To the person or persons leaving anonymous comments on this blog thing, please stop it, it really aggravates me. I can’t deal with the mystery, reveal who you are!

I woke up this monring with every part of my body in pain, including some specific parts often used in metaphor. I could not breathe. I drove down to Providence in the rain to take my midterm and have my chef bring me to tears. I found out that my day off on Monday does not actually exist, it is really just an additional day of classes on Friday. Today was simply wonderful.

I wandered through today, my mind busy with the subject of old friend returnign and occasionally, the thought of a rare species of fish. All was trouble and nonsense today when it came to my thoughts. But, there is writing to be done.



Last night was definitely an adventure of sorts. A completely unexpected one. I ended up with a $30 parking ticket, but it’s just money. I got to take a day off so it was worth it in the end.

I should probably start working on my project for school, but I most likely will not. i will finish this entry at another time when my head isn’t stuck in the moment of fuzzy dreaming right before you wake up.


This was the least ridiculous of the photos

Dear Someone,
We’ve never met and I have no idea who you are but today I wronged you and it is going to effect us both. I took something of yours, and now I have no way of giving it back.
Let me just say this was not my plan. I was forced into a shopping mall to help my father find new shoes(because the man is hopeless without me), and it was on my way out towards freedom that I saw your glasses. They were lounging on the table, peeking out of their green leather case, next to the folded up World News section of the Globe. The mall was closing, and my intention was to turn them in, but as soon as the case was in my hands it was no good. They were mine.
In retrospect, I feel guilty, but only because I wish I could have found you. We seem to have some things in common. Your glasses tell me that you must be an old man, , people tell me I’m an old lady in disguise sometimes. We don’t have this in common but you are practically fucking blind (I cannot keep your glasses on for more than a few seconds or I go cross-eyed and get a splitting headache). The newspaper laid out in the middle of a mall, you must have been reading instead of shopping which means you must have hated it there as much as I did. We could have talked and watched obnoxious teenagers go byOurs would have been the perfect friendship, I’ve laid the whole scenario out in my mind. Our shared love of the same music and the color green, and sweaters. Oh why did I have to go and steal your glasses? Bah, such is life.
I am sorry old man that these things could never come to pass, but I have your spectacles and I will cherish them always.


It’s the calendar page again.

Today brought with it some fantastic news: My hard work actually paid off, quite literally. My school gave me an additional scholarship for my grades. My parents are attributing the scholarship amount to their loan on the cost of my car. I just paid off my car! Life just got a lot easier.

I was in a great mood and wanted to see people but I ended up venturing into Harvard square alone to run some errands and get some coffee. My celebration consisted of a cappucino at a random cafe and picking at some vegetables in a healthy burger restaurant. Then I ran some errands.

I was at Cardullo’s looking for specific plate supplies and I asked the man there if they sold the real Nutella, the kind not made with hydrogenated fats in a factory in New Jersey. They do not, which was disappointing. Somehow this question got me into a conversation with the man at the counter. He told me, in his boston accent, that I looked “pissed” and I explained how I was a pastry student and I was just tired from my insane schedule. He asked me my name,
“Alessandra”(why did I tell him that?)
and when I didn’t ask for his he told me anyways
He told how he works as a painter during the week(house-painter I’m assuming) and there on the weekends, and doesnt have much time either, except to
“play [his] guitar”
He asked me what I was doing later and I lied viciously about my amazing plans.

So my love life options currently consist of the dishwasher from work who keep asking for me and refers to me as “the little one.” and creepster Christian from Cardullo’s. Thing are looking up!

(Kill me)

I realized today that you are a lost cause, but that makes two of us. So maybe this could actually work.



So today, after almost a year of having this computer. I finally figured out how to use the built in camera. Very interesting. I was saying to Nicole(Rather, I was saying to myself because she was away from her computer at the time) that it’s really the modern day version of cutting up a cardboard box and pretending to be a newscaster(with terrible 60’s hair). At least that’s how I felt.

And now here’s Mickey with the weather…

The news of my life would be rather boring. And quite difficult to shoot from tiny computer camera. But still rather funny.

I caved today and had a smoke which I should be ashamed of but it was better than sex at the moment. In fact, some of the noises I made on the curb may have been inappropriate for public spaces but I really just did not care, and evidently the old guy walking by didnt either.

I found out last night my little brother had never seen Vertigo which was absolute blasphemy, so we rushed out to see it at Coolidge Corner and a marvelous time was had by all. More on that later, I have work to do now.


I’m angry. I want a cigarette like I cannot describe, to the point that I may just go for a drive to get one. I’m so close to giving in. This. Fucking. Close.

I spent sometime today thinking up a mass amount of projects I want to begin. It feels good to get this stuff out on to “paper” but as of recent I have been trying to express myself visually. Trying and failing.
Trying and hiding the evidence.

I have always kind of wondered that if a picture is worth a thousand words, who is the real artist? The one who takes the picture or the one who writes the perfect thousand words?

I’m always looking for the perfect thousand words, or maybe I’m just waiting for the perfect few to come out of his mouth. I have no idea who “he” is, though I guess I would if I’d just admit it to myself.

There are two sides of me, the one that’s painfully neurotic and the one that’s uncontrollably spontaneous. Recently I’ve rarely hit middle ground.

I spent some time today sneezing, reading my grandmother’s dusty love letters to the man she had an affair with, my step-grandfather. They are written on thin blue paper that is lighter, so as to save money when being mailed. Many of his letters are postmarked from Mexico. Many of hers are marked with moments of socialite gossip. He signed his Valentine’s cards with a question mark. They are all in their original envelope in a heavy brown leather suitcase marked with travel stickers from all over the world. The only one I can clearly make out still it from the “Grand Hotel Roma.” There are about 8 copies of the newspaper announcement of their marriage in the “society” section of the New York Herald Tribune in 1965, each copy folded perfectly and now yellowed perfectly in the large pocket of the suitcase, next to copies of their wedding invitations. I don’t know how they make me feel. Maybe just upset that I cannot write letters anymore. Maybe afraid that I option will take out the remaining love letters I didn’t destroy with the rest. Maybe just aggravated that his handwriting is so goddamn messy.

I want a cig. I want to get out of here. I took a day of today for the first time in weeks and it’s made me never want to go back. I have a mild fever. My body is yelling at me to rest but The option just isn’t really there, my mind is SCREAMING at me to get out. Out of this house, out of this country, Away from these people. God knows what. I feel the winds changing in me again and telling me to move and I am so stuck in place its causing me physical pain. If I had the money for the ticket I’d be on the next flight to Europe, even if i didn’t have a cent to feed myself once I got there. I am slowly losing weight, though none of it shows. I am slowly losing my ability to work in this world.

I think it’s high time I got myself into a little trouble.


Today was an experience. I learned that it’s high-time I get myself a pair of real sneakers(my feet are in severe pain) if I plan on walking long distances. I also must remember to stop interrupting people. Really have to do that.