Come to your senses...

I feel like writing until the words I'm looking for show up. They don't have to be in order or anything either - they could be mixed in with the useless stuff and it would be a huge puzzle that only the paranoid schitzophrenic would figure out. (Thank you, John Nash, for giving me purpose - another Nobel prize to whoever makes sense of it.)

I've picked an audition song. This may or may not prove pointless. I'm trying to figure out where I'm needed most. I use 'needed' loosely. Where I could be put to more use is better. If that's off stage, that's fine. I do love tech now, too. It would be surreal not being on stage, but if that's what would help, I'd do it. People don't give straight answers, though. Help me do the right thing - it will preserve the self-worth I have in the end. You know who you are.

I was named Ethan's godmother today. He makes me happier than anything has in a long time. A screaming pink ball of flesh with gunk in his eyes is the best thing I have going for me? I'm strangely okay with that, if it means I have him. I'm really flattered that Aunt Julie and Uncle Steve considered me. It means a lot. He's going to be spoiled rotten.

I did more homework than should ever be done in the span of a weekend in the past 3 days. It's always like this at the beginning of the semester for me. Get as far ahead as possible because you need that head start to have a prayer of finishing par for the course at the end. I hope my grades dip this year. It would be reflective of my current attitude towards school and only fair. I don't like chem anymore. I liked it on a superficial level. Blowing things up and changing colors. But I don't want to explain. I have no interest in theory. Just let me go and crack some backs. Georgia is calling me.

I went to volleyball games this weekend and was a good roommate. It was fun being supportive. We took a our first house picture after the game Saturday. I'm at least 6 inches shorter than all of them. It makes Tammi feel better. That works for me.

I find myself cranky far too often this year. I'm frustrated with the style of living in the townhouses. So much drinking. For the first time I'm feeling left out and its manifesting itself in a desire to withdraw. Well hello, psych class lingo. It's no one's fault or anything, people should do as they please. It's been fine for the past two years, there's probably some deeper issue yet to surface or something and I'm just projecting. Or whatever.

I miss Chris, Amy, and Jaime. A lot. I keep looking for Chris at the table or on a smoke break outside the Union. 'm in the mood for silly time with Amy, and I am trying really hard to put together happy stories for Jaime. I know that everyone is dealing with or has dealt with this. But if that's supposed to make me feel better, it doesn't. It just makes me feel sorry for those people, too.


If you go back and read every fifth word of this entry from finish to start, it won't make any sense - but it would be cool if it did.