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rachelz15
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Interests: i enjoy... sleeping, writing, walking barefoot, singing my sentences, escaping the embarrassment that comes with falling down in front of tons of people, spanish films, reading, finding a good quote, cuddling, black and white cards, fresh french bread, hanging out with the ihs crew, trading spaces, being around the brown kids (especially the fat ones), taco loco’s mushroom tofu burger, seeing definitely spelled correctly, extreme makeover- home edition, holding hands, cutting my hair, spending time with the fam, coffee bean’s pure chocolate, staying clear of stupid boys, stressing with sarah about the not so kind boys, easter egg hunts in aldrich park, golden spoon, nites of nothingness, the roomies, and most of all... noses
Message: message me
Member Since:
5/11/2003
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it's time to move on.
new xanga- iknownoses. | | | |
| randomnaity.
and more than 4 years later my heart still stops as i pass him, although passing him isn't a normal occurance. i passed 'him' today on ring road- not even a nod, much less a hello. he looked bad. too lenky, too tall, too scruffy, but still the cute, good nosed guy that began my nose fetish all those years ago.
the character in the book i'm reading (which is stupid because i hardly have time for hwk yet decide to read this book about a girl i too closely can relate to every nite) makes out with a random guy at the end of most chapters- this is what keeps me reading.
8-5 days are killing me. i just want to keel over, give up, run away. i rarely go to sleep before 2, wake up at 7, then have school or work everyday from 8-5, and yet i have time to write a seemingly pointless entry.
if you go to uci and havent voted yet. vote. now. | | |
| so im sitting on the floor in front of a mirror in this small room wearing my off-white wedding dress. the dress has words on the back, over it i'm wearing my beige-ish courtney-ish button up shirt. the dress itself was really ugly. my hair used to be done, so now i'm braiding the long pieces that have fallen into these huge braids that wrap around my head. my husbands sitting to the right of me in a chair. he's really ugly. i know he's ugly, but i don't think he's ugly. i ask if we're going on a honeymoon. he says no, we have no money. i'm really sad. then i realize that i have to have sex with this guy. i dont want to have sex with him- partly because he's ugly, and partly because i recall no part of my life with him. i ask 'does this mean we're gonna have sex tonite?' 'i guess so, do you want to?' 'i don't know.'
flash forward to another room. i'm pretty in this part- wearing this beautiful white dress with green ribbons in my hair. i walk into this room of the church. the priest is there. he tells me in his irish brogue that i look beautiful. i'm so happy. i'm getting married to a guy i love, he's probably cute.
flash forward. i'm walking outside into this beautiful snow setting. john's* there waiting for me. we slow-motion walk as in a movie through the snow. it was like a dream, it was so pretty. we prance around holding hands. we stop. i see five dollars in his pocket, so i grab it, 'i need it to pay mike* back.' then skip to us lying in the snow, really happy. he tells me how much i mean to him. aww. we make snow angels and stuff. end of scene.
*name's changed because in this segment the characters were real | | |
| Sporting my short black skirt and a semi-tight top, about to step foot on the steps of city hall, some old man with a handicap permit hanging in the window honks and gives me a thumbs up. Disturbing. Then, as if I wasn’t already pissed at the unwanted attention of a dirty old man, I wait for the elevator. I’m checked out by this man stepping off the elevator, starting with my legs- a minute long procedure- until he realizes that I’m the 19 year old intern from upstairs, and he’s the 40-something city attorney that asks for my help all the time. He feels like an ass (rightly so), I smile my ‘thanks-for-making-me-feel-so-uncomfortable’ smile, he gives me the ‘I-won’t-need-your-help-anymore-as-to-make-it-less-uncomfortable-for-the-both-of-us’ smile, and I get on the elevator | | |
| i found this post-it from cerca 8th week in my planner...
no boys
go to class
no aim
dont stress
no xanga
study
read
so yeah, i pretty much failed on that entire list... time to start anew! | | |
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