I love how...this is my blog. This place in cyberspace is like a grey sweatshirt. You know how you throw on a grey hoodie--not a red or blue one--and you put the hood up, it's like you're in your own little space. It's not a fashion statement, it's a means for mulling things over, disabling your sensibilities to the outside world, and elevating your sense of self-awareness. It's warm, cozy and private. It's said that when Bob Marley was in the studio, no one was allowed to talk to him if the hood was up. Pretty serious. That's how I feel when I write here. Lately though, I don't know. I hate how...this is my blog, but I still can't write everything I feel. And I have all these drafts written down on sticky notes, but they'll never make it here. Thank goodness I have something to concentrate on next week instead, even if it is...matlab.

The Strokes

.

"Hard to Explain"
.
I say the right thing
But act the wrong way
I like it right here
But I cannot stay
I'm watching TV
Forget what I'm told
Well, I am too young
And they are too old
Oh, man cant you see
I'm nervous, so please
Pretend to be nice
So I can be mean
I missed the last bus
I'll take the next train
I'll try, but you see
It's hard to explain

There is nothing like walking on the quad on a beautiful day. Just watching the campus turn into a wonderful array of colorful dresses, Frisbees, footballs, and just happy people is nothing short of bliss. It's especially refreshing that you see all these half naked people tanning and taking in some sort of ethereal energy from the sun (and being so carefree!) right before the week of finals as if studying for those could ever be a higher priority than making yourself a lovely bronze. It's on days like these that we remember that we are still kids and that this is still just college. The real world will never be as good as this.