If I could do anything, I'd build a movie theater on the moon

It's like windshield fluid. It cleans my windows and clears off all the bullshit that has accumulated. But when it's are cold, it crystalizes, becomes hard, and obstructs my view tenfold worse than what it ever was. In this form, though, it is so abstractly beautiful. How can it be so extreme on opposite ends of the spectrum? The wipers sweep and it's gone as quickly as it came. Although, as fortunate or unfortunate as it may be, it always comes back.

I want this to be my life:

"The walls of the shed collapsed one autumn afternoon - "a leaf too many," her father joked - and the next day he made new walls of shelves, so that the books themselves would separate inside form outside. (The new, overhanging roof protected the books from rain, but during the winter the pages would freeze, come spring, they let out a sigh). He made a little salon the the space, carpets, two small couches, he loved to go out there in the evenings with a glass of whiskey and a pipe, and take down books and look through the wall at the center of the city."

.....Sans the whole Nazi Germany thing....

Should have went to bed earlier, as I am exhausted anyways.... but I stayed up to witness how incredibly insane Shaun White is on the snowboard. He killed everyone. It's almost unfair how good some people are at things while I am so painfully mediocre. Speaking of pain, one of the most painful feelings in the world is typing 5:30 into your alarm clock. Gahhhhh

Darling, I'm lost

Dear Oakland,

In no way, shape, or form am I an agile person. In fact, I have an abominably low level of coordination. So, please... spare the joints of my lower extremities and my pride and shovel your side walks. I have eaten so much shit as I wobble and slide to campus lately, my eyes are starting to turn brown.

With minute amounts of love,

Sarah

On a side note, the snow that is piled high above the sewer vents are incidentally turning into igloos. The putrid steam (the steam that I am impetuously afraid to breathe in, as I feel like my lungs are filling with other's vaporized fecal matter) has melted the inner most parts of the mounds, creating a sort of hollowed out den. A haven for the homeless, perhaps.

Cat Power- Metal Heart (Moonpix or Jukebox version... take your pick)

They make all the right reasons to fuck it up.... You're gonna fuck it up.

Pre-genetics torture, I am enjoying left over tofu fajita burrita with soy sour cream and Against Me! in the background. I'm going to take my book to class and completely ignore everything my sixty-five year old, hornball professor says. Perhaps it will be a good day.

The story of my life...

I bite my tongue every time you come around.... 'cause blood in the mouth beats blood on the ground.

Food for thought.

"Just because you're an atheist, that doesn't mean that you wouldn't love for things to have reasons for why they are."

What if everyone swallowed little microphones and they played the sounds of our hearts through little speakers?

I made myself dinner for Valentine's Day... after skipping out on my nakey nap and refusing to do any form of school work. It was a terrible failure. How does one ruin buttered noodles? It is hard to imagine, but it happened. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with the fact that Dan hijacked the salt and pepper into his room. Regardless, it just further potentiates the pathetic factor of my life. For now, I am going to hang with my dates, left over boxed wine and Jonathan Safran Foer.......'s novel.

What are you? Stupid?

Random thoughts...

-While I have nothing but the biggest hearts for the Schaeffer children, riding in a car with all three of them for eighteen hours is a self inflicted torture chamber. A catalyst for mental calamity. An escape-less cube of doom. A situation that humanity must avoid at all costs. Either way, they are still some of my best buddies (excuse the indiscriminate annoyance that is attached to the aforementioned word).

-I just began reading a new book: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. When I say "just began"... I literally mean page eight. There was some sort of parallel universe link between the pages of my book and the volume dial of Eric's car. With each turn of the page, it seemed as if the volume raised. It was as if there was some sort of invisible connection from the corner of the pages that slowly pulled the circular knob closer to maximum intensity loudness. It got to the point where it was me or the music because I couldn't even recognize the words in my head due to the strength of the sound. Then, as soon as I gave up and closed the book, the music lowered itself back to a tolerable state. The same invisible connection was able to lower the sound as easily as it raised the sound. For whatever reason, it was working against me. The point is, this guy is funny. Hopefully, I will read more of it today once I stop being lazy.

-Refrain from breaking stranger's showers/bathroom walls. In Philadelphia this weekend, my vertigo set in as I stood up and stumbled harshly into a empty and excruciatingly hard bathtub with an unstable shower curtain as my only defense. Needless to say, I ripped that curtain and its bolts from their insecure, rotting walls. The jimmy-rigged curtain was an epic fail when the wire strung around the plant fell, too. Gosh, I hope they don't have any extenuating charges via my ridiculousness.

- I should thoroughly consider weight loss, seeing as how my friend drew a "stick" figure of me as a fat blob. Ouch.

-It's funny how much you (in the general use of the word) want something that is no longer there. Something that wasn't a necessity until it was truly gone. If David would have asked me to be his girlfriend the day that he died, I would have laughed at him. The only way I would have agreed would be out of spite and jealousy that he had someone when I did not. Now, though, it is a crushing pain and a harsh realization that we could never be. I would even go as far to say that it is paralyzing sometimes. Today, for example. Losing your v-card on v-day, so cliche and embarrassing. Regardless, it floods me with memories that render me weak in the stomach, wet in the eyes, and barely able to breathe. This happens with so many things... after three (sort of four) years of a relationship, there isn't much that doesn't at least kind of remind you of the person. His mom is finally going through his room and getting rid of some of his stuff. With his clothes, she is getting teddy bears made out of them. As selfish as it sounds, I'm kind of annoyed that certain people got picks before me (i.e. my "best friend" who had sex with him and lied to me about it until after he died... the best of timing).

-I mentioned Valentine's Day earlier, but I have the most insane, round about thought pattern that it is hard to construe what is going on up there in a feasible way. I am going to have the best of days... slept until two as a result of an 8 a.m. return home from NYC, made instant mashed potatoes that I ate while I uploaded photos to facebook, got a shower, made a stupid blog entry, going to take a nap (naked post-shower nap... the best), and later... I will be getting really romantic with a poster-board about acquired brain injury and emotional processing deficits. Dis iz duh lyfe.

-Help.