I feel obligated to go to class; I don’t like missing classes. That being said, it often does me more damage than good. For example:

- Late night beforehand? Good fucking luck focusing in this class… or, you know, the rest of your classes for the day.

- Yes, you can totally roll out of bed 10 minutes before class and somehow haul ass all the way there. But dear god, at least once in a semester, you’ll be so hungry that you will debate the ethics of eating the fat kid in the 3rd row. Like, seriously debate it with yourself.

- Sorry to backtrack, but I just don’t think I’ve focused in any class this semester in excess of 10 consecutive minutes. Case in point: making a tumblr post in the middle of class.

- 8:30 feels extremely early during a school semester. But knowing that you’ve got to wake up before 8:30 in order to get to class on time. Fuck. That. Shit.

- I wonder how tasty fatty in the 3rd row would be…

I am standing by the seashore. 
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze 
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch 
until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud 
just where the sun and sky come down to mingle with each other. 

Then someone at my side says, ‘There she goes! 
Gone where? Gone from my sight - that is all. 

She is just as large in mast and hull and spar 
as she was when she left my side 
and just as able to bear her load of living freight 
to the places of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. 

And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
‘There she goes! ’ ,
there are other eyes watching her coming, 
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout :
‘Here she comes!’ 

“A Parable of Immortality” by Henry Van Dyke

The concept is simple enough, the idea isn’t special. A long time. A lot of late nights. Some of the greatest nights I’ve ever had, and those mornings you can only dream of.

Marion Cotillard Theory.

Here we go.

Named after the one and only Marion Cotillard herself, this is the theory by which I view the world at large in terms of romance, love, and relationships. Those are three very distinct things, I will touch on that some other time and do that proper justice.

Marion Cotillard Theory means that, for those whom it applies to (heterosexual males of age) there is a dream girl (Marion Cotillard), who will take on the shape and form of a current love interest/lover. The definitions and precise qualities are no matter to the idea of a dream girl. The concept of a dream girl is dynamic, which is precisely what Marion Cotillard Theory allows for. The features of your dream girl may change with time: tall or short, dark or light skinned, accented or not. There may not even be any definable features to them, and instead only feelings. In such a case, a dream girl may be more so about the way they make you feel.

At any point in time, a woman will take on the shape and form of your dream girl, henceforth referred to as Marion Cotillard. This can be for a day, a few months, years, and if you’re lucky a lifetime. When it comes down to the girl you love, and care about, it does not matter. She is Marion Cotillard. Forever and for always, you will fall in love with Marion Cotillard, even if it is many times over, to many different reincarnations. She will always be Marion Cotillard. We are forever chasing Marion Cotillard.

This theory was made in an attempt to explain the perfection and fondness by which one (i.e. myself) takes to someone. Entirely engrossed in them, I see them in ways no one else does, and they become the dream girl I’ve always wanted and chased. She may change with time, but she is always Marion Cotillard.

Disclaimer: This applies to all men who ever wanted to settle down or has fallen in love. This is asserted with a >95% Confidence Interval. [Citation needed? Go fuck yourself.]