Whenever someone orders a red-eye (or shot in the dark, or whatever name you prefer for a coffee with a shot of espresso in it) from me at work, I want to call it out by saying “Yo dawg, I heard you like coffee…” but then I remember that I spend a lot more time on Tumblr than anyone who comes in to my work.

Second day of my period + my birthday = JUST GIVE ME THE WHOLE CAKE YOU MOTHER FUCKERS

My inner poor kid loves the taste of American cheese.

My mom’s tuna casserole when I was growing up was made with canned tuna, shell pasta, Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup, peas, dill weed, and Velveeta. I still crave it sometimes.

I think I was in second grade. I was always running late in the mornings, throwing my clothes on in a panic as the carpool mom of the day honked her horn out in the driveway.

One day, I forgot something. It wasn’t until the very end of the day, when I was walking to the car with my mom, that I realized anything was amiss. I looked down at what I was wearing: an oversized t-shirt that came down to the middle of my thighs, undoubtedly something fluorescent on the front (as was the style at the time), a pair of pink tights, some Keds, and…. NOTHING ELSE. I was MORTIFIED. Do you know why? Do you understand why I was so embarrassed that I wanted to crawl into a pillow fort with my stuffed animals and never show my face on the playground again?

Because — God damn it! From now until the day I die I will shout this from the mountaintops! — tights are not pants!

I should be way more stressed about the two day in-class essay midterm in my American government class and the speech I have due in my oral presentation class this week, but all I can think is “I get to see my sweetheart in FOUR DAYS!!!!”

Just spent 30 minutes engaged in awkward conversation with a kid who actually started out by saying, “don’t I know you from somewhere?” (He clearly did not know me from anywhere.) I guess his method worked since I didn’t tell him to go away, even though it was out of discomfort rather than interest.

Good luck to you, kid, in this big crazy city of ours. I give you 10 points for trying in spite of your very obvious (to me) nervousness. That’s more than I would have the courage to do.

So I can sing on a stage in front of hundreds of people with only a small amount of nervousness, but saying a few words when called upon in my political science class makes me want to crawl into a cave and never speak any of my own thoughts aloud to another living human for the rest of my life.

Social Anxiety, you are a strange beast.

I’m in love with everything today in a way that hurts me to my bones.

I have a blister on my hand that’s in the middle of healing.

And so.

I just woke up from a dream in which I was at a small family party, and my step-mom’s dad gave me a Polaroid camera. I went to Rite Aid to get film for it, then came back to the house.

For some reason, we were at Britt’s house, hanging out in her room. She sat in a big comfy chair reading while the rest of us sat around chatting, and the whole time the house was flooding. I remember looking at the water ruining all of Britt’s books on her shelf and thinking about what Katie posted the other day.

In conclusion, Tumblr has completely infected my brain, and I am now sad that I don’t actually have a Polaroid.

What I am doing for the rest of the day.

Awful feeling.

Decent band name?

When I am in charge, Jeopardy! will be one hour long, and will bump Wheel of Fortune off the regular programming schedule and down to hell where it belongs.

In my dark apartment, I remember

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Woke up 45 minutes later in a dark apartment.

Having trouble convincing myself to get up and do things.

Am now laying in the dark listening to two clocks tick out of sync inside and city sounds outside.

Haven’t felt this quiet in a long time.

This is … nice.