaking of things I must do, I really must get the mail. My parents are out of town this weekend (right before I go with Austin to DisneyWorld) and I am left to take over the household chores--namely retreiving the mail and letting the dog outside every five hours if not less.