love it if we made it

it is fifty four degrees in a small city in new jersey. the weather calls for a t-shirt and a light sweater. the students call for cow onesies and rosie the riveter costumes and rick and morty cosplays. it’s halloween and the semester is still heavy with promise, but halfway through, we all know how this works.

a kid on a skateboard zooms past in yellow shoes. he moves as fast as i’d like to. we both end up at the bus stop, and i try a smile at him. he smiles back, and i smile to myself. i wonder if he was smiling at me or at how fast he was going.

at the bench i find myself at, there are people as furniture. a girl sits atop a monument, and another sits oustside the english building. it feels like they haven’t moved for ages, typing away on their laptops and tapping their feet in tune with music only i can hear.

two boys play frisbee on the lawn and the boy in the grey sweatshirt jumps higher every time it comes his way. they switch sides and he continues to jump. he yells to his friend, “i’m consistent!” and he is. he’s consistent.

all of these people are in my mind as matty healy sings, “i’d love it if we made it”. i would. i’d love it if we made it.

love and light,
shalom xo

Advertisements

finals szn

alternatively titled: finals szn is almost finally over
alternatively, alternatively titled: shalom is going to tank her comm final

i just gave my schedule a good reshuffling, and am now taking three on site and three online classes next semester. why? well, i’d really like to have professor stewart for comm theory but i can’t because it clashes with syntax, and if i take comm research over the summer instead it’s only two months of summer school instead of all four.

in brief, i’m avoiding studying for the final that i have in two and a half hours because i am anxious. it’s my last final and i need to get a B in it to keep my gpa where it’s at, but i also probably won’t because i won’t. that’s the way it’s going to go. probably.

i mean, i’m not opposed to it going splendidly. if it so happened that the only thing on the final was relationships then i’d be very pleased and could finaggle an A. but alas, that will not be the case, and as such my future is up in arms. i’m starting to panic about whether or not i actually want to be a linguistics student (the answer is yes, shalom, it’s yes – you can’t change your life path every time you have a dream that sends you into a panic attack) and about whether or not i can deal with three online classes (hopefully i’ll use my time wisely seeing that i’ll only have one physical class a day) BUT I SHOULDN’T BE. i should be out of bed and brushing my teeth and reviewing for my exam in an an two hours and twenty minutes.

my boyfriend is helping me move a desk and an ac unit tomorrow. i’m anxious about being the owner of an ac unit. my brain is so frazzled and i know very little about family communication. i’m also buying a bicycle soon. from what it looks like, it should be a very nice bicycle. remember when i would write for money almost consistently? i would love to be doing that again; then i could afford said bicycle. maybe i don’t need a bike. i just donated half of my clothes the other day, and i still have too much stuff.

it just dawned on me that i haven’t been taking my medication for the last couple of days. oh, brains are a funny thing. i’m off to put some wellbutrin in my body so my mind can stop running at one hundred. sorry for this mess.

love and light,
shalom xo

nobody cares about your loud exhaust, michael

His name probably isn’t Michael, but I’m gonna go with it.

Outside one of the buildings where I go to school, there is a parking lot. Inside this parking lot, there is a motorcycle. Upon this motorcycle is Michael, and I want to knock him off of it.

Michael drives (rides?) a shockingly orange, very loud motorbike. When I say very loud, I mean startle you from sleep loud. I mean, get on the ground and duck for cover loud. I mean this boy spends 20 minutes revving his bike every time I have the misfortune of walking past the academic building loud. I have no intention of hurting him or his ego, but I swear to Jesus, Mary, Joseph and saint above that I want to destroy that bike. Good heavens.

The first time I walked past, I was with a friend who yelled, “We get it, your dick is MASSIVE” as we walked past. I laughed. The second time, he was just doing it. I didn’t want to yell but also, I just really hate how loud it is. So, I walked past muttering obscenities to myself. I most recently walked past last night at 7:50 pm while trying to get to my 7:40 French class, and that experience is why I’m writing this post. Y’all, I have never wanted to kick a bike so badly in my life.

I was already in a daze, having slept through my alarm, so the first kick of the exhaust was like a gunshot ricocheting through my entire body. Fine, it woke me all the way up. Not fine because it continued. The second kick made me mad because I jumped and bit my tongue. By the third, I was so close to just walking right up to him, but I didn’t want to be so close to the noise.

Essentially, what I’m trying to say is maybe you have the world’s biggest dick and you want everyone to know it via the ridiculous noise your vehicle can make – you can still just not. Consider just…not.

Nobody cares, Michael. Fuck your exhaust pipe.

love and light,
shalom xo

monthly me | september ’17

when your heart was open wide,
and you loved things just because
like the sick and the dying

– rilo kiley

Hey gang. No exclamation points here but I am here and I have returned for the only thing in my life that is consistent. Are you well?

from the camera roll

september

September, in truth, was my first full month in America. It’s been a lot.

This month, I (officially) started uni. Again. It’s been a strange time, because despite my having done this “wow so new!” thing before, I’m doing it on a different continent. It makes for interesting character development to say the least. I’m living in a dorm for the first time, because I definitely did not do that last year. Several of my two-days-straight-without-moving-from-bed days would have been made infinitely less possible with a roommate like 50 other people on the floor.

I’ve done a lot of watching, to tell you the truth. After my trip to New York and the UN (a really, really good time) I moved in and started class. I’m a little upset at how juvenile things are. The uni classes have been like a slap in the face – that is, they slapped me back to high school. Like, homework and attendance and participation points? Where am I? Is 2013 Shalom okay? Not to negate the upstanding nature of the university or anything, it’s just that it’s a little bit of a backwards shock after last year’s uh. Year.

Teenagers are in love and it’s both revolting and heartwarming to watch. Really, by the second week of class, there were about five or six couplings that happened within the dorm. I’ve grown tired of people meaning well and telling me, “you’ll find someone”. How many times can I flick a recent high school graduate on the nose and yell, “DID I ASK?” in my head? Every day, the number rises. Stay tuned for updates.

I’m not a sour Sally about people being happy. I could never be – I thrive on happiness, especially that of others. It’s part of my “give too much of myself and try to fill the space with positive reactions from others” complex. I’m worried about how it’ll mess up our dynamic as a family (because our hall is a family – I’m the mom. It’s fitting.) if things go south.

That said, the community I live with is lovely. The RAs are lovely, my roommate is lovely, the boys who live next door and ask me to use a bowl when they’ve run out are lovely. There are a lot of Cancerians on the floor – something like 9? Maybe that’s responsible for the vibe.

My brain, she’s trying. I had a follow up appointment with psychiatric services on Friday that I did not go to, but we all know I should have – myself included. I don’t know. I’m currently manic, and I’m a bit worried about myself. I wish I could stop thinking that everyone actually just puts up with me. I wish my hair didn’t make me so dysphoric. I also wish I had money and didn’t get fired, but here we are. Thanks, September.

tunes & vids

but the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap
and it teases you for weeks in its absence

when you outgrow a lover / the whole world knows but you

put on your makeup, i laid out your favourite sweater
it’s just a number darling, dry your eyes

doilooklikeimleftoffbadandboujee?

other loves

  • “Bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark.” – I bet you do.
  • I read some very good fics this month. I should text Chyanne about them.
  • Beanby! We have a beanbag chair. He’s called beanby, and he’s been home to many a cry time. A good boy, a kind boy.
  • My drama teacher sent me a message saying she’s proud of me, and I haven’t opened the message because I look at it every day. (Thank you, Meghan.)

 

snippets of internal monologue

  • how much can i actually twist until i pretzel?
  • i can feel the blood moving in my veins. what is this? am i becoming something else?
  • narrator: manic. she was becoming manic.
  • i just want to not be uncomfortable with the things that everyone is happy about and that i am happy about but can’t process because brain oh BRAIN
  • i’d be a good thanksgiving sacrifice. not a lot of meat though, all the gross fatty bits.

It’s almost after one. I haven’t eaten or gotten any of the very pressing work I should have gotten done, done. I’d appreciate an injection of clarity and non-impulse filled motivation, because that gets my shit rocked. Really.

love and light,
shalom xo

a letter to my thighs | honest letters #2

Dear left thigh and right thigh,

You two have been kept apart for so long, and I know that now that you spend every waking (and sleeping) hour touching each other, you’re a little uncomfortable. Let me tell you, I’m pretty bloody uncomfortable myself.

I know you resent the lack of the comfy distance between you two. That elusive thigh gap that made you two stay away from each other and made me “skinny” is gone, and my two hands can no longer perfectly fit around one of you. I know that it sucks and I know that it’s partially my fault for spending 30% of my allowance on food before the month even starts. I get it! But I’m not sorry. I’ve been working out, like, loads. Okay. Not loads. Enough. I go to Wits! Everything is a fricken 15 minute walk from everything. I literally make sure that you get exercise every day because we all walk home together. See?

I know that this isn’t satisfying, and that you’d still like to know why you’re stuck together, and the reason is this: estrogen.

Niiiice, Shalom, blame it on the hormones blah blah blah. I am blaming it on the hormones! It’s their fault! I’m sorry for not consulting with you before I started this birth control, but it was a bit of a split-second-try-to-save-yourself-from-your-body-that-may-be-trying-to-kill-you decision. Hormone regulation isn’t fun. Trust me, I didn’t sacrifice your personal space because hoe is life. Though, if I did, you’d have to shut up and deal. I appreciate that.

I know that you hate the fact that I have to have to unstick you guys and that all the god forsaken chafing is driving you up the wall, but I want you to know that I love you. I mean, maybe I don’t yet, but I’m really trying to.

We’ve been through a lot together. You’ve literally held me up for eighteen and a half years and I’m really grateful for you leg-parts. We’ve made it through ballet and eating disorders and sports politics and running from robbers with guns and dancing on people at parties. This is a change, and maybe you’re making me buy new pants for the first time in six years, but I’m gonna stick this out with you.

Thanks for being part of me.

love and light,
shalom xo

monthly me | september 2016

Hi one and all! It’s been a solid week or two since I even checked up on my WordPress stats, but my lil baby Gertrude (my computer) has all but given up on me completely, so I’m chalking it up to that.

I hope you’ve been well. September is gone, and much like the other months of 2016, it’s happened too fast. With that said, lettuce jump into the salad that was September.

(I just got back from a birthday picnic with some dear friends from high school and some new people and let me just say that everyone is better outside of high school. Seriously.)

from the camera roll

screenshot_2016-09-27-17-41-231

14741930729211

happenings this month

  • finally. Made. FRIENDS. Took me long enough! I made friends with the most lovely people who greatly appreciate my breakfast making skills. It took me long enough, but at the end of the year is better than not at all – and I’m really glad that it’s them. If any of you are reading this – Ash, Sarah, Andrea, Gabriela, Monray, Jay, Quinn, David, Kgomotso – I’m bringing pancakes when campus opens. Be there.
  • My blog and I were recognised!!!!!!! In real life!!!!! BY TWO DIFFERENT HUMANS!!!! One of them was giving me a wax, which was a bit awkward, but the other was outside a test venue. I was happy.
  • #FeesMustFall2016 is still happening, but the Minister for Higher Education screwed up and said that fees are going up by a maximum of 8% this year and is shucking himself of all responsibility. Protests have been real, and stones have been thrown, but we’ll keep fighting.
  • Dubious skype session with a love of mine who’s in Cape Town. We see you, Ashley and Robbie.
  • We turned three! Yesterday/Today (I made this blog at midnight) was my three year blogging anniversary, and I’m so grateful for the people I’ve “met” and met, and the people who I still am yet to. Thanks for reading and living in my corner of the internet with me.

music on repeat

i’ve told you time and time again
i’m not as think as you drunk i am

we may as well call september “the month of Lana” because i have listened to almost nothing but “Born to Die: The Paradise Edition” for the last 30 days.

i’m just a little person / one person in a sea
of many little people / who are not aware of me

snippets of internal monologue

  • If I take this shot, someone might get shot. Will I get shot? Oh man. I’m taking the shot.
  • This boy who apologised for “leading me on”, does he know that I’d have to be interested for him to lead me on?
  • ULTIMATE GAY. THAT’S WHO ASH IS. ULTIMATE GAY.
  • Lord, if my boobs get any bigger I MAY DIE.
  • Why why WHY couldn’t I at least have been awake when they robbed me?

obsessions

  • Spontaneous breakfast making sessions for my pals
  • Snapchat! I’ve been using it so much.
  • Checking my Lisbon hostel reservation
  • MY PALS IN LONDON I LOVE YOU TASH AND MIRANDA (i’m a mirfanda)

In September I was robbed, drunk, tired, crying, dangerous, and very drained. I’ve started October on the best note, and I don’t know whether or not I’m going back to campus, or whether I’ll be finished with first year in November, or whether or not I’m about to screw myself over. I probably am. But I mean, screwing up is at least a fifth of the fun, right?

love and light,
shalom

a note to student (employees)

listen to this while you read this:

 

Hi, fellow student.

I know, depending on your hemisphere, you’ve just started the new school year, or that you’re trying to crawl through the last three months of the university term. I know you’re busy, and I know you’re tired. I work a lot too – both in and out of school. My desk looks like that of the normal college student: messy, covered in loose sheets of paper and sticky notes and matches and medication. Under my ridiculously expensive textbooks, I have other textbooks, from 5th up until 12th grade. I’m a tutor, and I am a red-pen-stained-worksheet-making mess.

I work an easy 10 hours a week. Officially. Ten hours doesn’t seem like a lot, and it isn’t really. It’s doable. If I only worked those 10 hours, I’d be okay, but tutoring, like almost every other job, demands that it must eat into any and all time I thought I could mark as free time. I’m sure you can empathise. I know some of you work up to 25 hours a week, and I know that I can never feel the tired you feel, but I can feel proud of you – and I do.

I don’t think anyone’s better than anyone, but I do think that students who work while they study are extremely resilient. Yes, that’s most of us, but most of us are resilient. I think that the six hours you put in on a Saturday because you’re helping your parents pay your tuition, or because you’re paying your tuition yourself, or because you’re saving for a trip or a car, or because you just want some money, are six hours of phenomenal work. I think that you’re brave and powerful and strong. I think that you’re doing a great job.

Regardless of whether you work or not, drink a tall glass of water. Take three deep breaths, and remember that you’re doing okay. Don’t let the university monster eat you alive. I’m proud of you, and you’re doing great.

This is your reminder.

love and light,
shalom xo

[It’s not gonna be] May

It wasn’t.

In this post, I talked about how shit 2016 had been up until then. I hoped & wondered whether May would bring better things – really, whether I would just get my shit together.

This post is a report back. A failed mission report.mission

 

We begin with a vision board in the middle of the month. I am already broke, and the remaining R400 in my account is money I owe to people. I fight with people on the internet, and annoy everyone who is friends with me on facebook by doing what I’m supposed to do on twitter, as I’ve been told.giphy

The blow-by-blow accounts of my days get semi ridiculous because I become aware of how pathetic I sound. I meet a girl from my high school on campus, and she greets me with “I thought you dropped out because you’re always crying.”. Nice. Lemme tell you something, fellas: If a person dropped out every time I cried for more than an hour there is NO WAY universities would be a thing. Honestly. They’d give up. I’d rob them of their business and they wouldn’t even see it coming.

I receive an email from a follower in Germany, and am asked where I get the inspiration to write the characters in the stories that I tell on my blog. I ask, confused, which stories? I am told, “all of them but mostly the ones with the bad luck and epic fails”. Ah. I see. My dear friend is unaware of the unfortunate non-fiction nature of my mishaps that I recount on here. I give them the news that despite the events seeming like jokes, I am the joke, and the events are true. The reply reads, “Oh man that is tough but still funny! Viel Glück!”. It’s my favourite email I’ve received so far.

On the topic of emails: my phone stops receiving my school emails. I log in at my computer and see that I have missed five announcements concerning my philosophy exam. Excefuckinglento. I’m too stressed to physically act upon my stress for the upcoming exam. I decide I don’t need to go to school for almost a week because I don’t have to, and then that I’ve earned five days off from studying.

giphy (1).gif

Two days before my exam, I become painfully aware that I was not deserving of those off-days.

I fight with a boy because he believes that I should put his preference of me, and women in general, wearing fancy bras, over my argument that I don’t like wearing a bra some days (because I can’t breathe HELLO IT’S A CAGE A BOOB AND RIB CAGE CAGE) and I don’t have to. I almost yell. I don’t because he’s stupid, and I’m tired.

HsMtQfG

Same, Simon. It’s a no from me, too.

I see a man get hit by a car on my way to a study session with my #1 pal. I stop and help him, call his girlfriend (thanks Robyn), and go to the police station with them to fill a form. They drive me to the police station, because I am helping them. I expect them to drive me back to where they found me, but they don’t. I am left at a police station half an hour’s walk from where I was going. I arrive at my friend’s house, and we go for brunch. We eat cheaply because we are broke. The value for money? A+.

My default state has quickly become “painfully aware”. I write the philosophy exam, and by some force of nature or witchcraft, I do not embarrass myself by falling on the way to my seat or crying loudly during the exam (like I did during the test at the beginning of the month.). I go to dinner to say goodbye to a close friend who is moving away. I am broke. I end up at a sushi restaurant with her friends who have platinum credit cards, and I am dying inside – but not in a cute way like Eliza Schuyler. DYING. I pay with my student debit card (remaining balance can buy me two lollipops), loose change (read: all the cash in my wallet) and the last shred of dignity I have.

maxresdefault

I have just gotten home. I have cried my makeup off, and then actually took my make-up off (look at me!). I have three exams left, one of which I am almost certain that I will need divine intervention to scrape a pass. I am very tired.

It is the end of May, and I have not done the things. June can kiss my ass. I’m here for eating sandwiches and pretending not to witness the crumbling things around me. 2016 has been a flaming bag of dicks so far. I’m not particularly fond of those.

love & light,
shalom x

YEAH, I KNOW. [Alternatively: Feb Faves & a Monthly Roundup]

So, my good friend Engie made a post about the things that were making her mad and stressing her out, and a lot of them revolved around college, being a blogger in college…you get where I’m going with this? I’ve been away for two odd weeks. I make these posts all the time (see…all my past posts for reference) but this time, I have actual things to say. Yay for planned rambles!

1. RE: UNIVERSITY.

This thing just does not let up. I’m a law student and I’m taking courses in philosophy, media studies and english as well. I had no idea just how far behind one could fall in three weeks. It’s safe to say that I’ve found out. Blogging has become la absolute SAFEHAVEN. I think I’m going to force myself to incorporate it into my failure of a schedule – like mandatory me-time? (I hate the phrase me-time. Ugh.)Some advice to all the hatchlings who will soon be embarking on the Great College Adventure TM: Come in armed. It’ll eat you alive if you don’t. Always have an umbrella, a charger, cash, and painkillers. Also a pen.

2. Favourites!

I haven’t done much in the way of the fun things, but I have, as usual, made my home in the Internet. Here are some things (most Internet, some not.) that I loved this month:

Alt-Indie Music Videos

Troye Sivan, Halsey and THE 1975 all released music videos for such AMAZING tunes off of their respective latest albums. Troye’s video for YOUTH blew me away for several reasons: (1) SO MUCH PURPLE PASTEL INDIE TUMBLR TEEN. (2) HAPPY FUNCTIONAL PARTY TEENAGERS. (actually, Troye is 20 (21 in June!) but he still counts. For reasons. Halsey’s video for Colors (the South African in me is mega cringing at that spelling) is just…let me tell you, (#nospoilers), it’s not what you expect. The music video for THE 1975’s The Sound is really the BEST THING I  SAW THE ENTIRE MONTH. It’s a massive ‘up yours’ to all of the critics who “only heard chocolate once and hated it”. Watch it. WATCH THEM ALL.

 

Blogger: Maxine Zhao

Alright, so I feel super honoured to say that Max once told me that I served as inspiration for her starting her blog. And man, do you need to see it. Maxine is what I’d call an up-and-coming fashion and lifestyle blogger with INSANE talent regarding taking timed tripod self shots. She’s also an absolute doll with a tiny little car named Kevin. Did you need any further justification? Check her out here.

Beauty

I’m not even going to pretend to know a lot about beauty. At all. Because I don’t. But I’ve been using mostly Nivea products as of late, just because they happen to work the best with my skin. For now. Stress breakouts are a real thing  and a good skincare regime is legitimately another university must have. Here are some of the things that I’ve been putting on my largest organ! (Skin. I’m talking about my skin.)

I have combination to oily skin, and this shine control face wash from Nivea is just YES. It’s super soothing on the skin, first and foremost, and it also works really well? It feels a lot like a continuous sea breeze while you’re washing your face. (10 points if you can think of a worse sounding line.) In the way of makeup, I don’t wear much because I can’t afford much (lol) but I DO love the LA Girl Perfecting Liquid Makeup foundation in Mahogany. I adore this foundation. It feels really light on the skin, and doesn’t wear off at all – I generally don’t need to reapply it during the day. I should really invest in a BB cream for the days that I don’t feel up to the industrial task of putting on a bit of paint. Hmm. Money.

Winning!

This month, writer and illustrator Dallas Clayton announced a competition on Instagram. He made six journals, and asked for cities from every continent to send them to. He’s still looking for some participants from Antarctica. Long story short, he chose Johannesburg! It’s all very exciting. I’m excited.

3. February.

February has been orange. It’s been the sheer intensity of my media studies course pack readings, the only pen I could find for two weeks, my flats that the 10 minute walk between buildings on campus ruined, and the 36 C days. I have learned how to hold my breath for as long as possible when being utterly submerged by the ocean that is “adulthood”. I’m not really an adult. Not even legally – I’m still 17. It does, however, seem that I am in the bracket where ‘act like an adult’ is applicable. I’m acting, alright.

For the first time this month, I was paid an allowance (!) which may not seem like much, but you need to realise that I’d never recieved an allowance before. Oh, Shalom, how did you go out to concerts and movies and the things you loved with your mostly make-believe friends through out high school? I didn’t. It was really cool – until I ran out of money. And had no way to get home from school because I couldn’t pay for public transport. Or food on campus. I’ve learned a lot since then. (Bye, morning cappuccinos.)

I’m really stressed out about what March will bring. March sees my FAFSA deadline (thank you uncooperative parent for STILL not having provided me with your tax information 🙂 ), my first official written tests, learning how to write an abstract & a research paper, more poetry analysis than I thought possible, and probably more tears than I am hydrated for. It’s surreal to think that we’re already almost in the third month of 2016, but I’m glad we’re all here.

This was lovely to write and compile and all the rest. Thank you all for sticking around! I think you are all very kind. I also think I want to make videos? Because I keep wanting to say things – in my actual voice, that people can hear – but then I remember that I’m typing. Hm. A thing to consider.

Love and light,
shalom


photos: maxine zhao’s blog, death to stock, nivea south africa, thestyleandbeautydoctor.com (swatches), dallas clayton’s instagram

 

UniversiTERRIFYINGLY STRESSFUL.

Today, I come to you as more than just a regularly exhausted-by-life Shalom. I come now, as a bone tired university student that has consumed about six pancakes too many.

Happy Shrove Tuesday! In honour of pancake Tuesday, here’s a video from SoulPancake and my pal Kid President. You should watch it. It’s important. (It’ll probably make you a little smilier.) We all need a pep talk.

In any case, I started formal classes yesterday! Monday was pretty relaxed, and my only lecture was Global Literature and Film. It was awesome. Today? Eh, could have been better. I met my philosophy lecturer and the venue that it takes place in, and man oh man did a girl crave some sleep. It is so dark! And perfect for sleep! But I love philosophy and I honestly care about critical thinking and metaphysics. Honestly. I’m just such a sleepy kitten. I’m lying. Kittens can’t go to college, unfortunately. The do go to high school, though! My old school literally bred crazy cat ladies. We were an all girls’ school with strange cats roaming the grounds.What a time to be alive.

sleepykitten.jpg

Actual footage of Shalom in a box. #naturalstate

My Media and Society lecture is really cool, and I’m looking forward to seeing the psychology behind the way that media and society interlink. I’m not excited about the readings. My course pack is thicker than my arm. (I do not have very thin arms at all.)

textbooks.jpg

I think that real love is when the Prof says “there is no required textbook for this course”. I almost cried with joy when I found out that two out of four of my classes this semester are textbook free. PRAISE THE LORD. AMEN. (I’m not outright asking, but if anyone does want to buy my ridiculously expensive intro to law books for me…)

I am unfortunately still without job, and still waiting to hear back from UBC (scholarship offers) and McGill (ANYTHING offers). I am capital v capital tired. V TIRED.

(I just got very distracted by the internet and free vouchers and questionable fanfiction.)

(Un)surprisingly, I have made zero new friends? Maybe it’s because I slouch. It’s not that I haven’t met new people – there are almost 7000 first years this year. I just haven’t had any conversations beyond, “Where is the politics department? Thanks!” and “How to I get to the 3rd floor of Senate House?”. It’s a little bit shitty, to be honest. I’m hoping that tomorrow will be better than today. I hate falling asleep in class.

It’s also Valentines day soon. I remember, in 8th grade, when some of the larny private schools would get the day off as a holiday, and the rest of us would all be at school pretending not to care.

SO MUCH IS HAPPENING AND I ALREADY HAVE ESSAYS DUE AND ONLINE QUIZZES AND NOTES TO TYPE OUT AND OMG????? THINGS ARE STRESS???? HOW TO UNIVERSITY???

love and light,
shalom xo