Every song ends, doesn't mean we can't enjoy the music

Home. Most of us, the fortunate, are born into one. The literal think of it as a house they live in. Some of us think of it as family or a place in our hearts. And at some point all of us need to leave home. We leave to spread our wings and, to eventually, create a home of our own. But no matter what, I think the whole point of leaving home is to come back, some day. Whether it's a weekend, a year, or a lifetime, most of us return. And nothing beats the feeling of returning home. It's familiar and comforting in a way that only it can be.

I want to leave so I can feel that rush of coming back. Again and again and again.

Look at me babe, I'm with you

Now that I don't have to worry about ruining the surprise I can finally talk about what I got my amazing boyfriend for Valentine's Day.

I bought him a Detroit Lions (NFL) t-shirt, a blue mini football (to go with the shirt), a hoodie that I thought he'd look good in, and I made him custom magnetic poetry. While the magnetic poetry was time consuming, it was well worth it. I think I've spent a total of 1.5 hours playing with it since it was unveiled. It seems to be a hit with his roommates too.

Dreams can come true

Two of my current favorite things are combining this week: City and Colour's "The Girl" and One Tree Hill.

Peace

I just, in the past four weeks, deleted over 400 people from my Facebook account. That's more people than were in my graduating class in high school. It's hard to believe that I added (or accepted) 400+ people that I don't know and/or talk to and/or like.

Good riddance baby mamas, Encounters with Canada kids, and other friends of friends that can no longer creep my profile.

P.S. Please don;'t try to re-add me. Let's try not to make this awkward.

Ke$ha ain't the only ho on the block

You ask if you’re my first, ‘cause damn I’m tight
Well baby how’s this, you’re my first tonight
Don’t ask questions if you don’t want to know
I never claimed to be as white as driven snow

Yeah sure you’re my first, whatever you say
This is the second time I lost my virginity today
Boys want to think they’re the first to land
But you don’t get this good reading Cosmopolitan

I know I said your dick was the perfect size
But it meant something when I couldn’t look you in the eyes
Sorry love, but your junk’s no prize
It just gets lost between your thighs

You want to be my boyfriend but let me see
I stop buying when the milk ain’t free
If it’s more than sex, it just ain’t for me
Especially with a dick fit for a baby

At a party and you wanna hold my hand
How can I put this so you’ll understand
If anybody asks, I’m with the band
Don’t wanna get stuck here in no man’s land

I’m home from the bar and I’m black out drunk
Had Chinese now I’m craving spunk
Call you up, you want to talk
Just cum talk baby, with your cock

You wanna be my boyfriend but I’m not one to be tied down
Unless we’re talking bondage, then you can go to town
But fuck this shit, I’m no man’s lass
It’s an inverse relationship of love to ass

Girls don't know anything and other male revelations

I told Haris's roommate (a big Packers fan) a few days ago that I thought the Superbowl score would be 31-27 Packers. He told me I was being ridiculous and that there was no way the game would be that high-scoring. It felt pretty good to write him a Facebook message ribbing him for doubting me after the Packers beat the Steelers 31-25 tonight.

Not bad for a European football fan.

It's all or nothing, all for something

The first rays of light in the morning or the last rays at night
The lull in the ocean the second before a wave breaks
A solitary tear staining your cheek
The sound of complete silence the first time you hear it
Stars out in the country away from city lights
The knot in your throat right before crying
Knowing the difference between lonely and alone
The anticipation before a kiss
A broken heart

Where do you go?

Do you wanna runaway together
I would say it was your best line... ever
Too bad I fell for it
And I walked alone
Waiting for you to come along
Take my tortured heart by the hand
And write me off

Do you know I cry
Do you know I die
Do you know I cry
And It's not the good kind

Oh you forced me to become strong
When I just craved being weak
And you think you know
And I would like to think so
But do you know that when you go
I fall apart

Do you know I cry
Do you know I die
Do you know I cry
And It's not the good kind

No you're not the good kind

What does it all come down to?