as one may logically conclude from the evidence presented....

something about being a mormon female high school senior makes everyone over 35 think they need to tell you about all their friends' hunky sons on missions who are desperate for someone to come home to. i don't want to get married till i'm ready, thank you very much. (you're welcome.)

which, judging from my maturity level, won't be anytime soon.
that's partly y the why scares me. i'll be a defenseless, fairly innocent, redheaded, average-sized freshman daily wandering blithely through a gregarious pack of wife-wild returned missionaries on the prowl. spare me the arrows, cupid, i don't want to be hunted.
not yet anyway. it's like all these people in my ward getting hitched with but a moment's notice. doesn't it take a tad longer to understand that this enigmatic life form holding your hand and offering you a shiny rock to put on it is the best choice for your eternal companion?
i don't know. maybe i like to take my time with important choices. i must be weird. weir. no. we won't go there.

go go go go logan day trips! i love kramer and miss him lots and wish i could have been there to see him play the flute in the candlelight. and i love listening to regis filbin (philbin? feelbin? filibuster?) try to sing classic songs. no. scratch that. i don't. love it. and i love native americans and wish i was one. that's who i'll marry. a spicy native with jacob black abs and ebony locks and together we'll make adorable, genetically confused babies. (was that racist?? i'm thinking YES.)

holy shatner i'm leaving to new york in precious few hours, precious few. my precious. precious moments. with my precious. in precious few hours.

i need to calm down. i'm all antsy and such.

warp 1.9 -- bloody beetroots (bangin' electroxx)

re: stacks -- bon iver

ulysses -- franz ferdinand