guys, school started up again this week.
i’m happier than a jack-rabbit on speed that was just given a can of mountain dew. and i’m jumping on a personal trampoline. don’t know how the trampoline got there, but it’s there and i’m pleased. ugh, now they gave me a kazoo.
i already have a strain in my arm from raising my hand too much.
i want to hug all of my syllabi. and smell them. is that bad? i hope not, because i just hugged all of them.
i got new pens and a new notebook and a gender studies professor that asks us to sit on the ground in a circle and talk about feelings. and lady-parts. and more feelings. i kind of think i love her already.
i’m also taking two poetry classes(!!!!!!!!!!)
(i have to scream into a pillow out of joy every time i remember the aforementioned fact.)
guys, every time i think i am not going to apply to six-year ph.d programs, and get really strong bifocals because of too much reading in poor lighting, and stress-eating noodles in libraries, school starts again and every poem is like a present and yesmyroommatesandmotherandboyfriendcannotstandhowdisgustingiam andyestheyhavetoldmemanytimes.
now if you’ll allow me, i have to go spoon all of my textbooks. they are very needy and i must attend to them.
okay. did you jump high and flail your arms and sing “you can call me al” by paul simon around your apartment?
okay, go for it now.
alright. so now that we’re on the same page i can get to my point.
i am so excited to break out my bookish blazers like i did yesterday. get myself on my new bike (she is such a beaut. her name is neptune and she might be my best impulse buy ever.)
to bike myself to my fancy writing classes with my lisa frank folders and velvet pencils.
to put on my tina fey glasses and get back into school mode. is it just me or is there nothing better than school? besides putting sriracha sauce on everything, of course, there isn’t.
another thing i missed besides school was obviously some embarrassing amounts of outfit posts. they make me more accountable so i don’t just loaf around in my bike shorts and sports bra as i eat baked beans in my new apartment. which i do a lot more than i am ready to admit, but that’s besides the point. i’m really trying hard not to be that blogger who posts gratuitous amounts of pictures of herself taking herself too seriously.
over the past weeks of working at a local cupcake bakery, i’ve self-appointed myself as the honorary “angel of diabetes” of boston. i close most nights there, which means many sad, little cupcakes that don’t have a home.
needless to say, when i can’t pawn them off to the rogue gentleman or homeless people or my roommates, they make their home in….my stomach.
also needless to say*, “breakfast” usually consists of…a cupcake. and lunch….also can include a cupcake. and a free drink from a local business that i bartered with….cupcakes.
i’ve joked with my co-workers at my other job (50 hour work weeks between two jobs also doesn’t help with my all-cupcake diet) that it is only a matter of time before i get “cupcake scurvy”. i realized i should probably meet a vegetable or two when i realized the only fruit i had eaten that week was a raspberry atop my favorite cupcake, the lemon raspberry.
so if you see a uber-smiley red head bumbling around cambridge , looking dazed and running after her shadow, just give me an orange and leave me be . that’s just me in a diabetic shock and sick with cupcake scurvy.
nothing out of the ordinary.
*my grammatical skills have also been temporarily impaired.
i have this problem with fixating on songs. like that part of high school where i listened to the song “something” by the beatles approximately 800 times? in the span of a week?
and the soundtrack to “amelie”. um, i broke my cd copy… which brings me to this song. i can’t stop listening to it. i listen to it as i make ramen noodles. and dance around the apartment in my leggings without shame. and past my roommates that roll their eyes at my child-like glee that i get from listening to it.