If it's not Matt & Kim,

it's Passion Pit.

I just want to hold hands and eat at this bistro. A bedroom alone, a grown up paycheck, and a my own dishes are so far off it hurts. Living as if I were 19 is getting a little ridiculous. Luckily I can (legally) wash my sorrows away in alcohol.
And music.
Not mutually exclusive.

Sheet of white.

School was cancelled so I don't have to go to clinical, which is
actually what I prefer over school but still! Yay!

Hell hath no fury,

like that of a woman scorned.

I guess I am a scorned woman? That is entirely too dramatic, but I've always enjoyed a little unnecessarily dramatic syntax. I'm feeling better in general. That sentence should be rearranged to say, In general, I'm feeling better. I think it more accurately describes my feeling in the other order though.

Gym two days in a row. Healthy eating, no mac n' cheese, or chocolate in two days. Date tomorrow night with hot frenchman.

Notice how none of those things involve school work...

I did my taxes, fafsa, first draft of my resume, and not a damn thing for the exam I have on Thursday.

I think it's time to list things endlessly and rather pointlessly:

I like flossing, a lot. I do it when I go to sleep and I wonder if my roommate can hear it popping in and out of my teeth.

I voluntarily woke up at 7:30am this morning. This is not only unusual, it's almost worrisome.

I bought myself perfume on Valentine's day.

Sometimes I take long-cuts (as opposed to short-cuts, of course) so that I can soak up the tiny bit of sun and breathe fresh air and remember that I live in the coolest place in the world.

I live in New York City.
I go on dates.
I am a nurse.

Who would have thought?

I have dandruff. I've never had dandruff in my life. Is this a weird winter thing? I have no idea, but I'm seriously over it.

I want to get a bike. Before I get this bike I want to go to the gym and ride that bike and build a little tolerance so when I ride I won't have a heart attack. The idea of riding my bike to work in some amazing hospital here is pretty rad.

I have been quite a bitch to those around me lately. I blamed it on my hormones. I then blamed it on the stresses of tests. I am still stressed, not as much, and hormonally I should be jolly, yet the bitchness continues. I need to reel it in before I'm stuck in this city alone.

I want to go to shows. I need to do something other than write blogs, chat online, and check facebook, and start looking for shows to go to. I live in the best area ever to see live music from incredible local bands. I feel like I'm wasting a precious commodity.

Pictures. I should include more pictures.

Grand Street in daylight.

Why is it that when the most interesting, dramatic, tragic, or just awesome times are happening in your life, you can't find time to document them?

I sometimes think of the people who read this blog and that I wouldn't want any of them, or the strangers, to think of me lesser than awesome. I have faltering confidence. I have panic attacks, and crying fits, terribly morbid mean thoughts, and other personality deficiencies. I want to document these moments without being judged, but I feel the need to have a public blog. It doesn't make sense.

This last week was pretty insane. A friend in town, a boy who won't go away, poorly scored exams, a hot Frenchman, essentially, the things a good book consist of. Alright, maybe not a good book, but at least some trash you could buy in the grocery store check out lane.

I went to the gym today and ran. I hate running, but it felt good to hurt a little and feel my muscles burn and my throat close. I went to the store and leisurely shopped, and I thought entirely too much about things fully out of my control.

This is the issue. Thinking too much. Being out of control.

I am unbelievably busy. I'm not handling it so wonderfully. I am imbalanced and I can't fix it, or have at least owned defeat, and feel like I'm slightly drowning. I feel smothered by absolutely everything in my life. School, roommates, friends, family, weight, debt. It's not healthy.

I smoked a clove today. I pinky promised my mom that I wouldn't become a smoker and so far I have kept that promise. Even without a formidable habit, I enjoy cloves because they bring me to summer instantly. They burn a little and make me feel purposeful. They are stress-free to me.

So maybe I need to work on my coping skills. Whatever.

Boys are just too much for me. I can't do it. Dating is too much. Like everything, it's fine most of the time and when it's not, it hurts. It's just something you have to have a thick skin about and I don't have that at this point. I have frail, pale, soft skin that can't handle the crass world of dating. The deficits mentioned previously seem to surface more frequently when you are selling yourself. That is exactly what it is. A sales pitch.

A fucking sale.

It's time for spring break. It's time for summer.

I shed tears because I want it to be summer. This weekend was beautiful. I watched puppies in the park and I found an animal shelter with kittens in the window. My soul aches without animal interaction. Maybe I should have gone to veterinarian school.

Maybe he's an asshole. Maybe he's too nice. Maybe he's just not it. He's not it.

It's no pecan bar from the Depot.

But it is a pecan bar from a cafe next to an awesome dog park. (not
pictured)

Matt and Kim make everything better. Almost.

Singles Awareness Day

Enjoying a 'nilla latte and preparing for a midterm. An overrated day
that never fails to upset me. Such a shame to waste any energy on
something so trivial.

American Apparel.

Matt & Kim were playing when we walked in. There's nothing better than
shopping with good music playing.

A Serious Man.

I plan on seeing this tomorrow, on a second date. He's already seen it but he says, "Oh I saw it a while ago, I'd like to see it again." So, of course I take that as, "Aww I'm so into you I don't even care if we see Blindside." The issue in this scenario is I'm not quite sure I'm into him. He's really awesome. Easy to talk to, funny, seems like he's not entirely insane, yet I'm not totally attracted to him. How important is immediate attraction? Can that legitimately be learned? All I know is as far as first dates go, it wasn't torturous. He also has an affinity for syntax so we all know he'd faint at the site of this blog.

What can I say, I like commas?

The house has been a little more drama driven as of late. Not among the roommates, but among the personal lives of them. I am incredibly thankful I didn't move here and leave a boyfriend back home. It is all way too complicated and time-consuming. I won't say it's not worth it for either of the girls, but it is truly all-consuming.

This next week is hell. Quizes, midterm, paper, on top of the usual unbelievable schedule.

Thinking about it turns my stomach a little.

I feel like the tone of this entry is a little downtrodden but honestly I'm in a pretty light mood. Does that say something about my definition of "light?"

I'm sorry this thing never has any pictures. I could take a picture of the grey streets from all the salt being strewn about in preparation for the snow storm that never came. I could take a picture of my hair that is now a nice warm brown with black overtones. I could take a picture the tummy that I can never seem to keep filled. Who would want to see that anyway?

I really wished for the snow storm today. I have a feeling there will be another chance.

These are what keep me warm at night.

Can you see how many textbooks (excluding 4+) I am reading? Can you
tell I'm overwhelmed and don't know where to begin, and I know if I
don't just start reading any of them I will be so far behind I'll
never manage to catch up? Can you tell this is the hardest, most time
consuming, life changing, social skill killing, insomnia inducing (who
am I kidding I could sleep thru war) character building thing I've
ever done? I'm exhausted at the prospect of being exhausted. That
makes more sense to me than you. I am also pretty amazing. I am cool
and calm under unimaginable circumstances and I am going to be
Florence Nightingale the New Era. The College Years. 2. Jr. Alright,
let's not get ahead of ourselves. Off to bed.