Word up, my homies.

erm...

Anyone who has a close relationship with me realizes that this blog is a lot like my relationships.
On-again-off-again. But I am not a creature of habit. While we're on the subject of relationships, let's hear from Ryan, who was apparently a contestant on some show called "The Bachelorette."

She is to me the rainbow through the rain.
She is to me the laughter through the pain.
Like sugar from the cane, directly through my veins.

Ah, Ryan. We are delighted to know that the love of your life can be so successfully compared to the startling effects of a syringe full of sugar. Amen.
It makes me so happy to know that even if I can't write good poetry, there is someone out there who writes even worse poetry that all of American gets to hear. God bless his soul.

Now, let's hear from Meg's head:

As we spoke, the top of my cheekbones felt warm: a soft, slinking, caterpillar of a blush that suddenly butterflied across my cheeks and then headed down to graze its wings against my ribcage.

I am playing with several variations of this sentence. I haven't gotten it quite right yet. I might change the last part to "suddenly butterflied across my cheeks to match the fluttering of my heart." Yeah.

Today I am sick. With a cold. So my head and nose is stuffy. It is not very much fun, but it is way better than school.
I'm sorry I haven't updated lately. There are always things to say but I haven't wanted to say them lately. I haven't written in months.

I still can't decide on a college.
But I do like Cannibal: The Musical.
And other things. Like sushi.
I think that's all I have to say. Allow me to direct you to some other more interesting websites.

Test Test Test

Notes from the Archives

I wrote this about a year ago.

When I am thirty-five, I want to be married. I have very specific things I am looking for in a man, none of which any will probably be met. He must be tall and thin, or short and rotund. He must have a good sense of humor, but laugh at my jokes. He must be able to talk, since I’ve decided conversational skills are hugely important. But he also must be able to listen to me talk, since I do too much of it anyway. He must be good with children, the elderly, and animals. Most of all, he must be madly in love with me, and I with him. I want our marriage to be characterized by affection, caring, and laughter. When I am thirty-five, I want to have children. I would like to have at least one boy and at least one girl, and I would like to call them beautiful names that roll off the tongue. I have always imagined myself calling out to swing sets when dusk rolls in, and enjoying the way the words sound on my lips. I would like my children to be affectionate, sweet, and polite. I would also like them to be passionate, fiery, dreamers. I know the delicate balance of these attributes depends mostly on my parenting, and I hope I will rise to the occasion. When I am thirty-five, I want to live in a house in the suburbs. I would like to live in Chicago, but I would be happy with St. Louis. I want my house to be comfortably furnished with things I’ve chosen. I will not let my husband help me decorate, but I will let him buy a recliner he likes. I will also make him hang photographs, since I am too short. I would like to have one room painted tomato-red, just for kicks.
When I am thirty-five, I want other people to talk about me. I’d like a critic to call me “a brilliant novelist who captures the excitement of the new and contrasts it with the familiarity of the past.” I’d like my neighbors to call me “a sweet woman who really loves her kids.” I’d like my parents to call me “a lovely daughter who made us proud” I’d like my husband to call me “beautiful, no matter what.” I’d like my sister to call me “the closest friend I have.” I’d like my kids to call me “Mommy.” When I am thirty-five, I want to be a writer. That dream will probably change tomorrow, or the next day, or sometime in June. But since today I want to be a writer, I will focus on that. When I am thirty-five, I would like to have written one book, to generally good reviews. I would like to be working on a play. I would like to have one Pulitzer Prize under my belt.
When I am thirty-five, I want to be wiser, but still able to enjoy childish things like kite-flying and finger painting. I want to be doing creative activities like photography and painting, just for fun. I want to have kept in touch with some of my high school and college friends. I’d like to have close relationships with one or two women that I can share details of my life with. Most of all, I want to be content. But I think that is the hardest goal to reach of all.

So what are you saying punk? You're saying I'm like Beck or something, man?

Instructions for obtaining a life without social interaction:

1) Write a pointless, rambling blog and see if anyone reads it.
2) Pretend to work on an essay.
3) Watch Daria.
4) Eat a bowl of "Berry Cheerios." Say yummy everytime you eat a blueberry. Squinch your nose everytime you eat a raspberry. Wonder why the blueberry's are pink when you peel away the skin. Worry.
5) Watch "Caitlyn's Way" and think about how this is the worst show ever made. Ponder the horrible camera shots and the "angsty city teen reluctantly find refuge with sweet but naive country folks" storyline.
6) Braid strands of hair while wondering how a wild horse can fight a rabid wolfe.
7) Think about how all the bullies in teen shows squinch up their noses. Stop thinking because it hurts. No, really. Ow.
8) Take two tylenol.
9) Resist the urge to run to Walgreens and buy a bottle of bright red hair dye. You want to, so badly. You'd be so hot. Scorchingly so. And your bright red hair would only reflect your inner scorching hotness. Yes.
10) Instead, sign online and IM people who have gone to sleep and left an away message up.
11) Reflect on what a loser you've become.

(Something is changing, yes. I feel the need to do something drastic, something unprecedented. Something involving my hair.)

I don't have lips anymore because I bit them all off. My head itches.
Love from,
Meg

mmmm...I feel like a junkie

I forgot I had a blog. But then I remembered. Kel suggested for the blog's anniversary I should put some of my favorite blogs into syndication. And even though that is a brilliant idea, I am not going to do that. I always get so afraid if I wrote long blogs people will skim them or won't read them. But I am not afraid of that anymore. I think my best blogs are the long ones, even if they get less comments. And after all, folks. It IS called "Meandering."

Instead of syndication, I am going to write friendblogs. Yes, I blatantly stole Laurel's idea. So what? I need gimmicks.

(I feel like a junkie because I am wearing a lavender tanktop and low slung corduroys and my hair is floating around my face haphazardly. Also, I am wearing lipstick. I don't wear it very often, even though I like it. I have 3 colorful rave bracelets on, and my chucks. I am so cool it hurts. A few days ago in English I imagined David Ivancic was watching me and it made every movement I made sacred. When you are being watched you are so acutely aware of the way you move, but at the same time you move so differently than the way you move normally. I moved like the Fire of Heaven was on me and my eyes lit up in sonnets and my hands felt like multicolored light was pouring out of the tips of my fingers. Blah blah blah, I am so dramatic. Sometimes I watch Justin Hawkins because his nose is cute. I watch Chad Kim fall asleep in class and when he wakes up there are red lines on his cheek and he looks sleepy. He doesn't have glasses anymore and he looks like he is drugged up on antihistamines. I wounder if he does it to feel like a junkie. I don't want to have glasses anymore. I wonder if I will look drugged up. It is hard for people to look at me like I am a person when I have my glasses on. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, they act like blinds. Maybe I'm just paranoid. I watch Chad Kim when he is not asleep in class and has the Fire of Heaven on him. He talks a lot, he wants people to listen. He watches me when he talks because a long time ago, I gave him the emotional feedback you need when someone is talking to you. He was telling his life story and I found it fascinating, interesting. I found almost everyone's interesting., and I nodded at him and smiled to show that I was listening and I understood him. I don't know what he sees in me. An audience? Oh, I am boring you now. If you have made it this far you earn ten points. And this was supposed to be a parenthetical note. I know you don't know who these people are, I'm sorry. I think Chad would date me if I were pretty. Someday I will be very pretty. I have to believe this. Someday I will be a great writer. I have to believe this. Well, what are you still here for? I haven't tested my blood today. I wonder what it is. And I am normally so good about these things. When I wear lipstick I bite my lips a lot. Maybe that is why I don't wear it very often. I am going to Beloit tomorrow. I have been thinking recently about working at the Gap. Wouldn't it be funny if people knew I worked at the Gap and they read my blog and came to visit me? I think that would be wonderful. I would pretend it was happening all the time. I would give everyone a very special smile because they might know me. It is interesting to me that people that don't know me very well read my blog. Do they look at me and class and feel like they know me? Sometimes it seems to me that Justin and Tom read my blog. But I don't know how they would. My hair is a complete mess. I love it. I love love love it, and decided not to get dreadlocks. That's sad because I'd be supercool with them. All the liberals at Beloit would be impressed. I have been thinking a lot about forgiveness and love lately. I wonder if I love anyone. I love Laurel. If you've read this far you get twenty points. I wonder if I have anything else to say right now or if I have said it all. I should be writing a paper now, but if you won't tell I won't either. I have been craving sushi lately. I really like life, a lot. I really do, even when it treats me badly. I feel like I would be cooler if I were a cynic. Don't you think I would be? I have some bad habits I am trying to break. Some things I have to edit out of my ramblings because some of the things that come into my head are not approved for the general public. Mostly things about my family. I'm really sorry to be doing this to everyone, but I'm not really sorry because Ienjoy it and I know the people who actually read it will enjoy it. Well, maybe. Everyone is wishing I will say something about them next, but I won't. Or will I, Davy? He got lucky. I got lost as a child. I was a free spirit as a child. The tank top is sexy but it makes me feel cold. I guess I'd better go now. Love you all.)

-Meglet.