Anthems for a Seventeen Year-old Girl — Broken Social Scene.
"You used to be one of the rotten ones, and I liked you for that. Now you’re all gone, got your makeup on and your not coming back…"
This song reminds me so intensely of Portland. It always comes up on my Genius playlists that I would listen to when I went into the city (as I didn’t live in the city of Portland, but in a ‘burb about 20 minutes west of Portland). It reminds me of the amount of time that I spent alone in Portland. Wandering around, trying new restaurants and bars, exploring museums and art galleries… And for most of it, I was by myself.
I learned to stand on my two feet in Portland. I learned how to live alone, how to be alone, and how to explore alone. I think that I figured out who I was in Portland.
I think it’s really important that we spend some time in our twenties alone. So often we are constantly surrounded by people, by things, by noise. I know for me, it helped me figure out who I was. What I believe. What I think is right an wrong. You aren’t distracted, you have time to enjoy the beauty of a park or of towering skyscrapers downtown. You have time to look at the river and wonder where it comes from and where its going. You have time to sit and ponder being alone.
So after waiting for a week for my tank to re-stabilize from the death of my angelfish Ned (rest his soul) I purchased two goldfish (yaaaay) =D…but after introducing them to my tank today my pictus catfish swam out from under his shrine, which he seldom does, revealing that he was infected with
So I know you don’t know me, but I’ve battle my fair share of ich, and it really helps to raise the temperature into the tank to 85*F but make sure you increase aeration if you can (add an airstone). You can also buy otc stuff to fix it, but it can often be remedied by doing water changes often. Best luck to you and your fishes! (info from here)
I wish I could go back to when I was 11. Before my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Before she nearly died of that asthma attack. I wish that I could go back to a time before Africa and a time before everything happened there. Before I fell in love with a place and then was ripped out just as soon as I was placed there. I wish I could go back to being open and loving and mean all at the same time.
I wish I could go back to a time before I was forced to grow up. I wish there was a way to run back there.
That’s the funny thing about growing up though. You can never go back. You can never run that far away. You can not do anything about your past. About things you have said. You have to move on.