i watched drew barrymore’s never been kissed again today. once the night before. it was on cable. i’m a big sucker cuz i cried when she breaks down at the prom and then when she’s waiting for michael vartan to come and kiss her at the baseball field. i’m a cheeseball and drew barrymore is a doll. all i want to do in life is work at flower films. oh, and go to space camp. and learn to tango. run a marathon. excavate an archaeological site. climb the ruins of machu picchu. write a book. have oprah’s job. fall maddingly in love. and never have to compromise my dreams and aspirations. there i go, listing again. i once ran into drew at a coldplay show. pure effervescence. i ate oreos while watching the movie. i haven’t had oreos in like forever. i think i’m oreo’d out. black teeth and all. blech.
so i’m waiting for a response from the schools i’ve applied to. my fate in the hands of someone else. but i guess our fate at some point ends up in the hands of someone else. i mean every time we leave the house we run the chance of being hit by another car, stepping in someone else’s gum, being part of a hidden camera show, struck by a stray bullet, being the 1 millionth customer at the supermarket, finally running into a friend’s friend’s now ex-boyfriend, whom you’ve had hot intense chemistry with and secretly crushed on but wrote off because your friend’s friend (that you’ve never met) was dating him, while on a date with another boy. we don’t have control over any of these things. they happen. they were going to happen with or without us. we just happened to be in that place at that time. or maybe unknowingly we were guided there. urges to take a new route home, to stop out of the way for ice-cream, to wait until a t.v. show is over, to cancel plans, to stand at the right side of the stage at a show. maybe our fate has already been mapped out for us and we’re only pawns being moved by bigger forces.
“i do this thing where i think i’m real sick, but i won’t go to the doctor to find out about it. Cause they make you stay real still in a real small space as they chart up your insides and put them on display. they’d see all of it, all of me, all of it.” – rilo kiley’s “the good that won’t come out”
my sister wants me to go to the doctor’s. i dedicate that song to her.