Sparkly Taco Stickers, and such.

Honors Freaking Biology. Ugh. Worst class of the day. I want to be a doctor, yes that's correct. But I learn absolutely nothing in this class. I learn more about biology watching paint dry than I do in this class. And the worst part of it is that it's 7th hour. Last class of the day. It drags on forever. And we never do anything. Why aren't we learning how to use this in our lives instead of doing pointless busy work? Ugh.

A few days ago, I walked my normal path from Biology to my locker. Out of the room. Slip my phone out of my pocket. Slide unlock key. Turn corner. Type password. Look up halfway to the doorway. Tap text icon. Look up to check posters on the wall. Look down at pho... Wait a minute. I take this exact same route with the same phone habit every single day. But something is different. The dull green monochromatic flier for the March 7th cocoa and cram has been adorned with a sticker of a sparkly taco. The last thing I expected to see. It made me ~chuckle~. I know a certain person who will enjoy my use of that verb.

Anyway, it got me thinking. We all remember the small things. I babble to this poor boy on the phone all the time. I know he hates it. But I do it anyway. I don't expect him to listen. But maybe someday he'll appreciate hearing something I have to say. I often express my needs and wants. Of all the rambling I do, he remembers the most amazing things. I love monkeys. I want one. So. Bad. Well, he remembered. Guess who got a monkey pillow pet for christmas? This girl. Right here.

I couldn't have asked for a better present, (especially with the included ring pops that I also expressed a desire for.) I could have received my dream truck or some fancy necklace. But these little things are the ones that count. I remember the little things.

I remember him telling me that there were originally 3 ring pops. I received to. He got hungry and ate one. Not an important detail. But the laughs we've had over moments like that are worth so much more than anything I can think of.

I remember things like sweaty italians running through parks. And black men who appear to want to "get their barry bonds on." I remember the white monster t shirt. I remember the birdless bird island. I remember all the little things that are so important.

If you've just skipped to the last sentence because this is where I usually sum it up, fuck you. Read the god damned blog. xoxoxo.