I am so many people to so many people. I don’t want to act in parts of myself. I just want to embody myself, or not notice the cut-offs and the drop-offs and the changes. It’s strangely distressing.

You couldn’t even call me once. I was done picking up your slack.

tHings I must do when I get home

1. visit the fuck out of tag

2. visit the fuck out of smu

3. cuddle the shit out of eshe

4. cuddle the shit out of everyone i have missed

5. swing dance

6. cafe brazil

7.study the fuck out of my abnormal psych textbook

8. find a way to smuggle friend on plane

9. and how could i forget the texas state fair

The High Holidays Epitomized

Dear God,

I wish that I could touch you. How strange, sometimes I feel I almost do. Then, I’m back behind the glass again. What keeps You out is what keeps me in.

If you won’t reinvent yourself, you can’t circumvent your hell.

I’m going out for club soccer at Tulane today and my stomach is turning at the thought. I am not in shape enough and I am going to die. But I will probably have fun and maybe my friends will come with me?

The more I glance around at the beautiful ladies around campus, the less self-concious I feel. Everyone has their own personal charm and unique attractiveness. It’s relieving for me to finally realize this, and to stop feeling compelled to emulate those that seem to do a more effective job of drawing people in than I.

I love how accesible intelligent debates are in college. The premise is just mutual interest, and everyone I’ve been surrounding myself with has strong opinions and strong interests. I don’t understand what impeded these kinds of all-out, thought provoking conversations in high school? What made it strange to try your best to accurately express your feelings on an issue while using your most impressive vocabulary?

I think I used to write things once. Maybe I will start doing that again when I have more work that I don’t want to do.