Okay, so I really, really don't want to study for geography because I really, really hate geography. There is very little that can persuade me to get up, go to my desk, and crack open that book except for the hopes of getting an A in that class. That, and my really cute T.A. who makes pretty much anything interesting. But ridiculous school girl crush aside, I am literally doing everything in my power to think up ways to push back the time when I have to start studying. Such activities include:

1) Looking at all the fashion blogs that are tearing apart Hollywood/Fashion World from the Met Gala last night.
2) Finding new books on Amazon, realizing I need to win the lottery and become incredibly anti-social to read every book ever.
3) Making the 4th cup of tea of the day, because I WILL NOT GET SICK DANGIT! I have 6 days left of this semester and I will survive that time without the cold I feel coming on.
4) Cleaning/packing up my apartment. Sort of. Simply because I have another week left to do that and as much as I want to clean everything, it will just get messy again.
5) Writing a blog.

So that's what's up.

But I did have a general topic that's been on my mind lately. Gosh, there's a part of me that wishes I had a bunch of readers like my friends who have blogs, but then I remember that this blog is all about moi and that no one in their right mind, with the exception of my lovely family, would ever consider following this blog. WHOA distraction. Back to the point.

So every once in awhile I kind of freak out about my chosen career path. A.K.A. Do I really have the motivation/ability/insanity to pursue a career in books? This usually stems from the doubt of whether or not I am really a book lover enough to have a life devoted to them. Those who are reading this with incredulity, yes it really does happen. Sometimes it comes from a book dry spell, which is when I've been to busy or lazy to really read that much and I freak out that every one else is so up on reading and I haven't finished a book in almost two weeks. Or occasionally I'll talk to someone who is a book fiend who has read everything ever and I feel so irrelevant and unable to keep up that I immediately think I will never be a good book fiend. I think, my goodness, who do I think I am that I have the ability to even suggest books to others, let alone publish one and decide that should be the Great American Novel. Freak-outedness ensues.

But then...

I finish a book. Or I start one. Or I go to look up a random book on Amazon and three hours later I realize I have over a hundred books in my cart. Or I stay up until 5 in the morning reading an entire book accidentally (has happened way too many times). After something like this happens, I am reassured. The relationship I have with Literature is more like a relationship with a person. It has its ups and downs, sometimes I can't count on it, occasionally I am extremely let down, but then we make up, I remember the amazing attributes that charmed me in the beginning and we come full circle. We carry on, taking one day at a time, seeing the faults and follies of each other, but keeping in mind that the unbelievable love I have for Literature is something that won't go away, not matter how down I get.

As ridiculous as it sounds, it's what keeps me in check. The drive to make me go to my desk after I post this blog, find the definition for fluvial geomorphology because in the end, I would do pretty much anything to keep myself on the path to what I want. Which always has been and I know for a fact always will be, books.

Okay, epiphany over. Too much James Joyce in lit class, I guess. Also, this will be the last post for awhile as I have finals to suffer through. Have a good day/week/time!

P.S. I really miss you when you're not around, by the way. So come around.

Never thought I'd see the day...

Where I would write a blog about my hair. Well, really I should have expected it, as my hair is on of my all time favorite things. Call in pure vanity, but really, have you seen the river of chestnut locks that is my head of unbelievably thick hair?

That is surprisingly a good transition into my next point. So I am growing out my hair. Or at least, I have been for the last two years. And nothing. It has been the same general length for the last two years. I get it trimmed every 3 months or so, because if I don't, the ends are just a mass of split hairs and plain old disgusting. Anyway, same length for a very long time. I asked Carolyn about this the last time I got a trim in March and she told me that it's just because the hair at the ends is so old and weak, it probably can't take what I do to it (which, in all honesty is just the occasional blow dry and straightening!) So here comes my problem, the same problem I always have when my hair begins to get to a pretty decent length.

I want to cut it all off.

Seriously, I want a chin length bob so badly, I can almost feel myself reaching for the phone to call Carolyn. And truly, it would be for the best. My hair is fairly unhealthy apparently and chopping it off and starting new would only be helpful. Plus I think I look pretty decent with short hair so it wouldn't be a huge disaster, right?

But....

I LOVE MY HAIR! I love how thick it is, I love that when I get angry, bored, distracted, frustrated, excited, tired, hungry, you name IT, I grab up bunches of my hair and play with it. I can literally sit in front of mirror for endless amounts of time doing funky crazy hair styles I would never in a million years actually do, but still like to pretend. And I want to see how long I can actually get it. Even though it seems to refuse to grow, this is the longest is has ever been and I would love to try to go for as long as possible. Also, I have the longest hair of my friends, NOT because I secretly and subtly suggested and pushed for my friends to go ahead and just chop of their hair. My latest conquest of doing this is my friend Anjli who has ridiculously long, beautiful hair. Legitimately, down the length of her whole back is gorgeous waves of black, black hair that is just in a league of its own. Which is why I have pretty much given up on her ever cutting it, as she has a similar problem to me.

It's a security blanket. Especially, in my case, my bangs. I tried pulling them back the other day because they were so dirty, they should not have been seen and I felt so weird! Borderline naked, and it was not a fun feeling. Along with my long hair, I love my bangs. Love, love love them. I semi-attempted to grow them out as well last summer until about the end of July when I just took matters into my own hands and cut them short again. I just can't have my forehead in plain view, or something.

So here is the question I pose to my few beloved followers (a.k.a. Mom) To cut or not to cut?

P.S. This is my 50th blog post. Weird, right?