Wake up lying in a patch of four leaf clover

Wake up lying in a patch of four leaf clover

There was a shooting in my hometown today.  There was a shooting in my hometown today, and it's on the national news, and my little sister was at school three miles away, and what if, what if, what if?  Things like this aren't supposed to happen.  Not there, not so close to home.

I'm flying home on Saturday, and I think it's the right time.  I'm starting to cling to things that remind me of home, like the really ugly sukkah that was set up in front of commons today, and old Something Corporate songs, and chocolate milk with breakfast.  I called my mom three times today.  It's hard here, not having the permanence of things that were constants, like Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur every year, or driving my sister to school in the morning, or watching Anderson Cooper over dinner.  I really don't know how to feel right now.  I miss my mommy.  I miss Michael and Jen and Briana and Gabs.  I miss Megan.  I need to stop reading the news for right now.   

She wrote me a letter as we passed through Rockford

She wrote me a letter as we passed through Rockford

Emma just went to yoga and I'm listening to Something Corporate and it feels like summer even though it's not, because today was my second day of school.  I feel a little like I'm at summer camp, like all of this is temporary, but it's not.  And it's very strange, the fact that I'm living and learning and eating all in the same place.  It feels a little bit backwards and bizarre and I'm not really sure how to get used to it.  But the people are nice and I like my classes (besides the hellhole that is bio) and so it's all good, basically.  And that's really all I have to say for now.

The more I step into the sun the more I step out of the light

The more I step into the sun the more I step out of the light

Day 02 - A picture of what you wore today

I probably should have taken this picture this morning when I still looked decent.  Also, it's upside down.  You know what - deal with it.

I have to answer the UC essay prompts for my post-secondary project.  There is nothing more I would like to do less than answer those prompts. I have this complete inability to talk about myself in a manner that makes me look good, which makes no sense, actually, considering how much time I spend blogging about myself.  But I just hate... I don't know.  But I don't wan to do them.  And since I don't want to do them, I'm going to procrastinate them to Thursday night and then do a crappy job and disappoint myself.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

She wrote me a letter as we passed through Rockford
She said she won't forget
Maybe I do maybe I don't
But I know I haven't yet
Said here I am
Oh here I am
Well I woke up in a car
I traced away the fog so I could see the Mississippi on its knees
I've never been so lost
I've never felt so much at home
Please write my folks and throw away my keys
I woke up in a car.

I like that song quite a bit.       

The porch light's off

The porch light's off

I can't think of anything to say tonight.  I'm not feeling particularly stressed or annoyed or happy or excited.  I just am. 

Oh, okay.  Here's something.  I don't like the f-word. 

This is boring.  I'm boring.  This weekend was boring. 

Here are some of my favorite pictures from France.

As she's pulling back her hair

As she's pulling back her hair

I have absolutely nothing at all to say today.  I'm frustrated with the same people I've been frustrated with for months, and I'm happy about the same things I've been happy about.  I eat the same thing for breakfast every single day.  How boring.  Monotonous.  Dull.

I miss my henna tattoo.  I miss summer.  Winter break.  France.

Stuck in my head right now:



I like the non-acoustic version better. 

Standing on the edge of morning

Standing on the edge of morning

My momsy is getting up early tomorrow to make me matzah brie for breakfast, because it's Passover and matzah brie is my favorite, and it's my last day at home.  Holy crap, it's my last day at home.

I'm trying not to think too much about the plane rides, or the high speed train, or the Seine boat cruise thing.  Sensing a pattern?  Ugh.  I'm never going to be able to drive a car.  Anyhow, I'm also not thinking about the amount of French I'm suddenly going to have to speak all at once, the very complicated dollars-to-euros math I'm going to have to do in my head, or the sore feet I'm going to have.

What I am thinking about:
- Ben Mckenzie
- Sleeping
- Monet paintings (Boulevard des Capuchines, specifically)
- Matzah brie
- The Sarah Dessen book I'm going to read as soon as I finish this blog post
- The microcosm of the gloriousness of France that is contained in this tumblr
- "Gilmore Girls"
- Summer