but all in all, I’m happy that I’m home on a Friday night at 10- I haven’t slept- and I have a to do list and now that everyone (minus justine who is asleep on my couch) has left- I can breathe (but not really my throat hurts).
“It’s everybody, I mean. Everything everybody does is so—I don’t know—not wrong, or even mean, or even stupid, necessarily. But just so tiny and meaningless—and sad-making. And the worst part is, if you go bohemian or something crazy like that, you’re conforming just as much as everybody else, only in a different way.”—Franny and Zooey, J.D. Salinger (via bobina)
The statement added: “Salinger had remarked that he was in this world but not of it. His body is gone but the family hopes that he is still with those he loves, whether they are religious or historical figures, personal friends or fictional characters.”
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers. Thanks to your love a certain fragrance, risen darkly from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride, so I love you because I know no other way than this: where “I” does not exist, nor “you,” So close that your hand on my chest is my hand, So close that your eyes close and I fall asleep.
but, tonight it’s all about the family. My sister just came home semi drunk from Trivia Night and my dad just walked in from Boston because his old best friend Natalie called him and said “OZZY OSBOURNE IS GOING TO BOSTON WILL YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GO IN AND GET A BOOK AUTOGRAPHED!” (she lives in Texas? now). Of course Fathertron did it, so we were all in really weird moods. So I don’t remember how but my sister and I started telling ghost stories, and my dad was like GIRLS GO TO BED! so we both went into his room and jumped on the bed and told ghost stories while he laughed at us and then finally we left so he could sleep. Then Erica and I just talked for a very long time and my dad took my computer so I convinced the incoherent sister to give up hers.
The whole point of this story? I really love my family (more like my roomates in my bachelor pad)
about our lives and how I was crying that nothing goes my way and that when ever I touch a phone it breaks and that I’m stressed. He looked me in the eyes and said, “Kara,I’m on match.com. I go cross country skiing by myself more than I see people. I am forty-nine and hang out with a thirty year old who has decided to move back to Arkansas. After Will moves, I have nothing left.” It really hit me. We really are best friend, but I understand how he sees his life that way. “I’m in mature adolencense” he tells me and then explains that like me he has to make decisons, make an effort to find out who he really is. He then says, “when your mom left, I didn’t have a plan B, but at least I know that we have it well off here- even with me you and your sister, and the money situations, the college situations- we have each other. Think about if you were still living with your mother. I have a saying, ’ When it’s bad every little thing makes it better’.
before I start into a reblogging frenzy, let it be known...
That this weekend was truly amazing. I love knowing that I will always have fun with my best friends. Whether it’s at a party, walking the beach, making friendship bracelets, cosmic bowling or watching the Pregnancy Pact on Lifetime (based on the town next to us…). I honestly can’t even tell you what a great feeling it is to know that in this last year of high school I have really been living life to it’s fullest, and not regretting decisions (that I most likely should regret). I’m such a happy individual.
Weezy mixtapes are the best because you can hear him sparking the weed and hear him giggling about his own rhymes. Where else can Mr. Carter say he’s the spleen or the spine fixer and it’s going down like the Catalina Wine Mixer?
Today, I interviewed a woman who is terminally ill. "So," I tried to delicately ask, "What is it like to wake up every morning and know that you are dying?" "Well," she responded, "What is it like to wake up every morning and pretend that you are not?" MMT
making a blog dedicated solely to my “Bucket List”. I think as I cross things off it will be really great to tell the story. So if you’d like to follow me I think I’m going to do it. I also think you’re all great people.