This is going to happen.

I have decided to do something simple.
Simple, but important to me. 
I am going to start walking.
Every morning. As in, I am going to get up at six tomorrow and go for a walk. 
Walk to main street, down spring street, down temple, and to the river. Just to sit and watch  for a little.
That's about a mile. Google maps tells me 1.4 miles.
So, three miles every morning.
I am downloading a Christopher Moore book right now so I can listen to that. 
So I will be 'reading' and getting health(ierish) at the same time.

About time to not just sit around all day.
Time to do something. 

Let's do this.

"Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?" - Douglas Adams

Here is something.

Now I know that Christopher Moore likes Dante Shepard and everything has come full circle.

Wish I ha something interesting to say.
So here is pretty graffiti in Nashua.

It's pretty neat, eh? 
I took it, so thanks to me for the picture. Good job, me.


This makes me want to read. So that is what I am going to go do now.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6G5JaicYuVU&feature=colike

Meow

I've kind of been getting into K-pop and stuff lately.
Notevenmad.

I don't actually have anything to say.
I have a pretty awful headache.
This past weekend I went to Maine with Emily.
I bought a dress for a dalek costume, eight books, and a carry two-pack of cards. 
It's neat.
All for $4.
And I'm making a hat for her. 
So that is good.

We seem together out of key.

I think every thing I do is the opposite of what people want me to do.
Notevenmad.

You say you're this person who is so different, that you're not "that kind of guy."
I've heard that from three different guys.
All three of them turned out to be exactly "that type of guy."
The cheating, lying, assholes.
(Come to think of it, the only guy I know who hasn't said that is the only guy I'm on good terms with right now. Hm.)
Any way.
Yeah. 
You say you're not that kind of guy, but you are. You so are.
You say you wouldn't cheat, but you clearly did that.
Yeah, good for you, you got a date with a girl you thought was pretty rad.
Well, she has a boyfriend. Even if it is "complicated."
That is kind of bullshit.
You say it was only a "potential date?"
So are you "potentially cheating?"
No. It's fucking cheating.
Nice job, bro.
Glad you're not who you say you are.
But what's new with you guys?
I am neutral about this, so fuck off.


Let's make some ratatouille.
 

Rock this bitch.

Let's start off with something that bothers me.
My sister has this recent awful habit of wanting to get any kind of attention that she can.
As in, she will laugh and then force a snort. 
Not like she has a snort in her laugh and that is just how she laughs.
She forces a snort several times in a laugh.
Not funny.
She also pretends she can't see.
A few weeks ago, she could read the tv listings just fine.
Now she leans in to read it.
Even though she doesn't need to.
It bothers me.
Meh.

Tomorrow I am going to Maine with Emily.
That should be fun.
Meow.

Twitter.

I've been on Twitter for a little while now.
For, a month now. 
A little more. 
And it's neat. 
I had one before, but never used it.
Right, get on the bandwagon once it isn't cool.
But that's the way to do things, isn't it?
That's my prerogative.
(@GoatsJustKid It's an animal pun hahahahaha shut up.)

I can't stop listening to Watsky.
Not a new obsession, but so worth mentioning.
As much as possible.
I mean, there are musicians and rappers, poets and lyricists.
But Watsky is on another page. 
He is just so.... incredible.
I can't explain it.
And I am missing his tour right now. Oh well.
Minecraft and Watsky.
Good enough for me.

My tongue hurts.
So, of course, I can't stop biting it.
Which isn't helping.

I am a bloodmobile.

A story of my cats.

Yup.

A little background info. 
I have two cats.
Ploarbear and Tony.  
I will refer to them by name.
Polarbear is my cat. The best cat. Not an exageration.
She is the best cat in the history of cats.
Tony is my sister's cat. 
She, like my sister, is a bitch.
Hates me and I hate her. 
Not the point of the story. Meh.
They do not really get along.
It's not that they hate each other, they just don't kill each other anymore.  
Keep that in mind during the story.

We live on a very very ground level apartment.
As in, some times people come to crouch down and sit to talk to the cats in the window.
It's short. Whatever.
Sometimes at night, other cats will come and look in the window. 
Tonight, both cats were sitting in different windows. 
Polarbear was sitting in the living room window and Tony was sitting in the bedroom next to it.
This cat goes over to the window where Tony was sitting.
She starts growling, as she does.
Polarbear perks up and runs to Tony's window.
Usually she just listens for a seconds and lets her be.
So I go over to watch how they react. 
The cats are together, growling and hissing at this other cat. 
The other cat freaks out and runs away. 
They gracefully look at each other and give, what I can only describe as a nod.
Tony gives a little meow and trots off to the next window to further the chase. 
Polarbear looks at me and falls asleep.
Good kitty.

It was more interesting at the time. 

34. 26. 38.

I've gained a little weight recently.
I try on things and I think 'this doesn't look good. Why can't I make this look good anymore?'
So I take my measurements and google them, thinking 'this might help!'
I got plus sized dresses.
Now, I don't see myself as a plus size girl. Because I'm not, really.
Plus size is 42-32-42. Roughly.
Runway models are 34-24-34. 

Catalog/commercial models are generally 36-26-36.

But what does this even mean?

Plus size models:

 

Runway models:

 

Catalog/Commercial models:

 

Now tell me, which one is most beautiful?

That is, how you say "A question wrongly put."

Who is to say 'This girl is prettier than that girl.'

What does that even mean?

Why does it matter?

Why am I worrying about it?

It's funny. 

I'm not worried about how I look. 

But why it makes my heart and head hurt.

I think of it this way. 

Say you have a cup.

No matter what you do, you can put whatever you want on the outside, make it as 'beautiful' as possible,

but if it is filled with poison, what does it matter?

Why do we put so much stock into our outsides, but we leave out our insides?