It's late...

I was just reading my journal entries and starting another blog on here of my poetry and ponderings of life.

Late night TV is really quite horrible and graphic but alas I can't seem to look away.

I was actually reading journal entries tonight from sophmore year and reminiscing on how horribly and unhealthily obssesed I was with Fabien. Poor guy. I thought I was so in love. I still don't know what that feels like by the way. And for some reason that got me thinking about the trash bag story, I told it twice at a party yesterday. Ive told it so many times now that it almost feels like it happened to someone else. Ask Olivia, I've actually grown up quite a bit in grad school and have reduced the amount of life threatening situations I get myself into by atleast 40%.

I went into Northwesterns equivilent of the UC today. I never go in this building, I actually don't go in any of Northwesterns buildings except the school of music. The smell of all the different food shops brought me back to Carnegie Mellon like nobodies business. Remember when we would just go hang out in Skibo and do absolutely nothing, or get coffees and sit upstairs overlooking the black chairs, does it seem like a dream to anyone else? Those years in Pittsburgh were unlike any other in my life so far.

I'm glad i've gotten to see everyone within in the last year (except COLIN!) but I know as our lives take us in seperate directions we'll continue to drift apart, will we all ever be together again?!?!?!??!.........but nothing will ever completely sever those ties we formed making convo, making the Fergielicious video, and trips to Joe Mama's, the Waterfront, tanning, dance class with Buddy, watching movies in DG, and so freakin' much more...I mean those years will always have an impact on the people we are becoming...right? I know I'm being deep...it's 3am... my eyes are leaking tears at an alarming rate because I'm so tired and my brain is shrinking as I watch a man jump up and down in a banana suit screaming "I'm a banana, look at me bitch". For some reason this makes complete sense.

My acid reflux is making my esophagus and heart feel like an exploding volcano. Anyone have a cure...besides "try getting to bed at a decent hour?"

I hope everyone writes about all the infinite wisdom they've gained outside the walls of Carnegie Mellon these past couple years,.... clearly that doesn't apply to me...but lastly I hope everyone is still headed on a path to the sky one foot infront of another on a falic piece of grey metal erupting from the green grass of THE CUT:)