I want to talk about lines, okay?

I'm not a geometry major, nor am I an artist. Both of which, I think, know a bit about lines. I do know that I can draw a straight line. That three of them make a triangle, and that curved ones make circles, sometimes. That we try to stay within them when coloring and driving. There is lithography and drawing and sculpture. Lines can divide territories and write hate mail and they created my favorite painting and they draw my name on the tops of all the pages. (and there is a point to it all!)

I read somewhere that parallel lines have everything in common and never meet, ever. And also that perpendicular lines meet once and drift apart forever.

They're both sad.

So maybe what I'm saying is that I KNOW THEY WERE JUST TRYING TO TEACH YOU MOTOR SKILLS BY KEEPING YOU IN THE LINES AND MAKING YOU TRACE OVER AND OVER AND OVER THE LETTERS IN THE ALPHABETS, BUT THEY JUST WANT YOU TO END UP WITH GOOD HANDWRITING AND THE ABILITY TO GET A COLLEGE EDUCATION AND A DESK JOB.

And that's pretty sad, too,  I think.

\\
Rothko

Current Thoughts:

• Why are social security numbers so important? They're too easy to steal. And I'm thinking that some very un-smart people probably keep them in their wallets, and then one day, you could just take it. Then they wouldn't have it, and you would have their identity.
• You never understood my relationship with my mother and I still can't finish my self-help book, titled : How to Forgive your Mother.
• I want to get on the whole tennis-shoe (but more specifically, the new-balance, tennis-shoe) fad. Its fashion meets function, really.
•  It takes me at least five tries to spell the word restaurant. (Lol, right?) 
• "Once I get a spray  tan I'll look Puerto Rican" -an inexplicable note left on my phone. 
• I had a dream last night that you broke up with your girl and I'm not complaining I just don't know what that means. 
• The batteries on this keyboard are 'very low' (says the little box in the top of my screen) so I just invented a key board that is powered by typing MORE TYPING, MORE BATTERIES MOFOS.
• I bruised the palm of my hand classic skating, so yes, it is possible.
• Rules about restaurants: no laminated menus, no happy birthday singing. 
• It really bothers me that Marilyn Monroe married Joe DiMaggio. It just doesn't make sense. (He had the money, obviously.)

XX

Rothko

About A:

Do you know the feeling where you see someone, and your stomach suddenly collapses? You literally can't breathe, all you can do is think; and you are trying to figure out how carefully these decisions were made and then the emptiness starts to wind up your stomach and into the base of your throat and it coils around your neck like the carefully tied noose from your execution.
Its how I feel, right now. 
And my thoughts are going to the pond by the blue silos and the fish that I killed. I remember you wouldn't tell me that I killed it; you just let it swim away to die. My thoughts are going to the place on your wrist right where it bends. There is an ink mark there, from your favorite blue pen. Its the same one that you used to write with on the back of my car, because you thought it would be funny. My dad is still upset about it. That was 162 days ago. And my thoughts are going to the scar on the side of your face. Its on the left, almost in your hairline so not many people know it's there. And they're going to the day when you left. 
Now I can't go anywhere beautiful without tasting you there and I've finally figured out why storms are named after people. 

XX
Rothko

Coding books and Oxford commas.

A lady just put $2 into the 'College Fund' jar, which is really just a tip jar that actually forces people to give you money. Anyway, I know I am going to use those two dollars for a snack or a chapstick and not college, and that's why I hate working for an hourly wage.

I think that the Oxford comma is VERY IMPORTANT and I've used pantone colors twice this week to describe how I want the color of my coffee and it upsets me that the majority of people probably don't know what Pantone is. Anyway, You just called and the first thing I wanted to tell you was that the shirt you wore last Thursday was actually the shittiest thing I've ever seen, but I decided that that was too hostile. So we talked about things that matter, like $400 shoes and how we both really like .gifs.

I wonder what you'd do if you knew I didn't like that shirt.

The new girl at work has pink hair and a weed shirt. I really don't like her, and I admit that I wasn't as nice as I should have been to her earlier; That's probably the reason the Student Body President won't date me.

I just saw a resume of a girl who is graduating from college with a major in English, but couldn't manage to spell "opportunity" right, SO OBVIOUSLY GRADES AREN'T EVERYTHING. But I also feel sad for her because her lack of spelling efficiency will probably result in a lack of the thing she was trying to spell.

I like winter and how my street looks when it snows. I think I've had a love affair with the way you smell and the way you drive. I prefer pen over pencil & less over more. I like that I like pistachio ice cream so much.

I hate breakfast and eggs, which is convenient because I'm always too late to eat. I have a fear that I'll be murdered while I'm vacuuming and I have a reoccurring dream of dying on the Titanic. I think I wear only neutrals five out of the seven days in any given week and I read coding books for fun.

So here's to all of that, and to me: the alchemist of the perfectly pressed, pristine white shirt.

XX 
Rothko