it's 2:21 pm, on February 15, 2003 - take me to the airport, please.

~

Better find the one that lights the way for you.

That's beck, not me.

So I bit the bullet and bought Christina's new album, which I'm pleasantly surprised to say I like a lot. Even her slower, ballad'y songs, I'm quite fond of, because they're about finding somewhere that you fit.

It's been eight days since I updated this, and all I can think of to tell you guys that you might care about is that I now know Al's answering machine message says something about carebears, jesus and a cat, and the world ending. the rest is gone from memory.

money is so fucking tight. I don't mean to complain? but really. it's so tight.

As soon as I finish this mythography assignment, I can officially take off to Toronto. I just have to finish. four pages of a book report and I can go and do nothing but catch up on readings at Olympus.

There's a huge post coming, probably elsewhere, about how pop culture and pop music fic is the closest our culture will ever, ever get to having a mythology of our own. it'll be academic, and it'll be from the heart, and it'll be so pretentious no one will read it. but I totally believe it.

Beck is still singing. "our love was like the music -- it's here, and then, it's gone."

"Take me to the airport, put me on a plane. got no expectations. we'll pass, through here, again."

Four pages of assignment, and I'm gonna be passing through.

~

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what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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