Love the Life you Live, Live the Life you Love

Two weeks. I've never been so anxious or excited and I have no idea what to expect....Two weeks and I'll either put this entire thing behind or see everything ahead. 

Something that has been increasingly bothering me since the beginning of the semester here is this whole CGS concept. Granted, the requirements to get into CGS here are lower than say, CAS or SMG, but by no means does that ensue that I'm less intelligent or less driven. It pisses me off that the rest of the population here looks down at CGS students and thinks we just sit on our asses not learning anything and then claim to have a BU education. I work my ass off every single day, just as hard if not harder than everyone else here. It doesn't matter if a person applied directly into CGS or if they were placed here, the point is they're here and they're working. Never in my life have I ever been considered second rate and for the first time, I feel how other people have felt who are put down every day and honestly, I can see why teenagers have such low self esteem sometimes. Yesterday a comment was shot towards me about CGS and its students' "study habits." ...

I realized today while at the gym working off my hang over (yes, you CAN sweat out the alcohol) that it's been exactly one week since I ran my first half marathon. One week and another 13 miles. The marathon was probably one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. About 2 miles into it the adrenaline began to wear off and it began to dawn on me I had 11 more miles to go. Eleven. More. Miles. The thought pounded into my brain like my feet on the Cape Cod concrete and suddenly my calves didn't feel quite so strong, my back didn't keep quite so straight, and my music didn't seem to carry the right beat. My breathing got a little louder, a little more stressed. And all the people around me began to look more muscular. They would finish. I didn't stand a chance. I wanted to give up, make the right and head down the 10k track instead of the left to the half marathon. Maybe I would tell my mom I actually did the half marathon, she wouldn't know the differe...

Time will heal my wounds It's no the fear you will disappear from me It's the thought of never telling you a joke I heard or Calling you on my way home from work I still in the driveway for hours on end trying to understand So will you please get out of my head I can hardly breathe I can hardly move get out of my head

This week was definitely the week that God put me on his hit list. Anything that could have gone wrong, did. Literally. The people that I thought I could depend upon most ended up being the people causing me the most pain. The person I thought things were completely over with suddenly proved me, yet again this week, to be wrong. The test I thought I completely dominated ended up raping me. The event I thought went without a hitch apparently was "unorganized, unprofessional, and a complete mess." I should be getting sleep and resting up for the marathon this weekend but my body doesn't seem to want me to get more than 3 hours of sleep a night and on top of everything else, my shins are killing me. Honestly, this is completely unbelievable. And I know it could be worse, it could be a lot worse. Like I could have herpes. That would suck. I know that other people are going through a lot worse time than me right now and I should be thankful I have Ally, Anya, and Brit to get m...

There are certain songs you come across in life that brings you back to an exact moment. Or an exact feeling. Or, in the best cases, an exact person. It's kind of like a rush of feeling in the pit of your stomach or the lump in your throat, in the saddest of experiences. They can make you smile, make you laugh, or make you cry.  We're driving down a road and our song is playing against the background noise of the engine hum. My hand is laced in yours resting comfortably on your knee. My eyes are closed but I know you glance over to me every few minutes. The car is slightly chilled, as we just started home from our date but the sun's heat warms my right arm. I'm not paying attention to the music because all I can hear is your voice singing me back into my nap, and I drift off, never feeling so content or happy.  It's not that I miss the exact moment, or even the exact person. But I miss the exact feeling. This song brings me back to a feeling: a feeling of pure, inno...

There's this boy in my Psych class, let's call him Larry. Larry because I think that name has a significant amount of annoyance already attached to it and also because I don't know the kid's name. But I do know his voice. I would know his voice if I were chained up and blinded folded in communist China. He would say something and I would say, "Fuck. Larry's here."  Anyway, back to this kid. Actually, no, not kid. We're going to call him a little eager beaver.  Can I just say, Larry, with all your respect, I do not pay $50,00o dollars and wake up at 8 am to hear your unintelligible commentary during my lecture? Not that I don't think the Professor completely appreciates your 2 cents- no, scratch that-20 dollars and 2 cents, worth of useless annotations, usually having nothing to do with subject, but honestly, if I have to hear you say, "This kind of has to do with..." or "An example of this would be..." one more time, I'm goi...