well here i am--i'm gonna try out the blog thing and already i'm taken aback by the extent to which I'M supposed to entertain YOU with this space. pictures? playlists? INTERESTS?! maybe if you're good i'll add a music list later on when i need to waste some time.
this is so fascinating to me although i continue to feel cautionary about internet socialization. either way, this seems like an outlet, which i need, so here goes. it matters not whether i write an autobiography to somehow "catch you up" on my life--no importa. some things--i don't like capital letters, i like to do about ten things at once or nothing at all (but no happy mediums. what's the fun in that?), i am cursed with an affinity for cake frosting, i like to run (but away from what?), and lately i've become frustrated with a particular catch-22: i am told to wait and be patient for success/love/fulfillment but am also reminded to savor every day fully like it's my last. accordingly my last day on earth will play out as follows: eat cereal. check email/facebook (visual representation of peripheral friends!!). watch hbo on-demand. read about genocide. nervously check phone to see if anyone's called. fill out IRB paperwork. try to sleep but won't because i'd rather be out exercising my right to spontaneity, but will inevitably sleep for about 2 hours, only to wake up and repeat. but i guess not, if it was my last day...
if it's not apparent that i'm a super duper happy kid, then i'll make that clear--i am and am learning to find bliss in the everyday humdrum that will always be there. squirrels and dogs and getting coffee and talking to my sister are just a few great things i'm excited about. and the prospect of dating. again. because every time i think i'm about to break ground, i eat another lean cuisine for dinner while i watch sex and the city. it is now the only show i can watch without being jealous of happy characters who stay up all night talking, go out to eat, stay in to eat, listen to music, blah blah blah. that's right; i'm jealous of fake people on tv and movies who act out scripted scenes of flirting and otherwise. i am even jealous of will ferrell's portrayal of buddy the elf--he scores. come on, people--i don't want to win the olympics; i just want a shot at training!
and i know it's not so bad--i'm extremely blessed with family/friends/health and hair that has attached ashlee simpson to my identity forever, whether i like it or not. it's just this general blah-ness and silence and meals eaten alone. its the minutae, carried out alone, that gets me. maybe i'm not being proactive enough, but pursuit is so much fun on the receiving end! adare reminds me that i'm moving away in january anyway, so why would i want to start something, but if december arrives (along with cold weather and sweaters and hot chocolate and manheim steamroller) and i'm solo, i'm paying someone to take a friggin walk in a winter wonderland.
hopefully this will continue to be written for catharsis, but it's this self-propogation thing that alarms me--the worst thing would be to write with intent to frame myself in some particular way so as to appear more intriguing. seriously, with the advent of reality-TV-o-rama, are people JUST NOW catching on that candid life is interesting?? that being said, i'm off to watch you-know-what, season six part one, courtesy of rebecca. then i'll probably listen to the entirety of ok computer, which makes me "experience tonal dimensionality" but which really only makes me hungry.
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