I’ve never been in American Eagle but I feel like it would be strangely akin to walking into Finn Hudson’s wardrobe
I’m reading Accordion Crimes by E. Annie Proulx and it’s very good but it’s just so exhaustingly epic.
This is unusual for me, because normally if I’m not enjoying something I’m reading I can find reasons in the book itself, but here the problem lies with me.
I just haven’t got the stamina for it and I feel like I’ve somehow failed. 100 Years of Solitude had the same effect on me. I probably shouldn’t even attempt War and Peace.
I hate when people try and convince me to dance at parties and such
When I say “Okay, but I can’t dance” people seem to think I’m just being shy or modest but then I start dancing and it’s like this:
And there’s this strange awkwardness wherein the other person realises that I really was telling the truth
I have a job serving coffee
I wonder if, if I consistently mispronounce my job title, I can convince people I’m a barrister…
I love when a variation on the Myers-Briggs Personality Test makes the rounds on here.
If you used Tumblr users as your only sample you would think there were no extroverts in the world.
The problem with getting emotional about fictional characters is that those emotions can be difficult to process, because they don’t usually have any direct bearing on your life.
I should not be feeling overwhelmed by emotion while blogging and drinking tea. What am I supposed to do with these feelings?
Since the whole Lana Wachowski thing, I feel vaguely uncomfortable referring to the Coen brothers as such because I feel like I’m making unnecessary assumptions.
