cheap wine and the ministry of sound

well, i suppose people will think what they will.

i'm experiencing more of a culture clash with my fellow americans than i am with the locals, at the moment. there's something very foreign about the fact that i don't want to get drunk. or that when i have had a bit to drink i don't care to create a scene about it. and somehow a conversation about blacking out turned into a get-jessie-drunk campaign, and the campaigning has now bled onto facebook. in very small ways, mind you.

end of the world? no.

bothersome? sure.

i feel like i need to put a disclaimer on my profile, "dear future employer, i am responsible and any comments made to the contrary are false," but then it just looks like i'm covering my ass, doesn't it? i suppose i would be. in fact, i think that's probably what this post is, as well - an attempt to keep people from thinking ill of me. it always comes back to that, i feel.

i seem to have made friends who act like they couldn't care less what people think of them. or me, for that matter.

funny, that. it pits my loyalty to my friends against my loyalty to my image: two of the biggest idols i'll ever treasure.

clouds part
just to give us a little sun

there's a limit to your love
like a waterfall in slow motion
like a map with no ocean
there's a limit to your love

i love i love i love
this dream of going upstream
i love i love i love
the trouble that you give me
i know i know i know
that only i can save me
i'll go i'll go i'll go
right down the road

there's a limit to your love
like a waterfall in slow motion
like a map with no ocean
there's a limit to your love
your love your love your love


i'm going to go listen for a bit and attempt to sleep.


one two three four
tell me that you love me more
sleepless long nights
that is what my youth was for

old teenage hopes are alive at your door
left you with nothing but they want some more

oh, you're changing your heart
oh, you know who you are

[feist]

'night.