So while I am infinitely aware of the hour upon me I also realize that I have a problem when it comes to my sleep schedule. Twice this week I have my school girl ways to blame for my stupidity, but I must admit that somehow staying up and being entertained by someone surprisingly as silly as myself is just very much enticing. Then while my latest practice seems to entail the googlied eyed ways of a silly girl crushing on a boy my second and biggest time competitor is my school work. Above all I know where I want my grades to be this semester and while I am pioneering through this journey in which I self entitled my life I realize that I have certain expectations for myself that I can not allow to be swayed by my passion for fun or objective moral compass. On that note this seems like a most ideal time to be reading for my dreaded Honors British Writers paper but I have instead spent the last hour consumed by the sweet taste of MSG in my beef ramen noodles, my further chocolate snack and my attention to the tastefully scripted reality show, My Life as Liz. If I was at all unsure of my doomed priorities I have topped it off my a devoted brow tweezing session followed by my new found desire to analyze my thoughts via efforthodox.blogspot.com.
This moment would be justified if I categorized it as an outlet for my muse; a forum where I in fact turned in order to excel in my academic pursuits. Most unfortunate for me that is not the thought provoking space I could hope for and instead serves the same purpose of a bed time lullaby. Here I clear my 52 card pick-up scatter-brained thoughts and end my night with a blank sheet ready to be filled with the dreams of an endless dreamer.
While I am taking the time to clear out the red and black, spades and hearts of that deck, I may as well touch upon some of my latest thoughts. Rolling Deep is officially the soundtrack to my life, or at least my once epic slash now tragic romance. Adele vocalizes my life with her heart wrenching words: "The scars of your love remind me of us/ they keep me thinking that we almost had it all, the scars of your love they leave my breathless/ they keep me thinking we could have had it all. Think of me in the depths of your despair." The thing is the song doesn't provoke endless tears as one, even myself might suspect instead it makes me feel like an empowered single; a woman who thought she lived because of her love, but instead I am now more aware than ever that he could have had it all, but if he didn't want it or couldn't handle it then fine, more for someone else, more for me; and I need it.
Like wise the newest crush is unsure of our fate, as am I, well maybe, because as I well know I may in fact be very much self-destructive, but as I said similarly if he is by any means unsure or even does not want my bountiful love, well more so love affiliated emotions, then trust I am fine keeping them for myself. Just a note for mister refers to himself by a single consonant. But enough with him or the him prior because I am working toward empowerment where I supremely want for the focus to be on myself rather than those orbiting around the summer sun....
And speaking of orbital rules guess who has managed to orbit back into the light of the sun, yes Caribbean has discovered the technological advances of planet America and worked his way back into my view via crackberry instant messenger. The thing I do not know if I can work on the clock of someone who doesn't have one through twelve conquered by thoughts of yours truly. While he may claim absence has made the heart grow fonder I have no plans of disappearing every so often to gain "fondness." The thing is that I am fucking fond of myself where y is constant, and so I do not need an ex to complete that equation. What I can surly depend on as of late is my greatest ambitions for the next phase of my life and the beautiful women I know to be my friends, my sister that will be fond of me without distance and refrain from leaving scars to inspire resentment.
And as I have filtered these thoughts I endlessly hoard I am only left with the burden of homework on my shoulders, and that sounds like the stresses of an intelligent woman, and unlike my opposite sex anxieties that worry a top my list is something I am greatly proud of.
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