What Became Known as the Early Years

"Yeah. You're right I won't, but I'd like to pretend."

Wish I could post allll the lyrics to that song on here, but I don't feel like wasting your time. Chris Thile puts my stomach in nots. *blush*

Anyways, this week I have done nothing. Except perhaps desensitized myself to the downfall of America's youth. I hate sex. Sex sucks. That's right. I hate it. I hate talking about it, listening to you blurt it out along with other obsceneties, but mostly I hate that sex has become common conversation. Sex means nothing. How did this become my life? It didn't. It's not.

Okay, back to life. I guess Sean Watkins is cool...but Chris Thile is a werewolf. And I'm SEEING HIM! Hey. Did you catch that??? I, Emily Blake Alverson, am going to see (see! freaking see!), meet, know, be within touching distance of freaking Chris freaking Thile. Oh my. Oh my, my, my. No one should think that someone is so awesome as I think Chris Thile is. But I do. (Is it true?) I do, I do, I do-oo.

Now for real, back to life.
I think you're fantastic. Whoever you are. And I'm working on how to deal with the rest of the human race.
"like i'm this rare mineral that's liquid and expands quickly. you want to know what it's like, what it's made of, but whenever you get close enough to tell, it expands quickly, threatening to drown you, and so you quickly retreat to the corner of the room where you just observe it. i do that with all guys. i do that with most everybody."
I'll back off...if I can figure out how. The computer chord is tickling my foot.

It's boring on this side, but it feels like I'm home again.
There's no place to hide, but I don't think I'm scared.

Hope all's well,
Emily.

Who'm I gonna take to the Grammys.........who'm I gonna
make out with! when I win.
If you're gonna leave, set me up with one of your friends.