Read me for free

"Our love was, comfortable and so broken in... she's perfect, so flawless, I'm not impressed, I want you back." - its a song about love, about how sometimes perfect is so wrong, how what we miss is the imperfections. I miss his imperfections. As much as I know, and oh he's such a bastard sometimes, and everyone tells me so. I can see him smile and my head still turns. The funny thing is, whenever I had him in the past I was so half-assed about wanting him. So I guess that proves without a doubt that we want what we can't have, and can't be bothered to want what we get. I can't even remember who I am talking about, which I guess goes to show that I'm a head case about men right now: really though, what's new?

After such a crazy weekend, I can't seem to get myself focused on reading, as much as it presses me. It seems to take more and more to entertain me, more and more pressure to get me to sit down and work for more than a short while. Ridiculous. I came in here to check my email and its been an hour or so. Let's face it, I can't go to grad school next year because I would actually lose my mind. Not that I am banking on getting in, but you know, its good to have a plan: insanity is always a good plan.

Ah and I'm rambling for the hell of it. Spent Sunday afternoon walking, as it was barely below zero here in Montreal. Wandered my way down to Chapters and read their travel guides for a while. As Krista said: if they could, I'm sure they would read me for free too.