dizzymisslizzy
I compared my heart to the sky once, soldered bronze painted blue to hide the joints, because I wanted to believe that I'd stopped loving you. Now I know that that poem wasn't true. I don't know when it will ever be.
Practicality is really overrated. (I say this as an English major who will probably starve to death so my opinion may not actually be valid.) Still, practical is kinda sorta a euphemism for boring. You have been warned.
I have a deep and abiding love for public transportation. There's nothing quite like sitting in an airport or a train station or a bus stop, surrounded by the hum of people who are all going somewhere, and soon. Airplanes and trains and buses, they do more than just get you from A to B--they give you purpose. They give everyone purpose, energy, something to head toward, and I need more of that. Sometimes, I just need a destination.
Spike in ratings, spike in your blood pressure, "I hear that Spike Lee is shooting down the street," spike you hair, spikes on a fence to keep people out--they used a ceremonial gold spike to connect the two halves of the Union-Pacific Railroad, so really, a spike connected the country once.
Copper-colored curls used to be one of my favorite things. I was desperately jealous of Little Orphan Annie's hair until I was 9 or 10 or so. Don't ask me why...although albino blond hair that won't stay in a ponytail no matter how hard you beg isn't all Cinderella claims it's cracked up to be.
I always hated it when they made you draw diagrams in science class or wherever. Mine never looked like the real thing and I had to label parts just so you could tell what it was supposed to be. Words have always been kinder to me than anything else.