The seven and a half hour drive from Lubbock to Tyler was the closest to Hell I've ever been. Torrential downpours and the Mini Cooper do not get along well. A 20 minute panic attack and roughly 100 oz of Diet Coke later, I was okay. But serious, can someone PLEASE remind me to never drive in rain that bad again?

When I'm home from school, I feel like I'm in rehab. I get to run in the park, paint, play music, shop; but all I really want to do is get out. I love doing these things and having a week or so of relaxation, but I'm already bored of it all. Someone please save me before I get in trouble by my own devices. My idle mind may soon become Satan's playground.

FINALLY read the article about the making of Exile on Main Street in the latest Rolling Stone today. I've been anxiously awaiting it to be released since Tuesday. But it was a great article. It made me want to become a rockstar... well, maybe. Mick McSexy Jagger is on the front with his flowing hair and puckered lips. See?

Ah. He is crazy and perfect.

I picked up a bass for the first time today. Not going to lie, I love it. I think I enjoy playing more than guitar (that's not saying much... I stink at guitar). The one we own is an acoustic Jasmine by Takamine. It's beautiful. Maybe I should sell my guitar, an Epiphone Dove, and buy a bass. Hmm. Anyhow, I think I find it easier because there is no strumming, just a simple rhythm. I even figured out Seven Nation Army without tabs, so I felt accomplished.

In nine days, you will be receiving this blog from Montpellier, France. I will be studying abroad there for 5 weeks. The woman I will be living with has a dog and lives within 10 minutes walking distance from the school. It will be perfect! I couldn't be more excited.

But for now, I will be blogging from stinky, old Tyler. Poo.

Here is my only justification for a Snuggie:

Sitting, freezing cold, trying to do homework (or in my case, blog). It's just so difficult... I suppose I could just throw on a jacket, right?

I've been meaning to start posting this, but here are some of my favorite Rolling Stone covers:

My first and far most favorite. John and Yoko's portrait, taken by Annie Leibovitz, the morning of his assassination.

I had a picture of this (cut from Rolling Stone, of course) glued to a collage on a trunk in my room during high school. Everyone thought I was such a weirdo for it, but how could I explain the significance behind the picture?

My second favorite picture of Janis. My first is on the cover of Pearl.

Although Pearl had quite a bout with heroin, we have two things in common: native Texans and a certain love of whiskey.

Sir Elton John's cartoon cover, inspired by his song Rocket Man I'm sure.

Need I reiterate how awesome his concert was?

It was bliss.

Mick Jagger is crazy, and I love him for that.

Party on, Wayne. Party on, Garth.

This movie is tubular beyond epic, man.

But seriously-- it is.

Had the craziest/best dream ever last night:

I guess I have that internship opportunity with the RS on my brain because I was working there. And Annie Leibovitz walked into one of the editor's office and saw me. They invited me in to talk. I was star-struck but cool. She wanted to take MY picture. A photoshoot with one of the greatest photographers of all time? You're joking, right? So that was it.

She sent a Lincoln over to my flat not far from the office later that evening, and she took my pictures at this incredible studio. It was probably one of the greatest dreams I've ever had. I do have the tendency to be psycic sometimes... Who knows? Maybe it could be real.

Oh, Jack White, when will we be married?

Recently, I have been listening to a lot of the White Stripes, especially the De Stijl album. I love the simplicity of the lyrics, and the driving beats are core-jolting. And his voice, that sweet sound, just drives me crazy... if you can't tell. So what if he's 14 years older than me? My mom and dad are 14 years apart.

I can just imagine what my mother would say if I brought him, or someone like him, home.

This is how it would go:

Me: Mom, this is so-and-so.

Mom: Honey, are you on drugs?

I would then proceed to tell her that love has no style, no look, and that he treats me well...blah blah blah... Because he would. Jack White would be good to me; he's already been so good to me through his music.

So, Jack, if you're out there, Kat from Texas is calling. She wants her heart back.

Still haven't heard from the Rolling Stone about that internship. Maybe I was too excited, told everyone about it, and jinxed myself. That is very, very possible. I feel like I am good enough to work there. I know I am good enough to work there. I would love to write feature stories for the magazine. Man, that'd be awesome.

I love writing features. I like to share another person's story with the world. Those with the story hold a certain trust to those that write the stories. We must do them justice by portraying it as best we can. There will always be something to improve upon. There will always be things to add or take away. But to be there in the end, having breathed life into this story laying on the printer, is so rewarding. If it's well-written, you know you have served them.

love affair.

Cheese. I have a serious obsession with the stuff. Do they have clinics for these kind of things?

But seriously. Rebecca is the best hostess ever. Study party with a poo-poo platter full of cheese, crackers, cucumbers and turkey. Wow. Great friend.

Dinner tonight was amazing. I cooked pork and asparagus stir fry (side of pickled ginger soaked in fish and soy sauce). It was good, but the pork was a bit overcooked.




Spent money on Rolling Stone and Spin today. I have decided that I want to write for a magazine. I like writing for the DT, but an internship with the RS? Dream job.
The current question is whether to do Principles of Journalism homework or read them... very tough decision.

And if anyone is wondering where the title of my blog came from, go listen to "Subterranean Homesick Blues" by Bob Dylan. One of my absolute favorites.