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I'm officially pulling for Fabio in Top Chef. I'm sure plenty of people like Fabio, but I've never been good at picking original favorite "characters". This is something I realized back in middle school. But his words tonight won me over: "It's called Top Chef, not Top... Scallops!"
Check out my new poster. It is more awesome than I could have ever hoped for. I wanted to get a seniors only poster but I didn't know if those were even made. And the UNL bookstore does not, uh, sell football posters? And the 2008 Offense and 2008 Defense ones are lame-o collages. But then Carol, who works with my mother, came to my rescue and gave me this one off the wall in Graduate Studies, the last of its kind. And now it is mine! As are they! Forever!
I just love having connections within the university.
I totally redecorated my room over break. Got rid of the old computer, got rid of a lot of old junk, recycled a bunch too because I'm such a good girl who loves the fucking Earth. I'm afraid the lifespan of our notes came to an end, Lindsey - hope that's ok, but I at least was frighteningly stupid back then. Also bought a nice chair for cheap, lugged it back across town barely attached to the trunk of the car... good times. Haven't redone the closet but I don't think that's going to happen for a while. Some old pictures and postcards I bought in Surabaya are now in frames, but I don't know where to put them because for a while there I was going to buy a whole new slew of posters. Except there are no posters of any worth in the entire city of Lincoln. Rage. I'll probably hang them over my bed. The slot by the television where I look most of the day has been claimed by the Huskers.
Sorry, Surabaya.
My mother and I had to have a "conversation" today over dinner. About my future. Good thing I had a pina colada to distract me. I hate those fucking conversations. Ironically, because I'm a fucking good girl, I have a plan, unlike many people my age. Take break at home. Join Peace Corps. Go to grad school for two years. Start trying really hard to join the Foreign Service. Ta-da. And I think I'm having "plan anxiety". I get this from time to time. Because sometimes I wonder if this plan is what I really, truly want. Would it work? Probably, yes. I'm sure I'd have good days. But is it what I really want. I feel like my whole life has been so fucking planned that I'm not actually living. I'm following a plan. I guess sixteen years of straight school will do that to you.
On the other hand, the guy I had a complicated relationship with in high school, renowned for his complete lack of planning or ambition (I think I was feeling so over-planned then that that was what attracted me to him - when I realized he had no future whatsoever I went right back into crazy planning again), is now apparently homeless in California. Good Christ. I want a happy medium.
Whatever, I'll just delay thinking about that and watch Adult Swim. Turns out I like the new show Superjail! So much blood. Have I mentioned that I think I like The Venture Bros. way more than anyone else on the planet, except the creators? Byron Orpheus is one of the more amazing characters I've run across. Like, I seriously. Seriously. Like this show:
Check out my new poster. It is more awesome than I could have ever hoped for. I wanted to get a seniors only poster but I didn't know if those were even made. And the UNL bookstore does not, uh, sell football posters? And the 2008 Offense and 2008 Defense ones are lame-o collages. But then Carol, who works with my mother, came to my rescue and gave me this one off the wall in Graduate Studies, the last of its kind. And now it is mine! As are they! Forever!
I just love having connections within the university.
I totally redecorated my room over break. Got rid of the old computer, got rid of a lot of old junk, recycled a bunch too because I'm such a good girl who loves the fucking Earth. I'm afraid the lifespan of our notes came to an end, Lindsey - hope that's ok, but I at least was frighteningly stupid back then. Also bought a nice chair for cheap, lugged it back across town barely attached to the trunk of the car... good times. Haven't redone the closet but I don't think that's going to happen for a while. Some old pictures and postcards I bought in Surabaya are now in frames, but I don't know where to put them because for a while there I was going to buy a whole new slew of posters. Except there are no posters of any worth in the entire city of Lincoln. Rage. I'll probably hang them over my bed. The slot by the television where I look most of the day has been claimed by the Huskers.
Sorry, Surabaya.
My mother and I had to have a "conversation" today over dinner. About my future. Good thing I had a pina colada to distract me. I hate those fucking conversations. Ironically, because I'm a fucking good girl, I have a plan, unlike many people my age. Take break at home. Join Peace Corps. Go to grad school for two years. Start trying really hard to join the Foreign Service. Ta-da. And I think I'm having "plan anxiety". I get this from time to time. Because sometimes I wonder if this plan is what I really, truly want. Would it work? Probably, yes. I'm sure I'd have good days. But is it what I really want. I feel like my whole life has been so fucking planned that I'm not actually living. I'm following a plan. I guess sixteen years of straight school will do that to you.
On the other hand, the guy I had a complicated relationship with in high school, renowned for his complete lack of planning or ambition (I think I was feeling so over-planned then that that was what attracted me to him - when I realized he had no future whatsoever I went right back into crazy planning again), is now apparently homeless in California. Good Christ. I want a happy medium.
Whatever, I'll just delay thinking about that and watch Adult Swim. Turns out I like the new show Superjail! So much blood. Have I mentioned that I think I like The Venture Bros. way more than anyone else on the planet, except the creators? Byron Orpheus is one of the more amazing characters I've run across. Like, I seriously. Seriously. Like this show:
"Yeah failure, that's what Venture Bros. is all about. Beautiful sublime failure." —Doc Hammer
"It shows that failure's funny, and it's beautiful and it's life, and it's okay, and it's all we can write because we are big fucking failures." —Doc Hammer
