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Huzzah! I'm B. Welcome to the little corner of the interwebs known as my blog. Expect sarcastic remarks, overuse of adjectives, attempts at wit, thrilling tales of ineptitude, and general musings on life as I know it.Find
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I knew this day would come, but that doesn’t make it any less upsetting. Let’s all take a moment of silence to commemorate a great loss. Today marks the end of my supply of Pop Tarts. The entire vendor sized box I brought over from the Philippines, gone. In the immortal words of Troy Barnes, ‘Sometimes I think I lost something really important to me, and it turns out I already ate it.’
Most played songs | May 2012
1. American Slang
The Gaslight Anthem.
2. Stay Lucky
The Gaslight Anthem.
3. Bring It On
The Gaslight Anthem.
4. The Futile
Say Anything.
5. The Diamond Church Street Choir
The Gaslight Anthem.
6. The Queen Of Lower Chelsea
The Gaslight Anthem.
7. Gates
The Menzingers.
8. I Feel Fine By Everyone Everywhere
Everyone Everywhere.
9. Orphans
The Gaslight Anthem.
10. Boxer
The Gaslight Anthem.
Wouldn’t life be so much easier if feelings weren’t a thing? Granted, it’d be completely dull and colourless, and probably not even worth bothering about, but fuck, everything would be so simple, and I wouldn’t find myself say, crying while driving to class in the morning, and during an episode of House, and when thinking about how I’m generally shit at things, and… Well, you get the idea. It’d prevent a good amount of unnecessary fluid loss on my part, since weeping is basically the only reaction I’m capable of when it comes to any sort of heightened emotion. You’d think my brain would know to save that noise as a response for, I don’t know, sadness, maybe? But, no. Furious with someone or something or yourself? Hell, why not shed some tears? Feeling genuinely happy for a change? Go on, sob like a fucking idiot. I know, I’m aware that emotions are a vital part of being human, ergo complaining about them is the most pointless of endeavours. Bit late, though, isn’t it?
(via lizdexia)
As far as dreams go, the one I had last night was about as uneventful as real life. I ran into someone, we ended up spending the day together. Usually one expects something much more whimsical from their subconscious, but, you know, whatever, it’s the one running the show. Despite it being relatively unremarkable, it still managed to completely freak me out, solely because of who it was about. I’m not supposed to be dreaming about them. There’s no reason I should be. I haven’t seen them in something like two years, and they haven’t been an active part of my life for even longer, so having them feature so heavily in a dream threw me entirely off guard. I woke up thinking, ‘What the fuck?’ and proceeded to look at their Facebook, because a sane person absolutely needs a comprehensive update of someone’s entire life right after they’ve been floating around in said person’s head. Right? Good. That’s what I thought.
Understand self. Learn faults. Admit faults. Improve self.
Rdio is better than Spotify. I doubt anyone really cares what I think on the matter, but there it is. As someone whose iPod is very nearly out of commission, I figured it’d be good for me to start testing out this whole music streaming thing. Spotify finally launched in Australia yesterday (trust us to be several years behind everyone else) and I found out Rdio had actually been introduced here a few months prior, so naturally, I downloaded both. After playing around with them for a bit, I was already searching for a way to delete my Spotify account, and bemoaning Rdio’s free trial period only being 7 days long. My life is so hard.
I promise my handwriting isn’t always this horrendous, but when it comes to editing, barely legible scrawling is the way to go. There is, and always will be, something oddly satisfying about attacking pages of paper with red ink. It just feels right, you guys. Backspacing on a keyboard will never have the same effect.
(via chapter24point5)
I get to see The Menzingers for the second time this year. I could not be more pleased.
