i’ve made a lot of mistakes, in my mind, in my mind. (sufjan stevens)

he’s shooting god up his arm through a needle and she’s putting cuts on her legs to bleed out the devils. “surely you will not die. eat and you will be like God.” what have we done? (as cities burn)

i like depressing music. that’s just how i am, even though this week has been better than last. i don’t think i’ve actually said much this week so (even though i should be working) i’m posting now. between getting distracted by various thoughts and songs. admittedly, some douchebag flamed me earlier in the week. i guess that’s how i know i’m pulling my weight in the blogosphere though: if i have offended someone, then i am doing my job as a writer. excellent. i deleted the flame though, good ol’ admin privileges. anyway, i think whoever it was got ticked off by my self-expression, so decided to express himself/herself in a similarly blunt manner, just without grammar and logic.

so here’s something i’d just like to throw out there: it’s a free country.

i guess the high points of the week included lena’s and my expedition to fashion district on tuesday. it’s a really short (but really hot!) bike ride from here and there’s so much cheap fabric! cheap and pretty fabric, i might add. so i’m making stuff; i’m being creative this week. i know i was trying to get away from it, but, so far, i’ve begun a cloak and have material for a fun turquoise tulle skirt and probably something else, as soon as i figure out what it’s going to be. actually, the remaining work on the cloak is only the big hems at the edges. i did the stitching together of the pattern pieces that i devised earlier. it’s funny how i used to sew with patterns but now i just thought, i got this fabric for $4 so it doesn’t actually matter that much if my creativity misses the mark. i can deal with that. so i just measured myself, thought about the cloak idea, and sketched a design onto the fabric in sidewalk chalk and cut it out. my room is way too small for the pattern (yes, i have more cloak than i have available floor space. it’s not funny.) so i did all the drawing and cutting in one of the lounges on my floor. the looks i got, climbing around this large piece of pewter-and-eggplant plaid, were priceless. so i’m making stuff again. i wrote a song too; it’s called “the dream”. but i haven’t chorded yet and that’ll probably happen when my roommate is out because i’m too shy to play much around people. i like empty places; they resonate me.

we watched the plumes paint the sky gray as she laughed and danced through the field of graves. there i knew it would be all right, that everything would be all right. (death cab for cutie)

today i actually made a friend who doesn’t inhabit my floor. it probably shouldn’t be such an accomplishment, but i guess i must be more introverted than i thought. or maybe i just dislike people. probably the latter. i have trouble finding people with whom i feel comfortable. i’ve been thinking about it, and i realize (well, with this wonderful thing called hindsight) that i am most comfortable with other disciples of Christ. but music, video games, geekery, and sports are good starting points too. anyway, i found one such person in my computer science lab today, and ended up playing guitar hero, rock band, and subsequently frisbee with him and some of his floormates. i’d like to know why i constantly end up playing sports with a bunch of guys, and then appear in my room sweaty and endorphin-buzzed. athleticism may not be such a bad thing after all. i should get out and play basketball more, with what i’ve been eating around here.

so, in short, my outlook is growing brighter. i’m tired, though, and i have work to do. or maybe i’ll just sleep and do the work tomorrow. it’s late enough that i could use sleep as procrastination. yes, success!

there is a city by the sea, a gentle company. i don’t suppose you want to. and as it tells its sorry tale in harrowing detail, its hollowness will haunt you. its streets and boulevards, orphans and oligarchs, it hears a plaintive melody, truncated symphony, an ocean’s gargled vomit on the shore. (the decemberists)