Last night I went to Sarah's birthday party. It was freezing. We ate all kinds of pizzas and then went to Alex's house. I played ping-pong. There was a pinata. I made a new friend.
Some people just look to young to smoke. They look young in the first place and seeing them with a generic cigarette in their hand, between their lips just makes them look like the kids in the Dare "It's not cool to smoke you'll look like these dorks" propaganda. I almost feel like it would have looked less hilariously pathetic if the cigarettes had been something fancy, maybe with a dark wrapper.
Sometimes I wish I hadn't set my self up as so anti-smoking because sometimes I really wish I had a habit that was somewhat more destructive than leaving my things all over the floor. Sometimes I wish I had something to do with my mouth besides stick a pen cap or my cuticles in it. It is these times that I remind my self that the younger you start smoking the more likely you are to get lung cancer and tell my self I can at least wait until late in college.
Although I didn't realize it at the time, the all the cigarette smoke last night played havoc with my lungs. I woke up this morning with a wheeze and a cough.
I feel like it should be summer. When I got home from church it was in the upper forties. I put on a sun dress (over my turtleneck) and danced barefoot in the icy slush, leaking up between my toes and numbing my heals. The melting snow made rivers and canyons in the ice on the sidewalk, in the gutters, on the rooftops. Everything smelled fresh.
I have the essentially irresponsible mindset that usually goes with summer vacation. It's not even spring break yet. It's hardly halfway through February for Christ's sake, and I feel like I should be lying in a field with a few good friends and a pack of Jones. Midnights, wishing I wasn't about to move, or that we weren't about to go away to different schools (even if back then I was just going to a different high school, only halfway across a not to big city.)
And it would be such a perfect soundtrack for aforementioned laying in fields that it makes me want to cry.