Can I please be Virginia Woolf?

...I mean without the bi-polarity and the bi-sexuality and suicide and all...

Just read this:
"Directly one looked up and saw them, what she called 'being in love' flooded them. They became part of that unreal but penetrating and exciting universe which is the world seen through the eyes of love. The sky stuck to them; the birds sang through them. And, what was even more exciting, she felt, too, as she saw Mr Ramsay bearing down and retreating, and Mrs Ramsay sitting with James in the window and the cloud moving and the tree bending, how life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it, there, with a dash on the beach."

That's what I want to know how to do.

Sticking it to the man

I didn't make my bed today. Eat that, roommates.

My imagined day

What shall I do today?

Lie on a bed of flowery sheets by an open window, reading some useless fluff that I'm paying no attention to. Really I'm only paying attention to cars and imagined butterflies, and that spring breeze slithering around me, sniffing me like a dog. Oh look, a platter of segmented fruit appears on the bedside table. My bedroom door is open to all, and people--sibings, friends, Malcolm and Ralph--filter in to say hello. They don't stay long, they know I don't want them to, but they provide stability. What music is playing? Doesn't matter, but it's there.

In reality:

It's October. And I'm happy. Right? No, yes, I am. I must be. I just found a hole-in-the-wall used bookstore that I've been meaning to find. I'd like to work in one of those one day. I think I would. And in reality today, I found no pasty shop. Where are they all hiding? Today, the real me is going to Westminster to hear that music my insides have been asking me for. Take me back to spring. I must stay here till spring. Today I want to be subjected to spring.

What's my brain doing

My current list of majors to consider; drawn directly from my notebook:

-Accounting
-Violin
-Sociology
-English language
-Photography (not really considering it but it would be fun)
-English
-Nursing
-Psychology
Anyone see a common thread between all of these? If so, do let me know. It may save me some time and tuition money and later, stress therapy.

I lead a new life, sort of, and in most ways it's a relief but in other ways it's more frustrating. This is solely because i'm living with approximately forty very focused, determined, smart studious students who know just what they're doing and how to do it. Plus they do a lot of homework. Why must I be different? Is misdirection one of those things that's a blessing and a curse? I hate those. Just be one or the other, I say.

Just let me explain why I have sociology on there: it came to me yesterday, as I was, not for the fist time, swooning over Jeff Buckley. Part of the draw to him for me is that he was messed up. I asked myself why, and it occurred to me that I'm oftentimes drawn to the weird ones, the ones that need help [no, I am not referring to you--i mean artists, musicians and the like]. This begs the question, is there a reason I'm drawn to people that need help? I'm not trying to make myself out to be Mother Theresa or anything, but maybe I should help messed up kids or something. Maybe cool?

Disclaimer: don't be fooled, this in no way means that I have an idea what I'm doing

Lyrics of the Day

Perhaps it is the color of the sun
Caught flat and covering,
The crossroad I'm standing at;
Or maybe it's the weather or something like that.
But mama, you've been on my mind.

I mean no trouble; please, don't put me down.
Don't get upset, I am not pleading.
I'm saying I just can't forget you.
I do not pace the floor, bow down and bend,
but yet, well, mama, you've been on my mind.

Even though my eyes are hazy and my thoughts,
they might be narrow, where've you been; don't bother me.
Oh, bring me down with sorrow.
I don't even mind who you'll be waking with tomorrow.
But mama, you're just on my mind.

I am not asking you to say words like 'yes' or 'no,'
Please understand me.
I have no place I'm calling you to go.
I'm just whispering to myself so I can pretend that I don't know.
Mama, you're just on my mind.

When you wake up in the morning, baby look inside your mirror.
You know I won't be next to you, you know I won't be near.
I'd just be curious to know if you can see yourself as clear
As someone who has had you on his mind.

R.I.P. Jeff Buckley