And all she keeps inside, isn't on the label
...fields of butterflies, reality escapes her
FUEL (SHIMMER)
This song came on in the car this morning and made me so happy. In high school the above lyrics often found themselves in my AIM profile, because I felt they described me SO PERFECTLY. Although I was actually in elementary school when this song came out, and I'm quite certain the lyrics were not written about the first third grader in her class to have boobs. (I only mention the boob thing because, amazing but true, they have been the same size ever since. Cool huh?)
A note on AIM: It used to be so fun. It was a big deal when my mom let me start using it and I remember IMing my friend Laura and being on the phone with her at the same time. My first screen name was cuppajoe89. (LIE. My real first screen name was years earlier and was Smyli because Smiley was already taken by some other America Online user. And I was only allowed to use it for half an hour a day and never for chatting, because I was in the second grade and my mom was convinced I'd be kidnapped by an internet predator. This was way before 'internet predator' was really a real thing, by the way.) And remember how when you had a boyfriend you would put his name into your profile? Brian 2.14.03 less-than-three (True fact, when I saw my name in my eighth grade boyfriend's profile I felt suffocated and told him as much. I believe my breakup speech included how we were "moving too fast." And by 'breakup speech' I mean the stuff I wrote on a cafeteria napkin that I told my best friend to say to him.) Anyway then high school happened and my friends/boyfriends got cars, The End of AIM.
That was a long note. I forgot where I was going with this. Probably nowhere. I am so glad it's Friday; this has been one of those weeks where all of my first-world problems seem so colossally exhausting. Not emotional exhaustion or anything but actual physical tiredness. And I am not training for a marathon or building houses, friends. I'm talking about, like, doing the dishes. Earlier in the week I dyed my hair ("COLORED, Lindsay. You colored your hair. Also, you PAINT a house. You POLISH your nails," interrupted my southern belle roommate) after class and then sat down in front of the fire and woke up four hours later. So imagine what all the actual real things I had to do felt like. So this weekend I have friends to catch up with, vomit-inducing amounts of math homework to finish, and probably a vitamin B shot to schedule.
This is awfully text-y. I don't really have any pictures I feel like posting but oh yeah, I'm shopping for a new camera. I feel like I ought to suck it up and dole out the cash for a really decent one only I'm not exactly sure what makes a camera 'decent' and also there are probably more practical places for me to dole said cash out to. Anyway I have to go be formally educated now so for the sake of visual stimulation here is one of the pictures from many moons ago that I pulled off my brokedy-broke laptop (by the way, that project lasted two days and then I forgot about it):
It was in the "modeling portfolio" folder, if that wasn't clear.
