m28k-blog-blog - Tumblr blog

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I saw David Fincher's Girl with the Dragon Tattoo last night and I thought it was absolutely phenomenal.  I hope it makes enough money overseas that the two following books are able to be adapted into movies.

I couldn't take my eyes off of Rooney Mara as Lisbeth Salander.  She was mesmerizing.  For me, after having read all the books, it was the perfect screen adaptation.

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That’s what we do, I remember thinking: we break things up and shatter them so we can put them back together, otherwise what would we do? Because we need something to do.

—Joshua Cody from [sic]: a memoir (via wwnorton)

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first lines.

"It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York."

The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath

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Seagull + Pig = Amazingness.

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There is nothing sexier than that right there...

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Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary. - Steve Jobs

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I miss my best friends and Oswego more than anything today :(

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10/12/11

Just realized I have a scar on my left shoulder.  I never noticed it before and I have no idea how it got there.  It's a scraggly white line that goes down towards my arm. 

There's a dead stink bug on my desk that I squashed with a flip-flop two days ago.  I'm scared to touch it and throw it in the trash.

It's raining and cloudy outside yet again.  This weather is starting to annoy me, but it gave me an excuse to not go running which is neither a good think nor a bad thing.

I have a paper due tomorrow at 5:30pm that I haven't started yet.

I want to tell someone something, but I'm afraid I'll look like and idiot and they won't talk to me anymore.

And, that's how MY day is going so far...

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trouble.

I just finished a piece for my nonfiction workshop and I'm not entirely happy about it.  As usual, I waited too long to finish it and it's kind of sloppy.  I don't understand why I keep doing this to myself.  I need to start a piece weeks ahead of time and labor over it slowly so it comes out cohesive and well rendered.  I'm not sure if I will ever change my procrastination habits, maybe it's just something inside me that continually pushes me to leave work until the last minute.

Sometimes I wonder if I should be myself or if I should hold in my real personality until I know a new person well enough for them to handle it.  I'm not crazy or anything, but I'm awkward and shy for the most part and I say the wrong things at the wrong time.  And when I start hanging out and becoming friends with someone new I overdo it.  I text them randomly and try to talk to them more.  Honestly, I'm not trying to be creepy, I just want to be nice and establish the basis for a real, meaningful friendship/ relationship.  After my experiences lately, I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't even try to make new friends or open up to new people.  Maybe I should just stick with the people that know me well and accept me.

For the most part, my life is hard right now and I'm trying my best to get through it fairly normally.  I'm getting stressed out more and it shows, especially on my face.  Black circles under my eyes are the norm nowadays when I wake up and I keep breaking out.  I haven't had serious problems with pimples since I started undergrad.  Also, I know I need to start running again, but it's hard to wake up in the morning and get out on the road when I have so much shit going on and dilemmas running around in my mind.

Is this what mid-20's/grad school life is for everyone?  A lot of the time I feel alone in my struggle through life...

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From EW's "Awesome Stacks of Books Found In Offices."  This one is from The Rumpus's office.  I really freaking love this.  Hahaha :)

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first lines.

i'm really interested in the first lines of novels, how they pull the reader in, how they set up the rest of the story that comes after, etc.  so, I've decided to explore that here.  first one: "Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice." -One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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please excuse the personal ramblings.

i should be critiquing work for class tonight, but i'm so frustrated right now.  i would never refuse my mother if she requested my help.  she needs my help this weekend, so i'm going to be there for her on friday and sunday afternoon.  i decided i was going to alumni a long time ago and her exact words were "i don't want to interfere with your plans, whenever you can come it will be great".  then she calls and whines about how its so far for me to drive to oswego for one day.  well, i was originally going to go on friday, but i decided to stay here and help you.  i don't understand what goes through her mind sometimes.  none of this will make sense to anyone, but it's really bothering me so i had to get it out... 

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this is beautiful to me...

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a list

my favorite things about halloween/fall:

candy corn Hocus Pocus on DVD pumpkin spice lattes at starbucks haunted attractions leaves changing colors temperatures finally dipping below 70 degrees riding boots and scarves the way my fingers get smooth when they're cold football and postseason baseball feeling like it's going to be a good year...

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poetry post

"Outside History"

These are outsiders, always. These stars— these iron inklings of an Irish January, whose light happened thousands of years before our pain did; they are, they have always been outside history. They keep their distance. Under them remains a place where you found you were human, and a landscape in which you know you are mortal. And a time to choose between them. I have chosen: out of myth in history I move to be part of that ordeal who darkness is only now reaching me from those fields, those rivers, those roads clotted as firmaments with the dead. How slowly they die as we kneel beside them, whisper in their ear. And we are too late. We are always too late.

-Eavan Boland

...still love reading her poetry.