If ever there was a picture to describe me at the ripe blossomed age of 21, this would be it.
My life is kind of coming together in a more organized fashion. I need a new dresser and I'm trying so hard not to go the Target route because I know something WILL pop up on Craigslist and I just need to wait it out. In the meantime, all my clothes are on the ground. Finally, Target restocked their planners so now I can write tidy to do lists of my homework by day so I actually feel at rest with my daily agenda.
Alas, this is the first semester I am 100% English Major. I am in three literature classes so that I can knock out all the pre reqs in one semester so that I can graduate in five years and not a day more. Nothing like some immersion into the English world like being thrown into fifty pages of assigned reading PER class PER night, I guess. I'm getting through it. It's still better than organic chemistry and physics so all is well that means well. And, by freaking golly, English Majors like me! They might choose questionable recreational drugs to use in their spare time and they might think that they are writing the next great American novel but they seem to like my not-so-ironic love for cats and tea when they ask what I like to do. They also don't know that I prefer Taylor Swift's lyrical poetry (not ironically) to Walt Whitman yet, so that's the only explanation that I can think of. (Just kidding, I'm warming up to dear old Walt). And, I even love my professors! On the first day of class, my American Lit teacher said that we were to have NO friends outside his class and spend NO time on the internet or "that Tumblr thing- which I've been on and is pretty fucking awesome, but you will not use it". I felt like I was in my niche.
Otherwise, my body still aches from dressing in a banana costume and dancing harder than I dance alone in my bedroom on Tuesday nights (Taylor is on the brain, ya'll) but no surprise, my concert weekend was the best weekend possibly ever. There's a reason I will never be ashamed of loving pop music and pop concerts and it's because of how unapologetic a pop music fan can be at a concert. Squealing, screaming, screeching- it all goes. And in my case, wild thrashing. Amen.