Consistent Kissing and Airborn Bacteria

Aah rock concerts...

The crazy outfits, the illuminating smoke, the kick drum that feels like it's right in your chest...oh yeah, and the major face suckage.

Now, I love concerts with a burning passion that can only be compared to the fire of a thousand suns, and then some. It's my favorite past-time. I love being there in the presence of all the screaming people, colored lights, and amazing musicians. And having a decent excuse to headbang is just an added bonus. But why, oh why, do some people feel as if they must (they just HAVE to) make-out like there's no tomorrow right in front of me while I'm trying to watch my future, lead guitarist husband perform?

I mean, really guys. ..and girls.

Sure, you're away from your parents for a productive amount of time, and yes, I suppose it is somewhat easy to get caught up in the romantic atmosphere that is the pot-filled, alcohol driven, moist-from-dancing-sweat rock concert we all know and love. But can you at least, I don't know, duck down a little instead of becoming this freakish, intertwined blob blocking my view of the silky haired drummer?

Think of the children!

My cute little, silky haired, musically talented, future children... *sigh*

Oh..sorry. Awkward...

Anyway, remember the Beatles?

If you answered "no," leave. Right now.

Just imagine being at one of their concerts. Flowers everywhere, a message of world peace (instead of insignificant angst about how your girlfriend of two weeks just dumped you for the the guy with the double-kick drum set, because one kick drum just wasn't enough for her, and now you're seeking revenge), and, well yes, lots of pot there too... but at least all they wanted to do was hold your hand. Not eat your face off! Leave something for the zombies wouldja?

I just think there are better, nicer, more appropriate times to, if you feel so compelled, kiss for a seemingly unbearable amount of time. But maybe that's just me.

P.S. Mayday Parade is amazing live!

Help! I need somebody. Help! Not just anybody...

Oh, procrastination...

It's been much too long since I've written in here. Why has it been so long, you ask? One word: procrastination. I've somehow managed to always find something better to do than write my thoughts (straighten my hair, read things that are completely insignificant to every aspect of my life, color in my princess coloring book...Don't judge me). Which is ironic considering I have so many of them. This is also why I've never kept a journal for more than about two weeks.

Want to know something else that's ironic?

Yes, I enjoy irony.

I'm actually writing this as a form of procrastination from my math homework.

Yeah, I've graduated and yet I still have math homework. I blame the government.

Speaking of graduating, I've been using a lot of my thinking power to try and decide what college I want to go to. Of course, I must first decide what I would like to do with my life.

Here's what I have so far: NOTHING!

So here lies my seemingly everlasting problem. I have absolutely no idea what I want to do as a profession. None whats-so-ever.

Sometimes I like to try and comfort myself by remembering that my favorite author, John Green, didn't decide that he wanted to be an author until he was a Junior in college, or that Vincent Van Gogh was a school master, a student priest missionary, and an art dealer before he became a painter.

Yet, for some unknown reason that couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that the course of my entire future virtually depends on this decision, I'm still freaking out.

People always tell you to do what you love.

I have two problems with this: I love a lot of different things equally, and the majority of them are the kind of things you dream about doing as a kid, i.e. rockstar, famous movie director, well-known fiction writer, princess...

I just never grew out of those dreams. Which brings me to my main point; I want a pony.

I suppose my biggest dream, currently (it changes a lot), is to be a photographer for National Geographic. I have the opportunity to go to Brooks Institute of Photography in Santa Barbara and everything.

But talk about pressure. That's not just something you can drop out of if you decide you'd rather try out for American Idol.

Not that I've ever actually considered trying out for American Idol or anything... *looks around nervously*

Ultimately though, I just want to get married and have a family one day. So I suppose whatever I end up doing will work out in the end assuming I can at least accomplish that much.

These are the times I just make myself recite Jeremiah 29:11

"'For I know the plan I have for you,'" declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'"