LSOPH LSOPH
Post by Emma Lark Rosenburg on Oct 1, 2011 10:57:31 GMT -5
And I am thankful for her kind of loving
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Had Emma Lark Rosenburg been at her old school, Bard College in New York, she would have felt completely at home in her worn tomato soup-colored sweatpants and stretched-out Birkenstock slip-ons. However, she wasn’t at Bard. Emma was in California, and here, that just wasn’t acceptable.
Emma kicked off her shoes in frustration, digging around her overflowing, lavender Marc by Marc Jacobs tote, trying to find her adorable knit owl slippers. She was poised on an overstuffed armchair in the lounge of her dormitory, draping her legs over one of the chair’s soft, burgundy arms and leaning against the other. A thick, dull paperback of her political theory readings sat on her lap, open to Plato’s The Republic. Emma had always thought Plato was a self-righteous douche, and she felt taunted as nothing was going her way that morning.
Small bits of her blunt-cut, fringe-like bangs tickled the tops of her eyelashes, distracting her even more. Finally, she pulled out the slippers and slid them onto her feet, covering up her mismatched argyle socks. Sunday mornings were always the worst – even if one hadn’t been drinking (or barely – Emma had had like, one beer the night before), the stench of hangover was always clouding one’s head for some reason or another. Everything felt so stale. Emma’s uniquely-colored Andrew Bird t-shirt clung to her slight muffin top in an irritating way. Instead of motivating her to work out, looking at her stomach only made her more hungry, and she felt her gaze slide over to the unoccupied kitchenette branching off of the lounge.
She sighed, finally defeated, and set her book down on the chair. She picked her University of Wisconsin pullover and set it on the chair as well, as if to save her spot for when she was done cooking. After tying her hair into a ponytail with a simple black ribbon, she dug in her bag for a box of Annie’s Homegrown Organic Macoroni & Cheese – thankfully, she’d made a morning trip to the local Munchie Mart for a breakfast protein shake and had picked up a few other things on the way. Emma dragged her tote bag and black plastic Nalgene bottle into the kitchenette, thinking the phrase “un coin cuisine” – a kitchenette – in her head, reminding herself that she should be studying French as well. She pulled a small saucepan from the community shelves, turning on the stove and pouring filtered water from her Nalgene into the pan. She sighed as she waited for the water to boil, feeling as though the majority of her life was spent waiting – waiting for a pot to boil, waiting for something exciting to happen, waiting to forget.
'Cause it's simple
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Tagged: Jack!
Word Count: 486 or something like that, I've already forgotten.
Outfit: Here!
Lyrics: January Wedding - The Avett Brothers
Notes: I know it's SUPER weak, but I didn't have much muse and just kind of wanted to get started...
