adderall and redbull

I want to get out of here.
I want to go to Europe now. Not in a year for study abroad. Right now. I want to meet a beautiful Scottish boy who will take me to the shore and hold me when I'm cold. I want to lay on the lawn at Oxford and write wonderful, fabulous poetry that people will read in 2337. Or I want to go three years into the future when I'm in law school in Boston. I want an apartment in New York City, I want to spend a year in Paris. I want to get out of here now.
I am so absolutely frustrated.

Girls are so mean.

-Loch.

I'm not crazy

I spent last night sipping dos equis and jack daniels while doing heavy maintenance on my various social networking sites, editing and submitting literally eighteen original poems to a yearly literary journal called Hot House that runs out of the English department at UT, watching the ever-adorable annual puppy bowl and playing private investigator on the bio-dad. 

There are things I need to know about myself. Speaking about myself, 

I may have already posted this at some point, it's a year and some odd months old now. That being said, I went over it and did some edits last night and it speaks to me presently a bit more than it did when I wrote it,

Life of Fiction

Pens, pencils, sharpies,

highlighters, far too many flashdrives

to ever really be necessary

a broken lamp cover

picture frame upon picture frame

a drawer with a box full of notebooks

moleskins full of words that still need typing

and edit after edit

and nothing ever really gets done around here.

I shove homework where I can't see it

school is not as important as this

family does not mean as much as this

not friends, not careers, not life

nothing makes a heart beat quite as forcefully

as a burst of inspiration

as typing the paragraph

that will become 1k

then 2k

then page after page of obsession

characters fill dreams at night.

Déjà vu comes from novels you've started and stopped

and eating doesn't seem all that important

when you could be holed up in a dimly lit room,

creating a world you never knew you craved.

You have meetings, you have class

you go back a week later and it hits you,

God, was I really going to publish this shit?

Print. Crumple for Closure. Hide it in a file you avoid.

Maybe pretend to live for a week,

and then,

back at my desk.

Clutter, clutter, clutter,

far too many flashdrives to ever really be necessary,

the desk where the sun shines in from the balcony window.

I promise you that one day my name will be household. 

Much love, 

Loch.

slipping under

Sometimes what you want finds you.

"You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery, 

and I promise you, something great will come of it."

I actually am changing my major this time.

Tons and tons of love and adoration,

Loch.

i wanna talk to you

Before I knew how to be funny, I asked this kid named Jack how he did it so well. He told me to tell stories, and I told him I didn't have any, and he told me he didn't either, so he just made boring shit into a funny story, and that I should too. It was solidly one of the best pieces of advice that I've ever gotten.

I tweeted my first real tweet today!

Also, there might seriously not be anything I love more than angry birds.

Love,

Loch.

overdosed on compliments

"Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life."

list of things I wish I could convince myself to do

drive to your apartment

quit my job

take a sick day just to read

go to the club on a Tuesday

spend a Friday night alone

text you without a reason

try and find you

get out of the car at the cemetery

take a walk by myself

call my cousins

admit to you how pissed off I still am

express regret

tell you everything

For all of my straightforwardness, for all of the blunt, inappropriate statements that I have ever made, and there have been many, I cannot make a rash decision to save my life.

I adore you, 

Loch.

say lines and pay fines

hey hi hello,

Things I love too much

cici's

coffee

singing badly

the cici's salad bar

certain shitty people

dancing around to my iPod

working at a fast food establishment

falling asleep on other people's couches

showing up at other people's houses

old shoes that are falling apart 

shoes that make my feet hurt

staying up until 6 a.m.

community reruns

braided hair

lists

lots of love,

Loch.

marvin's room.

I appreciate the finer things,

coffee,

old books,

cigarettes, 

good sales, 

airplane rides, 

sleeping until noon,

going to sleep at six a.m.,

unrequited love,

friends becoming friends with other friends,

loving my roommate,

long, quiet nights with neighbors,

text messages, 

whisky,

nice people,

paychecks,

banter in the workplace,

instant gratification.

-Loch

start a war

Coffee and cigarettes are a food group.

On Friday, I almost didn't go to initiation for the sorority my roommate and I joined. I got cold feet and I called to say I wasn't going. The president called me and tried to convince me to, and I told her I would consider it. Then, I realized that if everyone was freaking out so much about me not going, I might as well go. When I called back the president to tell her I was going, she literally started crying with happiness. If there is anything I will remember for the rest of my life, it will be that, if only because it is such a beautiful example how people are wonderful.

Right now I am sitting in the office eating a muffin for breakfast at 2:31 p.m. and contemplating doing anything that might actually be considered productive. This weekend I realized that I lost something a long time ago, and I think I might have found it again. My stress has been a bit subdued, but now it comes in waves, so for a while I feel great and then suddenly my stomach is turning.

National Novel Writing Month was a fail. So are my academics.

I cannot wait for this semester to be over,

Loch. 

bright blue eyes

throwback! I'm reverting to posting lists,

things i miss

summer

spinach pizza

time for reading

my hair, this time last year

a job at a fast food establishment

evening margaritas with the wolfpack

Sex and the City marathons, ere day

that one kid from high school

driving, especially at night

early mornings

cafe bohemia

August

you

I can't stop listening to Florence's new album. You should really check it out.

Much Love,

Loch.

if they ever spoke

alone again,

I'm on the road again.

-Loch

we wave and call

I believe that the world is full of beautiful things.

Two nights ago a friend and I were talking about getting hurt, and she told me that something about me makes people comfortable, makes them understand that I don't expect much in return for friendship. It was probably one of the nicest things anyones ever said to me. 

-Loch.

I won't go.

I think that my favorite part of being alive might be becoming close with people. I love the process of bonding, the little situations that don't seem important at the time but you end up remembering, like sitting on someones lap riding shotgun and feeling really aerodynamic or waiting for people to show up to your party and watching your guy friends flop around like goofballs or sitting cross-legged outside someones apartment, talking about yoda. The people in those situations, the ones that you feel comfortable around, are the ones that make you who you are. I don't remember most of yesterday evening, but I do remember one thing that I won't let myself forget. Last night is going to end up being very important in the grand scheme of things, if I've learned anything since I moved into this apartment complex.
I think that God works in very mysterious ways.

Hope you had a good Halloweekend,
Loch.

P.s. 24 hours until nanowrimo begins- get ready for frantic updates.

we are together

Writing writing writing, every day and every night.

seriously, people, figure your shit out!

Love you,

Loch.

i'm lost in the world

satisfaction, however temporary, is the sweetest thing.

I will keep planning and plotting and devising until the day I die, and I promise you,

things will go my way,

and things are going to be okay.

Love,

Loch.

nobody knows you

High energy pencil skirt wearing journalist Loch is back with a mug of coffee inside her and a bottle of Jack Daniels waiting at home. I forgot how much I missed this. Sorry I didn't write yesterday, I've been at the office non-stop.
Have you ever had that feeling in the pit of your stomach that you are exactly where you're supposed to be?

I love you,
Loch.

don't call me baby

Do you think you're better off alone?

Much love, more tomorrow,
Loch.

the fires did declare us

Another bright morning,

an hour earlier than I normally wake 

and I slide up from the covers,

and out of my room.

The lights are almost always off in this apartment,

big windows overlooking sunbathed hills one way,

construction the other.

On the coffee table lies charcoal,

an etching on bright white paper,

a girl unclothed and turned away.

“Embarrased,” says my roommate.

I leave, start my day,

the morning ends,

but the girl stays,

akward and bent,

face turned away from the sunlight that fills the room.

Lightly edited. 

Love,

Loch.

if i was just another dusty record

I am determined to win.

I want my movie theater ending but it seems very, very far away. Wish me luck!

I love you,
Loch.

you're still breathing.

Sorry I was gone so long, my macbook had to have the keyboard replaced so it was at the apple store and while I did have access to computers, it just didn't feel right rushing to post something, and certainly not on a computer that wasn't my baby. I am writing this sitting by my ridiculously cluttered bookshelves and my huge window in my classyass sixth floor apartment in West Campus, looking across at an apartment complex I had a drunken revelation at late last semester while I wait for my bed to get delivered so my room will finally be finished. Yesterday I said goodbyes and left Plano and the past two days have been full of shopping and lugging things up six flights of stairs and the most ridiculous amount of unpacking, and it's so close to being finished, and all that I have been able to think since I got here is that I belong in this city more than anywhere else in the world.

So happy to be home,

Loch.

this could almost kill me,

I'm alone in Plano once again.

list of things on my mind

sleep
family

moving

the end of summer

the harold song

paychecks

writing

time

I think that, for the moment at least, flannel and tights-for-pants wearing novelist loch is winning out over high heel and pencil skirt wearing journalist loch.
I love you more than anything,
Loch.