Only I would iron my shirt when still wearing it (true story, see high-school me circa grade 10), and only I would cut my eyelid when trimming my bangs (see present me circa this morning).

Bored out of my gourd tonight. I should be reading a wave of articles on the atomic bomb for tomorrow's journalism class (last week it was on the Ebola virus, good readings. Enough to make me rent the movie Outbreak with Rob) , but I am the procrastination master. I also don't know when to stop skipping class. Add constant napping, incessant whistling, finger fidgeting, foot jiggling and eye-blinking in the picture and you have me, everyday running on a Large cup of coffee.

Techno-Pessimism.

I don't know who you are, but your existence's awareness of my existence, makes me fucking nervous.

That's him, the guy I love to love and hate to hate but sometimes it happens, simultaneously even. But there's something about him and us when we're together. Someone said that those people in love are a product of two childhoods connecting. That's us.

Bon bon C'est bon bon.

Wednesday, Day of Rest

I'm all over the place, and I have been since April started.
Call me crazy but today was the first day this month that I stayed home and did absolutely nothing except eat, sleep, eat some more, and watched Breakfast at Tiffany's while I painted my nails. They're evergreen. Shame they won't stay green forever, they'll probably be nice and chipped by the time I board the plane to LA next friday.

Had my first exam on Tuesday, I'd like to say I pulled it off pretty damn good considering I read 1.4 out of the 3 books in the course. My second and last exam is this Monday, which I designated today to study but fuck I did fuckall. I could've spent it at Robert's, I really would love to, but truth is his family needs a rest from me. I'm there every other day. I eat dinner there about 3-4 times a week, at my place, about twice.

So it's 5:11 PM. Have I cracked open the lecture notes? No. The thing is, she gave us the final examination already. I know what I have to write the two essays on. But they're intense, and because we know beforehand, she's gonna be a hardass.


I bought these cowboy boots from Aldo and my left baby toe kinda hurts. Maybe I'm not doing it right? Yesterday when we went for a walk Robert did mention that I was walking like I didn't have ankles (I wasn't "bending" allegedly). In high school, I was one of those kids that thought I would
-never wear heels
-always wear converse
-never wear boots

And look at me now. I only wear my converse sneakers to work because they're run down and I don't care if I spill coffee and milk all over them. Damn growing up, it always sneaks up on you. Always used to straighten my hair with a flat iron, religiously. I have this urge to blowdry my hair with curlers in them. Ahhhh


I always thought I would only like Dickies purses or ones with obnoxiously loud patterns and prints, like my old "Looking Good for Jesus" grocery bag. Now I can't stand to be caught with it outside, it's so loud. I'm completely in love with my sister's old Holt Renfrew oliveskin leather bag, with floral stitch embroidery detail and subtle gold studs. Listen to me. Yikes.

Still on that Bran rage. I'm starting to sprinkle it in my yogurt too. By the way, cherry yogurt? Why didn't we meet before?

This Skid's Sched
Thursday: Work 10-4, more "studying" afterwards. (I agree with Chris, the thought of studying in itself is a processed form of studying, so I've been studying all day)
Friday: Work 12-6, then possibly Dan's barbeque with Ali and Nicole.
Saturday: Study session with Edward at the library
Sunday: Work 9-2, more cramming. I'm going to have to memorize 2 essays to write for my exam, each with 6 source examples.
Monday: World Art exam 8-11, work after.
Tuesday: Work 6:30-12
Wednesday: Hopefully off
Thursday: 10-4, maybe love my boyfriend one last time.
Friday: I'm off to El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles del Río de Porciúncula ("The Town of Our Lady the Queen of the Angels of the River Porciúncula", or LA) for a week. I'll be back May 8.

Maybe go celeb hunting. Because I'm fixated like that. But of course, not before I shower my Lola with love and hugs and kisses, but not before I coax her into recognizing who I am (Last time I saw her I was 10), and not before I go shopping and perhaps swimming. Never was a swimmer. But it's not like I can go clubbing (21 is the American 19).

I do not want to study. It's stupid really. My studying doesn't require a textbook. Just a novel. 1984 to be exact. And I can't get myself to come around to cracking that book open. Hell, I can't even get around to grabbing my purse by my feet to take my pill. I go from extreme highs to extreme lows. Extreme bustling to extreme laziness. Right now my motivation is on par with taking a second nap before I go to bed tonight. Shit man. When am I ever gonna study for this exam??? Tomorrow's a day of centring my self on science, at the science centre! With Ali and maybe Adamo, so I don't know when I'll ever read this book. I am so ashamed of you Bianca. Look'it you. Just, look'it you. Pfft.

Post-Partum/Mortem/Eastum

And by Eastum I mean Easter. This past Easter weekend has left me with 6 pounds of extra adipose tissue in my body. Kinda like the guts that giant tree frog belched out in Pan's Labyrinthe. Ugh haha. If I were to list everything that I ate these last four days, it would go a little like this:

-Super salty red sauce linguini (Rob and I ruined the sauce but people ate it anyway, because my mom put it on her pasta dish anyway)
-Cheese tortellini & 'tortelloni' (maybe that was a typo on Oliveri's part)
-Lemon cheesecake
-Miss Vicky's Sweet Chili Chips
-Chicken fingers
-Fries
-Lasagna
-Chicken Parmesan
-Caeser salad
-Bocconcini, artichokes, mushrooms, zucchini, and all that other tasty Antipasto medley
-Crabcakes
-Scrambled eggs
-A piece of bacon
-Mushroom ravioli
-More chicken fingers (same food, different day)
-Crab salad
-Roast garlic potatoes
-Pesto pasta salad
-Chick pea salad
-Apple caramel crumble
-Turkey (softest, most tender turkey ever. As a chicken enthusiast, I almost converted.)
-Chippery (best chips ever)
-Mashed potatoes
-Asparagus, mushrooms, more artichokes, cherry tomatoes.
-Tomato garlic bread
-Angel foodcake with an espresso mascarpone icing.
-The upper body of a Lindt chocolate bunny
-A few more milk chocolate lindt balls
-Apple pie
-Croissant with nutella
-A bowl of raisin bran (this morning)

So um, before you think I'm 500 pounds, lol I'll tell you my secret to eating everything. It's the simple French way. Just peck at everything as opposed to gobbling just one, thus rendering yourself too full to move on to the next course. I think I did a pretty good job at covering all my bases of yummy food.

And now I'm back to eating regular, because eating a consistent menu like that would make anybody's ass bleed.

Dream(s) Last Night: I was in a car with the roof down with Mike Cirillo driving, Ali Pilli, and a couple other passengers I can't remember. Mike, having been drinking because he and Erica broke up, kinda just dissipated from the car and we were approaching a right curve in the road. If we didn't act fast, we would have veered off the road into snow. So I grabbed the wheel and tried to yank it right, which helped a little but we still crashed. Everyone survived but, out of nowhere, I realize that one of the two other passengers that I couldn't remember was a boy. A boy who won't be named, but I did have a standing adoration for this man for a long time. I see him on the floor, nursing his arm, and he looks up at me and asks, "Do you want to come with me to wash this off?" For some reason I knew it was an invitation to be intimately alone somewhere. I haven't talked to him in a while, so I'm a little surprised by his advances. I nod my head and join him in a huge white-tiled bathroom.
He takes off his clothes and goes into the porcelain tub and waits, and there's me, elbows on the edge, bending over him, my chin on my arms, knowing that if I go in there it would be over between me and Robert. I could never cheat on him and then stay with him. My brain was begging me to go in there. So I ended up going into the tub with the guy, but to my disbelief, I don't feel the urge to kiss him. In fact, I just sat there, with our knees bumping. There was no attraction. I stayed in there til the water turned cold, and then I left him.

To you, this dream may mean fuckall. But to me, it cleared the water.