Other than the one day where i was deathly ill, this’ll be the earliest i’ve gone to bed in three weeks. To the day. Yeah. Now ask me how much class i’ve missed…
G’nite.
health
Ha! I write about hickeys and my friends flood me with messages asking about this new love interest of mine. Nice, guys, very classy (in the way that voyeurism is classy) Do you really want to hear about my life? I think you must, since you snap up all the juicy bits. Here’s one to mull over: did i ever mention how i don’t feel like i have any friends? I mean… i have a few close ones that i value greatly, but for the most part all of the people i call friends are just people i generally associate with or have something random in common with me. Most of them don’t really know anything about me, like my bouts with anorexia, or how i’m convinced i’m bi-polar, or about my small cancer scare. Why? Because i never told them, because i don’t feel like i have that kind of connection to them. Or maybe i just made all of that shit up. Of course i mention it here and suddenly they’re all crawling down my throat trying to find out what’s happening.
Wow, i can be a bit harsh, can’t i? Oh well … this is my life … either take the heat or melt.
I’m dying. Really. I mean… life right now is a really good life, but there are a lot of really shitty parts of it. I hate my classes. I keep telling myself that i’m going to drop one or two but i still have 19 credits. Classes are the main problem… without them i’d have enough time to deal with everything else so that it was all good. I need to go to physical therapy for my collarbone, but i don’t have any time for it. I have play rehearsal every night this week; i think i need to miss one of my co-op interviews. If i miss it, i might get into trouble. I interviewed last week for the only job i want… let’s all pray they pick me. Anyhow… despite all my bitching, life is good. Life is good. Good.
I don’t like to be sick. I realize that no one does like to be sick, but i dislike it for different reasons than most people. I don’t mind being a little run down or having a slight temperature, but i refuse to let some alien little virus take over the controls of my body for any extended period of time. As such, unless totally incapacitated, i will not cease my daily activities just because i’m feeling deathly and running a 102 degree fever. So, this morning i set off for the coffee shop sporting glands swollen to the size of golf balls and a medium-high temperature… and now it’s gone! Whee!!
Thoughts while boarding a plane…:
12/19/2000 6:38 PM – Planes are interesting. I’m convinced that they’re pumping in fresh pine smell, and i’m not sure how i feel about that. It does not help the claustrophobia. There are too many children on this flight. One of them is obsessed with looking at me, but i don’t mind so much. I think he’s Greek… his family seems to be speaking Greek. The outside of the plane was ultra-marine navy blue… i laid a heavy hand on it on my way in. Fingerprints. Something permanent, until washed away. yeah. So, anyway, my collarbone hurts like hell from carrying my bookbag through the airport. I just underlined “collarbone” like a hyperlink … how sick is that? I was thinking of taking a sedative for the flight, but i’d still be doped up when i arrived in Ft. Lauderdale. I have a friend who smokes pot before every flight… but i’m incoherent and giggly enough as it is.
Ok… that’s enough. My carry-on is too fucking huge and i need to relax. love ya.
– Music: Garrison Starr – I Can’t Wait