I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in and stops my mind from wandering, where it will go.

I think I just might be. Fixing a hole, that is.

Things are beginning to fall into place the longer I exist here at Longwood. Unfortunately, it's taken the entire semester for me to figure anything out, but I guess it should be enough for me to have done it eventually.

Make sense? Doubtful.

I have some apologies I should probably take care of as soon as possible. Most of those apologies I'll never get the courage to tell, and some of them are probably best left untold. It's enough of an apology for me to feel as guilty as I do.

Nobody's perfect, but I usually think I should be, can be, will be someday if I try hard enough. Maybe that's why my self-esteem is so low. Maybe that's why I should just do my best and have that be enough, so that I can look forward to death and finally achieving perfection.

I'm just working towards death, I guess. That's really all it is. Perfection = death? I guess that's the conclusion I've come to. I guess that's why it's okay for me to end sentences with prepositions (which, by the way, I have done at least twice in this post already). When I'm dead, I won't end sentences with prepositions.

J is back from Wal-Mart. I think I'll give him his computer back now.

END.

Bunker or basement, the bills pile up. The sea view never was an option below sea level.

This song feels like summer to me.

I think I'm going to wear a dress today!

END.

And when I see you, I really see you upside down. But my brain knows better - it picks you up and turns you around.

This song will never stop making me feel sad and I will never stop loving it. It's like a drug, really. I'm addicted to its plaintive lyrics and the way they make me feel so happy to be a musician but so sad about so many other things. The melody gets under my skin, too. It's as though I can feel each individual cell on my body vibrating the slightest bit. It's just enough to make my stomach feel a little wrong and to make my eyes a little misty.

I think it epitomizes romantic loss in a very raw, honest way.


"And when I see you,
I really see you upside down.
But my brain knows better -
It picks you up and turns you around,
Turns you around, turns you around.

If you feel discouraged
When there's a lack of color here,
Please don't worry, lover -
It's really bursting at the seams,
From absorbing everything,
The spectrums A to Z.

This fact, not fiction
For the first time in years.
And all the girls in every girly magazine
Can't make me feel any less alone,
I'm reaching for the phone
To call at 7:03,
And on your machine I slur a plea for you to come home.
But I know it's too late,
And I should have given you a reason to stay,
Given you a reason to stay...

This is fact, not fiction,
For the first time in years."



"...and on your machine I slur a plea for you to come home."

If you've ever heard me talk about this song, which I tend to do, I mention that line every single time. It's so eloquent and so expressive and sincere. "...on your machine I slur..." to me implies that he's drunk-dialing this girl that he loves. The word "plea" conveys such desperation, and that phrase "come home" just beckons so honestly.

"I should have given you a reason to stay."
I think that it wasn't really his fault. I think he just thinks it was. I think he's willing to admit to anything, even if it's a complete lie, just to make her love him again. I think I know exactly how he feels.

I feel dumb getting so into this song, but it's one of my favorites ever. I know it's just Death Cab, it's just emo, it's just whatever. It means a lot to me and I hear a lot of different things when I listen to it. I feel a very personal connection to it, to the person singing the song, to the repetitive guitar, to the harmonies, the lyrics. This is one of the few songs that I can listen to on repeat for hours at a time. The only reason I'd ever turn it off is if I were to become so permeated with poignancy that my fingers became sluggish on the keyboard, or if fatigue were to overcome my senses enough that I could find the will to draw myself away from this melody's pull.

Each word is heavy and full. There isn't a single one that leaves me feeling empty or unsatisfied.

It becomes more like a drug each time that I listen.


I came on here to say something, but this song has captured me again, like it so often does.

Fatigue is winning, though, and my fingers are, as I predicted, becoming sluggish.

My bed frame feels hollow with just a mattress and a large stuffed dog to rest upon its haunches. I should go comfort it as soon as possible.

I hope I meet the character in this song in my dreams so that I can hold his hand, cry with him, tell him I love him, and let him know that it was never really his fault.

END.

And both of His hands are equally skilled

I think I've decided that Easter is my favorite holiday because it summarizes the Gospel in the most pure, beautiful, joyful way possible.

This is the chance God gave humanity to have life after death. I think that's something really special.

I am excited to go to church this morning. I am even more excited to be a Christian, because I know how unclean I am and still how much God loves me.

END.