i'm still trying to decide... is my blog just a written version of me, my essence pared down to mere meanderings and poetic utterances, an elegant purification of the senses, a visual medium to process my intangibility into an entity of substance? or, perhaps, it's a intricate project constructed (strategically, selfishly, surreptitiously) as a cmliu.v.2.0 for the audience - the viewers, the familiars and guests alike-- to mentally assemble a girl that only exists in the tap-tap-tap of my obedient fingers and a web of fantasy darting madly through my consciousness. is this me? or is this you trying to find me? or perhaps this is me trying to find me? maybe, in the art of losing ourselves, we fail to notice that we've already been found.

there's been a lot going on that i haven't been diligent about waxing dramatic on here. (yes, lucky you.) but if i get the chance later i'll try to recount all that i dare remember. the weekends in boston since coming back from my trip have been fantastic, with thanks to many who have facilitated my jubilant laughs, beautiful memories, and pure silliness. i have been to a made-for-tv-movie-worthy get-together and clambake at a friend's cape cod summer house; i have experienced irreverent performance art and copious amounts of toilet paper at blue man group; i have experienced nothing less of the twilight zone at alewife and have rediscovered the fascination of chinese supermarkets. great times, and even better recoveries. :)

as i was describing to a friend, sleeping on a loft has its own inevitable curse and blessing complex. last night i entered slumber at around 4:30am, with the alarm set for 7am, my sleep spirits energized and optimistic but knowing full well what would be felt the next day. so with a loft, when your eyelids burst open with the beep-beep-beep interruption of your alarm, you have two laden choices: remain, or descend. once you climb down, you are down for good (the blood is pumping, your feet are moving, you're diagnostically awake), but then again, if you choose to stay in bed, you're stuck. with each increasing breath, the glue gels and thickens to some unspeakably viscous consistency. but oh, to relish those last sweet moments under the sheets, feeling the softness underneath you, to postpone that climb down to tangible earth... you're suspended in time, a transparent existence.

weightless.