Cris

Done with diet. 76 kg. Am awesome.
Must take care to preserve this weight.
And win the heart of the cute, quite possibly straight, bespeckled and philosophically/theologically waxful boy whose eye I caught on the train and who shares most of my classes.
The second resolve is more or less optional.
Perhaps wishfully thought as well.

***

Am reading Wuthering Heights. As a result, Kate Bush has nestled her eerie voice in my head. (All the people in my immediate surroundings are annoyed by this as well. While I can convey the... spirit of the song, my voice was not designed to carry that high-altitude tune.) Also, I think the wind of the wily moors has crawled into my hair, because ever since I picked up the book, it refuses to behave. When I put myself in front of a mirror, I can get it to 'windswept in a cool way'. Whenever I stop looking at it, however, it automatically reverts back to 'exploded'.
The book is absolutely lovely, though. I love how Heathcliff and the original Catherine are absolutely horrid characters, except when they're bouncing off against one another.

Books Read: The Good Soldier, by Ford Maddox Ford; Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë
Current Music: Don't You Want Me, by Lea Michele and Darren Criss

I have very inflammatory skin. It reacts badly to:

• lack of sleep;
• lack of sun;
• lack of happy;
• lack of fresh air;
• all food except for vegetables.

It started when I was 16, littering my forehead with red blotches and yellow needlepoints. It reached its pinnacle when I was eighteen, when it had drifted to my cheeks and my chin. Nowadays, after a mercifully brief stint on my neck, it has moved on to my shoulders, chest and upper back, though at a greatly reduced rate than they used to crop up. Sure, there's still the occasional outbreak on my face, but on the whole, it stays below the collar-line. With my new diet, it's almost all gone. Keyword: almost.
I sometimes wonder if it will just keep on spreading, drifting lower and lower until it will reach my hands and feet. (The feet, of course, at a significantly later moment in time.) I sincerely hope not, but sometimes, my mind runs away with me and I imagine shaking someone's hand as a man of thirty and then the boils on my fingertips will pop and...
As I said, it's not as bad as it once was. I will hold on to that.

***

After handing in my second thesis proposal, I went to see Tangled. Loved it. Flynn was... well. Well. Let's just say I would've gone for the smolder.
Anyway. Mother Gothel was suitably scary, both from a child's point of view and an adult's point of view - emotional abuse much? Rapunzel herself was adorable - though I do have to wonder, if she spent her entire life in a tower, when did she learn how to swim?

What's Written On My Hand Today: 505/507