Channeling Charrie

I realize only Reagan will understand the title to this post. And thats ok. Everyone needs cryptic phrases every once in a while.

ahh finals. a time when the world seems so lonely yet so full of commradery. You don't see the same people on an everyday basis, but you know somewhere, they are suffering through studying just like you are. Or, if they're procrastinating, the same guilty thoughts run through their minds as well.

You know what else is cryptic? the language people put in emails. Just when you think you've known someone long enough to determine their official email tone of voice, they revolt against the norm and send surprisingly friendly notes that throw you off your game.

sad I'm missing Mother's Day by 2 days.

am starting to freak out about the LSAT. June 8, baby.

[shoutout to Reagan and Laura and our appreciation for jake fiscom, rumpled journalist and coffee shirt-casual musical barrista]

moving on.

I will have a new best friend by the end of the summer. His name is Flagstaff Public Library, (FPL, if you will.) FPL will provide me with trips abroad and formulaic boy-gets-girl storylines. Come August, I will be so adept in them I will probably be fit to write one myself. ha.

I also need to start thinking seriously about my trip to Ukraine. This is an extremely awesome component of my summer and I want it to rock me.

Conquering fears and re-discovering avenues once lost seems to be constant theme for me. Turns out, the Phantom really just wants Christine to love him. If only 10 year old Brooke had just developed an early appreciation for unrequited love, it would've saved many frightening moments with the Phantom, "inside my mind."

I'm more cynical than I once was. Much, much more so. The idea of a beautiful sad love story where the two don't end up together has currently has more appeal than the typical formula. boy meets girl. series of cute encounters follow. a big misunderstanding. time of sad reflection. one makes the big gesture. together forever. blah. blah. But that has its place. Just not at the top of my favorites. No, it seems the scardicat has begun to see the real world. And you know what the biggest surprise is? Its not as bad as she once thought.

This post is cryptic. I know. And thats the point. Bear with me. The next one will be more streamlined, hopefully. Or maybe not.

Finals studying essentials: [apparently lofty and cryptic thoughts about nothing in particular to balance the intense amount of real information in my head]
-printed notes with computer charts
-DIET COKE.
-friends to look up and stare at every once in a while, to be reassured that other people still exist around you
-late night movies as rewards.
-mindless room cleaning.
-stressing.
-DIET COKE.

Yesterday, I had a paper due at 11:55 pm. (who makes a research paper due at 11:55 on Saturday, the first day of dead days? So strange). I researched like mad most of the night before and the morning of. Began to write at 3ish. Called Mom around 6ish to see if thesis and intro was clear. It wasn't. Had a lovely dinner at Laura's that she cooked while I frantically wrote. Mom called again at 11:15 asking if the paper was done. "No, I'm finishing the conclusion and have to do the bibliography. Its only 11:15. Plently of time." to which she responded: "You are your father's daughter..." I finished with 11 minutes to spare. Her words keep running through my head because I like the sound of their meaning. I am my father's daughter. And you know what? thats not a half bad thing to be. Not at all.