Unfortunately the howling winds from last night have continued their merciless plight on this poor town and its defenseless residents today.

I've resorted to loading my bag with heavy text books in a desperate attempt to anchor myself to this earth. As I struggle my way to class, masses of my hair attack my face, preventing me from avoiding frazzled bikers on the road, all of whom are in danger of being blown off their fragile contraptions.

If attendance wasn't required for my literature class (which is an absolute waste of time and an education), I would have stayed in bed, safe and warm from this aggressive weather that threatens the safety of my personal comfort with its permeating, chilly air.

Gavintoo - Over the Rainbow Remix

I've found that microwaving wheat bread from the fridge for thirty seconds before making a pb&j sandwich is a brilliant idea.

Spreading runny organic peanut butter and tart raspberry jam over its surface, the filling melts together and seeps through the pores as you sandwich the steaming slices of bread together. The best part is that the bread acquires a slightly glutinous texture from the unorthodox heating, becoming chewier in the process.

With the addition of rolled oats from the crust and an abundance of raspberry seeds in every bite, it makes this unremarkable sandwich a much more interesting meal when you've got nothing else better to eat.

I've just discovered that I really love baking peanut butter cookies. It makes the entire house smell of toffee, the warm air from the oven wafting the sweet fragrance into every room.

Since no one was home, I piled a dozen on a paper plate and walked around the vicinity, looking for someone to give them to.

After about what seemed like an eternity of wandering about, I finally found a random boy in the laundry room.

I don't know who was happier, him or me.

 After about half an hour of struggling with the curling iron, I have come to the conclusion that making your hair look nice(r) requires too much time, effort, and maintenance.  In other words, I lack the patience and will not attempt this feat again any time soon. 

Practice makes perfect, but my head can only stand so much heat before it burns to bits. 

(Note to Self:   Marinate tips in olive oil tomorrow morning for half an hour before showering.)

I'm sorry lover, but I think we're done.  It cannot be. I lack the passion and the commitment required of me to continue this tenuous relationship we've somehow managed to hold on to over these past couple of years.  I may have the interest and the talent, but we both know that there needs to be more.  I'm not right for you;  I'm not aggressive enough, not competitive enough to keep you.

We've grown apart--or rather, I've grown up. 

It's time to let go.  I need something more reliable; something that makes me feel a little more secure--something that can provide me with greater opportunities in the future, and that of which allows for a broader scope of interest.  Yes, there's someone else.  

Design, I've left you for English.  

It will be officially over tomorrow when I turn in my forms to be signed by the counselor. 

I hope we can still be friends.

::laughs::

So I read this to R and she started lecturing me for procrastinating.

"WHY ARE YOU WRITING A LETTER  TO YOUR MAJOR?!  YOUR MAJOR DOESN'T CARE!  IT'S NOT EVEN A PERSON!! YOU SHOULD BE STUDYING FOR YOUR MIDTERM TOMORROW!!!"

She has a point. 

Ok!  Off to study now.

As R sat there on my floor lamenting about his trials and tribulations, wearing his old clothes back from high school, a nostalgic feeling came over me.  

Although we haven't really spoken during these past several years, it was like nothing had changed--well, apart from his new facial hair, that is. 

Our relationship's still the same as ever.

...On the other hand, he's still a doormat.

A very nice, dorky, athletic girl who can appreciate him for who he is needs to come along and scoop him up.