Carol, Prakash, and I had a great Fourth of July. Happy America day!

This is Carol Stanforth. She helped me hobble my way up to the school office when I fell and hurt my knee in the fifth grade. In sophomore or junior year of high school, I opened my front door at 3 AM and found her standing at my doorstep, dripping wet from the rain outside. When asked why she was walking around in the rain at 3 AM, she said she “just felt like it.”

Carol will be with me all weekend. We will ponder about the past, commentate on the present, and speculate the future. We will eat the cookies she brought over and chug E’s Bacardi like there’s no tomorrow. It’ll be great.

In two Texas cities, two computer science enthusiasts we went to high school with are slamming their fingers on their keyboards in the hopes of finding a teleport machine for cheap on eBay. They will fail. We will rue their failure. And then, maybe if it rains, we’ll take a walk about the neighborhood at 3 AM. It’ll be great.

She was built for medium format, but the first time I took her out for a walk, I gave her 35mm.

I miss Coachella. I miss the music, the camping, the camaraderie, the contact highs. I don’t miss the port-a-potties, the way my hair reeked of weed for a week, or the outrageous prices of campground foods—but there you go. The wristband I wore for three days to indicate to the world I was a smelly camper has now found a home on the whiteboard in my room. What would I give to have it on my wrist again.

This weekend was the second time in a row where I accidentally left a ChapStick in the pocket of a pair of jeans destined for the tumble dryer. If I don’t stop pulling out lip balm from my pockets before they are laundered, I will end up with a) no ChapStick, and b) pants that smell like peppermint lip balm (that doesn’t sound so bad on black and white, but I assure you that is not the case).

How was everybody’s weekend?

Edit: Comments fixed.

There are lilies blooming outside my window. Lilies! I love lilies. Are they my favorite flower? It’s still a tight race between lilies, magnolias and white camellias; I feel as if I’m supposed to have a favorite flower, but since when are we supposed to have a favorite anything?

I’ve spent the most recent chunks of my life in apartments with windows that look out to tree canopies and skyscrapers. I’ve been in a foul mood all day, and not in a million years would I think looking out the window could give me cheesy Disney movie warm and fuzzies.

Gosh, I am getting so soft. Off to slow-roast a kitten now.

Nooooooo =(

What’s it called when you remain mercilessly faithful to entities that happily engage in back-to-back sessions of crushing your hopes, breaking your heart, and then dumping it back to the gutter where it was first found?

Oh, right.

Love.

Stupid girls and our stupid feelings. You can have mine, I don’t want them anymore.

New camera. Smileyface.