Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Pell-mell and golden thoughts

Okay, linguistic story time with Nela. All in all this blog is entitled Words and Some Punctuation and while I feel like punctuation has been conspiring some nasty scam against me, words is something I quite enjoy talking about.

So let's talk about words. Starting with:

pell-mell [ˈpɛlˈmɛl]
1. in a confused headlong rush the hounds ran pell-mell into the yard
2. in a disorderly manner the things were piled pell-mell in the room
disordered; tumultuous a pell-mell rush for the exit
disorder; confusion
[from Old French pesle-mesle, jingle based on mesler to meddle]

So in middle school, we had these survey notebooks. I don't know if it was big in any other country, but at some point everybody had one. On the first pages you wrote an interminable list of ludicrous and far-fetchedly 'witty' questions and everybody whom you gave the notebook to, had to stick an envelope with the answers to its pages. In my circle of friends (which, needless to say, was not based at my school) we grew to call these "pele-mele", a word that didn't exist. Nobody really knew why we called them that and it was only today that my friend learnt about what pele-mele means in French (non-accidentally in English as well). All the other people called the notebooks 'golden thoughts'. Again, needless to mention that I felt pretty ostracized because I called them differently.

So like, conclusion...? Isn't calling something totally random, pointless and also something that's a platform for middle school castes forming 'golden thoughts' a little puffed-up? Or maybe that's the joke. I mean, you usually call 'golden thoughts' some quote from an important piece of literature, someone's last words or total cliches about life that end up being encouragement pillows. But really, if you choose the answers to questions like 'would you rather date Santa Claus or the Easter Hare' or 'milk first or cereal first?' to be something you're remembered for...? I don't know where I'm going. Honestly. Total lame-off. But still. Can't help thinking about which name it should be called.
I also feel sad because pell-mell is too cool a word not to be used, but it sounds totally farcical.

Digression item number one: another thing I discovered today, and it is a really interesting phenomenon - sometimes when I read a lot during the day, I don't feel really hungry. And that's not only because I don't need to use my energy for anything more than sitting/lazing around but because book lovers are usually so emotionally engaged in the story that reading does in fact tire. It's a feeling as if you literally ate words. Which, even it sounds cool, would mean just the opposite, etymology-wise (like, honestly, why is 'eating one's words' such a derogatory phrase?).

Digression item number two: I've been reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy all day today. It is amazing how many expressions for different kinds of road surfaces I got from this book.

Digression item number three: it is amazing how cats' memory doesn't work long term. Or maybe they're just very 'grasp the moment' kind of animals. My cats have eight and eleven years. And they're still mildly freaked-out when it's snowing. You know, jumping and catching the snow flakes. I feel like that deserves a video on the Internet. Oh wait, somebody already did that?!

Song of the day: Something Good Can Work - Two Door Cinema Club (a suggestion from Julie)

Verse of the day: Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life. And then I will be able to boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor in vain. Philippians 2: 14-16

Monday, January 16, 2012

Going crazy with the movie list and getting tired after the first description.

Hello lovely readers!
I'm trying to send out positive vibes because I've been acting like a selfish d-bag today and everyone was really kind to me regardless of my pettiness (okay, aside from all the 'Prom is going to be the most splendorous night of your life, you'll ruin it if you don't go' claims. People, get over it.) 
Tomorrow I get a day off! (legitimately, this time :) I'm gonna be studying all day and I'm starting this joyful business SO early, I need to get a good night's sleep. That's why I'm doing  a list, even though I was planning on elaborating on 10 reasons why not to go to prom.
Today, brushing my teeth I was thinking about how I can never answer if somebody asks me about my favorite movie. It's a weird thing, I just can never think of a particular one straight away. Then all those brilliant ones come to my mind when I'm brushing my teeth and I wish I'd had them systematized or something. How about that? (keep in mind that I'm not a huge movie person, I don't watch much so I'll appreciate your suggestions). Seriously. I'm looking forward to reading what you like to watch!

1. Snow Queen - this one is so cheesy. It's a TV family movie (one of those made in two parts, so old school). I first saw it last month, when my head was full of migraine slaying  my consciousness and I decided to watch the TV channel that has the renown of airing crappy USRR movies and American erotic comedies. But, I liked it so much that I bought it as soon as I was done watching it (basically the kind of movie you get for 1 dollar and end up loving to bits). That was one of the very few story adaptations that I enjoyed (especially hard to attain, since the tale has been with me for my entire life), it had the exact  same feel to it as the Andersen's story has. The setting is beautiful, even though Gerda's character reminds Bella Swan's ambiguous face expression a little bit.
2. Lars and the Real Girl
3. Midnight in Paris
4. The Piano
5. Breakfast at Tiffany's
6. Anne of the Green Gables (I know, right? I used to watch it every freakin' Sunday, when I was round twelve)
7. Gone with the Wind
8./9. You've Got Mail & Sleepless in Seattle (I feel like those two need to be put together because of the amazing duet Hanks and Ryan.)
10.Black Swan
11. Atonement
12. Bright Star
13.A Secret Window
14. Storm of the Century
15. A common thread
16. Girl, Interrupted
17. Autumn in New York
18. Hannah and her sisters
19.Edward Scissorhands 
20. September
21.Interiors (such. a. brilliant. one.)
22. Alice
23. The Astronaut's wide
24. What's Eating Gilbert Grape
25. Singin' in the Rain

Song of the day: Forever Yours - Alex Day (the instrumental version has been stuck in my head today)

Verse of the day: So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. Galatians 5:16

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Watch it rain

Once there was a little girl. She loved playing in the rain. You know, every other weather was appreciated too, but shinning up a tree seemed fun only if its crown provided a nice viewpoint to observe the majesty of God, throwing the lightnings all over the withered fields, and bathing in the lake was never as delightful as when the cold rain lashed and only the warm area of the lake gave pleasurable sanctuary. Rain boots were number one item of shoe wear. Whenever it started pouring, she turned deaf to the screams of her mom yelling that she was going to get pneumonia. She adored the sound of umbrellas unfurling and their dancing as people moved awkwardly along the sidewalk, although she never carried one with her, feeling that she was above that.
It was about letting the rain soak down to her bones. Not literally, but she felt as if the rain was on its way. She loved the feeling that she could be in the center of the storm.
The little girl thought nobody should care if she had a name, a family, a blood type. She didn't even remember she had one of those. But maybe there were no thoughts at all, no impressions, no observations. I can't even tell if there were any actual feelings involved. It just seemed like a very abstruse sense of being. I would say the little read-headed girl experienced very abstruse senses of being quite often. She did not see any problem in this practice. Being consumed by whatever kind of feeling was a new life, not a scene in a play that consisted of several intertwined stories. Here each story was a story of today. The girl wasn't experiencing sadness but she seemed to had become it. The girl wasn't stratifying her feelings. There was just one timeline. One life each day.

Last week it rained a lot. I would be perfectly happy just to happen to be in the neighborhood and pop in to check out my work training, being in this one timeline, detached, not having situations to fix.
I did look at the raindrops. They reminded me of something. I don't think it was a feeling, or an impression, or a thought. It was more like a fashion of being, very abstruse and complicated in one's attempts to understand how it works, but gosh, so simple to live. I tried to let this be me. Let the rain be me. Let me be overwhelmed by the wonder of it all.
But all I'm overwhelmed by is the glut of life. One life. And it's not the life of today, but of all the days. That's why I cannot get into one timeline of being, cannot be someone else, or maybe just a different me. If I were to meet the little girl again, today I would see the Sunday girl. And tomorrow the Monday girl. But if she chose so she could also be the Thursday girl tomorrow. That wouldn't be a problem. 
 I can't say what actual difference there is between us. Is it all the standardized testing I've done, 'adult' hormones in my blood or an ID that allows me to drink legally? Bills? Tax forms? What I know is that I can't afford to be in the center of the storm like that's all there is. And that's why I can only watch it rain. Nothing beyond that.

Song of the day: Never Play - Emily and the Woods

Verse of the day: To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8: 31-32

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Since the last blog post...

Since the last blog post:

-I slept for 20 hours straight. I would be a real cancer-fighting machine. Which would be okay since there's a lot of cancer in my family. Which also isn't very helpful 'cause I probably can't give away my hours spent cancer-fighting to anyone who actually needs them.

-I spent 48 hours looking for loppers to disembody my late christmas tree. No evidence of loppers found.

-I've made calculations concerning the most suitable temperature in my room as far as bills go and had to compromise on one much too low for my personal comfort.

-hence I slept some more. Because it was so cold.

-I've washed approx. 400 pieces of China.

-I've gotten The Fault in Our Stars in my mailbox.

-I went to the hospital. Made friends with the coat checker and decided not to buy candy from the hospital's candy store so...

-I went outside to get candy and discovered the candy was weirdly hard and overall not so fresh.

-Realized that today is the eighth birthday of two of my cats. Happy Birthday Prim and Odile! I also realized that my third cat would be starting high school next year. My, my, time flies. (it's like, apparently you have to set these milestones to be a successful parent. Or cat-owner.)

-What is slightly connected, I talked with my friend about all of our high school friends that are now parents and/or are going to be. I have to say that I finally feel like a teenager.

Song of the day: The Fiddle and The Drum - Joni Mitchell

Verse of the day: Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen. And he has given us this command: Anyone who loves God must also love their brother and sister. 1 John 4: 20-21

Wednesday, January 11, 2012


There are some things in which I don't believe. Prom is one of them.

There are also some I can't believe. This is one of them.

Song of the day: Sparks - Jesse Woods

Verse of the day: When hard pressed, I cried to the LORD; he brought me into a spacious place. The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me? 
Psalm 118:5-6

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Law&Order and more.

One of these days I'm going to turn on the TV and Law & Order is not going to be on.

This thought deserves its own blog post. But I feel like this would be laziness.

An amazing thing about traveling is that you have this right to leave everything mentally behind as you are physically leaving it. My world may be shattering and I may be crying my eyes out, but there is no way my absence at work is going to be justified. However, if I randomly decide to hop on a train and go to seek the Great Perhaps, I don't have to care anymore. I can just say 'I can't help y'all much at the moment, I'm in a motel 150 miles away'. Then, suddenly, it is okay to be just yourself, to be this self-sufficient constituent peregrinating from the familiar to the new. Today I suddenly realized why that is. It's like if you're in a closed area, you feel like in a separate world. That's not weird as long as you stick to the familiar places. The advantage of traveling here is that you're often exposed to new territories where your old life and your old problems don't exist. When I'm in an unknown new apartment, a whole new universe opens in my head. I no longer have to keep obligations I made in the domestic space, nor care about friends or interests at home. 
It always made me amazed at how different it feels to be in the same vehicle but moving from one place to another. You can get on a train, close your eyes and move from the mountains to the sea. You can sit in the tram, not changing your position at all, your hand grasping the pole at the same spot, your foot rested against the side radiator all the time, but in the course of fifteen minutes you're somewhere completely different! 
It is something very fascinating how being enclosed in different environments makes you create these separate realities. Realities where the peculiarities of the domestic one disappear. Or is it just me?

Taking into account that my phone's ringing just freaked me out so much I decided not to take the call, it may be just me. I've been fearing lately (a dream? I don't know) that if I answer the phone, the policeman made of play-dough is going to inform me about some bad news.

Also, I have this random thought about my cats. You know how in animal movies there are always two teams of cats - home-loving pedigrees and landfill wanderers? Take Stuart Little. It always made me laugh how the abandoned cats poked fun at those spoilt homeys. But even though my dears aren't pure-blooded, it just struck me that in reality all the stray cats in the neighborhood are probably making fun of them because they're so loved, spoilt and domesticated. THEY HAVE IT TOO EASY.

Song of the day: King Rat - Modest Mouse

Verse of the day: Therefore, rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind. Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good. 1Peter 2: 1-3

Monday, January 9, 2012

What a treacherous thing to believe...

I don't succumb to the miserable feeling of failure that I feel like plunging in right now.  I'm still gonna do this. I only forgot about the John Green Week. I'm not sure if doing John Green was at my list of New Year's Resolutions. If it was I'm screwed but otherwise my self-esteem remains untouched.

 Today I watched this lecture about how people's perception of the pursuit of happiness changes as one moves from one age group to the other. The researcher argues her point by the common topic that bloggers from different age groups blog about. When you're 12-14 you're in the simple phase. Later, you enter the angst one. Ages 19-22 are dedicated to the feeling of confinement, before you cross the threshold of 23 - the 'conquer the world' era. 
There is one thing I hate about researches like that, especially if they prove themselves to be true. The fact that, if they are true, they imply that the person is not only a person, but a material, a biological species, that we are allowed to group in some way, that we are allowed to put into a certain file. 
I do feel like I'm constricted. I know a lot of people who feel the same way. For me thinking that this is the result of the stage I'm in is somewhat underscoring. I would like to say that there are many conditions one is exposed to, but really, I reckon it makes me think of horoscopes in a way that saying 'all the 19-year olds feel as if they're in confinement' is like 'all the Aries are going to be in a romantic relationship in March'. I don't know how I feel about it. It makes the John Green quote resonate in my head, 'what a treacherous thing to believe that a person in more than a person'... Or rather 'what a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a psychological study'.

I feel like I shouldn't be doing community service anymore. It makes me feel like a person whereas all the other people think suitable for me to feel more like in the 'handle the teenager' instruction manual.
That was originally unrelated.

Song of the day: Let's Buy Happiness - Fast Fast

Verse of the day:   Suffer hardship with me, as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No soldier in active service entangles himself in the affairs of everyday life, so that he may please the one who enlisted him as a soldier. Also if anyone competes as an athlete, he does not win the prize unless he competes according to the rules. 2 Timothy 2: 3-6

Thursday, January 5, 2012

This is gonna be my Tumblr.

I wrote an angry and long rant but then my friend called me and we talked for 56 minutes. And at some I started defending the gorgeousness of math. Then of course I had only a couple of minutes to finish the blog for today, so I'm like 'reblog?'. For all of you interested, I AM NOT GETTING A TUMBLR. This is gonna be my Tumblr, hehehe. *bizarreness*. I start thinking that this blogging daily thing might have not been such a wonderful idea, but hey, I won't find out unless I actually do this. I'm sorry for any rubbish content you may find around this blogosphere in the next couple of months. I should be excused, I am not an artist. And not a wheezy waiter.

Here is something I wanted to 'reblog' (Leo, I kind of can see your triumphant little smirk at this moment). I'll probably dwell upon this in the next blog post. For now, this is a reblog (I do not speak tumblr).

Talk to you tomorrow.  Have a lovely Three Wise Man day (hey, they give us holiday, let's celebrate, right?). 

Song of the day: Nie ma za trudnych spraw - TGD

Verse of the day: Wash and make yourselves clean. Take your evil deeds out of my sight; stop doing wrong. Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow. Isaiah 1: 16-17

Wednesday, January 4, 2012


It is so uncommon to ask for forgiveness these days. When I do something mean, I usually don't say 'Please, forgive me'. I say 'I apologize' or 'I'm sorry, okay?'. But being sorry and asking for forgiveness isn't the same thing. By apologizing you express how you feel about the particular deed. But if someone has been a D-bag to me, I'd be more interested in his caring about how I feel that how he or she feels. That's how I see it - by apologizing you express your regret, but that doesn't imply you care about whether this other person is actually over the event. I feel that's saying something about the times we live in.

I think that asking for forgiveness is so scarce nowadays, because it's so hard. It requires a hell lot of courage to come to someone to say 'my regret doesn't matter, I hope your mind is at peace and you don't have to go over what has happened'. It's a chivalrous thing to do. We prefer to just say 'I'm sorry, okay?' because that was our holy right (all the every-man-is-created-free blabber) to do the wrong thing, but hey, we're sorry, business done, period.

Today made me think of the moral and historical forgiveness. Can we bear the guilt of our ancestors? Is it the right thing for me to ask you for forgiveness if my grand dad dumped your grand mom? What about Holocaust? Does every German person need to ask for forgiveness of other nations for nazism? 

I think it's a matter of how much you identify with your countrymen. I've never felt that I need to particularly forgive if a German says that he's sorry for how the history turned out. But then again, there are people who cry in the instances like that. People who hug, and yes, they forgive, forgive, forgive. 
It made me think about whether it's really troubling my mind that my grand father had actually killed someone. It's not. But maybe one day if I meet any Russians, I'll go like 'You know, your ancestors messed up the history of my nation. But I ask you to forgive me because a member of my family has once killed two of your countrymen'. I think I'll be alright with that. Morally.

What strikes me is how amazing it is that I can be friends with a person whose ancestors hated my ancestors. That I can marry a person from a country that was an enemy of mine. That if we forgive each other historically, we can form a family and see that everything eventually leads to peace.

Song of the day: Unfold - Marie Digby (it's pop. I KNOW)

Verse of the day: He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.  Micah 6:8

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Borgia and soccer commentators.

I am watching Borgia at the moment. I don't know if anyone here is interested in historical shows, but this is such a good one (as it is fashionable to say in YouTube guru community, 'I can't stress it enough how awesome this show is!'). I am so glad that shows like that get budget for the refined production. I love how the characters are impersonated, especially Lucrezia and Caesar. I might need to get some further reading on the history of the Borgias, even though the plot is based on some unverified facts. I always thought history was really interesting, but at the same time it is a very unpleasant long story. It's the pure evidence of human mistakes and strategic screw-up. One is certain - they had a pretty lavish life.

The most amazing thing about watching soccer on TV isn't the game itself. It might be interesting for sports nerds, but I am a language nerd, and you know what? Soccer commentators utilize language in the most hilarious and poetic way. Examples:

'The light of the goalpost doesn't seem to attract the ball today'

'If he kicked that ball, he would have scored'

'That's the red card...! But it's not pulled out!'  

'That's a goal! His heart must be jubilating!'

That is precious!

Also, a short entry today, because I just got Will Grayson Will Grayson in my mailbox. Off to do some reading! Have a great, reading Tuesday.        

Song of the day:  Shake It Out - Florence + The Machine

Verse of the day: For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. It teaches us to say “No” to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age. Titus 2: 11-12

Monday, January 2, 2012

It-it-it-it's the Spiel of the Day!

It's beautiful how when you're happy it seems like the general worldsuck levels have decreased considerably. That is amazing - if you find a thing that makes you stay sane you pretty much end up having an amazing life. This little fact works the other way round too, unfortunately.Whenever you don't sleep well and you mingle your pills (I guess I mentioned the broken rib? You know what happens if you mistake your night pill for your morning pill? DISASTER HAPPENS. See, I am not even sure if I actually went to my Polish class today. I know I have an entry in my notebook, but I can't remember ANYTHING about it. And now I know why. I took the painkiller that is supposed to make me sleep for at least 12 hours. I wish I was stupid in a more adorable way, not the one that makes you forget stuff. I mean, hey, serial killer, come and invite me to your car, I won't realize what's happening).
So anyway, the first part of today was really crappy. And when I'm in the crappy mood I like to list things that make life even crappier (you know I have this thing for lists. I just adjust this fondness to my hysteria). And even though it's not very much, it made me hate everything so much more. For some reason self-induced hate for things improves your confidence.

One. My school's temperature regulation policy. Because it's (mildly) cold outside, you have to wear a coat. But since it's not like proper January-cold (for my area the typical temperature for January would be -10 degrees C and snow. None of that happening) it's not like you can pull out your winter puffy overlayers for this would not be responsible either, health-wise. So what you do is you get a shirt, a sweater and a coat. When you've gotten rid of the coat, you are perfectly dressed for winter. However, my school decides that since  it's cold outside, they have to cater to our warmth needs. And it is scorching. Our radiators are so old you can't regulate them. So basically you come from outside that makes your lips crack and it's sweltering. People are wearing tank tops and then bring extra shirts, a cardigan and a sweater for outside. I feel it's not long from now, the last string in me is going to break because of the heat. Maybe I'm ill-tempered. But it's you, school who brought me to that.

Two. Is every book meant to be turned into a movie nowadays? I've been wanting to read the Hunger Games for a long time but haven't had the opportunity. Finally I felt I just must do it, because the movie is coming out. Somebody tells me to read Girl With A Dragon Tattoo, and now what, it is being turned into a movie. Yes, it is interesting to see how the book looks shown on the screen.
 But it kills more than it produces.
 What happened to the books written only to be books?
 Isn't it an act of laziness of the producers and seeking the best monetary reward if the books is actually good?
Please don't do that to John Green books. I've already had to watch you do it to so so many good books.

Three. I've been kind of working with one of the once-major political parties in my country. Stuff like collecting money for the foundation of the handicapped. They were nice. Until they came LAST in the election. Now they don't give a damn. I might have a problem with that as well.

Song of the day: Runaway - The National

Sunday, January 1, 2012

A paper town for a paper girl.

For a long time I've been wondering why my adventures in Sweden brought such a change to my life. In my blog post about it I wrote about being a bundle of issues with a vivid discomfort and a sudden feeling of loneliness. It had been a good time there, but when I got back to my hometown, it was absolutely awful. It was as if the evil mirror from the Snow Queen was smashed once again and a little particle of if fell into my eyes. Nothing was as nice as I though it had been, nothing was as real and as good anymore. At first I thought it was because I'd had such a good time away and it was hard to get back to the notsomeness ("Man, I wish there was a photoshop for reality" - John Green). I still wondered at how my perception of what is important and what is rubbish changed after that little trip. But not until four months later did I realize what was it that I realized and that I wasn't the only one to come at such an realization.

Conclusion one: "Here's what's not beautiful about it: from here, you can't see the rust or the cracked paint or whatever, but you can tell what the place really is. You see how fake it all is. It's not even hard enough to be made of plastic. It's a paper town. I mean look at it, Q: look at all those cul-de-sacs, those streets that turn in on themselves, all the houses that were built to fall apart. All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm. All the paper kids drinking beer some bum bought for them at the paper convenience store. Everyone demented with the mania of owning things. All the things paper-thin and paper-frail. And all the people, too. I've lived here for eighteen years and I have never once in my life come across anyone who cares about anything that matters". "Paper Towns" by John Green, page 57-58

Conclusion two: "The truth is that whenever I went up to the top of the SunTrust Building - including that last time with you- I didn't really look down and think about how everything was made of paper. I looked down and thought about how I was made of paper. I was the flimsy-foldable person, not everyone else. And here's the thing about it. People love the idea of a paper girl. They always have. And the worst thing is that I loved it, too. I cultivated it, you know?

  Because it's kind of great, being an idea that everybody likes.

But I could never be the idea to myself, not all the way. And Agloe is a place where a paper creation became real. A dot on the map became a real place, more real than the people who created the dot could ever have imagined. I thought maybe the paper cutout of a girl could start becoming real here also. And it seemed like a way to tell that paper girl who cared about popularity and clothes and everything else 'You are going to the paper towns. And you are never coming back'". "Paper Towns" by John Green, page 293-294

Here's the deal: maybe you Q, or you John, strove to become the wounded man and decided it was an impossible operation. But you managed. These words struck through me like a lightning bolt, I had to stop reading and hide the book to my purse. And I probably gave out a very bad impression throughout the day. The last time I read Paper Towns I thought it was a good book. This time, I'd say I am the wounded man. And somebody has just been in my head and told me what was wrong with me for the entire time.

Sweden was my SunTrust Building. A place from where you can't see the cracks, rust and every stinking aspect of your world, but you see how fake it all is. Sweden was my SunTrust Building, seeing from that perspective I was able to see the paper town I've been built into here, or rather, that I've built? With the eyes of my imagination I could see a really powerful wind blow blustering against the frail paper walls. My organism told me that Sweden was supposed to be the Ultimate Trip - the one that Margo made to Agloe. Everything inside of me told me that the Ultimate Trip was leaving once for all, the blustering wind that would sweep the paper town from the face of the earth. That it was the end of the paperness. But it was not. And because it was not, it left me with a taste of bitterness in my mouth and a sharpened vision, having been up at the top floor of the SunTrust Building.
Once me and my friend were doing a survey for a magazine. One of the questions was "how do you see your future?". Our other friend responded "In 3D", probably to imply that the question was stupid.
But I never thought how I would like it to be true. I do want to see the future of everything in 3D.

Margo says that living in a paper town is caring about the unimportant things. What strikes me personally is not the fact that I do care about the other life more than the one that I live right now. It is the fact that I am SO insincere on the Internet. I don't mean to rake over every single event in my life and making it significant, because MY EMOTIONS ARE SO-OH IMPORTANT. No. I just don't want to be a paper girl. Because I do give a false impression. And -as illogical as it seems- unconsciously I mean to.

When I started this blog my goal was to make words signify things again. When I started BEDA my goal was to grasp the threat of a failure. As I'm starting the 2012 blogging season, my goal is to make the paper girl leave for paper towns and never come back. If I want a better life, I'm sorry.
 As in every good Internet lifestyle, there is a ridiculous challenge.

Song of the day: I'm Happy - Terra Naomi