Initially, my biggest excitement about going to college was that you could go to the bathroom whenever you want. I told this to Jace who was graduated when I was going into Senior year of highschool. He agreed with me, and also appreciated how good Mac n' Cheese was. He had a job where he could eat as many Nabisco Oreos as he wanted. He worked from 3 am on and got off early during the day. I ended up in a similar position to Jace. I got to eat as many Oreos as I wanted, and I worked from 11pm to 7am. We both got tired of Oreos, but he went on a Mission to who-knows-where for the LDS church and I started working for the bank instead of the hospital.
Nowadays I encourage my brother that in college you get to go to the bathroom whenever you want, and you also can get V8 out of the vending machines. It's a good deal, I guess.

I conditioned my hair for the first time today since January. Swimming a lot made it fried, sort of. So I had to.

Okay. So in conclusion, today I decided that its okay to give up sometimes. AS IN, its okay to not take your bass home, thinking you'll practice. It's okay that you know deep down that you won't practice. Its okay to admit to Alex, when he writes home, that you haven't been very faithful with your scales. And, it's okay to wear the same socks two days in a row.
And its okay to eat potato chips.
And its alright to admit you have an addiction to Starbucks. There are many like you.

A lot of people were looking at Tegan and Sara and wanting to kiss them, or just really really enjoying their music.
And I was too, but mostly, I just want to be them. Well, Tegan specifically cuz I like her haircut better. But the glamour just gets to me. I WANT IT. I want the tattoos and the hair, and playing amazing music and traveling the country, and being from Canada, and looking cold and wearing jackets. I want it all.
I feel 16 again.


I need the revolution medicine.

It's just like....
be who you are. Stop locking me out already.

Whatever. I'm not 17 anymore.

What I'm doing these days:
1) Working a lot. I'm working both jobs shamelessly. Sort of shamelessly. It's like I am unfireable from Chase. I took a $9000 loss the last week I worked. And they still haven't given me the boot. I think George is in denial that I quit over a month ago, because they haven't even interviewed for my position yet. OH WELL! Not my problem.

2) Loving Starbucks? And this is the part where I admit that I am going through my workaholic phase that I do every year to get over, or get under, or go through some kind of trial. Throw all that angry-sad-crazy energy into a job. Pay the bills. Fall in lerve with coworkers named Kayleigh that scream a lot and sing and dance and throw espresso shots on top of caramel macchiatos. Lerve. Not love. Not homosexual...

3) Taking tums: to coat over that hole in my throat from being sick. Being sick is/was gross.

4) Trying not to think about what love is. Or butterflies...or...crap. I'm thinking about it.

5) Eating ramen noodles with Siracha sauce, dreaming about Celisse coming back into my life for the weekend. (Tegan and Sara show, H-yeah) Getting up in the morning. Pretending I feel good every day. Meeting God when and where I can (Could you come down and chat with me God, all I know is Grey's Anatomy 2nd Season and dress codes and matches lighting cigarettes that I don't smoke all the way down.. Have I even smoked in over a week?)

6) I know, number six. But I forgot that all I do is play music over and over. In Tooele even. WHAT IS THAT! Tooele is on the other side of the freakin' Salt Lake. And Rain. And bass, and pics in my cupholders.

7) remember when you were with us? You hung out? And you weren't pregnant? You dyed your hair brown and we were in the mountains, and we were still little girls?

8) Okay. I'm done now, saying.

I think Jesus has tattoos.
Or my image of him has tattoos. Right now it does. I think my image of Jesus changes from time to time to match the kind of person I'm most comfortable with.
Eventually Jesus won't have tattoos anymore, is maybe what I'm saying.
Jesus is a doctor, but one who's not in it for the money. And one who's not tired.

I'm sick. I don't get sick very often, and when I do it's pretty awful. I've only been sick twice since I was 15. I feel like I'm being punished, but maybe God is just trying to teach me compassion again, because I forgot about it.

I want to go home. Wherever home is.

If I ever learn how to commit, then maybe it's time for me to get a tattoo.
That's what I've noticed, anyway.
The people I know that have tattoos got some sorta commitment going on.
Yeah.

Small blessings from God, on a Friday:
-not seeing Oliver
-Flight of the Conchords
-Gold Oreos
-night running with Jack
-the end of a very long headache
-texts with Alison and Celisse
-Venus razors
-White peony tea from Surfas

the end.

This is the part where the drums come in.

I get these regrets about where I am, and then I get past them. But still.
I worry constantly...
maybe because I have nothing else to think about? Everything seems like a lot of work and I just think too much.

And this is the part that I wish I'd move away and never come back.
No expectations. No standards. No pictures on the wall.
A human eraser.