leave all your lovin behind

I hate making decisions,
but decisions have to be made.

I'm typing this on my new b&n nook. The pictures aren't mine, and were added in later.

Love,
Loch.

"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."
-Edgar Allen Poe

what did it ever do for me?

On the subject of lying,


I think, depending on your level of affection for someone, it is inevitable that you are going to have to lie to them. You're not always going to be able to live your life the way they want you to, and you can't do that if you want to be happy, but the point is to let them think that you're doing things their way. If you really care about a person, lie, cheat, steal, and humour them by leading them to believe that you don't, and that way you can both have peace of mind. 


Priorities are shifting, writing comes first as per usual, among other things. I wrote last night and I wrote today, things are coming along quite nicely.
Also, I work at cici's again and literally nothing has changed. Working there is like riding a bike, you can leave for months and come back and remember everything. It's actually a little strange, but nice to know that if all else fails, I have a minimum wage job to come back to which I am relatively good at. 
I'm gonna go shower and catch up on some episodes of L&O:SVU that I missed this semester. My dad didn't tape the Los Angeles one, I'm sad :( It's prob not high quality, but it's Law and freaking Order. The day the original series went off the air was a giant two steps back for mankind. 
I can never seem to make up my mind about anything, and this time I have a feeling it's gonna bite me in the ass sooner rather than later.
I love love love you,
Loch.

money so bright

I'm sitting on the floor of my bedroom in Plano right now, slowly waking up even though it's a little after three in the afternoon and wondering when I'm going to have time to sit down and write. I am considering trying to wake up at a decent time tomorrow, and by that I mean before noon. 
My first semester of college is over and that is very, very weird. I decided the other day that I want to stay in Austin over summer to work at the paper and take summer school, and I realized that means that this is going to be the longest I stay in Plano for at least a year if not longer. I don't really have a lot to say other than that. Yesterday I daydreamed of the money I'll have and the books I'll write and then I remembered I'm probably going to live in a box sized apartment and eat canned beans. 

I guess this blog doesn't have a whole lot of a point, but i missed you. 

-Loch

p.s. at some point I want my house to look like this,

are you brave enough?

I should be studying for my bio final right now but instead I'm listening to my iPod on blast in the hallway of my dorm and trying to imagine the point in my life when my throat/ear won't hurt like a bitch anymore. 
Yesterday I surfed deviantart for a few hours and found some interesting shit. I don't usually go on there but I had heard from some friends into art that it's good for inspiration and I wanted something to distract me from studying, and I'm not a very visual person but I found some pictures that embody a few of the characters I'm using really well, and it actually might change around a few sections of the first four chapters of the project I'm working on, which are the chapters I have written/am working on writing/am currently editing. It's a lot more to work with, you know? It's not what I had originally planned for plenty of my characters to look like (I found visuals for four of them, to be specific) but it's a lot more accurate than I could have guessed and now that I have something to print out and look at while I write, it's going to make things a lot easier on me. Also, I just realized this project doesn't even have a name yet. I mean, 3 and Oddcouple didn't either, but they had file names. I guess I can just call this one FinalDraft, because that's the computer application I'm writing it on. It's the fancy script writing software that I don't really need and spent an assload of money on earlier in the semester.


I cannot stop listening to Katy Perry. I am obsessed with her and her pinup revival. 


I am writing for you,
Loch


ps. I think some people who started reading my blog more recently don't realize this, but the purpose of Classy and Lit is to document my novel writing. Just throwing that out there, letting it float,


pss. Texas girls are where it's at.

roman cavalry choirs

Tonight was spoiled by a mysterious illness that has infiltrated my throat. Not that it was going to be particularly fabulous either way, but it could have been filled with bio cramming as opposed to phone calls with the UT 24 Hour Nurse Line and Tylenol PM. The first picture reminds me that I am not the only person awake late at night, the second one is what winter should and does not look like in Austin, and the third doesn't have a reason.

I played around with the layout a little bit and I don't think I like it. I'm going to fool around with it more later.

I'm sorry my posts have been so short lately,

Goodnight,

Loch.

along the eastern shore

my internal clock is busted.

That is a photograph of what I want my house to look like when I hit the point in my life during which I lock myself in my home and do nothing but write. None of these pictures are mine, again, but I have a feeling they're more enjoyable than a multitude of photos of my smiling face.

I want ambient lighting and time to think. This morning I took an exam then went back to sleep and woke up to a phone call at 3:30 pm. I'm not sure what I've eaten but I just went out and bought some cheese sticks and some red bull and I'm spending tonight cleaning my dorm before going to sleep only to wake up early tomorrow for a doctor's appointment that I'm absolutely dreading and the beginning of a weekend that isn't really a weekend at all.

Yesterday I figured out exactly what course my life is going to take.

I am obsessed with my career. If you knew me in high school, I haven't changed in terms of how I can go into "newspaper mode" (a phrase coined by close friends) as quickly as you can say "print is dying." But this really intense feeling always overwhelms me when I hear friends say that they don't know what they want to do. It's something similar to regret, maybe? A weird inverted nostalgia? Either way, sometimes I wish I wasn't sure either so I could go through college like everyone else, unsure and discovering themselves. Maybe I still have something to discover. 

More editing and trying to figure things out. Things are going, slowly but going going going.

You are my favorite.

Love, 

Loch.

ps. I am the real Loch Ness monster.

my eyes can't believe

stumbleupon

my vision is steadily becoming clearer.

-Loch

I think she knows

This morning I woke up happy and in a ridiculous amount of pain. My head has never throbbed so thoroughly.
Things are beginning to clear up and I feel like I'm beginning to really, completely settle into my college life, which is great because I'm happier as of late than I can remember being in a while but unfortunate because in 8 days I'll be shipping off to a month in P-town to a different world and a different life and in many cases, a different Loch. It's an easy place to live so I'm kind of looking forward to it, and plenty of new friends I've made in Austin are people who are from Plano as well that I didn't know in high school so it's not as though I'm leaving completely, but some of the people here who are most important to me are suddenly going to be out of reach and I don't really know how that's going to work. I wish I could pack them in my suitcase and bring them with me to stay in my room and be there for me when I come home from a long day behind pizza counter, but frankly that's not how my life works, as desperately as I would like it to, so I'm curious to see if dynamics will change and, if so, how. 
College loch and P-town loch are the same person living in two different worlds.
Writing has been relatively interesting. The past few days have consisted of a lot of editing and expansion. Not really a lot to say about that, but it's going. 

I wish that when I sing love songs, dolphins would jump across my range of vision. My life should be a movie. I obviously did not take that picture.
P.S. I think I finally set up a four-five year plan. I am beyond excited.


I want to spend my life writing words that you will read,
please let me?
love,
loch.

levitation is possible

I am slowly growing fearful.

This weekend was a mixture of amazing and terrible, last night in particular. I am obsessed with laughter, and there was a lot of that, and there was kissing and whataburger at five in the morning and there was dancing nearly topless onstage at a Big Boi concert (I swear to god, it happened, I did it), but there were also stress induced rapid vodka shots and guilt trips and anger and a video that shouldn't have been made and didn't get out but the threat was enough to cause damage. This is all beautiful because A) it is bonding time, regardless of how awful some of it was and B) it makes for really interesting stories, and, because of that, really interesting writing material. But the thing is, there is a feeling creeping up on me that I am going to have to choose between some people, and I don't like that, because I already know who I would choose in a heartbeat and the choice I'll make will not make my life easier, just happier. 

I love everyone but I know everyone doesn't love everyone, and I hope other people know how to trust better than I do. Those pictures aren't mine.
I love you,
Loch.


ps. I'm writing.

the death of beauty

In life right now, my largest desire is a second of time in which to reminisce.

Things I miss doing

running

playing the violin
going to all of my classes

laying in bed reading a book

working a minimum wage job
watching old tv shows on hulu
working on my novel in pocket sized moleskines
spending hours at coffee houses
being a regular at restaurants
laying out in the sun
knowing everyone
driving at night
paying in cash
dancing


to be continued

don't wake me

I lied about posting that night and I'm sorry. November is always a weird month. 

My greatest fear is that I will lose more motivation, a quality which I was born with very little of. I possess even less self control, and lately I've been content, and that's the problem. Today was the first time I've written in a while, and I attribute it to that I was anxious. The past month or so has been by far the best since I got to school but there hasn't been real progress concerning writing and my timeline is getting out of wack. I'm spending too much money and I'm falling to vices faster than I realized I knew how, and I want all of these things and a novel too but I'm terrified that I can't have both. I'm probably worrying too much, the scariest thing is the idea that I won't be done when I wanted to be. Time goes too quickly.
I desperately want to be rereading Candide right now to reinforce the irony in my life, but I have two essays to write and  I left it in Plano because I decided only to bring books I hadn't read yet. Next year I'm going to live in an apartment and there will be a bookshelf in my room, all of my babies are coming with me. No exceptions.


Right now I like coffee and red bull, smoothies with infused energy drinks, staying up all night, sleeping in two hours late, editing old chapters, the Postal Service, Russell Edson, talking about Oscar Wilde, articles on the front page, layering, leisurely walks to class, the academia in the air as finals approach, clutter, old notebooks, moleskine, morning showers, the prospect of working at cici's over winter break, best friends, and this one business major who makes me kind of happy. 
I will always love you, I will always be your friend,
Loch.


p.s. Those pictures are not mine,
but they are what I want.

Deceptacon

I am blogging from an itouch right now. Victory.
I'm in Plano for a long time right now and it's beautiful. Is it weird that I'm getting a little Austin sick? I love vacationing to p townn. I missed my wolfpack shoutout whut whuttt

I know it has been far, far too long since I've posted and I aplogize. This weekish has been full of good things. I'm on an itouch so I'm not gonna write a lot right now, but I promise I will post more tonight.

I love you,
loch.

if it looks like i'm laughing

I'm up right now because I'm writing an eight page essay due in my 8 a.m. tomorrow. I have no intention of sleeping tonight and I'm already two red bulls and a latte into what I'm sure will be a wonderful memory of college. When I bought a four pack of energy drinks from the convenience store at 10 p.m. the guy working the register said "rough night, huh" and gave me a discount. hahh.


A weird wave of nostalgia washed over me about an hour ago. Facebook decided to put my page under maintenance and kick me off so I had to find other more unique ways of entertaining myself/procrastinating even more, and like the loser I am I eventually resorted to googling my name to see what would happen. I found an assload of newspaper articles and some sites I wasn't aware I'd been published on, but there were a few things on there I had forgotten about and the feeling I had freshman year of high school washed over me really briefly then washed away, and I wondered what it would be like if I had gone a particular route. Who would I be?


I am happy right now.


I want the sharpest life,
Loch.

get sleazy

I find myself scrounging for as much time as I can possibly get in this basement.


There has been no time to write and I'm getting anxious, but I am by far more happy as of late than I have been in an extended period of time (ps. that sentence was awkwardly worded, yes?). I feel like I am finally really sinking my canines into college life. I'm sorry it's been so long since I've posted. Also, I feel like I have to apologize for that more times than you deserve.
I really need to get back on track with this project. I'm not going to lie to you, it's been too long since I last wrote, like really wrote. I mean, obviously there's writing for the paper, but that kind of writing is an entirely different breed. You're typing but you're not really creating anything, you're just regurgitating facts so that the public can stay informed. Which is an obsession of mine, please don't misunderstand, but I do have creative juices that need to flow and lately I've had to put a stopper on them in order to focus on anything at all, which I don't like. I really need to work on time management and start blocking out space for this thing if I want to get it done on the schedule I had planned out. I have an eight page paper due at eight in the morning on thursday and I don't know when I'm finally going to get to sit down and release some of the stuff that's just floating around in my brain. My mental filing cabinets are slowly loosing space and I'm worried I might lose some of the material before I get the chance to get it down tangibly. 


For the past two days I have been blasting Ke$ha constantly and imagining a stream of glitter floating off of me as I walk to class. Someone in the newsroom stated half jokingly that one day we would all be homeless and drunk, and I want that life desperately, if only for the glamour of submitting freelance articles while sipping jack on the side of the road in ripped stockings and metallic hotpants. Please send me to the beach.


I adore everything that you stand for,
Loch.


ps. it has been brought to my attention that there may be some confusion, so I would like to clarify- I AM NOT NAKED IN THOSE PICTURES.
that is all.

out of all the hours

Hi hello.

Today two of my editors told me they hoped I got more sleep. I'm not really sure why? It was a little confusing.

I have been so busy since I posted on Thursday. I've gotten the most ridiculous amount of things to write and I haven't been able to because I've been working or spending time being social. Which isn't bad now that I look at it but I really just want to hole myself up in my room for hours to write, except for that I don't have time. I'm going to be busy for the next two days. I'm scared I'll lose everything in my head :(

I'm trying to figure out what I'm doing here, in college and in general. Sometimes I feel like I'm living a life like normal as a formality. I am looking for material when it comes down to it. I'm in college to work at the paper and I'm in life to discover new lies to be honest about.

The poem below has been edited. The dialogue below it will probably not make sense to you, but it's all I have time to write right now and I feel like it's important.

The honest truth is that no matter who you are,

I will love you regardless.

Love,

Loch.

An overdue message


Hello there.
We are diverse, intelligent, and focused.
We put aside differences.
Recognize that we shake things up
let that echo through the halls.


"So basically what you're telling me is that I have no reason in the world to trust you, but I should because if I don't then I'll trust someone else who I have no reason in the world to trust and then I'll die."
"Is it really that difficult to accept?"
"Yes? I'm not going with you. I'm not going with anyone, I'm going home. This is too much, I can't do it."
"You have to. You really don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice. There has to be one, this isn't real. I'm going to pinch myself and wake up, and you'll go back to wherever you came from and I'll be back with Kreed and away from you. I cannot express how desperately I want to be far, far away from you."
"Khole-"
"This isn't something that can work Derek. Like, I shouldn't have to explain this to you. I'm not doing it."
"Khole, don't be difficult. You and I both know that this is all that matters."

you can only say yes

Oh, hello. I'm sorry I've been gone for so long :(

This weekend was unexpected and will probably show up in what I write in multiple ways. I feel older than I did when I posted last. I found a few writing spots and cried more than I normally do. This weekend was so, so unexpected, but it was good.

What if you had done something differently? When I walk by people, I wonder, would you impact me if I gave you a chance? Because when you first meet people, they never seem important. When you met your best friend, I bet you didn't think wow, you and I are going to be ridiculously close one day and I'm going to march into your house for no reason and eat all your food without you getting mad at me sort of. Relationships can't be predicted. Imagine how many relationships you've passed up, the different lives you've inadvertently avoided by disregarding someone who you deemed unimportant. Why do things happen the way they do? It's such a strange phenomenon, when a bond forms, because there's really such a small chance that it will simply because our default expectation is to be acquaintances. No one goes out looking for a best friend or an enemy or a mentor or a lover, so isn't it strange that they manage to happen? And what if you had done something differently, who would you be now? What if I had done something differently?

I used to have a pretty good idea of who reads this but now it's much more vague, and some people who I didn't expect have told me that they follow it. When people talk to me about this blog it is literally the most flattering thing in the world. I love you so much if you are scanning these words. 

I need so desperately for everything to just stop right now so I can go somewhere alone and write with a pen and a pad of paper instead of typing virtual words. I want solid thoughts that I can scratch out with a pen and see and breathe and smell. I want time.

You are everything inside of me that I wish I could be,

Loch.

Ps. Here is a blackout poem I did in poetry today. I thought it would be a more interesting visual. It's a scan but I wrote out the text underneath in case it's difficult to read. Underneath it is the best picture I could find of the painting I did my ekphrastic poem on, and the poem beneath that. The online picture really doesn't do the painting justice, if you go to UT you should go by the Blanton and see it. It's in the modern art section, and I could stare at it for hours. The Dallas Chaos poem has been edited a little bit, but not as much as it needs to be, and the blackout poem has not been edited at all. The picture of Dallas Chaos II is not mine, the painting itself is done by Peter Dean.

(if you click on the picture, a larger version will show up that is easier to read.)

Berl feels

detatched and fatalistic

his life disintegrates. 

Giving freaks a pass is the oldest tradition in Montana,

and he is a blue ribbon, bull goose freak.

Berl's considered medical opinion is that

it will provide a comprehensible shape to his life.

He's the only one who can tell us that,

but I believe him.

Dallas Chaos II by Peter Dean

Dallas Chaos

It is sunny on a saturday. 

I am splayed out across the backseat 

hot leather on my back,

watching Dallas through the windows.

Sky scrapers, horrific traffic,

a city formed from grit and sweat

that makes the South

out of hospitality and smoke ridden skies.

We are out of the car and onto this knoll,

green and bright, unblocked

from the city, but somehow more still.

Here old women cried for a man they hadn't met,

and Jackie took the news that

shook Pennsylvania Avenue like meteors.

Conspiracies circle these skies like vultures,

and John cannot find peace while his name rests on our lips.

But chaos came from down the road,

the police station where a soul's explosion 

broke masks of flesh and bone and blood

revealing a face as ugly as

dogs like pigs that snarl and spit

masked police with hard blue eyes

and media who care for naught but

cold hard facts and hard evening news.

Ruby eyes pierce a soul that breaks

and the solar system circling his head

protects this man in glittered pants and pinstriped suit

who avenged a life and forgot his own.

We stroll sixth floors and grassy knolls,

museums that miss the blue of his beard.

The Ruby red that flooded skies when Oswald died,

Where has it gone?

friends with shadows

Before you begin reading this blog, please note that I am sorry for the exceptionally stupid looking array of pictures, I just really didn't want to leave you guys hanging in the visual department again. I'm lacking in the camera department right now (shout out to julia, the digital from eighth grade is finally dying) but I swear to god once I get one I'll be more artsy, or at least I won't look like an idiot. :)


I waited to caffeinate until like 3:30 in the afternoon today? I feel like how I'm feeling is the intersection between being anxious and being asleep. Def weird.
I got up this morning and skipped class to register for classes, which sucked. Yay for being a freshman! All of my classes start at eight or nine in the morning. Not like I'm a night owl or anything, it's cool. I slept a lot, too. After registering and before the event I covered, I mean.
This is the first time I have ever been a little anxious to leave the newsroom early. I would gladly spend all of every day in this basement, but I made plans for tonight that have me a little more worked up than I usually am, which is saying something because I'm kind of a worked up person. 


You know what's weird?
Being in this basement is what I want to do for the rest of my life, right? I mean, figuratively. I don't actually want to be in this particular basement, that would be a weird life goal. But being in a newsroom I mean, reporting, being a journalist. But here's the thing,
have you ever been to an art museum and wanted desperately to be an artist, but only for an hour, or in a courthouse and wanted more than anything else in the world to be a lawyer? Walking by a violinist or a doctor can make me change my dream for twenty minutes. Of course, when I lay down at night to sleep, my conclusion is always the same- it doesn't matter what I want. I am a writer, it's all I know how to be. Words come to me before anything else in the world. But it's a strange emotion, wondering what life would be like if I had been born a different person, picturing it and feeling it and tasting it and then forgetting it. I never know quite what that should mean to me. In some ways I guess that's what writing is- allowing yourself to live vicariously through characters who can be whatever you want, or in the case of journalism, finding out whatever you can about other lives and reporting about them to the public. Writing lets you taste and try on different professions. The catch, I guess, is that no matter how much you love them, you inevitably must always put them back in order to maintain the pen in your hand. The only part of my life that's ever stayed constant is for me is the pen.

Yesterday a girl told me that I looked calm and she didn't want to strangle me as much as she usually does for being so ridiculously happy. I haven't written lately, or at least I haven't written as much as I would like. My poetry class went to an art museum to write ekphrastic poetry, and if I can find a decent picture of the painting I wrote about then I'll post the poem. I don't know what it was about the painting but I couldn't really stop looking at it.
ps. I'm taking another poetry class next semester. It was entirely unplanned. Hahh.


You know what I want? Money to spend on more books.
I probably love you more than you think I do,
Loch.

you make me feel

I am in a really fabulous mood.


First off, halloweekend was far more exciting than my usual weekends because of events I will chose not to disclose for several reasons, the most dominant of which being "keeping it classy." Secondly, I get to cover the election today! Granted I'm covering the State Board of Education elections and not the governor elections or anything, but still. They trust me with election coverage :)
Yesterday night I got my computer and an Edgar Allan Poe collection and went to the library to write, but I ended up being so brain dead that writing turned into sitting in an arm chair staring at the computer screen for an hour, and in that hour I did some serious thinking. It occurred to me that my Plano and Austin lives go through cycles of converging and diverging based on relationships to one or two people that I've maintained back home, and right now I'm in a divergent cycle. I spent a while thinking about the expanding length of diverging sections and declining length of converging sections, and how eventually my Plano life won't be mine anymore, it'll be something I think about every once in a while when I look through high school yearbooks or do some intense facebook creeping. That reality is something that college is going to require me to break away from. Thinking about that is the only thing all day yesterday that put me in an icky mood.  It's really weird too because most of the people here who I hang out with are people who I went to high school with but didn't know at all in high school (which is plausible, my graduating class was 1300), but I can't classify them as part of my Plano life. Like, mentally I'm blocked from placing them in anything but the Austin category, even though when I go home I'll still be able to hang out with them. Weird? My Plano friends are an entirely different group of people.
I probably shouldn't be blogging right now since I'm supposed to be doing news things, hahh. Tonight will be interesting because I'm probably not getting home until midnight and I have a sociology test tomorrow that I have yet to study for. Yay!
I love you more than loch ness, kind of,
Loch.

i will find peace

I didn't take these and I don't know the people in them. I'm not using them with permission, but somehow i have a feeling I'm not going to get sued. I just really like them.

<3,

Loch.

is this allowed?

In case you were wondering, I ended up getting two hours of sleep after my last post. I've gotten more sleep since then though, so now I'm more coherent. yay!


I've been on a bit of an Oscar Wilde kick for the past couple of days. I had been rereading some parts of Dorian Gray and I wanted to read up on him, and I discovered the history of the Aesthetic movement in England in the second half of the 1800s. First off, Oscar Wilde would have been fun to go out to dinner with. Plus the Picture of Dorian Gray is brilliant, so there's that. You know, I think what I think is so incredible about Wilde is that he embodied the aesthetic movement so well that it effectively ended when he was jailed after being put on trail for sleeping with another man. His jailing basically caused the end of an entire social movement because he wasn't there anymore to keep fueling it. The Aesthetic philosophy is really provocative and it actually makes a lot of sense. It basically consists of the ideas that life should not be about rationality of decisions but rather maximizing the experience of one's own existence, and that art should not convey a message but provide as much pleasure and beauty as possible, and I'm not gonna lie, it's all pretty captivating. 

I obviously did not take those pictures.

I think I might just publish under the name Loch, instead of using Alexandra. It's easier and I find myself liking it more and more. I wrote last night (yayayayayayyy) and hopefully I will again tonight- I work today but I'm covered an afternoon event so I probably won't be in the newsroom for forever.
Also, this morning I decided for sure that I wanted to work at the LA times and live in Cali. Then this afternoon I covered a speech and walked away thinking about how I really definitely wanted to work as a journalist in India and cover the social justice movements that are happening there right now. What is going onnnnnnn


"It is absurd to divide people into good and bad: people are either charming or tedious."


LAHVE
loch.


ps i have a really hysterical joke. you think I'm being sarcastic but the best part is I'm not, i literally laughed for like three minutes without stopping after i heard this. are you ready? okay,
what's brown and sticky?




... IT'S A STICK


AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH omg. that's all.

please don't be scared of me

Fuck this, I'm not sleeping anytime soon. Remind me why I signed up to go to college? A degree does not look as good as snuggling up in my bed and not having to wake up at seven, fuck. Might as well blog, not like I'm getting to sleep any earlier anyway. If I weren't doing this I would be distracted via facebook creeping, at least this is productive.


I wish I could explain to you the way I've felt the past couple of days. I went home, remember? Probably since Thursday I keep thinking of things to write and it's the most frustrating thing in the world because I haven't had time to actually get anything down tangibly. I've had to wait to get stuff down on paper and I have so much in my head right now that I wish could not be in my head anymore, my mental filing system is getting too full. I work tomorrow and I have an essay to write tomorrow night so I won't be sleeping then either (yay) but hopefully wednesday I'll get some time to chill and write down everything swirling around in my mental space. Like, major plot developments and character developments. ughghghghgh college is screwing with my career, is this not supposed to the other way around? :(
Home was weird but not in a bad way. I misjudged some things. I miss everyone in Plano all over again. Every time I leave it feels more and more like routine, and I feel like my Plano life and my Austin life are morphing together in some respects, which is most definitely not a bad thing. I'm going back in a month for Thanksgiving so we'll see how that goes. I kind of wish I'd gotten what I went for, though. Better luck next time, I guess. Not everything can always go my way.
I'm sorry it's been so long since I've posted :( I've just been so busy, you know. I don't remember when I posted last, but Thursday I was sick and thought I was working but then I wasn't and I "took a nap" at 6:30 in the evening... and woke up from my nap at 9 am. It was beautiful. Then, of course, I ran around all day and went home and drove around Plano all weekend then came back and then today has been oversleeping through sociology then writing a limerick (which was really fucking hard) and going to poetry then holing myself up working on stupid schoolwork. I am sorry I am so whiny, I just haven't gotten as much sleep lately as I would have liked. 
Also, the whole bus ride back to Austin I listened to Kid Cudi and Drake and I am obsessed. They are beautiful.


Every single one of those pictures was taken at 2:40 in the morning alone in the study room because it's so late that the library is already closed and no one else is awake because it is 2:40 in the freaking morning, unless they are in my 8 am journalism class, in which case they will all be awake until class starts just like me. I have given up on sleeping at all, ever. Please be jealous of me, it is the proper response. Kid Cudi is on repeat. His logic, what the fuck? I believe what I'm doing is called "vibing." Is that what the kids call it? Do you need weed to vibe? I don't have any. This would probably be more fun if I were high, though.

"In the end they'll judge me anyway"


This is where I am honest. I love you, please love me,
Loch.


ps. TFP. please tell me you understand.

it's hard enough just to move

Right now I am sitting in PCL "studying for my bio test" and "working on my journalism project." Which really means I am sitting at a cubicle sipping coffee and trying to convince myself that skimming NYTimes.com and working on chapter two counts as doing actual work. Sometimes I kind of forget what you're supposed to do in college? Whatever, it worked out pretty well for me in high school.
I wish a journalism major didn't require me to learn so many things that aren't journalism. Will it really effect my reporting skills if I don't know anything about the evolution of vertebrates? I'm not really sure how the stuff I'm cramming into my head right now applies to anything in later life, and honestly, studying for it feels a lot more like wasting my time than working on my second chapter, or blogging, or digging out my violin and figuring out if I can still play after a month. I can understand where my sociology class would apply because of the medias effect on the public and things like that, but if I don't take an anthropology class before I graduate, will it really kill me? I guess I'm just confused, because I was pretty sure college was supposed to prepare me for later life, but a lot of times I feel like a required fine arts class, while interesting enough, is taking away from time and money I could be spending on becoming a world renowned journalist/novelist. I'm not asking a lot. Maybe just a current events class instead of a history class would be nice. I get it, history repeats itself, I've heard it before, but I'd just like something I can, you know, actually apply to my profession. And it's even more frustrating since I already have a job as a reporter, and granted it's at UT's newspaper (we're not technically affiliated with the university, but we still have to avoid pissing them off and stuff), but still. I would rather just go to work at DT, go home and work on my novel and be done with it. I just get this weird feeling sometimes that I'm taking actual classes solely for the purpose of being able to work for the paper and get some good writing material/some decent language classes. That's just not how I thought college would make me feel.

I wrote this earlier for my poetry class, it's unedited and it follows the Fibonacci sequence:

Some

people

lay awake

every night thinking

thoughts that do not need to be thought while they would rather

just go to sleep at a normal time for once instead of worrying about nothing.

I'm going home again this weekend. Some interesting things have been planned.
I'll hit you guys up later!
love,

loch.


ps. Those picture were taken at the university that I thought I would be at right now this time last year.


pss. WHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH this is post number 69 ;D