So, I saw one of those heinous quiz/survey things on facebook and decided I had to fill it out. It's really simple: I just went though iTunes on shuffle and recorded the songs in order on the "Soundtrack of My Life." Exciting. I know.
Opening Credits: "All These Things That I Have Done"- The Killers
Waking Up: "What Da Hook Gun' Be?" - Murphy Lee
First Day At School: "Redemption" - Switchfoot
Falling In Love: "Breathing Deep" - 504 Plan
Breaking Up: "Time Turned Fragile" - Motion City Soundtrack
1st date: "Thumbelina" - Nightmare of You
Prom: "You Make Me Sick" - Pink
Life's OK: "Story of a Lonely Guy" - Blink182
Driving: "Absolutely (Story of a Girl)" - Nine Days
Flashback: "Maintain Conciousness" - Relient K
Getting Back Together: "Crazy Bitch" - BuckCherry
Wedding: "No Sleep Tonight" - The Faders <--- Haha, holy awkward.
Birth of Child: "The Things We Go Through" - Hawk Nelson
Final Battle: "Show Me Love" - T.a.T.u
Death Scene: "Brighter" - Paramore
Funeral Song: "Saying Goodbye" - Sugarcult
End Credits: "A Movie Script Ending" - Death Cab For Cutie
I'm going to be honest, though. I didn't exactly do this for your reading pleasure. That part is coming up very soon, I promise. I just thought it would be interesting to get reaquainted with my massive 13-day iTunes music. Literally. 13 days of music. Holy shit, son.
Thanksgiving is four days away. Four. That just seems crazy to me. It seems like I moved in a few hours ago, because I am definitely in the awkward "what-major-are-you-looking-at?" stage in so many friendships. However, I feel like I have breached that barrier with some friends. You know who you are. I guess it just comes to the point where everyone just stops putting up so many fronts. It stops being awkward. You tell eachother why you can't stand the weird guy who follows you or that one girl who has a walk-of-shame every day day.
I have also realized that if I put as much energy into study physics as I do into fighting it, I would probably be pulling a solid B.
In conclusion, college is one of those things that works itself out. If you can't let it be, might as well make it bleed, right?
Home Sweet Home in T minus three days.
The excitement is questionable.
The bed will be more comfortable, obviously
...a little colder, though.
XOXO. The Sizz.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Hump-Day Realizations.
* Home is portable like a plastic red suitcase.
* Willard Miller is left-handed.
* Procrastination is not profitable.
* Prioritization is probably necessary.
* The better you become at self-expression, the harder it is to say what you mean without some semblance of rythym and form.
* I am not as profound as I pretend to be (I promise).
* "If you don't know, honey, then, you don't."
* Willard Miller is left-handed.
* Procrastination is not profitable.
* Prioritization is probably necessary.
* The better you become at self-expression, the harder it is to say what you mean without some semblance of rythym and form.
* I am not as profound as I pretend to be (I promise).
* "If you don't know, honey, then, you don't."
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Shoot Yourself in the Face with a Christmas Firehose
Today, I exercised my civil right and duty. I visited the small church one and a half blocks away, got a sticker, and went for free Chipotle. Oh, did I forget to mention I voted?
That's right. With a wait time of twenty minutes, voting on campus was not the hassle everyone claims it to be. Plus, how can you possibly pass up free Chipots? I literally believe that over fifty percent of the people voting voted only because of the promised free food. What can I say? College kids are fatties and willing to go through pretty much everything for free stuff... even *audible gasp* decide the fate of our country.
Generally speaking, my week of intense hell is over. I must rejoice. However, I am now responsible for actually keeping up with everything, including (but not limited to) homework, friendship revival and re-establishment, being nice to people I don't like, staying in shape, and doing my laundry. Geez, I hate having free time.
The project I am currently focusing on is the formation of a creative nonfiction story. As Cassie pointed out, the term "creative nonfiction" seems inherently self-contradictory. However, this form of literature is apparently flourishing and "all the rage in Paris." (Note to reader: I completely made that last part up. Okay, love ya.)
In other news, my Christmas season has officially started. What does this mean to you? It simply means that if you ever stop by Territorial Hall 456, and I am present, you have a very large array of Christmas music and cheer to choose from.
Apparently, though, Steve has just informed me some rubbish about how "Christmas season isn't until after Thanksgiving." Whatever that means. For me, it is difficult to last through Halloween without Christmas cheer and decorations. He did, though, encourage me to decorate our room with Christmas stuff, which is always in an abundance at my house. I can ensure you that if you ever make it to my dorm room during the few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, you will feel right at home.
You won't be, though. Don't think this entitles you to sleep on our futon. Go home, you hobo.
That's right. With a wait time of twenty minutes, voting on campus was not the hassle everyone claims it to be. Plus, how can you possibly pass up free Chipots? I literally believe that over fifty percent of the people voting voted only because of the promised free food. What can I say? College kids are fatties and willing to go through pretty much everything for free stuff... even *audible gasp* decide the fate of our country.
Generally speaking, my week of intense hell is over. I must rejoice. However, I am now responsible for actually keeping up with everything, including (but not limited to) homework, friendship revival and re-establishment, being nice to people I don't like, staying in shape, and doing my laundry. Geez, I hate having free time.
The project I am currently focusing on is the formation of a creative nonfiction story. As Cassie pointed out, the term "creative nonfiction" seems inherently self-contradictory. However, this form of literature is apparently flourishing and "all the rage in Paris." (Note to reader: I completely made that last part up. Okay, love ya.)
In other news, my Christmas season has officially started. What does this mean to you? It simply means that if you ever stop by Territorial Hall 456, and I am present, you have a very large array of Christmas music and cheer to choose from.
Apparently, though, Steve has just informed me some rubbish about how "Christmas season isn't until after Thanksgiving." Whatever that means. For me, it is difficult to last through Halloween without Christmas cheer and decorations. He did, though, encourage me to decorate our room with Christmas stuff, which is always in an abundance at my house. I can ensure you that if you ever make it to my dorm room during the few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, you will feel right at home.
You won't be, though. Don't think this entitles you to sleep on our futon. Go home, you hobo.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Our Hell Ends Every Weekend
(but it's all I have to believe in).
So. My life is a large, angry spasm of tests and homework.
Tuesday - Physics Lab Report and Presentation
Wednesday - Calc Test
Thursday - Derivative Test (Ugh)
Friday - Physics Test, Chem Paper/Lab Due
Weekend -- I have assloads to catch up on already
Monday - Chem Test
Wednesday - Fiction Portfolio Due
But then I'm off free until the day before Thanksgiving! So, I'm giving thanks until then.
Generally, I sh/could be adding to the insane amount of time i've spent studying for this bitch of a physics test, but I decided to take a minute to reacquaint myself with the fabulous world of the internet. Oh how I have missed you so.
I have taken to basically living at Coffman (the U's student union, for those of you less acquainted with my surroundings) with a coffee and my homework. People probably think I sleep there in the abnormally comfortable chairs. The study lounge three rooms away is finally open after the people in extended housing moved out, but at Coffman I can sit by large windows and get distracted by cars and people with cool shoes.
Besides, homework for the sake of homework is definitely overrated. I would only do that if I wished to actually know physics. Instead, I am literally working on memorizing the problems, because most of the tests so far has consisted of questions straight from the homework. 10 per 3 chapters. Call me crazy. I am. Actually, I've been quite impressed with my determination lately. If I was this hardcore about everyday situations, I probably would have taken over the world by now.
I have only one bit of news. Yesterday I was greeted by some brand new friends with a banana-nut "diversity muffin." The poem on the piece of paper was brilliant (though probably had anthrax on it or something, don't take muffins from strangers).
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Beth is a Lutheran,
and Becca's a Jew.
Embrace diversity!
Love,
John
(Ps: I'm just a guy that never tried. I'm just a stupid fuck with brilliant luck, and sometimes a bright idea.)
So. My life is a large, angry spasm of tests and homework.
Tuesday - Physics Lab Report and Presentation
Wednesday - Calc Test
Thursday - Derivative Test (Ugh)
Friday - Physics Test, Chem Paper/Lab Due
Weekend -- I have assloads to catch up on already
Monday - Chem Test
Wednesday - Fiction Portfolio Due
But then I'm off free until the day before Thanksgiving! So, I'm giving thanks until then.
Generally, I sh/could be adding to the insane amount of time i've spent studying for this bitch of a physics test, but I decided to take a minute to reacquaint myself with the fabulous world of the internet. Oh how I have missed you so.
I have taken to basically living at Coffman (the U's student union, for those of you less acquainted with my surroundings) with a coffee and my homework. People probably think I sleep there in the abnormally comfortable chairs. The study lounge three rooms away is finally open after the people in extended housing moved out, but at Coffman I can sit by large windows and get distracted by cars and people with cool shoes.
Besides, homework for the sake of homework is definitely overrated. I would only do that if I wished to actually know physics. Instead, I am literally working on memorizing the problems, because most of the tests so far has consisted of questions straight from the homework. 10 per 3 chapters. Call me crazy. I am. Actually, I've been quite impressed with my determination lately. If I was this hardcore about everyday situations, I probably would have taken over the world by now.
I have only one bit of news. Yesterday I was greeted by some brand new friends with a banana-nut "diversity muffin." The poem on the piece of paper was brilliant (though probably had anthrax on it or something, don't take muffins from strangers).
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Beth is a Lutheran,
and Becca's a Jew.
Embrace diversity!
Love,
John
(Ps: I'm just a guy that never tried. I'm just a stupid fuck with brilliant luck, and sometimes a bright idea.)
Saturday, October 28, 2006
But I Am Le Tired...
No, I am not up extremely early. I have not gone to sleep yet, because of the worst invention ever: No Doze.
Everyone in this apartment has been asleep since around one, meaning that I have been awake almost six hours longer than anyone else here. Nothing good can come of being alone and wide awake that early in the morning. I can bet that this ruins my Saturday, because I haven't slept yet this weekend. Not a wink.
Instead, I have wasted my life surfing the internet. During this time, I realized that there is simply nothing worth reading, except wikipedia. However, I read wiki all summer when I was bored and trapped at work, so I was at a loss for subjects to read up on.
That said, this post is a shoutout. That's right, I'm actually tagging people if I can figure that bitch out. This post is an ode to those who have ever made a mixed CD for me. I have appreciated and loved them all one thousand times over again. They have opened my eyes, helped my self-expression, and just plain entertained me.
There is truly something magical about a CD mixed especially for you. Not only do I get an idea of the generous giver's musical taste, it may also help me to understand how I am percieved as well.
CDs are a cheap way of letting someone know that they are worth the time you are spending on them. The music and emotion behind every note carries something specifically brilliant. The words in each song of the CD do matter, because themed CDs are, in my opinion, the strongest, and filled with the most consistent emotion.
The order of the tracks MATTERS.
The art on the CD MATTERS.
The occasion MATTERS.
So, to all of you, I am sending this incoherent message of glorification, because I have been up for twenty three and a half hours without a wink of sleep. I just wanted to let you know that I care. You rock my world.
Everyone in this apartment has been asleep since around one, meaning that I have been awake almost six hours longer than anyone else here. Nothing good can come of being alone and wide awake that early in the morning. I can bet that this ruins my Saturday, because I haven't slept yet this weekend. Not a wink.
Instead, I have wasted my life surfing the internet. During this time, I realized that there is simply nothing worth reading, except wikipedia. However, I read wiki all summer when I was bored and trapped at work, so I was at a loss for subjects to read up on.
That said, this post is a shoutout. That's right, I'm actually tagging people if I can figure that bitch out. This post is an ode to those who have ever made a mixed CD for me. I have appreciated and loved them all one thousand times over again. They have opened my eyes, helped my self-expression, and just plain entertained me.
There is truly something magical about a CD mixed especially for you. Not only do I get an idea of the generous giver's musical taste, it may also help me to understand how I am percieved as well.
CDs are a cheap way of letting someone know that they are worth the time you are spending on them. The music and emotion behind every note carries something specifically brilliant. The words in each song of the CD do matter, because themed CDs are, in my opinion, the strongest, and filled with the most consistent emotion.
The order of the tracks MATTERS.
The art on the CD MATTERS.
The occasion MATTERS.
So, to all of you, I am sending this incoherent message of glorification, because I have been up for twenty three and a half hours without a wink of sleep. I just wanted to let you know that I care. You rock my world.
Monday, October 23, 2006
And You Want To Be Dressed In Poetry
Alas. I insist on attempting to transcribe my soul into a word document once more.
Today, everything I'm wearing is grey. I really hope that's not a metaphor, but it kinda seems like it might be. School seems hardly bearable... but once the caffiene kicks in, I bet I'll feel better and change into some color.
Venti white mocha nonfat no whip? You bet your four bucks I went there.
I never have much to say, but it doesn't seem to stop me from writing a lot. Most people tell me that's the reason that they can't write. They don't have anything to say. The real issue is that they might not want everyone to know their thought process. I think that might be all writing is: revealing your complex thought process through chains of meaningless sentences that more or less give meaning to your life. I guess that's my trade. Quantity over quality, and that's how we gain the freshman fifteen. No one tells us when to stop. We need to stop ourselves.
So, I guess it's my turn to figure out how to limit the words I type. Not only do I want to limit the number, I would really appreciate an increase in their quality, as well.
Ugh. I can literally feel the caffiene surging through my veins. I know that sounds a little off, but my face flushes for a bit while it's kicking in and I'm smiley for the few hours the kick lasts, kinda like alcohol or skipping physics.
and i am weaving dreams,
and you are singing hymns,
and we, as a pair,
could not very well care
less about something outside these sheets.
Today, everything I'm wearing is grey. I really hope that's not a metaphor, but it kinda seems like it might be. School seems hardly bearable... but once the caffiene kicks in, I bet I'll feel better and change into some color.
Venti white mocha nonfat no whip? You bet your four bucks I went there.
I never have much to say, but it doesn't seem to stop me from writing a lot. Most people tell me that's the reason that they can't write. They don't have anything to say. The real issue is that they might not want everyone to know their thought process. I think that might be all writing is: revealing your complex thought process through chains of meaningless sentences that more or less give meaning to your life. I guess that's my trade. Quantity over quality, and that's how we gain the freshman fifteen. No one tells us when to stop. We need to stop ourselves.
So, I guess it's my turn to figure out how to limit the words I type. Not only do I want to limit the number, I would really appreciate an increase in their quality, as well.
Ugh. I can literally feel the caffiene surging through my veins. I know that sounds a little off, but my face flushes for a bit while it's kicking in and I'm smiley for the few hours the kick lasts, kinda like alcohol or skipping physics.
and i am weaving dreams,
and you are singing hymns,
and we, as a pair,
could not very well care
less about something outside these sheets.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Every Inch of Me is Bruised
I've got my things. I'm good to go.
(Sometimes perfection can be perfect hell).
...I swear I didn't mean for it to feel like this...
Prepare for some really severe angst headed straight your way.
I
can only hold together
my life (and sometimes not even).
Please, don't rely on some sinking ship help you float,
because, baby, I'm just a ship-turned-anchor and I'll only drag
you
down.
Roping;Reeling;
I guess you're not missing much
of this sinking:feeling.
Hours pass,
and we [youandi]
are some light at the end of the tunnel,
and the end of the sand
in your tight-wound hourglass.
and she smiles
and he frowns
and we are still indifferent
to the rushing waves that can't begin to write anything like this
and the sun rises
and sets
and i never noticed how it lit washington avenue
(until you pointed it out).
and i [me myself(ish)]
am still teenage down deep
and so, entitled,
to some broken free-verse.
you know, you know:
"too many pronouns."
and the lushes and lovers are calling
and i'm watching this chickflickfade
to whiteout.
black!
black;
grey...
grey:
grey?
white.
...and now every word of every song...
(Sometimes perfection can be perfect hell).
...I swear I didn't mean for it to feel like this...
Prepare for some really severe angst headed straight your way.
I
can only hold together
my life (and sometimes not even).
Please, don't rely on some sinking ship help you float,
because, baby, I'm just a ship-turned-anchor and I'll only drag
you
down.
Roping;Reeling;
I guess you're not missing much
of this sinking:feeling.
Hours pass,
and we [youandi]
are some light at the end of the tunnel,
and the end of the sand
in your tight-wound hourglass.
and she smiles
and he frowns
and we are still indifferent
to the rushing waves that can't begin to write anything like this
and the sun rises
and sets
and i never noticed how it lit washington avenue
(until you pointed it out).
and i [me myself(ish)]
am still teenage down deep
and so, entitled,
to some broken free-verse.
you know, you know:
"too many pronouns."
and the lushes and lovers are calling
and i'm watching this chickflickfade
to whiteout.
black!
black;
grey...
grey:
grey?
white.
...and now every word of every song...
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Half the Night I Waste In Sighs
I went to the city of my birth earlier this weekend. It's very weird, because I haven't been gone long, and everything has continued in its pace. There was no period of grieving. No one's life stopped. It was actually rather disappointing to see things that are different.
I realized a few major things.
1. I've grown up a lot in the few months since I graduated. I'm taller, weaker, more straightforward, healthier, and, surprisingly enough, more dedicated to school. I've recently affirmed the well-known fact that you really can have fun without drinking, and it might not be as good of a release as everyone assumes it is. It goes without saying that I really feel like toning everything down a little. Everything.
2. I actually miss very few people or things from home. Dorm life isn't luxury, but it's mine, and that's all I've really wanted my life to be. Here, I can be genuinely nice to people I like, and only mildly polite to those I don't really enjoy.
3. I never sleep. At home I slept for a total of 18 hours in two nights. That is literally more than three nights of sleep here. I can't decide if that's necessarily a good or bad thing. I still don't really feel rested. Maybe I just slept too long.
4. Class sucks a lot less than I keep saying.
5. My parents are not pushing me into anything, at least not directly. This is only really a recently discovered fact, but it should've been apparant long ago. Though I realize they would be a little disappointed if I suddenly dropped out to become a carnie (but I guess my hands are too big anyway...), they just want me to be happy. I'm pushing myself into this major and this classload, and as much as I complain, I really do like being a nerd.
6. I miss the worthless TV shows like "20 Skinniest Celebs" and "Real World/Road Rules Challenge: The Duel." I refuse to pay $50 a month just to engorge my brain in such things, but the shows make me realize that our society really has too much free time, and I kinda like it.
7. My life could be a lot worse. And I mean a Lot.
8. I'll probably disagree with most of the above statements by the time Thanksgiving rolls around, but they are just things I feel like I should acknowlege, like global warming, Japan, and the JFK assassination.
None of those three things are really related.
Love, John.
I realized a few major things.
1. I've grown up a lot in the few months since I graduated. I'm taller, weaker, more straightforward, healthier, and, surprisingly enough, more dedicated to school. I've recently affirmed the well-known fact that you really can have fun without drinking, and it might not be as good of a release as everyone assumes it is. It goes without saying that I really feel like toning everything down a little. Everything.
2. I actually miss very few people or things from home. Dorm life isn't luxury, but it's mine, and that's all I've really wanted my life to be. Here, I can be genuinely nice to people I like, and only mildly polite to those I don't really enjoy.
3. I never sleep. At home I slept for a total of 18 hours in two nights. That is literally more than three nights of sleep here. I can't decide if that's necessarily a good or bad thing. I still don't really feel rested. Maybe I just slept too long.
4. Class sucks a lot less than I keep saying.
5. My parents are not pushing me into anything, at least not directly. This is only really a recently discovered fact, but it should've been apparant long ago. Though I realize they would be a little disappointed if I suddenly dropped out to become a carnie (but I guess my hands are too big anyway...), they just want me to be happy. I'm pushing myself into this major and this classload, and as much as I complain, I really do like being a nerd.
6. I miss the worthless TV shows like "20 Skinniest Celebs" and "Real World/Road Rules Challenge: The Duel." I refuse to pay $50 a month just to engorge my brain in such things, but the shows make me realize that our society really has too much free time, and I kinda like it.
7. My life could be a lot worse. And I mean a Lot.
8. I'll probably disagree with most of the above statements by the time Thanksgiving rolls around, but they are just things I feel like I should acknowlege, like global warming, Japan, and the JFK assassination.
None of those three things are really related.
Love, John.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
I Swear.
I will write in my blog.
I want to write in my blog.
I can write in my blog unless I feel like I have nothing to say.
Procrastination will be the death of John Ervin Thomas Sand as he is known. Friday, I have my next physics test, and the studying is going over like a lead balloon housing rusty knives. That's right. It's killing me.
Generally speaking this has been a quality week so far. I'm starting to get the hang of this college thing. I can officially balance work with fun, however, I seem to consistently prioritize incorrectly. For instance, I am currently working on English, due Monday, rather than studying the physics I so desperately need assistance with. Both will be completed, but why put my self through more agony than is necessary? Simple answer. I want to pass.
I will not fail physics.
I can not fail physics.
I refuse to fail physics even though my teacher is an angry nazi.
Late night meals are so so good and so so bad. The residence hall I am in is the only one with special 'late night' dining from 7 to midnight. Two words: taco tuesday. I am in amor americano.
I will not gain fifteen pounds.
I will try not to gain fifteen pounds.
I will probably not gain fifteen pounds if i stop eating more than three meals a day.
I want to write in my blog.
I can write in my blog unless I feel like I have nothing to say.
Procrastination will be the death of John Ervin Thomas Sand as he is known. Friday, I have my next physics test, and the studying is going over like a lead balloon housing rusty knives. That's right. It's killing me.
Generally speaking this has been a quality week so far. I'm starting to get the hang of this college thing. I can officially balance work with fun, however, I seem to consistently prioritize incorrectly. For instance, I am currently working on English, due Monday, rather than studying the physics I so desperately need assistance with. Both will be completed, but why put my self through more agony than is necessary? Simple answer. I want to pass.
I will not fail physics.
I can not fail physics.
I refuse to fail physics even though my teacher is an angry nazi.
Late night meals are so so good and so so bad. The residence hall I am in is the only one with special 'late night' dining from 7 to midnight. Two words: taco tuesday. I am in amor americano.
I will not gain fifteen pounds.
I will try not to gain fifteen pounds.
I will probably not gain fifteen pounds if i stop eating more than three meals a day.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Some Things In College Just Kick
College. Yes.
I realize that I am neglecting the true loves of my life by not writing on here. I've wanted to write for forever, but I was afraid to let you all down. Besides, I was much too busy failing a physics exam and writing my first book of haikus. Seriously.
The University is amazing. I mean you've gotta love the freedom, and great shoes, and no parents anywhere telling you what to do (thanks, meredith). There's just that whole thing that gets in my way... class. I will talk more extensively in this later, but for now I'd like to take a minute to reflect on 18 years.
Eighteen has literally come and gone. It feels so weird, like I no longer have an excuse to be reckless, I'm not going to be a teenager in a year. ...In one year, I will actually be required to be mature and responsible and rational. It's just that whole toothache that is putting a damper on my chipper mood. Reality. When did it become so real?
Well I guess I'm still making bad decisions. I'm still singing out loud. I'm still walking to and from the shower in my towel making the awkward kids blush. I'm still wearing those tight jeans and too-short shirts. I'm still angry and joyous and spontaneous and young. I'm still John and I'm still allowed to be awkward and free. I have a feeling that I'll always be eighteen on the inside. It was my favorite year so far, and it's tough to let it go. Who thought I'd be having a mid-life crisis at nineteen?
You know what they never tell you when you're off to college? It's going to be hard work. Everyone in college seems to leave that out when describing their experience, and I always put a damper on the mood when I bring it up. I guess I'll just let everyone out there live the lie that they can head off to college with as much vodka as they want... and a great job and lover will just fall into their hands.
People are breaking. Stress stress stress, and all I can do is turn nineteen and try to deny that I'm being tested. How powerful can I become? How bad do I want the life I'm choosing?
I realize that I am neglecting the true loves of my life by not writing on here. I've wanted to write for forever, but I was afraid to let you all down. Besides, I was much too busy failing a physics exam and writing my first book of haikus. Seriously.
The University is amazing. I mean you've gotta love the freedom, and great shoes, and no parents anywhere telling you what to do (thanks, meredith). There's just that whole thing that gets in my way... class. I will talk more extensively in this later, but for now I'd like to take a minute to reflect on 18 years.
Eighteen has literally come and gone. It feels so weird, like I no longer have an excuse to be reckless, I'm not going to be a teenager in a year. ...In one year, I will actually be required to be mature and responsible and rational. It's just that whole toothache that is putting a damper on my chipper mood. Reality. When did it become so real?
Well I guess I'm still making bad decisions. I'm still singing out loud. I'm still walking to and from the shower in my towel making the awkward kids blush. I'm still wearing those tight jeans and too-short shirts. I'm still angry and joyous and spontaneous and young. I'm still John and I'm still allowed to be awkward and free. I have a feeling that I'll always be eighteen on the inside. It was my favorite year so far, and it's tough to let it go. Who thought I'd be having a mid-life crisis at nineteen?
You know what they never tell you when you're off to college? It's going to be hard work. Everyone in college seems to leave that out when describing their experience, and I always put a damper on the mood when I bring it up. I guess I'll just let everyone out there live the lie that they can head off to college with as much vodka as they want... and a great job and lover will just fall into their hands.
People are breaking. Stress stress stress, and all I can do is turn nineteen and try to deny that I'm being tested. How powerful can I become? How bad do I want the life I'm choosing?
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