167;
2008 year recap thing:
Take the first(ish) sentence or two from the first post of every month.
(i've also added the first photo i posted on my flickr each month, so this is all
January: my grandpa died, we buried him christmas eve day. it was cold, i was wearing small black shoes standing on frozen ground and dead leaves and i got back into the car, i couldn't feel my toes.
February: so to-morrow i have things to do, i am going to skip class and wash the laundry and reattach the planets to the wall again.
March: i'd give anything for things to be like they were two summers ago. i'd give anything for somewhere to go home to, a lap to rest my head on.
April: went back to the field museum yesterday. i like being there, i like the taxidermied animal exhibits and the northwest coast indian exhibit.
May: it's weird, i remember we were driving in your car late at night on the way back from somewhere and this song came on your radio, and it was the first time i'd ever heard it and i remember thinking it was the most beautiful song i'd ever heard, and you were the most beautiful person i'd ever met. i want to tell you this, but i think we're past the point where we say things like that anymore.
June: well i know it's summer because i've got bruises on my knees, scraped-up shins and twenty thousand mosquito bites too.
July: i'm in love with a saturated life, dizzy lights and screaming rollercoaster rides.
August: i officially have an apartment in chicago! my roommate and i signed the lease today.
September: some day soon i will update about my beautiful life.
October: lately i work a lot and i am mostly dissatisfied of the temperature of places indoors.
November: "i'm the same as i was when i was six years old," everything seems to be modest mouse lyrics for me lately. that is something you march confidently to, down the streets with big orange leaves all around your feet and chain link fences like walls and skies that swallow, fingerless gloves and clenched fists and fur lined jackets.
December: right now i am sitting in brian's basement while he works on a record and i don't know where to start or what to say, really. when i woke up on december 1st there was snow completely covering the ground and i found that to be an appropriate beginning to winter, which i can't believe it's winter already, anyway.
Take the first(ish) sentence or two from the first post of every month.
(i've also added the first photo i posted on my flickr each month, so this is all
January: my grandpa died, we buried him christmas eve day. it was cold, i was wearing small black shoes standing on frozen ground and dead leaves and i got back into the car, i couldn't feel my toes.
February: so to-morrow i have things to do, i am going to skip class and wash the laundry and reattach the planets to the wall again.
March: i'd give anything for things to be like they were two summers ago. i'd give anything for somewhere to go home to, a lap to rest my head on.
April: went back to the field museum yesterday. i like being there, i like the taxidermied animal exhibits and the northwest coast indian exhibit.
May: it's weird, i remember we were driving in your car late at night on the way back from somewhere and this song came on your radio, and it was the first time i'd ever heard it and i remember thinking it was the most beautiful song i'd ever heard, and you were the most beautiful person i'd ever met. i want to tell you this, but i think we're past the point where we say things like that anymore.
June: well i know it's summer because i've got bruises on my knees, scraped-up shins and twenty thousand mosquito bites too.
July: i'm in love with a saturated life, dizzy lights and screaming rollercoaster rides.
August: i officially have an apartment in chicago! my roommate and i signed the lease today.
September: some day soon i will update about my beautiful life.
October: lately i work a lot and i am mostly dissatisfied of the temperature of places indoors.
November: "i'm the same as i was when i was six years old," everything seems to be modest mouse lyrics for me lately. that is something you march confidently to, down the streets with big orange leaves all around your feet and chain link fences like walls and skies that swallow, fingerless gloves and clenched fists and fur lined jackets.
December: right now i am sitting in brian's basement while he works on a record and i don't know where to start or what to say, really. when i woke up on december 1st there was snow completely covering the ground and i found that to be an appropriate beginning to winter, which i can't believe it's winter already, anyway.