Today I went to a cafe and sat in the sun and nursed a cup of coffee and wrote for three hours. I hadn’t done anything like that in a while, even though I should’ve been doing that all this year.
It’s already starting to feel like summer is on its way. I’m going to miss this - thin jackets, the cool twilight air, driving home as the sun sets.
i don’t say this as often as i should…
…but I’m blessed. Not only with the most functional, loving family I know, but with wonderful friends. There are two in particular who, upon hearing about my potential future plans, haven’t hesitated in supporting me whole-heartedly. I only belatedly realized how conflicted they must have been when they heard the good news, and how much they’ve worked to bury that conflict so I wouldn’t have to see it.
Their selflessness is inspiring. I won’t meet very many people like that, wherever I go.
admitted
I’m in. It’s insane how unreal it feels.
And it feels so good to know I’ll have somewhere to go in the fall.
dear self,
Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime Extra Wellness Tea actually works. It tastes strangely minty for a tea - I’ve never understood the whole “I can’t eat or drink mint it’s like eating toothpaste” hangup people have until I drank this tea. I’m not gonna lie; it really is like drinking herbal toothpaste.
But let me tell you a story about the night before the LSAT. I went to bed at 11:00 pm. I studied my ceiling and the backside of my eyelids until approximately 3:00 am, at which point - desperate for sleep and half-crazed with anxiety, I staggered to the kitchen for water. There, I remembered the box of Sleeptime tea I’d bought half a year ago and decided to brew myself some. I knew I’d have to be up in a few hours to take my test, and I was desperate for sleep.
I sat at the edge of my bed, sipping tea, and when I’d downed maybe half the cup, I put it aside and crawled back into bed. I was sure I’d be up for a little while longer - honestly, I was skeptical that a tea could put me to sleep.
Next thing I knew, it was morning and I’d at least managed about 4 hours of sleep. Really, for the level of anxiety I was dealing with, that was nothing short of miraculous.
I’m writing this to myself because I tend to forget that I can drink this to combat my mild insomnia. Instead, I think it is appropriate to stay up until early morning, trying to read myself into a coma. Apparently, I think books are the answer to everything. (Not a bad idea most of the time, really.)
what is the point
…of working on my Yale essay. They’re just gonna laugh at it as they toss my app out.
And I’m awake at 7 in the morning not because I decided to wake up early and get a jump-start on my day, but because I couldn’t sleep when I kept thinking about that one last letter of rec still unwritten, unsent, floating somewhere on my professor’s desk under a pile of other work. So I lay in my bed for a few hours, heart almost jumping out of my chest with anxiety, palms all sweaty, before I decided to get up and torture myself with trying to get this essay down to half its length.
oh godddddddddddd i just want this over and done with djfiaoewfjdkfjdklaf
ok back to your regularly scheduled programming of puppies
on nutella
- Me: It's good huh??
- Lucas: (after consuming his first mouthful of nutella) ...yeah.
- Me: It's like Ferrero Rocher, but without all the outside bullshit!
- Lucas: I like that stuff though. Like the crunchy shell and stuff.
- Me: ...I meant the wrapper.
Santa Monica Pier, January 2010
Hard to believe this was almost a year ago. A lot can change in a matter of months.
Looking through old photos always makes me nostalgic. I miss my friend.
I used to take refuge in writing. When nothing else made sense, at least I could fit words together in a way that resembled my thoughts, even if only vaguely. I found it much easier to sit and think over a keyboard when I knew I had the ability to delete an unpleasing configuration of words with just the press of a button.
But these days, I dread writing. My words come clumsily, if at all. I find myself, more often than not, staring down a blank screen and having to force myself to think coherently. I’m finally starting to understand why some people detest writing so much - it’s because this attempt to shape thoughts from the hazy fog of your own mind is exhausting.
Nothing makes much sense anymore. I left high school four years ago, absolutely sure I knew who I was and what I wanted. At seventeen, it’s easy to have such a strong sense of self. At seventeen, the world is at your fingertips, and all you have to do is reach out and grasp it.
None of that has remained inviolable. I can’t seem to find one sacred truth to cling to.
A 