Archived letters, Dandelion hard-drive, Admit one.

A long time ago, I wrote a letter for a bloke I used to date and saved it on my hard-drive. I went through files a while ago and found it and read it and was absolutely floored at the sheer gracelessness of the words.

Every day, it feels a little like I'm leaving something behind that I shouldn't. Like there's some part of me that deserves to be alive, but I'm killing it by growing.


I've started to save everything. Not hoarding, no. More along the lines of collectivity and archivism. Whole chapters of books I never started and songs I've never considered singing scattered sporadically around my hard-drive like dandelions in the back garden.


Birthday in two and a half.
We celebrated tonight.
It was excellent.



"There's very little I've not been able to admit, but I think this memory is one of the few."

I have no idea what that is, but it sounds pretty fun.

Waking up isn't as much fun as it should be, sometimes.

I'm in Hawaii.
We caught the flight that day I had BurgerKing.
I suppose I should eat fast food more often when I'm travelling.

I don't really know how long I've been here, but I've been generalising at "a week".

I've got a new phone.
Nothing swank, but definitely not my technology brick.
(Though my old phone can apparently go through the washer, get dried out, and still work perfectly fine.)



Class starts Monday.



"Pseudo-modesty won't cut it at the monastery."

Available space for bugs, malfunctions, and devilish belfries.

Due to a malfunction of the most irking nature, I have to re-write this amazing post I had written.

Basically, I'm sitting in a terminal being annoyed by bugs and children (I can't decide which is worse), trying to not re-visit my breakfast from earlier (wonderful French toast sticks from Burger King), and biding time until my battery dies (in both my mobile phone and laptop). Thank goodness for free internet.

Mum is making friends with everyone in the terminal.

We're flying Space-A, so the fact that there are no flights going to Hawaii at this time is really steaming my biscuits.


I'm also trying to warm my hands on the computer, but it's not exactly working.


Also, The Blue Screen of Death made an appearance at the Olympics. Whut?


"The devil in the belfry is really the consciousness you left behind when you got out of bed that one morning."

Growth, Dedication, Fruitflies, and Casual Desperation.

You grow a lot in four years.

It's hard to see while it's happening, but when you step back and read four-year-old journal entries, you see that you've become a different person than the one who started.

It doesn't matter if you started late or early because early starters could finish late and late starters could finish early.

"Desperation caught in the throats of the girls who wished they thought of it first..."


I realised today that dedication isn't the amount of time you put into something, but rather what you do when other people are investing time into something.
While the people next to me were conjugating verbs or worrying about gerunds or coming up with a different way to say "things", I was figuring out how to catch a fruit-fly by the wings while the insect struggled for escape.
I managed it one night. Out of the air at a friend's house.


"Casual as in the way she rolls her hips the instant you come into view or casual as in the way I lick my lips before I kiss you?"