So far I’ve found two people to couchsurf with, one in NYC, and one in Copehagen (Denmark). They both seem like cool people. Hopefully my boyfriend is cool with me staying with random dudes.. They both have a ton of references so I feel safe.
Couchsurfing.org is a website where you can either host travelers… or just stay with random strangers as you travel the world. I only contact the ones who have hosted many times before. My brother used to host people a lot, and they were always really cool
Anyways I was feeling quite drained and bored with life but now I remember that I’m gonna be all over Europe this summer and I don’t feel so bad. Even though my boyfriend left for India this morning and I won’t see him till December. meh.
Also I keep having odd dreams about Tomorrowland.
Guess I’ll be going to India this December, assuming our relationship can survive till then.
It’s a crying shame that I have never been in a fight. I am freaking TWENTY ONE years old. At this point it’s almost getting embarrassing. I’m taking a self defense class this month though, so maybe I’ll have the guts to take on a street harasser next time I’m downtown. I’ve been reading a lot of comic books lately (Avengers, X-men and Deadpool if you cared to know), which is maybe why I feel like I should be fighting someone in … hand to hand combat!
I’m so into this dude. I don’t know what to do with this level of vulnerability. I don’t even recognize my brain right now. ayeeee! bring it on, life! I am happy to throw some dice with you!
The song is Roll Right Over by Eye Alaska in case this gets deleted like the first time I posted it.
I have to write a 4-6 page piece of nonfiction for my creative writing class.
Was thinking of doing a series of vignettes on my old people (working at a nursing home blah blah blah etc.) but she specified that there HAD TO BE A PLOT which kinda shoots that down.
Other option: write about my skeletons, write about going crazy. (and have people know this about me.) I made this mistake last year in poetry class, first poem had to be a personal poem. She read mine in front of the whole class, and I understood on a very deep level the word “mortification”.
I could write about Thailand but that just feels like bragging.
I could write about men. But that is just too overdone. And given current circumstances, also looks a lot like bragging.
meh. Might just skip class Tuesday and stay home and hash it out.
speaking of being happy, speaking of men, speaking of beautiful moments that songs remind me about….
I know… you already know this one… but this blog is for me not for you.
I don’t know if you’ve heard of Ylvis, but you will have soon, so allow me to introduce you if you haven’t already met. One of the few songs that my roommate will dance to without being forced which marks it as a very worthy song indeed.
I guess I need to ask myself whether I care what people think of me. And the unfortunate answer is yes, yes, and hell yes.
There are some people who are trying to live well, be happy, and not screw anyone over in the process.
And then there are some people who employ a vicious fascination with other people’s lives. I’m scared of these ones. Like mad dogs. When do you get old enough to lose your fangs? My life is not meat. I wish I was strong enough to bite back.
I feel so off-balance and helpless. Like everything is just happening to me and I can’t even react in a meaningful way.
Me: “Well in five years if we’re both still single, we should get married so you can get American citizenship.”
Him: “That’s a good idea, thanks Amy”
my shoulderblades have
now the most reckless
broken-glass battle scars
dancing barefoot in dirty streets
drunk off the
wind in my veins
since the day I
killed the past with
There are people who find the the truth boring.
Me, I caught honesty like an addiction to the rarest of drugs. I’ve been frequenting alleyways looking for a fellow junkie since my first night doing lines of sincerity with you in the back corner when we were still strangers. Clear eyes, clean hearts. The crash back into reality, to deceitfulness and calculated smiles nearly killed me.
I’ve been living in the withdrawals.
I like drug metaphors but I don’t know that much about drugs so (cliches). oh well.