And your heart is a stone, buried underneath your pretty clothes

And your heart is a stone, buried underneath your pretty clothes

I keep thinking about Stockholm Syndrom and how sometimes things are labeled so easily and what about case-by-case basis, and good people and bad people and in-between-the-word-is-a-zillion-shades-of-gray people?  Today we went to the mall and I was trying on jeans and they fit perfectly and I was just standing in the dressing room, looking at them in the mirror and wondering how they were so different from the jeans I already had at home, when one of my favorite songs came on the radio.  And I thought, these are the jeans, I have to get these jeans.  So I did, in every color they had.  But now I'm sitting here and the window's open and i can hear crickets and I can't help but wonder about fate or coincidences or random occurrences of undeniable magicalness.    

I am leaving for college in a week.  I don't know what to think about it, so I don't.  I talk about it like it's an abstract thing.  It's happening on Wednesday, but it's not really.  I don't think it'll hit me until I'm lying awake in my dorm room bed at 3 am because everything smells different.

And your heart is a stone buried underneath your pretty clothes

And your heart is a stone buried underneath your pretty clothes

In fourteen days I will turn 18. Graduate from high school. Never have to see my least favorite people ever again. Do people really go to high school reunions? Only if I'm fat and alone and unhappy, mainly unhappy, could I ever see myself returning to high school. There's so much out there in the world that needs my help, so there's no reason to waste my time in the past. That sounds like the advice I give M or A and never listen to myself. I want to be happy. Is that a reasonable goal? When does it become selfish? I think I've thought about this before. My mind goes in circles, over and over, cycling through what I've already considered and making it feel brand new again. I wish that worked on people, places, the clothes in my closet.

I want to rewatch "Skins" this summer. I want to clean out my closet and my dresser and my bookshelf and I want to go through my massive collection of mostly blank notebooks. I want to see all of Woody Allen's films. I want to read David Foster Wallace. I want to take more pictures. I want to master freeway driving. I want to feel like I've accomplished something.

Run whirlwind run further and further away into the sun

Run whirlwind run further and further away into the sun

My eyes hurt from my contacts and it really doesn't make any sense until I think about it, because I should be able to wear them all day, but if I wear them til 9 pm then that's more than a 12-hour day and I don't really think they're meant for that.  This evening after dinner I took my Sons and Lovers book, which has characters that I hate more than I've ever hated any characters ever, into the living room and read on the couch there, because even though the lights buzz and the windows look out on the street and I'm afraid of passers-by looking spying on me, every time I try to read on my bed I start to fall asleep.  My plant, Ginny VI or whatever number I'm on now, has grown really huge and now I think it's too heavy to stand up on its own, because no matter how much water I give it (and no I'm not overwatering it) it just keeps drooping down over the edge of the pot.  It's like Paul Morel, and it'll never be happy because its heart is too heavy because it's carrying the weight of others and doesn't know how to stop caring about itself so much so it can be happy.  That doesn't make any sense.

I'm reading The Once and Future King because I think King Arthur is someone who I should know a lot about, as I'm becoming one of those people who has something to say about every single book ever, despite not having read any of them.  I really really like it so far, because it's light and delightful and cute and also feels like it contains all the answers to every problem I've ever had and will have.  I wish I could write like that.   

How would you cope if the world decided to make you suffer for all that you are

How would you cope if the world decided to make you suffer for all that you are

Today my mom mentioned that I can take dance classes in college, and while I really have no desire at all to take dance classes, the whole idea of taking a dance class, just the idea of it, is kind of appealing.  I have five tests in three days next week, which is next week but it's kind of scaring me anyhow.  I've been trying to write this for about a half hour now, but I'm in such a good mood that I have nothing to say, and I just went and reread some of my posts from December and for some reason sentences always sound better in my head when they don't have any commas.  I have new favorite songs and a pretty solid A in math and a B+ in French but I think I can fix that, and I made cookies the other day and also hamentashen, and I got four acceptances today which brings the total up to five, and so basically I can't think of anything to be sad about right now.  But I think I'm going to start getting rejections at the end of the week, probably as many as I've gotten acceptances.  Which is all part of the experience, I guess.

I'm going to do more homework tomorrow than I did today.  I promise.