I have writer’s block. I’ve been designing experiments and reading scientific literature and critiquing articles all week long. I can’t do any of these things anymore. I haven’t started a word of my critique for this week. It’s due tomorrow.
The love bug is biting far and wide. People I know are getting engaged left and right. Weddings are a hot topic amongst my friends. Other topics include: bachelorette parties, baby showers, and investments into family-sized homes. Holy s*** to the concept of settling down.
When did I get old enough that this has become casual conversation?
I must’ve grown up, again. I am absolutely in love with this song still and it reminds me of nothing but lovely memories. The sort of memories that I can appreciate and miss, yet also move on from. I hope you are pursuing all your worldly dreams. I wish only the best for you.
I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22 Everything will be alright if you keep me next to you You don’t know about me (you don’t know about me!) but I bet you want to Everything will be alright if we just keep dancing like we’re 22 … 22
Haha, I’m almost sorry I woke you up while singing the chorus of one of Taylor Swift’s songs. Realistically, I sang the same thing a hundred times through. Then got around to some Heart Attack, How You Doin’, Stutter, and Here’s To Never Growing Up. It was my scratchy morning voice that seemed to pair so well with today’s beautiful morning sun - I just had to belt out some pre-breakfast tunes. My favourite part? It drove you crazy. You can’t deny I made you laugh hysterically. Hehe. I seriously love waking up beside you.
You mustn’t stop tossing your things on the bed… Otherwise I would have nothing to yell at you about. Then that’ll mean we would have nothing to fight about. I want to scold you for placing your clothes, books, and even your Christmas spatula on our sleeping haven. This is when I get to shove you for a real fault. I’m not sure why I tackle at all when I know you always retaliate, overpowering me by an overwhelming stretch of strength. And, oh my goodness, it is infuriating! I get so angry at you! We’d start wrestling in bed, over top of all your material things. I’d be laughing so hard, trying to escape your grip. This next part never fails to occur: some bulge would press against my back to peeve me purposely. Pulling out this protruding object, I’d find out that it’s probably a bath towel. And you’d be grinning foolishly, trying to stifle your big and silly laughter - not at all apologetic about the placing your non-belonging items atop the bed linens. And while I’d try to make my getaway, you’d suffocate me with a hug. Then, we would kiss because this is our kind of love.