fucking mice.

I am, like, really bad at this.

Anyway.

I flew to Missouri for Thanksgiving. While there, Liz and Zeb found a nest of "infant" mice underneath this Korean Hutch we've had for a hundred thousand years. They saved them: pink, blind, hairless, squeaking, and squirming, in a glad bowl for me to take care of when my mom and I returned from grocery shopping.

So, what did I get stuck with doing? Dumping the bowl of infant mice, that Zeb was so proud of saving, out in the front yard. And when I close my eyes I can still picture them squirming as they tumbled out of the bowl onto the cold wet ground. I hope they didn't take too long to die. I sat in my room cringing at the thought of what I had done.

Why my sister needs an Xbox....

"cause black ops, fable 3 and rock band 3 are all coming out and I can't fucking take it anymore."

-Samantha 

a poem: but not by me

It’s good to feel you are close to me in the night, love,

invisible in your sleep, intently nocturnal,

while I untangle my worries

as if they were twisted nets.

Withdrawn, your heart sails through dream,

but your body, relinquished so, breathes

seeking me without seeing me perfecting my dream

like a plant that seeds itself in the dark.

Rising, you will be that other, alive in the dawn,

but from the frontiers lost in the night,

from the presence and the absence where we meet ourselves,

something remains, drawing us into the light of life

as if the sign of the shadows had sealed

its secret creatures with flame.

-Pablo Neruda