Going hand in hand with that last post, though, I kind of hate science for not letting me appreciate tomorrow being my last day of college classes. Or maybe I love science for stopping me from having a totally irrational and unnecessary meltdown over the same. Since, you know, because of science, it might actually not be. Fucking hell. I’d say this is the last time I’m allowing a...
Something weird about this whole “immersing my life in astronomy so I don’t fail it and ergo don’t graduate” thing I’ve been doing is it’s making me realize how much I have whatever the science version of performance envy is. I love what I do, and it’s sure as hell more fun to be an artist than it is to be most other things, but God I would have loved to...
Apparently, suggesting that I give my TA a muffin basket and a blow job is my mother’s idea of how I solve my astronomy problem. Something about apples and trees goes here.
Number One Super Best Thing About My Gynecologist Having Essentially Prescribed Me a Never-Ending Supply of Antibiotics: Woke up on Sunday morning with a sharp, stabby pain in my ear and throat that I (in my infinite medical wisdom) knew was probably tonsillitis. Started a round of Macrobid. It is now Thursday, and I’m completely cured - no student health required!
Sometimes I can’t help but think how happy it’d make me to just talk and write and read about sitcoms all day.
wednesday morning sentimentality
I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting a missed connection. It’s kind of lame, I know. And I admit, it’s all because in Richmond, they’re an art form. I guess it’s that I think it’s really lovely that people have this outlet for others they’re a little (or maybe more than a little) transfixed on. It’s such a beautiful thing to get those flips in...