Something I can't define

I kind of started writing my book late last semester. I'll write a book someday, and I might as well start now when my life is at least somewhat interesting. Instead of sitting down and developing this fabricated failure of a character and describing all the mishaps in her life, I've been journaling. I type out a paragraph, a sentence, a thought every couple of days. I've only let two people read it so far. Becca, who knows all of it anyway, and Lucas, who I think I will always love in some strange way, that foggy area between friends and lovers that can never be explained. That's how I'll love him. Anyway, I started writing my book, and I just wanted to share that with you.

I also cut my hair. I got real, legitimate bangs, and there's no point in me telling you this because whoever you are you've either seen me in person or the pictures on Facebook, but oh well. I decided I wasn't "indie" enough so I cut my hair like Kate Nash's and bought some bright colored tunic dress shirt things to wear with skinny jeans and flats. I'm not sure if I feel like that's bad or not. Is it wrong to want to change your style, or I guess it's more enhancing my style? Well, I did it. I hated the bangs, but they're growing on me, no pun intended.

This is a lame, non-philosophical blog, and I apologize. I'm supposed to write about 500 words for History of Theater tonight, but I don't want to. I wrote this piece of crap instead, and now I'm going to finish season 3 of Friends. It's not due until Friday. Sweet.