it's bad news when counting crows lyrics sound profound

I really don't feel like writing anything. So I'll let The Counting Crows say it all. I wish I could use this tactic for my essays!

In any case, one thing is clear: I need to go to Baltimore.

Raining In Baltimore
This circus is falling down on its knees
The big top is crumbling down
It's raining in Baltimore fifty miles east
Where you should be, no one's around
I need a phone callI need a raincoat
I need a big love
I need a phone call
These train conversations are passing me by
And I don't have nothing to say
You get what you pay for
But I just had no intention of living this way
I need a phone callI need a plane ride
I need a sunburnI need a raincoat
And I get no answers
And I don't get no change
It's raining in Baltimore, baby
But everything else is the same
There's things I remember and things I forget
I miss you I guess that I should
Three thousand five hundred miles away
But what would you change if you could?
I need a phone call Maybe I should buy a new car
I can always hear a freight train If I listen real hard
And I wish it was a small world
Because I'm lonely for the big towns
I'd like to hear a little guitar
I think it's time to put the top down
I need a phone call
I need a raincoat

A Weekend Long Ago

I wrote this at some point in July (I think). For an embarrassingly long time I couldn't figure out my log in name, so I stopped posting. I'm definitely nt a cyber feminist. In any case, I have since figured it out, so here is a ridiculously old post.

I went home this weekend, and for once I actually enjoyed it. I took the bus home on Friday, and eavesdropped on the conversation of these two people behind me. I made comments in my head for most of the ride, until I realized that one of the people sounded
A lot like someone I would be friends with. So I turned around to ask if he went to Laurier and then preceded to ask in the most creepy manner possible if his name was Chris Clemens. Specific, I know. It’s a fine line between friendly and creepy, and I’m willing to walk that line. Anyway, it turns out that it was Chris, which was strange because we hadn’t actually met before but I still knew who he was.

Anyway, I spent the first part of the weekend with Carly, who’s one of my closest friends. We’ve known each other since we were in kindergarten, and it still amazes me how close we are. Part of me wishes that I still lived across the street from her. But that would mean living in suburbia. We spent the night talking and had a slight (but unwanted) adventure when we were wandering downtown at night. We were walking from Kensington to Baldwin Street (two of the best areas in Toronto) when Carly tells me to keep walking and not turn around because there’s a guy with a gun sitting on the curb behind us. He was just holding the gun in plain sight, and could have easily shot us. For no reason at all. And that simply, it could all be over. It’s strange how our lives are so much more fragile than we realize. One small action from a complete stranger is all it takes. I know this sounds cliché, but when you think about life as something that isn’t promised to us indefinitely, it’s easier to forget about all the crap that doesn’t matter. Like jobs and grades and fights and phone bills. When you think about your life, and the possibility of it ending tomorrow, what do you cherish the most? For me, it’s me relationships. My friends and family. Including my guinea pig. And that feeling of being connected to everything. When you’re watching at a sunset, or feeling the wind in your hair or touching a tree.

I remember someone once made fun of my mindset by making some reference to holding hands in a circle and singing. Possibly in some sort of meadow with sunshine and flowers. And happy squirrels. And I’m okay with that.

Ohhhh, and in other news, Rosa just played me a Shins song featuring Iron and Wine. That makes me happy.

Procrastination

I've realized that, despite being wary of anything related to computers, I'll probably end up posting more than I'd like to this year. Why, you ask? Because I procrastinate. And I can't stop. I think I'm addicted to it. I actually actively look for ways to procrastinate. Even when the work I have to do is something that I'd normally do for fun, like read The Beauty Myth. Suddenly it's part of a course and I become terrified that I won't be able to write an intelligent essay...and I get this knot in my stomach and can't bring myself to even look at the material. But I worry about it, and dream about it (and not in a fun way) and completely stress myself out. Eventually I'm forced to just suck it up and write the essay. And, to my surprise, it usually turns out okay. It could have been better if I had actually had time to edit it further and explore different aspects of it, and I tell myself that next time I'll remember this. But clearly I don't.

People always say that mistakes are good because you learn from them and then you won't make the same mistakes again. But the thing is that I'm constantly making the same mistakes. With school, with boys, with friends. And I can't seem to change it.