you're so f*cking special.

The school year is now in full swing and already I feel like putting the covers over my head to wait for it to end.

But, alas, I know that I can't...in fact, knowing that this is my final year of the less-than-real world gives me a contradictory type of motivation, the likes of which I have never seen before. Motivation to have the best year I can, and figure out where to go from here.

It's like I'm in an evil lair, hatching evil plans for my future. Where I'm going to start my career, how I am going to live on my own, etc.

I even know, to the most definitive degree imaginable, who I am going to spend the rest of my life with. I recently discovered that I know exactly who my future husband is going to be; as a feeling entirely foreign to me, I am both extraordinarily happy and scared shitless.

Future, why must you be so unclear? I needs me the Doc and Marty. =(

-Tasha

xo

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:: Wounds and Such

This post is about scars. Today, at some point, I was thinking about scars. Everyone has them. One scar is from aimlessly tumbling down a ditch in childhood. Another one on my knee was acquired from falling on ice. My favourite knee scar is comprised of three parts- 1) the long remnants of a botched incision, 2) a hole in the kneecap and 3) two little "x" shaped things above aforementioned incision. The story- at the age of fifteen, I was having the time of my life. My friends and I left school property to hang at a park. I ran and ran and laughed and laughed and rode the swing and jumped and soooooooared through the air and then landed, hard. Nothing about me has ever been the same since. They reconstructed a ligament in my right knee. I like to think the scar signifies a sort of bravery- repeated needles, an epidural, a night in a lonely hospital bed, hallucinating by way of injected morphine doses. How badass. There is a small scar on my eyelid that only *I* can notice, w...

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.M o a r Than a Wo m an.

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