Sometimes (some times) I fall into a black and dark hole and flail around for what feels like a very long time.  I don't understand why I become so suddenly and uncontrollably helpless.  Make it stop said the Peter Pan collar.


chronic dearth of beautiful things

i hate social studies

Epicureanism is a philosophy born of the Greek Epicurus (341-270 B.C.).  Epicureans believe in materialism and hedonism to solve problems.  According to Epicurus, no pain existed outside of bodily discomfort.  Consequently, the absence of physical pain was equated with pure happiness.  He also advocated good heartedness and a virtuous lifestyle.  Today, people associate Epicureanism with a love of good food and drink.  A true study of the philosophy is still important today, however, because Epicurus preached materialism in a compelling way.


shame - the underground man -

this was last tuesday, a day just as sad/strange/confusing/not getting things right/drugs drugs crying

My dad and I had a good talk for the first time, maybe.   Perhaps he is empathetic after all.  Now I'm tired.



things and people are funny, but now i want to find out more about them.  peeking out over the top of the barrel, or what was that one? yup yup
P.S. Thank you to everyone who I love so much.


I really truly think I am going crazy, and I really truly like it.


I smelled bad yesterday because John wanted to walk through the sewage stream on the way home from burgers and milkshakes.  At the library the homeless lady sitting next to me smelled bad too, and let out a deep throated burp as she sat down.

"You guys are so dense"


Mortimer Adler

"There are some human problems, after all, that have no solution.  There are some relationships, both among human beings and between human beings and the nonhuman world, about which no one can have the last word.  This is true not only of science and philosophy, where it is obvious that final understanding about nature and its laws, and about being and becoming, has not been achieved by anyone and never will be; it is also true of such familiar and everyday matters as the relation between men and women, or parents and children, or man and God.  These are matters about which you cannot think too much, or too well.  The greatest books can help you think better about them, because they were written by men and women who thought better than other people about them."


I found this letter on my floor this morning.  My teacher sent it around the end of the school year, and I had forgotten, but her words are so soothing and kind.  I've shared a similar story before, but this is further evidence of her grace.

You have been in my thoughts and prayers so much this year because I have delighted in teaching you and I have felt a special kinship with you.  During the last weeks, as I have sensed the challenges you have faced with relationships, I have not said much-but I have prayed much.

Know that I believe in you and have great confidence that you will find fulfillment.  The inner resources I catch glimpses of in you as I get to know you better are a gift from God, and I know you have the ability to bless many people (I am one of them!).

"The pursuit of truth in the company of friends" is a motto that I especially associate with you, my dear young friend.

I checked out a book of Truman Capote's essays from the library.  I didn't want to read them, so I don't know what I was thinking, but I flipped through it just now.  The book opened to an essay, a conversation with Marilyn Monroe.  She was Truman's date to Constance Collier's funeral.  I kind of vaguely remember reading in an old biography that Marilyn and Constance were lesbian lovers.  Marilyn Monroe seemed to be everyone's lover, lesbian or otherwise, so maybe it was somebody else.  
So, that's all.


I've hatched a marvelous plan where I'll get a train ticket.  I'll take the train around, sleeping during the day, and at night perusing a twenty four hour CVS.  And I will steal a bike and ride around wherever I have landed, bonus if there is a river and I can pedal beside it.  I will carry Old Spice and lipstick with me, and wear binoculars around my neck.  That's all I need.  


I, uh, made a tumblr?  Clickety click on over if you'd like.  


P.S. Being thirteen is awkward.


Being alone is so easy, but maybe not rewarding.  Goal: be nice so people want to be with you.
Other goals:
wear earrings
don't let your pensive expression be mistaken as hostile and angry thereby alienating yourself even from random passersby
drink iced tea
do things you know will make you happy


Tonight mostly lovely bocce ball, bikes to the Festival, home movies, blacksmithing lady, Snood happened.  Now, possibly, Twelve Rounds (John Cena, ftw (is this is an appropriate time to use such an abbreviation? I have gathered it shortens "for the win", or "fuck the world" depending, but...)).  hahahaha.

Fires are so enchanting. 
(Photo, flickr)



I'm sitting on a rollout bed next to shelves and holiday decorations in the basement of my Grandpa's house.  I just ate another Hershey's Bar, and all the food is making me feel bad.  My cousins are here from Sydney and my grandpa seems less lonely, but being in the house, sleeping in the bed where my grandma died two years ago must affect him.  Just being here for a week is a strain, in that respect.
Minnesota is kind.  All nineteen of us went to a Twins game on Friday.  A family friend got an announcement on the scoreboard and it said welcome love Grandpa Bruce.  Also, lakes are great.
Back on Prozac now.