I clicked my heels and wished for you.

My life as of right now: finals, matthew, and a closet that looks like it exploded onto my floor.

Oh joy.

New found obsession with icanhazcheezburger. I just find the little kittens with the humorous, clever captions to be so freaking funny!

Happy St. Patrick's day to anyone who is sober.

Tainted are their lips,
screaming stories of corruption,
stained and burned,
dark and damp.
When left is right and right is left,
upside down is rightside up,
I am still standing on solid ground.
And through their shot glasses,
their long neck bottles,
their red plastic cups,
and their crushed silver cans,
I see the world invert.

they hold the handle of the knife for now

The Snapple Fact on my diet peach tea snapple this morning read: Dragonflies have 6 legs but cannot walk.

Kind of sad, isn't it? A strange mutation (among a strand of thousands call evolution) means their legs don't work and are only meant for landing.

I never liked Dragonflies anyways. My Grandmother calls them "sew-ers" and when I was little, she told me that if I lied, they would sew my lips shut. Now, whenever I see that Truth add where the girl's lips and mouth are sewn shut, I think of Dragonflies and shudder.

In other news, I just found out that my weekends from now on are completely full of spring season field hockey practices. Which, in any other circumstance, would make me happy, but not this time... I hate feeling like I have to choose between my boyfriend and a sport. And really, I don't even have a choice. I just have to follow the schedule; it holds the handle of the knife right now. It just sucks because our weekends are all we have, and now we don't even have that.

Time.

All this talk about lost days,
And the desire to rewind,
When all I want is to fastforward.
But I'm stuck in this anti-time warp;
This slow progression of hours and days, weeks and months.
And inside I feel a spiderweb of time
that has not yet outwardly spun.


Today marks the anniversary of the best day of my life. Ignore the disgusting cliche, but the day you met the person you are meant to be with will feel the same. It's like a deep, filling inhale of cool, summer air, that injects your body with an indescribable warmth and serenity. And it's a comfort beyond any comfort imaginable.

He is one of the many reasons I am ready to hastily grap the remote control and jam the fastforward button on the VCR. And it's to the point where I don't necessarily care if I miss out. I don't need to (nor want to) experience the immaturity and carelessness of college.

So why not just excellerate through the next four years at lighting speed, only catching glimspes of life as they pass?

Perhaps because I would miss out, not on college, but on my life with him... and right now, those moments are all I am really living for.

I may be ready to leap into the future, but I am not prepared.
And I'm not willing to lose those moments in a quick display of random moving frames.

Thoughts on premarital sex

We are so confined and restricted by religion.

Premarital sex (practiced correctly) is not wrong. It is not immoral. It is not irresponsible. We were just conditioned to believe so because of what a few old men wrote in an ancient book thousands of years ago.

In my opinion, religion was constructed by some really smart, devious people, who wanted to gain power. Manipulation of religion is used as a crutch to political power (DIVINE RIGHT OF KINGS, anyone?).

I am not denying the existance of God (or a God, not necessarily the Catholic God). I am only saying that our moral beliefs come from something all together invalid.This is not to say that killing is perfectly okay, because it's not. A lot of biblical teachings are correct. However, I completely disagree with what religion says about other things: Homosexuality, and more relevantly, pre-marital sex.

A friend of mine stated on a forum:
"In a very primitive outlook, [it is] survival of the species... More sex= more offspring= more chance of survival. Men look to spread their seed as much as possible. Women look for the man with the seed that has the best chance of survival (i.e Power, wealth, education, confidence). In the mere simplicity of it, we were not built to hold off on sex until marriage."

As a huge fan of Darwin's Theory of Evolution (no, I do not have a Darwin fish on my car), I agree with the above statement. Whether it is right or not is constructed by your own interpretation, which is shaped by what society or religion defines as moral.

Lastly, just because I have pre-marital sex does not make me biased on the issue. I felt this way for years before losing my virginity (to someone I love very very much and plan on marrying). The only time I felt otherwise was when I was still disillusioned by religion.

open my eyes, I see sky

My life is so incredibly depressing sometimes.

Joshua Radin, Ingrid Michaelson, The Cary Brothers, indie-artist Meiko AND Priscilla Ahn are coming to Boston on March 25. Doesn't sound so depressing, seeing as Joshua and Ingrid are my FAVORITE FAVORITE FAVORITE recording artists in the history of forever. Also, the concert is a mere $15.00! Seriously, you cannot beat that. I spent close to $70 to see John Mayer and he wouldn't compare to this concert AT ALL. Again, not depressing -- actually, kind of, sort of, totally awesome.

Alas, depression mixes into perfection like bad eggs in a Betty Crocker cookie mix. The pre-sale ended 2 days ago, and it is impossible to get tickets for any cheaper than $161... I kid you not.

Story of my life.

mmmm awkward deliciousness

Bahahahahahahaha.....
And I digress.

take it slow.

increase in homework = lack of blog posts

Disheartening? Yes.
Permanent? No.

Kind of sad, though, seeing as a created this blog to allow myself air within a giant bucket of, well, stress caused by a liberal education.

Also, my computer is being ridiculous. It's still a baby (6 months!) and the lag/the overheating/the not shutting down is out of control. I guess that's what I get for choosing Dell.

yet another hallmark holiday...

Valentines Day is one of those holidays that I usually lump in with other meaningless days-they exist merely to take up calendar space.

See also: St. Patricks Day

See also: Groundhog Day

However, this year, the holiday known most for making the Hallmark Card Company rich beyond belief-*GASP*-actually means something to me.

I spent hours making something (which I will leave anonymous for obvious reasons) for Matt. Why? Because I love him so much and want to show him that love.

a melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

And I do believe it’s true

That there are roads left in both of our shoes

But if the silence takes you

Then I hope it takes me too

So blue eyes I hold you near

Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

Hmm. Do I honestly have nothing to say? There has been a lack of words of late.

But not for any bad reason. Just... a lack of wisdom, a lack of poetry, a lack of... words.

Perhaps it's because I've been in a perpetually happy, goofy mood. Also, my ridiculously hard honors class got cancelled this morning and I spent my time being productive (i.e. reading the juicy stuff in Cosmopolitan).

I think if I ever have a girl, I'll name her Melody. Dylan, Aidan, and Melody. Haven't decided yet. I want it to be music related, though: Dylan after Bob Dylan, Aidan because I love that name, and Melody for obvious reasons. I'm not sure though. Suggestions?

A conversation between Matt and me today that depicts our goofiness. I changed the Screen Names.

danielle48: you're awesome
SpOoKyMaN: you are too dumbo
danielle48: aww i love you
danielle48: i am no elephant, btw
SpOoKyMaN: i bet you wont want this pepper
danielle48: if you're the pepper, then i want it
SpOoKyMaN: uh...i'm not
SpOoKyMaN: i'm the onion
SpOoKyMaN: i'm the shit
danielle48: know your onion/your shit
SpOoKyMaN: wtf your fuck
danielle48: wtf you're beastly
SpOoKyMaN: wtf your eastly
SpOoKyMaN: like from the east
SpOoKyMaN: your so much from the east your from the west
danielle48: you're... a northern brown bear
SpOoKyMaN: thats how east you are

okay.
I'm sorry for the lack of originality of this post.
the end.

For once in my life I see pure love staring right back, right back at me.

We are only 18.
And we are so in love.
And I am a horrible person for treating him this way.

It's not a regular thing.

It's not that I'm horrible one-hundred percent of my life.

Just sometimes, I'm angry without thinking.

And sometimes, I let stress get to me.

But never should I ever take that out on him.

our cracking bones make noise

Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts?
Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts.
So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess,
And to stop the muscle that makes us confess.

BEST CD EVER!

In other news:

1) I had a dream that I was black and got my hair cut extremely short on orders of my Field Hockey coach. This is probably the most paradoxical dream I've ever had, as my field hockey coach should never be making executive decisions on others' haircuts because she has a mullet.

2) Matt and I played with a Brazilian church band yesterday. It's such a liberating experience. Neither of us are very religious people, but the music evokes a passion that you just don't see in other genres.

3) I am most likely legally deaf. While singing with the Brazilians, I sung the wrong words to one very simple song the entire session.

Correct Lyrics: "Let it rain; open the floodgates of heaven" - a clever little play on words

My Lyrics: "Let it ring; open the front gates of heaven"

It's so incredibly typical. For me, life is just a blissful series of misheard lyrics.

tell am I right to think that there could be nothing better?

My horoscope told me that Taurus is a materialistic sign. I am not materialistic, but nonetheless, I have compiled a tentative list of things I like.

snapple facts! but diet peach iced tea is the only kind i like.

The Postal Service's Singles "Nothing Better" and "Brand New Colony"
Also, "Such Great Heights", but I prefer the Iron & Wine version from the Garden State soundtrack.

naturally, it's a raptor. a creepy, unrealistic one from Jurassic Park (another thing I love - that movie.) In actuality, the dinsosaurs used in Jurassic Park to represent "velociraptors" are a similar type of dinosaur called a "Deinonychus". But, you have to admit, they do look really cool in comparison to the real velociraptor, which is scrawny and small.

Music in general. Also, world peace, despite knowing that it isn't possible until we learn to live with eachother's differences. How can we have world peace with Americans who assume every Arab is a terrorist? Or Catholics who believe that Atheism is the devil's religion? Sigh.

Matt Roy, my favorite thing ever. The best person to ever tread the Earth's sediment. I love this boy so much.
Side Note: Those are apples.

So, there you have it. Of course there are more things I like and dislike, but perhaps I will add to them later.

am I being too analytical?

Matt read my last post. He made me realize something extremely significant that I'd like to point out:

matt: sorry
matt: i just didnt understand it
matt: the way it is written made me feel like crap
matt: i do not dig every day
matt: and i have been doing good
matt: and i didnt dig at all today
matt: there was no diggage at all
matt: not even alittle
me: i dont mean you were being annoying by digging, its just what we do
matt: i thought we were talking not digging

He proves to me that not only was I wrong, but I used horrible word choice. We do not go back in forth, in a manic cycle of digging and repressing. That is the pattern we once followed, but we don't do that anymore.

Now, we just talk.

So, when I asserted that Matt dug everyday (which is not what I meant), it was interpretted negatively.

And, just for clarification purposes, Matt is not trying to come to terms with my mistakes, as he has already come to terms with them. I, on the other hand, need some serious work in learning to live with past mistakes, which have been dutifully and rightfully unearthed by the only person who cares enough about me to point out my glaring faults.

are we being too careful?

I'm the type of person who forgets the past. The type of person who pushes it away, burying it so deep that it no longer exists.

He is the type of person that lives in it. The type of person who constantly digs at the truth, unearthing the buried past that always exists - no matter how deep in the soil it is planted.

Does that mismatch us or does it fits us together? Perhaps both. We really are perfect together, despite our distinct and opposing differences; like fitted parts of a colorful and confused wooden puzzle, we mesh.

Anyways, today, as with everyday, he dug and I, the proclaimed repressor, did not repress.

Example:
matt: they have drinking parties there
me: what does that have to do with anything?
me: oh.
me: wait.
me: don't answer that.

The gmail-chat would really make more sense if the situation was known, but we'll leave it at this: I made a whole bunch of mistakes when I first came to college, and Matt wants to re-live one of them so he can finally come to terms with it. He also wants to make me re-live them until I'm okay with what I did, but I honestly do not consider that a possibility.

Side note: Spring season Field Hockey is kicking my ass.

let's take a moment to ponder...

I am currently taking a break from essay number two of three to ponder the title to my last post.

"turn out the lights
and what are you left with?"

The simplistic (perhaps cliche) answer would read: nothing.

But, in my small, irrelevant world of thoughts and ideas (also full of dinosaurs, mind you), the true answer is this:

When you turn out the lights, you are left with your thoughts, your morals, your past, and your future.

And that, my friends, is something to believe in.

turn out the lights and what are you left with?

Aqualung is my new love. I have to be careful not to exhaust all of Matt's iTunes money on them, especially because Aqualung isn't exactly his type of music (we're talking Coheed and Cambria, Chiodos, and, oddly enough, Nobou Uematsu). Also, he doesn't know that I bought "Anyone Else But You" (the version by Ellen Page and Michael Cera), and don't tell him, because if he knew, he would be mildly tempted to slaughter my extensive collection of odd, mellow music.

Side note: I rate Juno among my favorite movies. It is right up there with Garden State, Amelie, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

However, nothing quite compares to Walt Disney's cinematic masterpiece, Beauty and the Beast. The tragically unrealistic love story always makes my heart swell, and the sweet perfection of the ending makes me tear up every time. I'm pathetic, I know, but I don't exactly care.

Inspirations, conception.

Inspiration as in evokative thought brought on by others:
http://thousandsofpossibilities.blogspot.com/
http://foundmagazine.com/comments/767

Conception as in the planted seeds of a future birth of an idea. A possible idea, that births an innumerable amount of possibilities.

My life, you see, as a college student with far too much on her stained and ripped paper plate, is really a giant bucket filled to the rim with various possibilities that I simply do not have the time to afford.

I have a lot of things in my posession, but time is not one of them.

Why, then, write in a seemingly meaningless blog when there is no time to afford and three papers to write? To create a small pocket of air in a giant bucket full of unfulfilled possibilities.