Fly to me, boiled egg.
Fly to me, bean jam bun.
Fly to me, strawberry jam bread.
Fly to me, Chinese noodle soup.

Then she insisted they didn't sound like they were going to fly at all, the way he read. That is love.
Another conversation behind me in Environmental Science -

Girl: I totally flunked that test. I got a C, at most.
Guy: What's wrong? Didn't you study?
Girl: Not much. God, it was Valentine's Day, I was baking cookies for my sorority.
Guy: Priorities.
_____________________________

My spring break pictures are HERE and HERE. I will now attempt to tell you this and that using other people's pictures that aren't in there, for efficiency's sake -

Road trips - lining up at gas-station toilets and watching natives' dressing grow increasingly scanty as we peeled off sweaters; road conversations that flow like music; arguing about whether we were in Georgia or South Carolina yet; towering amount of fried diner food and drive-ins; having a cashier refuse to take any money for my pack of Nutter Butters because I had apparently paid with a smile.


Miami, an extract, being the only night I had energy to write -
Miami is a zany city. I have no idea how to describe it. It's crazy the way L.A. is crazy because people are more like cartoon characters than people with real jobs. They stand around a lot in neon colours waving cigars and looking dissolute. At least in L.A. everyone's bitten by some film bug and that's why they're dressed as Spiderman or selling sequins or something like that. In Miami, the madness is inexplicable. On the way to breakfast at the Big Pink Cafe, we saw a woman back from partying (clubs close at 5am), caked make-up and purple halter and bleached blond hair. She walked in circles. When we left (I had bagel and cream cheese to cut costs, since they can cut you completely broke by adding delicious-sounding sides like strawberries and eggs), she was still there, hovering outside the packed entrance.
... I won't forget how BH lifted Ruyi up to grab a frisbee from a high shelf at the supermart that sells bikinis and surfboards and beach towels and every tourist trap, or her worrying about his rashes, or their soothing squabble-banter when sorting out money and directions.
... I may be sunburned to the knuckles because of lying on South Beach, white sand and white sky creating an unearthly light in all my photos. Pop culture is about breaking into song all together now in the car. Our hostel was a maze of bunk beds and stoned customers in the living room and dark alleys. At first cranky about strangers who threw bags and towels over all the beds despite occupying only a few. It obviously melted into a side adventure because I had to climb over a cute guy in underwear every time to get to an ill-placed ladder up to my bunk.



Caren is probably coming down from NoVa and crashing in my room this weekend. So is Justin T (!) but on Sunday. I would really like to go play paintball but need to get my grades back. Just yesterday my mum said I am a very lopsided person. But even the side I'm leaning on is creaking loudly so better do something about it before I topple over completely.