Why is it that I can fix everyone else's love lives and relationship problems, but I can't do anything right with mine?

I should stop going on accidental dates.

Class sizes are fucking ridiculous.

1. IB Calc with Evenhus
2. IB Physics 3-4 with Wadkins
3. IB Anthropology 3-4 with Sweeney
4. Senior World Lit with Halpern
5. IB Spanish 9-10 with Walker
6. IB TOK with Millar

I win.
And I finished housewife dress #1.

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Asshole number 1 spreads gossip.
Asshole number 2 rubs the gossip and past times in your face..
Asshole number 3 waits until it is too late, dangles hope in front of you, and then rubs it in your face.

Can you break a type?

I wish I could express myself like everyone else, with words. That or through art, more through dance, style, whatever. I am neither eloquent nor creative. I fail at expressing myself.

If I see one more skanky ass Lincoln ho's boob popping out of her fucking American Apparel halter dress walking down the hall way, I'm going to fucking lose it.

First Thursday basically makes the beginning of every month so much better. What more could you want than coffee, good art, and fucked up DJs? "My First Suicide" was one of the most thought provoking photography displays I have seen in a long time. Possibly my life. I don't even know how to describe it to you. The Rake Gallery's "thing" wasn't as ( Read more... )

So basically Krumping is possibly my new favorite form of dancing, and I would love to take it up, but that would be incredibly screligious of me so I won't because I respect that. However I am still dreaming about antrhopology, medicine, and Haiti in various combinations. Listening to Saul Williams all the time isn't helping this. It is ( Read more... )