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User: | purpleoctopi (949345) | ||||
And by the way. . . You know that hope will make you strange; make you blink, make you sink | |||||
Name: | Potatoe | ||||
Location: | United States | ||||
Birthdate: | 03-17 | ||||
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Bio: | I am one of the worst procrastinators I know. I turn in homework assignments a day late, stay up all hours of the night completing things I should have done hours ago and even put off waking up until the last possible minute. I stress over unimportant things, obsess about tiny, meaningless details and work myself up into a frenzy for the most ridiculous reasons. I am easily distracted by anything I find interesting, get far to engrossed into the task at hand and vent pent up emotions by having a meltdown once every six months. I am rhapsodical. Every breath a person takes means the world to me and I often fret to much about whether I have angered or irritated someone by an action they didn’t even notice. I even cry during AT&T; commercials sometimes. But as ridiculous as I can be, at least I am able to say that I passionately live every aspect of life to its full potential. When I was younger I wanted to be an astronaut and colonize Mars, but that soon shifted to being a Quantum Physicist and then to a lawyer. From there it progressed to being a psychiatrist, a CIA Agent, the first female President of the United States, a praying mantis, an ecologist, a Broadway actor, a fantasy writer, an environmental activist, a journalist for National Geographic and a fruit merchant in Venice. I then decided that, in between those odd jobs, I would go sky diving, chase a tornado, see a green flare, watch the Aurora Borealis drip down the zenith in Alaska and spend a day in a foreign country where no one speaks my language. Then I would own a fennec fox, eat edible, chocolate flavored bubble wrap, spend a whole day talking in nothing but third person, travel to Ireland, go hang gliding, visit a real Giant House of Yarn and live in a cave. You couldn’t exactly say that I’ve ever had a sturdy enough grip on reality to keep my dreams from spilling everywhere. Beyond all of that, however, my biggest dream is to move to a huge, rainy city with vintage buildings and squash-yellow taxis. I'll buy a small studio apartment, have a porch that overlooks a busy street and work at a coffee shop sitting on a corner. Every morning I’ll wake up at 5:30 to an annoying hippo alarm clock, open up shop at 6:00 am and watch the busy, varied souls come in to get their habitual Mocha Latte or Caramel Macchiato. They’ll tell me their life stories, I’ll absorb what they’re living and I will be able to have that small part of them within myself, to help expand my horizons if nothing else. Every summer the country will beckon to me and I’ll stay there with an old friend, and when I come home I’ll wear argyle socks every day and feel comfortable letting my hair loose. Then, one day, I'll wake up just before the alarm and be struck with the realization that it is time to move on. After informing the shop, I’ll pack up my apartment, put on a 20’s-esque hat, say goodbye to my rainy city and move on to check off another dream from my list. I’m not even remotely ready to depart into the world on my own yet, though. I still embrace many childhood fancies and nightmares with a zeal that may adhere them to me forever and even if I did get the gall to venture from my bubble, I would probably starve, because I can’t cook anything edible. I’m terrified of the dark, petrified of spiders and can’t stand being within ten feet of a chicken. I believe in monsters under the bed and aliens that can get me when I’m alone and loathe imagining what that gritty, sticky substance on the bottom of my foot actually is. On top of it all, my worst enemy oftentimes takes the form of my overly active imagination, something that I can hardly rid myself of, and although it allows me to embrace every aspect of life, it also firmly prevents me from actually growing up. Thankfully, however, I have very little problem with staying child-like. The ability to see society through the unbiased eyes of someone untainted by worldly cares is the most gratifying, clarifying and rejuvenating thing one can do for themselves, as it opens up a thousand possibilities and creates infinite ways to connect and tap into them. As a four year old I was as delighted with a simple, square building block as I was with an extravagant brass sculpture in an art museum, a homeless person on a street corner was no less intriguing than a Yes Man or the posh Socialite he was following and a pile of sticks meant just as much to me as the glistening Sears Tower in the newly born morning light. I have found that if I can keep that child-like mentality, that passion and love of everything life encompasses, I can truly live. When I die, I want to be lying on a bed of clean white sheets with a book in hand and open wooden shutters beside me, letting the fresh air in from the outside. I’ll be 102 going on 10 and have snow-colored hair, each strand dyed pale from the intensity of each moment I lived, and wrinkle washed skin that rests, rippled, as a testament to each day I spent in the sun, each time I stretched my arms and legs in the morning, each time I laughed, cried, yawned and blinked. I will carefully place a bookmark between the page I’m on and the page I wont get to, because certainly I’ll have learned not to dog ear pages by then, and say a little prayer to God to thank him for the wonderful time I’ve had. I’ll tilt my head back and smile on the memory of every plant, animal, person and place that graced my life, allowed me to love it and granted me the irreplaceable gift of day-to-day joy. Then I’ll snuggle down into my fresh sheets, release a last little sigh and go happy, peacefully and gratefully into the morning. I’ll have truly existed. | ||||
Interests: | 91: 20's, 50's, 70's, abstract art, anime, antique books, apartments, apple juice, argyle socks, atticus, aukland, auks, aurora borealis, backpacking, bananna cream pie, big cities, biographies, bittersweet nightshade, bookmarks, borrowed clothes, bubblewrap, building blocks, caramel macchiatos, catharsis, celtic music, character, cities, classics, clicky noises, coffee shops, concrete, cowboy bebop, crinoline, dog-eared pages, fantasy, fedoras, fennec foxes, flogging molly, g.k. chesterton, glocks, green flares, happy endings, hermits, high-contrast pictures, hiking, hobos, irish culture, irish dancing, irish mythology, irish rock, jack johnson, japanese culture, journaling, katherine mansfield, magnetic sand, manual photography, mapless vacations, meadows, new zealand, nostalgia, ohio, ophelia, ozy and millie, pathos, pinnacles, plastic rings, pond scum, rainstorms, roadtrips, roses in rainpuddles, sci fi, sink cleaner, steam engines, storybook friendships, studio apartments, sublimity, sunny days, taoism, the beatles, tornados, tragedies, tree huggers, tria markers, tuatha de danann, victorian mansions, vintage clothing, wet sidewalks, windows, wrought-iron beds, zen, zuit suits. [Modify yours] | ||||
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Account type: | Free Account |