...dressed up for the midnight premiere of Pirates (it was surprisingly good for being the 4th one, I thought. I don't know how much that really says about it though)
...slept a bit
...aced a quiz
...didn't listen to the lecture in class
...attempted to decipher the meaning of light waves
...oo'ed and aww'ed at all the pretty pretty sunshine!!!
...painted my bff's nails for her dance
...watched Psych
...painted MY nails
...pretended to work on my paper and really got nowhere
...messed around with my clothes putting together new inventive outfits I am a fashion maven! ...not really
...colored a bunch of coloring pages
...worked out like a mad beast
...took a heinously long shower
...wrote a letter
...realized I was running out of things to do and became terribly bored enough to post about my day on LJ

I like/don't like having days off.

Well, I'm in college, my first year here is almost up, and I'm currently procrastinating on a paper. If that's not exciting I don't know what is :P

It feels bizarre to post here after so long. I've mostly transferred over to my tumblr (here if anyone feels like stalking me across the web), but I do miss my lj a bit. So I'm giving it some love =)

FIRST OF ALL! I've been awwing and cooing over the Talking Animal videos at this channel. They're super adorable and make me miss my puppy very horribly. I won't get to see him for another 4 weeks! It's killing me. At least my mom and my sister are coming to visit this weekend. That should be super exciting =) Plus I ordered some new shoes and clothes for summer, which I shipped home in order to avoid sales tax...and my mom said she'd bring them to me, since the weather is warm enough in Seattle now. Or, well. It's warmer, at least. haha =)

Ugh. I should really write another page of my paper before I zone out.

Cheers!

Rae

"The best hangover cure is not drinking a Bloody Mary in the morning. If you’re able, drink a glass of orange juice after your last drink; vitamin C helps metabolize alcohol up to 25% faster. Then drink 2 big glasses of water right before bed. Sleep on your left side as it creates an angle where the contents of your stomach won’t be able to rise up and give you heartburn. Wake up and exercise, sweating for at least 20 minutes, then drink more water. You’ll be fine."

-- Mike Hagan, Bartender

Rae
why do you like me so much?
1:58am

Justin
Because when I saw you standing in the ocean on Sunday, barefoot, the wind in your hair, the waves gently washing over your feet, I saw the woman I wanted to fall in love with. It's a feeling that I can't describe. It supercedes every list and checked box I've created, and is quite frankly bizarre after having known you for only one date. But I felt it, and so I'm running with it. Without pain there is no pleasure. Without risking everything and being completely vulnerable and open, I'll never find love again. So here I am. And here we are. and I'm sure all of it comes across as incredibly creepy and overtly forward and whatever, but its what I feel, and, if I possess no other redeeming qualities, I do possess honesty.

1. I was accepted to my top choice college (really, my only choice) (Seattle Pacific University)
2. I got my first car this weekend, a 2000 Honda Accord, for muy cheapycheap
3. My new car has a sun roof :D
4. Did I mention how cheap it was?
5. I spent 6 hours in the car last night with two of my most favorite people in the whole entire world, and basically the only people I really want to spend 6 hours in the car with
6. I got a new zoom lens for my camera
7. I got to sleep in till noon today, and now I feel much better and not as sick
8. I had insanely amazingly weird dreams last night involving my car and a mullet
9. I also dreamed about my crush (who does not have a mullet)
10. I got the best smelling tea in the mail from Megan (thank you thank you thank you!)

Basically it's been a great year. I can't believe it's over, though, time is seriously flying by! I feel like a relic saying that, but it's true. In the words of our favorite Doctor, "Don't blink."

Happy Christmas everybody, and an excellent New Year to you all!

the warmth of a room when it is filled with people who love you
whip cream that smothers pumpkin pie
a family who supports me and understands me
my adorable cousins
Miko and his excitable puppy dog ways
all the laughter of the day
busy-ness
random Woot! shirts, though I'm sad my sister didn't get any =(
very little homework over the holiday weekend
not having to stress anymore over college applications
the cool Oregon weather and the rain that is so refreshing
God who provides for me in everything

This place, it is a battleground. There is the blood, and the banner. The men in mud slicked uniforms with opaque downcast eyes. There is the artillery, you can hear it crackling, loud, shattering. You will never forget that sound, the sound of war. Not of screams and dying but of the grim staunch breath, the will to take another step. You will remember, but you will be the only one that does. This war, it was never won. There were no toasts and cheers, no hurrahs and treatises. There was only loss, defeat, decay. The smell hangs over the world.

How can you stand it? Why don't you leave? You could end it, right here, right now. You don't have to remember anymore. There is nothing left for you here, just hints of memories. You have nothing left, yet you are strong. You have nothing left to fight, yet you march. This will, it is unbeatable. Yet you know you have been beaten. Here, on this battleground.

This battleground, the wind drifting in from the west. You can taste the sea. It is metallic, it is blood. There is too much blood. There is the stark white landscape before you, not even a darkly stained body remains. It is as though it is a new beginning, but that is not possible. There is no more beginning, because this is the end. The end of an age, a world, a people. It is over, except for you. You are left to hear the determination, taste the salty sea breeze, you are here to march.

There is the earth beneath you, the chess board, the theatre, the battleground. There is no timing or strategy anymore, no costumes. No second act. There is only the march and the will and the air. And you. You are small in the expanse of the battleground, but now you are all there is. You have grown and you have shrunk. Your shoes are too big and the sky is too close, it burns and brushes your head. You are too close to soaring out into the atmosphere. Out, away. But you are too small, your boots are too heavy.

You march and you stumble on the battleground. There is uncertainty and dismay here, can you hear it? Taste it on the breeze. They knew it was the end, the cleansing, the white. You knew it was the beginning, the purification, the clean slate. You smelled only fear from the enemy. There is no enemy anymore, but the fear is still a stench in your nostrils. It is intoxicating and disgusting, pitiful and aromatic. Your boots rattle on your feet as you stomp, marching in the battleground.

There is no sound but a clamor, a hellish collapse, a silent deathly lonely noise. It invades you. You march, march, march. You have no rhythm, you are discordant. There is no order to the world anymore. There is no chaos because you march. You swallow chaos and order in every breath you take, and it smells of rage, untimely and impassioned. It is free, it is yours for the taking on the battleground. No one else lays claim to it.

There is only the endless march left for you now, all else is gone. It is not a matter of energy or time before even you collapse, it is a matter of blindness. You see white, clear, pure. Beginning. It is the end. You will march, yes, but not to your doom. Yours is the march of ecstasy and bewilderment, of battle, on battlegrounds. There is your battleground, but you are not a soldier. You march because you only know to march. You only know to march because there is nothing else to know, to do. If there is no march, what is there? Emptiness. Despair. You march, you are full of sand. You crumble. You march. You slide into pale infinity with a footprint.

1. Applying for college is a doozy.
2. Fudge is delicious.
3. I can be poetic sometimes, and sometimes I can just make mean comments that are meant to be not so mean. Sorrz?
4. You should be able to understand.
5. I'm seriously missing all things London/England/British/ . . . /Max. . . .
6. My slippers are getting kind've worn down. They're soft and fuzzy, but now kind've more just trampled on.
7. I'm worried about NaNo. I'm 5,000 words behind since my great grandmother died and I had to write three essays this weekend.
8. I'm waiting for you.
9. I'm also becoming minorly addicted to Supernatural, even though I know most of the episodes will freak the sh** out of me.
10. My face hates me.
11. I need to sign up for senior pictures, supposedly those are supposed to be done sometime in your senior year. Who knew?
12. I'm really nervous about a ton of things.
13. I can't wait for Ireland, and I wish we were going to England too.
14. WHYWHYWHY.
15. I'm pathetic.

A harsh breeze jostles the carelessly strewn leaves, tauntingly coaxing them along, whipping them into the air, dropping them swiftly back where they had been found. There is little color in the landscape but the determined red flash of the telephone booths, strident against the muted ancient calm of the buildings behind them. Rain patters on the cobblestones in disjointed rhythm; the heartbeat of the city. Your timid, quiet steps beat along, forming a loose harmony with the wind and the rain. The cuffs of your jeans are mud-spattered and soaked and drag hesitantly across the ground as though fearful of further abuse. You glance up at the sky, squinting, one hand shields your eyes from the persistent drizzle. Fearful, anxious, excited. You manage a partial nervous grin before you bite down on your lip. The rain is beginning to seep through your jacket and you hope to be out of the chill soon. There are endless possibilities of what may happen, and though you feel as if you have imagined them all, indubitably the one you did not will be the one that will become your reality.

On a street corner, you pause to dig into your jeans pocket, a small pre-occupied frown forming on your face. The scrap of note-paper you retrieve is smudged and you do your best to shield it from the downpour. You know the address by heart but you double-check it just for the sake of security. The building you have been searching for is directly in front of you. Pulling your jacket tight around you, you shiver and walk awkwardly across to the front door, unsure whether to skip for joy or run for fear. Instead, you bite your lip hard, dislodge your hand from its comfortable residence deep in your sleeve, and jangle the key it holds. It takes you a moment to unlock the door as your hand fumbles stiffly from the cold. As you step inside and close the door behind you, the rain is muffled. You can hear the drip of water from your person onto the austere tile floor. Your shoes squeaking, you walk towards the stairs in the corner, ducking your head down into your collar.

Three sets of stairs later, you pause once more to consult the paper in your pocket. It is no longer readable, but your eyes have studied it too long to notice. In your mind, you can still see the door number that you are looking for. Self-consciously, you brush your hair back from your face with your fingers, combing out rain-locked frizz. The paper rips as you shove it back into your pocket; you don't notice. Your eyes are focused on the door near the end of the hall. With a faux confident shrug, you trip your way there. You aren't prepared for the door to click open just as you reach out your fist to knock.

"Rae?!"

"You find no man at all intellectual who is willing to leave London. No, sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."

-- Samuel Johnson