Furniture is Underrated

I'm back, bitches. Wait. I'm so not back.

When I was little I used to get this feeling in my heart that was way too big to be housed in something the size of a fist. It was like oceans and chocolate and clean sheets and kissing with tongues, all rushing through my chest at top speed. My mom, in our severely Mormon days, told me it was God, filling me up. It was a worthy explanation, and felt true, until I voiced this jem in Sunday School and the cutest boy in class snorted and rolled his eyes. It was then that I realized that not everyone got this feeling. And that not everyone was friends with the ol' Lord. I've been having that feeling off and on for the past couple of weeks. It's as though my heart (valves! aorta! blood!), the concrete and tangible manifestation of the endless reel of words in my brain, is preparing me for something. Something different, unexplored, and not necessarily good. God filling me up. But with what? I love this feeling. I hope I'm not the only one who gets it, even the tiniest corner of it. What am I about to fall in love with?

Paula Deen AND Paul Schneider are going to be in Elizabethtown. If you know me at all, you know what a nerd I am about these two people.

First Day Back by Braid just came on my iPod. This song used to depress me to the point where I had to hide in my closet to get away from myself. I wish I was kidding.

I've just discovered Ryan Gosling.

This blog sucks. I take that as a sign that I finally have a life. Or am beginning to. Chicago is beautiful. My heart has legs, fucking fast ones.