"My brain's the burger and my heart's the coal."
I just watched Boardwalk Empire's first episode in HD on demand. I was overjoyed to see that on the HBO listings, but now I am not so sure. It was confusing, depressing, and strange. I mean, that's all me, but I don't like the style. Too polished. I also watched American Pie. That was even more depressing, but for completely different reasons. I am listening to Say Anything like I have been for a couple years now. Chia-Like, I Shall Grow. "I discard all my feelings as the stars still scar my ceiling."
My heart has gone out of the frying pan and into the freezer.
It's Friday. I had no school today. I had a very satisfying sleep, if not economical (13 hours). I should be doing AP English homework because it's quite extensive. HA. Modest Mouse used to sing about complicated feelings and depression. Perfect! I'll be over here crooning along with Baby Blue Sedan or something. Help me. Coffee coffee coffee. Coffee is like a laxative for my feelings. It isn't always pleasant, but it's better than having them in my head. I wish I had feelings. Haha. Well, you know, good ones. Oh, "Admit It!!!" is playing. That'll do good for my angst.
Why'd you get yourself into those things? And then me? Sorry, friend.
Edward J. Kelly didn't have to deal with these feelings, I'm guessing. I'm just so sorry.
Braden and Jessica are no more. Secret Agent is off duty. She did well while she served. However, I may not need her anymore. The operation's been shut down.
Shut down.
Friday, August 31
Wednesday, August 29
The Last Blog of My Heart
"You're too tired to be in love."
I honestly sometimes think that my brain is controlled by a crazed German neurologist, tampering and tinkering with my emotions and thoughts to experiment on the teenage mind. He's a sick man. He's about 40 years old, with a white beard, round black glasses and a cigar in his hand. He's Sigmund Freud. He loves to watch me cry, loves to see me drift into dead thoughts and very much alive ones, loves to see me dance in pain, loves to watch me lie in painful and silent reverie on my rock bed.
Now that I'm done prosing it up, I'd like to report the facts. Today, I took an essay on my Summer reading even though I am still not finished On the Road by Jack Kerouac. I read enough to write the essay, though, but my language was a bit tired and my ideas sloppy. Ah well, It'll do. I had some coffee. Now my keyboard lies on the face of my AP English in a blatantly rebellious manner. I bought two bags of Animal Crackers at the dollar store when my dad gave me a twenty and said to go crazy. I was also wearing pink crocs. I also went to Artisan's like this and I saw people from school chuckling. I had also nearly broke my toe when it got caught on one of my steps. It still hurts. I'm listening to Coldspray. She's not laughing. She's not smiling at all, in fact. Hold my heart, I'm walking.
I'll swiftly scribble your name
So you can take all the blame
I honestly sometimes think that my brain is controlled by a crazed German neurologist, tampering and tinkering with my emotions and thoughts to experiment on the teenage mind. He's a sick man. He's about 40 years old, with a white beard, round black glasses and a cigar in his hand. He's Sigmund Freud. He loves to watch me cry, loves to see me drift into dead thoughts and very much alive ones, loves to see me dance in pain, loves to watch me lie in painful and silent reverie on my rock bed.
Now that I'm done prosing it up, I'd like to report the facts. Today, I took an essay on my Summer reading even though I am still not finished On the Road by Jack Kerouac. I read enough to write the essay, though, but my language was a bit tired and my ideas sloppy. Ah well, It'll do. I had some coffee. Now my keyboard lies on the face of my AP English in a blatantly rebellious manner. I bought two bags of Animal Crackers at the dollar store when my dad gave me a twenty and said to go crazy. I was also wearing pink crocs. I also went to Artisan's like this and I saw people from school chuckling. I had also nearly broke my toe when it got caught on one of my steps. It still hurts. I'm listening to Coldspray. She's not laughing. She's not smiling at all, in fact. Hold my heart, I'm walking.
I'll swiftly scribble your name
So you can take all the blame
Tuesday, August 28
Blog Your Little Heart
"Did I drive you away?"
I am still not done my summer reading. I am sortof working on it right now. I'm rushing through this On the Road book by Jack Kerouac, which I just figured out is mostly a work of fiction. My mind is blown. But it is very good and I'm going through it fast. I have a depressing feeling of it being too late for me to do something. It's not too late at all. I don't think. Then again, I have several depressing feelings right now. But unlike yesterday, I have exuberant and bright thoughts to balance them out. However, without caffeine, I fear they will travel on without me into the haze of this year. I warn you now, this will be a prose-filled blog. I'm feeling poetic after reading a lot of this beautiful book.
No, this feeling of lateness is for certain. I feel dizzy. My brother isn't here anymore, and I want him to be. You know, just to cheer me up just a little bit more. I called him and he says it's too late and that he is not near my house. Something tells me he will surprise me with a short visit. Something. That same something tells me this powerful, deep down feeling I'm having right now is utter nonsense and will fade in the night hours when I'll sleep it away. But I can't accept that anymore. However, with the days that go by, it gets stronger in each fleeting streak it appears. Stronger and more durable, I'd say. You have no clue what I'm talking about, but it's darn important. I promise you.
"I jumped across for you. What a thing to do."
This is the way Luke feels for people. The real feelings are the one that drives him nuts in obsession, observation and decision. These sortof feelings are new to me, and they distract me from school work, bring me to tears at certain nighttimes, and bring about sullen overheatings of the mind. Thanks Jack Kerouac for giving me the voice of a lone wanderer rife with mixed emotions.
Yesterday was a living nightmare, in sadness terms. I love the way she helped me. It made me so sure, if not satisfied at the time. Today was much better. But still, not fantastic. However, tomorrow and Thursday will be different. I will try. I just need to get into this groove that hit me out of left field and crushed my spirit. I wonder if that someone still does what they say they did and what I am doing now. Feeling.
Sometimes I'm not sure I could sit there silently. I want to hear everything you know, think, feel, remember, hate, love, and are.
More chicken-cheesesteak tonight. I am full with emotions and greasy Italian food. Do you find that funny? Do you find me funny? I certainly hope so, I'm not sure I can take the silence.
Please. Give me a smile. Smile, and say you do.
I am still not done my summer reading. I am sortof working on it right now. I'm rushing through this On the Road book by Jack Kerouac, which I just figured out is mostly a work of fiction. My mind is blown. But it is very good and I'm going through it fast. I have a depressing feeling of it being too late for me to do something. It's not too late at all. I don't think. Then again, I have several depressing feelings right now. But unlike yesterday, I have exuberant and bright thoughts to balance them out. However, without caffeine, I fear they will travel on without me into the haze of this year. I warn you now, this will be a prose-filled blog. I'm feeling poetic after reading a lot of this beautiful book.
No, this feeling of lateness is for certain. I feel dizzy. My brother isn't here anymore, and I want him to be. You know, just to cheer me up just a little bit more. I called him and he says it's too late and that he is not near my house. Something tells me he will surprise me with a short visit. Something. That same something tells me this powerful, deep down feeling I'm having right now is utter nonsense and will fade in the night hours when I'll sleep it away. But I can't accept that anymore. However, with the days that go by, it gets stronger in each fleeting streak it appears. Stronger and more durable, I'd say. You have no clue what I'm talking about, but it's darn important. I promise you.
"I jumped across for you. What a thing to do."
This is the way Luke feels for people. The real feelings are the one that drives him nuts in obsession, observation and decision. These sortof feelings are new to me, and they distract me from school work, bring me to tears at certain nighttimes, and bring about sullen overheatings of the mind. Thanks Jack Kerouac for giving me the voice of a lone wanderer rife with mixed emotions.
Yesterday was a living nightmare, in sadness terms. I love the way she helped me. It made me so sure, if not satisfied at the time. Today was much better. But still, not fantastic. However, tomorrow and Thursday will be different. I will try. I just need to get into this groove that hit me out of left field and crushed my spirit. I wonder if that someone still does what they say they did and what I am doing now. Feeling.
Sometimes I'm not sure I could sit there silently. I want to hear everything you know, think, feel, remember, hate, love, and are.
More chicken-cheesesteak tonight. I am full with emotions and greasy Italian food. Do you find that funny? Do you find me funny? I certainly hope so, I'm not sure I can take the silence.
Please. Give me a smile. Smile, and say you do.
Monday, August 27
That's Not the Way It Feels
Probably having the worst day of my entire life.
I hated my teachers, my classes, my lunch. I felt sick and tired and uncomfortable all day. Turns out Nick was in the wrong lunch, so goodbye to that fantastic idea. Then, at the end of the day, when I was vulnerable, I was rejected. I walked all the way home frowning. I came into this, sat around intensely depressed for a little while, then took a slightly helpful nap. I am not ready for this school year. Not one bit.
I hated my teachers, my classes, my lunch. I felt sick and tired and uncomfortable all day. Turns out Nick was in the wrong lunch, so goodbye to that fantastic idea. Then, at the end of the day, when I was vulnerable, I was rejected. I walked all the way home frowning. I came into this, sat around intensely depressed for a little while, then took a slightly helpful nap. I am not ready for this school year. Not one bit.
Sunday, August 26
Untitled
"I was blindsided."
I need to read about 25 more pages in this cursed book before I can feel comfortable doing ridiculous and often funny things on my last Summer day. Leaving me with 168 pages to read later tonight. HA. Reading Like A Writer is somewhat bearable now, but I am often distracted.
I feel as if love is something that can't be avoided or attained altogether. It doesn't concern people, it concerns words. It doesn't concern actions, it concerns pictures.
I have had no coffee today. Somehow I feel this won't last, my brother wanting to hang out and all. It's been making me a bit crazy lately. And I don't need that in times of mounting confusion.
I've got a lot of change to cash in. Ulysses stares at me with a sorrowful glance, disappointed in me for not reading. Francine Prose, you slay me.
She is supposed to be teaching me about paragraphs. Clearly she hasn't helped me at all. Well, then again, this isn't hardly a novel.
I want to see. You know?
I need to read about 25 more pages in this cursed book before I can feel comfortable doing ridiculous and often funny things on my last Summer day. Leaving me with 168 pages to read later tonight. HA. Reading Like A Writer is somewhat bearable now, but I am often distracted.
I feel as if love is something that can't be avoided or attained altogether. It doesn't concern people, it concerns words. It doesn't concern actions, it concerns pictures.
I have had no coffee today. Somehow I feel this won't last, my brother wanting to hang out and all. It's been making me a bit crazy lately. And I don't need that in times of mounting confusion.
I've got a lot of change to cash in. Ulysses stares at me with a sorrowful glance, disappointed in me for not reading. Francine Prose, you slay me.
She is supposed to be teaching me about paragraphs. Clearly she hasn't helped me at all. Well, then again, this isn't hardly a novel.
I want to see. You know?
Thursday, August 23
I'm Bored, You're Blogging
"I got this feeling in my blood that I want more, this ain't enough."
Today was, is, and will be a rewarding one. I can feel it. I woke up slightly late at 11:30AM, more than excited for Colton to see my new house and walk with me to Artisan's. This, however, did not happen, as he never answers his phone, has cross country, and is more of an early bird than I am. Apparently he gets finished around 5:30PM, which was 7 minutes ago. Perhaps I should call him. Yeah, I'll do that. I'll finish this later.
(later)
This day was so stupid but interesting.
I was so very bored until one of my brother's friends Lee came over so I could tune his new guitar for him. We had a tender musical moment. Once he left, I was bored again. I contacted a friend of mine, Tim, and he was busy. I called Colton 35 more times. I need to get these kids together on Saturday for a first and final hang out of the dying Summer. Then I took a walk out of boredom, caffeination,
and yearning for adventure. I walked up to the new middle school, wandered around looking Colton, sat on the high school bridge and watched the sunset, listened to the band practice (where Amy was), went into our old smelly house briefly, wandered back and forth in the nighttime and eventually went home out of worries that my parents were worried themselves. Then we got a chicken cheesesteak stromboli. We stopped by Gateway Pharmacy, I rocked out to One Direction in the car until i see some kids come out of the building. I notice a long-haired kid with cut off maroon jeans. Colton himself was hanging out with some Freshmen. I frantically unlocked the door, took the keys, and ran after him holding my hat yelling, "YOU COME RIGHT BACK HERE!" I met the group. Jason Miller wanted to hug me. I poked Colton in the chest and said I had been calling him all day. He said he didn't recognize the number and was freaked out by it. I was too caffeinated and excited at the new company to argue with his logic. My mom came out and I ran back to the car. We drove once by the HS and went home.
Now here I am, lamenting this strange and barely satisfying day. I happened to see Sydney Scavello who was overly excited to see me walking downtown, I had a tender IM chat with Ellie Delany wishing her a happy birthday and slipping in a compliment about adorability. My brother is visiting at this moment, and he shanked me with his knuckles.
I just feel like I need to sigh. Or sleep. I have a head ache, I am full of food. But there is nerves. So many nerves. 4 days. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Today was, is, and will be a rewarding one. I can feel it. I woke up slightly late at 11:30AM, more than excited for Colton to see my new house and walk with me to Artisan's. This, however, did not happen, as he never answers his phone, has cross country, and is more of an early bird than I am. Apparently he gets finished around 5:30PM, which was 7 minutes ago. Perhaps I should call him. Yeah, I'll do that. I'll finish this later.
(later)
This day was so stupid but interesting.
I was so very bored until one of my brother's friends Lee came over so I could tune his new guitar for him. We had a tender musical moment. Once he left, I was bored again. I contacted a friend of mine, Tim, and he was busy. I called Colton 35 more times. I need to get these kids together on Saturday for a first and final hang out of the dying Summer. Then I took a walk out of boredom, caffeination,
and yearning for adventure. I walked up to the new middle school, wandered around looking Colton, sat on the high school bridge and watched the sunset, listened to the band practice (where Amy was), went into our old smelly house briefly, wandered back and forth in the nighttime and eventually went home out of worries that my parents were worried themselves. Then we got a chicken cheesesteak stromboli. We stopped by Gateway Pharmacy, I rocked out to One Direction in the car until i see some kids come out of the building. I notice a long-haired kid with cut off maroon jeans. Colton himself was hanging out with some Freshmen. I frantically unlocked the door, took the keys, and ran after him holding my hat yelling, "YOU COME RIGHT BACK HERE!" I met the group. Jason Miller wanted to hug me. I poked Colton in the chest and said I had been calling him all day. He said he didn't recognize the number and was freaked out by it. I was too caffeinated and excited at the new company to argue with his logic. My mom came out and I ran back to the car. We drove once by the HS and went home.
Now here I am, lamenting this strange and barely satisfying day. I happened to see Sydney Scavello who was overly excited to see me walking downtown, I had a tender IM chat with Ellie Delany wishing her a happy birthday and slipping in a compliment about adorability. My brother is visiting at this moment, and he shanked me with his knuckles.
I just feel like I need to sigh. Or sleep. I have a head ache, I am full of food. But there is nerves. So many nerves. 4 days. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Wednesday, August 22
All Blogged Up
Times.
This poor 2/3 eaten scone sits next to me on my desk, looking betrayed. The iced coffee, fully consumed, looks empty but satisfied. These days are here, and I'm in a new house. I'm a new person, it feels. I have a Stetson hat and maroon canvas Doc Martens. But, you know this. You are me, I am you, the only two who read this through.
I was with Amy today. "I'm a sensitive bore." manana, mi amor. manana.
I'm listening to some hardcore Say Anything. (i.e. In Defense of the Genre) and feeling shameful of things not bitten and digested. By God, I am being as vague and poetic as ever. I can see my Phoenixville neighbors. They own pit bulls, motorcycles, and lots of beer. I want to put "PLANK TRIUMPHANT" on the walls in here. He deserves everlasting influence in my life, thanks to Uncle Tom. Nick is in New Hampshire, and I miss the fellow. He's my buddy, he's my pal. I need to slice up all the cardboard in the backyard with my dad. 'What a drag', they said in the 1950s. I'd like to know how to become a great writer, but Francine Prose thinks she knows everything and is some sort of comedian that is amazing because she reads books. 5 days to read this crap, and my other book. Sorry folks, I'll be busy. Hopefully I can get Colton over here tomorrow and Tim over Saturday to see this darned please. 8 minute videos to fall back on in times of doubt.
I am infinitely interested in the lives of my grandparents. I look to the campaign poster of 1969 with Tom Wilson's face on it, when he ran for judge. I think of my silent but always calculating grandfather on my mother's side, Robert Gill Geist. A German-American man, his head was smaller than mine is now and his cap doesn't fit on me. He seems to have the most influence on me. However, the Kellys give me my humor. That's my dad's mom's side. And so, the history continues with these two Wilson boys, Tommy and Luke. We keep the name going. We are the only lasting males. And we'll find romance, get married, procreate and the Wilson timeline will continue. If we have any boys. I am so weird right now. Maybe it's all the chapters of Trapped in the Closet i watched today. Maybe it's the coffee. Maybe both. I got my school supplies along with a beautiful backpack from OBEY, a faux-propagandized company. Lineage.
I can't let this go. It's so fun, and it means something real. I know it. Butterfeelings, butterflies, butterfingers.
Wonder if Nicholas found some long-haired gorgeous mountain girl and fell in love. God knows he needs that. He'd love that. But then we'd be off on our own paths. "There's still time to change the road you're on." I watched the Led Zeppelin concert The Song Remains the Same today. It was good. I showed Amy the delicious Stairway to Heaven solo. She had no comment.
'fraidy cat. wonder if she'll keep this up. did you expect that one, dear?
This poor 2/3 eaten scone sits next to me on my desk, looking betrayed. The iced coffee, fully consumed, looks empty but satisfied. These days are here, and I'm in a new house. I'm a new person, it feels. I have a Stetson hat and maroon canvas Doc Martens. But, you know this. You are me, I am you, the only two who read this through.
I was with Amy today. "I'm a sensitive bore." manana, mi amor. manana.
I'm listening to some hardcore Say Anything. (i.e. In Defense of the Genre) and feeling shameful of things not bitten and digested. By God, I am being as vague and poetic as ever. I can see my Phoenixville neighbors. They own pit bulls, motorcycles, and lots of beer. I want to put "PLANK TRIUMPHANT" on the walls in here. He deserves everlasting influence in my life, thanks to Uncle Tom. Nick is in New Hampshire, and I miss the fellow. He's my buddy, he's my pal. I need to slice up all the cardboard in the backyard with my dad. 'What a drag', they said in the 1950s. I'd like to know how to become a great writer, but Francine Prose thinks she knows everything and is some sort of comedian that is amazing because she reads books. 5 days to read this crap, and my other book. Sorry folks, I'll be busy. Hopefully I can get Colton over here tomorrow and Tim over Saturday to see this darned please. 8 minute videos to fall back on in times of doubt.
I am infinitely interested in the lives of my grandparents. I look to the campaign poster of 1969 with Tom Wilson's face on it, when he ran for judge. I think of my silent but always calculating grandfather on my mother's side, Robert Gill Geist. A German-American man, his head was smaller than mine is now and his cap doesn't fit on me. He seems to have the most influence on me. However, the Kellys give me my humor. That's my dad's mom's side. And so, the history continues with these two Wilson boys, Tommy and Luke. We keep the name going. We are the only lasting males. And we'll find romance, get married, procreate and the Wilson timeline will continue. If we have any boys. I am so weird right now. Maybe it's all the chapters of Trapped in the Closet i watched today. Maybe it's the coffee. Maybe both. I got my school supplies along with a beautiful backpack from OBEY, a faux-propagandized company. Lineage.
I can't let this go. It's so fun, and it means something real. I know it. Butterfeelings, butterflies, butterfingers.
Wonder if Nicholas found some long-haired gorgeous mountain girl and fell in love. God knows he needs that. He'd love that. But then we'd be off on our own paths. "There's still time to change the road you're on." I watched the Led Zeppelin concert The Song Remains the Same today. It was good. I showed Amy the delicious Stairway to Heaven solo. She had no comment.
'fraidy cat. wonder if she'll keep this up. did you expect that one, dear?
Friday, August 17
A Blog of You
Blog. It's been a while. "Yes, this is your conscience. We haven't spoken in a while." - Marlin in Finding Nemo. How are you? If you are reading this blog, you probably already know how I've been and the kind of crap I've been into. So, I'll start with the important things. It's almost the year of the tiger. Yes, Junior year, folks. Many people say it's the most difficult year. About 35 days ago, I started talking to a female. Yes, you may think, "Luke, you are almost always rolling in chicks." Yes, this is true, but this one is slightly more important. So yeah this amazing girl I was talking about (or that 'Female") is now writing this blog annnnnnd shes soooo awesommmme
Anyways, so me and this female, Amy Lynn Dundon, who was named by the nurse the delivered her, hang out regularly these days. In fact, I am at her house right now. Her mother and her are discussing things on couches. It's a nice, welcoming family, and I enjoy being absorbed so oddly into the home. She won't let me go in her room because it's apparently very messy. One cat is fat and homosexual and has a crush on me. Another is a female that is sick and thin. She hides from people. Things are....good. And confusing.
Another recent development in the dramatic epic of Luke Wilson's life is the Odyssey of homes. The bank snatched our house from under our noses. We were luckily able to get a 105-year-old classic Phoenixville home in a small alley behind Barkley Elementary. Me and my parents somehow got a massive sectional all the way through the house into the living room by ourselves. Last night Nick helped us get some other medium difficult wooden items upstairs or in the downstairs rooms. The attic is sealed off with dry wall, which is creepy. The steps going up to it are about a foot high each, making it look old. Anyhow, the feeling of moving and associating a different place with my conscious sense of "home". I feel my soul is in floating limbo between houses. It isn't, however, that far away. I'll be next to Barkley which will be filled with crazy loud children running around a little bit after I get home. That'll be fun and/or annoying. I have a slightly smaller room, but it has wood floors and it's on the second floor, the bedroom I've always wanted. It has an upright window and a cool horizontal window. The basement is really old and creepy. There is rings on the ceiling of it where they used to hang bodies. We have a fluorescent green porch light and a gross little backyard.
I am now in the middle of a large Dundon family meeting and in the juggling of casual conversation.
Sometimes things happen. They'll happen without you caring. They'll happen without you noticing. I wish that still happened. I wish things happened without my permission. I wish the control wasn't in my hands. I am a weak-willed, scrawny little man and I need others to make decisions for me. I am the youngest child. I am small. I want to sing Breathe Me by Sia. Because that's me. Wrap me up.
Now that the drama Kingdom is over, let's discuss schooling.
I am in two AP classes this year (English/Gov't+Politics) and hopefully I will have the same lunch period as Nick and/or Amy and/or Tim and/or Matt and/or Braden Bowdish and his pal Dante Collazo, the man with the coolest name ever made by circumstance and life itself. I'm pretty sure Amy and Nick have the same math class. That'll be interesting.
Things still happen.
They happen all the time.
Anyways, so me and this female, Amy Lynn Dundon, who was named by the nurse the delivered her, hang out regularly these days. In fact, I am at her house right now. Her mother and her are discussing things on couches. It's a nice, welcoming family, and I enjoy being absorbed so oddly into the home. She won't let me go in her room because it's apparently very messy. One cat is fat and homosexual and has a crush on me. Another is a female that is sick and thin. She hides from people. Things are....good. And confusing.
Another recent development in the dramatic epic of Luke Wilson's life is the Odyssey of homes. The bank snatched our house from under our noses. We were luckily able to get a 105-year-old classic Phoenixville home in a small alley behind Barkley Elementary. Me and my parents somehow got a massive sectional all the way through the house into the living room by ourselves. Last night Nick helped us get some other medium difficult wooden items upstairs or in the downstairs rooms. The attic is sealed off with dry wall, which is creepy. The steps going up to it are about a foot high each, making it look old. Anyhow, the feeling of moving and associating a different place with my conscious sense of "home". I feel my soul is in floating limbo between houses. It isn't, however, that far away. I'll be next to Barkley which will be filled with crazy loud children running around a little bit after I get home. That'll be fun and/or annoying. I have a slightly smaller room, but it has wood floors and it's on the second floor, the bedroom I've always wanted. It has an upright window and a cool horizontal window. The basement is really old and creepy. There is rings on the ceiling of it where they used to hang bodies. We have a fluorescent green porch light and a gross little backyard.
I am now in the middle of a large Dundon family meeting and in the juggling of casual conversation.
Sometimes things happen. They'll happen without you caring. They'll happen without you noticing. I wish that still happened. I wish things happened without my permission. I wish the control wasn't in my hands. I am a weak-willed, scrawny little man and I need others to make decisions for me. I am the youngest child. I am small. I want to sing Breathe Me by Sia. Because that's me. Wrap me up.
Now that the drama Kingdom is over, let's discuss schooling.
I am in two AP classes this year (English/Gov't+Politics) and hopefully I will have the same lunch period as Nick and/or Amy and/or Tim and/or Matt and/or Braden Bowdish and his pal Dante Collazo, the man with the coolest name ever made by circumstance and life itself. I'm pretty sure Amy and Nick have the same math class. That'll be interesting.
Things still happen.
They happen all the time.
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