Foreword: He who cooked me soup when I was sick, but also gave me the adult flu, lied and cheated his way out of my life ( Read more... )

Everything I like about myself has its roots in learning and studying French. From taking myself out to brunch on my days off (confidently hitting the 57 on the ketchup bottle, and spilling food on myself as a result of being too wrapped up in a book) to questioning the veracity of everything I think and hear (because Nathalie Sarraute interviewed ( Read more... )

Pursuing a change, a next step, that will train me to be, and then present me as, an expert in Something is utterly terrifying, as I've spent the past 24 years steadfastly convincing myself that I am utterly unremarkable ( Read more... )

Again! Again!

( new tattoo )

( survey says )

Lest I ever begin to think he does not care or is less interested in me, I should always remember the time I got sick, announced it on facebook, and he showed up at my house at 8am with croissants and then made me tea and soup while I napped.

Me, lately

In the new apartment with new roommates with a new boy sleeping in my old bed, which looks new in this light. One minute my heart is in my stomach and then in my throat and then back again.

Time for a round of Awesome/Not Awesome ( Read more... )