Pavement “Shady Lane”
Circa-1997-Marcela used to record mix tapes off of the local college station. This was one of her favorite catches.
Before you, Bella, my life was like a moonless night. Very dark, but there were stars, points of light and reason. ….And then you shot across my sky like a meteor. Suddenly everything was on fire; there was brilliancy, there was beauty. When you were gone, when the meteor had fallen over the horizon, everything went black. Nothing had changed, but my eyes were blinded by the light. I couldn’t see the stars anymore. And there was no more reason for anything.
—
Edward Cullen (via fuckkyeahtwilightsaga)
I once told one of my more literarily-inclined friends that I considered Twilight to be this generation’s Romeo and Juliet. Obviously, this was an exaggerated and offensive statement. Comparing Meyer to Shakespeare is just impossible; they are leagues apart.
Still, read this and tell me that you don’t feel the same desperation, angst, and longing. So maybe I wasn’t so out-of-line in my comparison.
Also, hot vampires. I rest my case.
A young woman’s pen pal friendship with John Hughes.
I finally got so fed up with my Tumblarity that I couldn’t stand to look at it anymore.
If you feel the same way that I do, drag the link below to your bookmarks bar and click it whenever your dashboard is bumming you out.
EDIT: It looks like the dashboard strips out javascript found in links, so if you actually wanted to use my new bookmarklet, you’ll have to click-through to the actual post.
My 27th birthday is in less than a month. That’s an adultish age to be, right? And yet, AND YET, I have a traumarama-worthy zit on my chin. PROM IS RUINED!
“Teenagers are horrible creatures whom nobody likes and who like nobody.
Well, OK, that’s not exactly true. Teenagers like each other in fits and starts, sweaty lusting and sad desperate clawing towards one another, the kind of thing that makes you glad that, even though you are feeling old and cancerous and haven’t left the house for two days, you escaped that age. That you busted out and figured out other people at least somewhat, at least halfway, and so nothing is as fraught as it once was.
Nothing is as exciting, either, but that’s the compromise of growing up.”
If you’ve already had lunch, I do not suggest clicking through to watch the video.
Right about now would be the time when I would weigh in on the Tumblarity issue, but then I’d realize that nobody gives a shit about what I have to say because my Tumblarity is a measly 37.
Suddenly, I’m transported back to middle school where I’m standing in the cafeteria, tray in hand, nowhere to sit.
Last night, one of my old classmates from the 5th grade posted our class picture to Facebook. Within a few hours, 13 of the 37 students had been tagged and it had 20 comments.
Someone decided “We should totally email our old teacher and get together with her for lunch or something!”
Why do I feel like this sounds like the setup for an awkward sitcom (aside from the fact that there was already an AWESOME show based on a 3rd grade class reunion, read: The Class)?
I just changed my GoogleTalk status to a Dashboard Confessional lyric. Surely, this is a new low for me; still, I feel no shame.
It’s 1,787 miles from my door to yours. I’d walk them heel to toe if I thought it would make things work.
Sometimes the posts on Dear Old Love make me giggle; others rip my heart out of my chest.
