| The stale taste of recycled air |
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| 05:09pm 17/10/2006 |
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mood: Je ne sais pas music: Sundress- Ben Kweller
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I haven't updated in quite some time. Seems sort of pointless because no one actually reads this, but anyhow. I'm bored. I'm at work, which consists of me sitting in a room and putzing around. Every once in a while I do something- when asked. Apart from that, I'm insanely bored. This room has a full length couch, and it's inviting me to take a nap. I take frequent cigarette breaks, listen to music, study, et cetera.
Things are crazy yet calm, as this dreary day insists that we slump back into our scheduled routines- afternoon naps included.
We're probably going to Montreal this weekend, bar hopping as usual. Nate and Max'll drive, and the rest of us will look pensively out the windows as the Vermont and Quebec countryside passes us by. Every so often a song'll come on that we love, and we'll all burst into a car dance-party, thrashing and lip syncing necessary.
I found a cheap round-trip ticket to Paris online, I think I'm going to get it and stay with Ann in Bayeux(Normandy) for a week over winter break.
A certain someone is in my mind, sans arrete. Il faut necessaire que je fait mes devoirs, mais je m'en fou. J'en n'ai rien na foutre. Il pleut et je veux dormir seulment. J'ai vi "The Science of Sleep" la nuit passe, c'etait excellente. Si tu me comprends, tu sais qui est dans ma tete, qui decide m'etat d'esprit. Peutetre, il est l'amour de ma vie, le troisieme fois est le bon chance. J'espere qu'il y a un solution de m'etat d'esprit maintenant, je suis un peu triste parce je ne sais jamais la direction de ma vie.
I'll be home in November. |
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| 02:35am 25/06/2006 |
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Here I am logging on and updating as I haven't done for quite some time. I've written letters to many, and conversed such thoughts that might find themselves here to those that live here with me, yet I feel I have neglected this small space. Perhaps the tiny void I feel is not updating? But I'm almost certain that it's not.
I'm packing up my things for Burlington, and I always have the feeling that I'm missing something when I pack. Maybe it's just part of the human condition- to always feel as if something is lacking or has been left behind.
Lately, my method of living has been carpe diem and certainly more so carpe noctem. In a scrambling attempt not to lose any moment of my youth I've been burning the candle at both ends. Double shifts till midnight at work, late night outings, as well as keeping up with geographically distant friends I'm entirely exhausted. A week with Danny will hopefully cure this. We had a falling out this morning before work and I spent a good amount of time crying in the back room while I hid and did dishes. Love songs haunted the radio and thusly, me. We worked things out, for the most part, when I got home. But things are still a little shakey. I'm so tired that it's hard to work at something that the movies make look so easy. It's not, I'll tell you that. Two people, each carrying a considerable amount of baggage, trying to work things out over 350 miles of New England. It's not always butterflies and kittens, but they do appear more frequently as things are ironed out. It's still the whole business of "dos and don'ts" that's irritating to deal with.
I'm hoping that taking up the slack between us and being together, in person, will ease our troubles. When we're both stressed and far from each other it's hard to deal. If there's one thing that I learned from Dan it's that communication is key, and I'm working on keeping those lines up.
Mrs. McCormack came by with Rob and Ryan, and I was in such an awful mood at work that I didn't pay much attention to them. Not to mention that there was a line of customers out the door- each ordering some innane combination in a drink. It's just fucking coffee, people! GET A GRIP.
Well, I'm off. I'll be back on Thursday. |
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| Oh, but California... |
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| 11:21am 27/04/2006 |
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mood:  jubilant music: California: Joni Mitchell
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I'm up with the sun.
I'm high with the moon.
I'm drunk with the sea.
It's decided. Thanksgiving break, for a full week, Jen, Ann and I are trekking to California. We'll stay in two different places and venture through San Francisco. I always make plans and never follow through, this however will be followed through with. I've never been more excited for a trip.
I'm on the balcony again. It's sunny out, and with the sun out I come. Joni Mitchell and Old Crow Medicine Show soothe me into a peaceful state of everything's gonna be alright. It's strange how much the weather pushes and pulls me into predictable moods. I could be having the worst day, but as long as a gentle breeze can stir my hair and warm light can brush against my skin I'm okay. It's lovely here when the sun shines. The mountains and valleys sparkle with life and the streets are full of people spilling over with excitement.
"What doesn't kill us makes us stronger," I say to Ann as I exhale a cloud of smoke. She
props her legs against the balcony's metal edge and sips from her mug od tea. I continue,
"I wouldn't be who I am today without all these scars."
She exhales with me, slowly. Smoke swirls around us before giving way to clarity. There's
an understanding when you're out here, pointing to the stars and slouching into the beat
up old couch. Not much needs to be said, and what's said is meant. This place seems to
pull words from the heart without being analyzed by the brain and turned into lies; like
so much is in every day conversation. There's a seed of truth in everything we say, but
most is fabrication. Not out here. Lies drop like lead as truths float like the smoke we
breathe out.
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| 12:04pm 02/03/2006 |
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List five of your intangible faults:
1. I have an explosive temper.
2. I'm quick to judge. Quick to blame.
3. I gossip too much.
4. I lie cause I'm afraid of the truth.
5. I psychoanalyize too much. |
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| 11:39am 01/03/2006 |
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"I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm poor but I'm kind
I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah
I'm high but I'm grounded
I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed
I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five
I feel drunk but I'm sober
I'm young and I'm underpaid
I'm tired but I'm working, yeah
I care but I'm restless
I'm here but I'm really gone
I'm wrong and I'm sorry baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be quite alright
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a cigarette
And what it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign
I'm free but I'm focused
I'm green but I'm wise
I'm hard but I'm friendly baby
I'm sad but I'm laughing
I'm brave but I'm chickenshit
I'm sick but I'm pretty baby
And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is playing the piano
And what it all comes down to my friends
Is that everything's just fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxi cab"
Overwhelming sense that it's all gonna be okay. I just want to get in my pickup (that doesn't exist, yet) and open all the windows to let in the cool, spring air that I get the feeling Long Island's gettin' right now. I just want to let the wind push my hand in waves, and I want to see everything I know fly by around me. I want to see the safety and comfort of familiarity. Soon enough. |
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| Where's his arm? |
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| 12:12am 27/02/2006 |
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music: typing of everyone in the suite doing last minute work
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This weekend was the Translating Identity Conference. It's a weekend on campus of workshops and discussions dealing with transgender issues. Andy's on the committee, and I volunteered. We got cute black t-shirts with pink and white writing on them, "Question Gender" on the back, and patches with TIC symbols on them. Andy and I were assigned to sit in on a workshop on intersex issues. An intersex person is someone who's born with ambiguous genitalia. It was really interesting, and the presenter was intersex and had an FTM change as well. He told us that when intersex babies are born, and surgery is done (predominately to be female) the parents are given a tiny plastic dildo, and told to basically fuck the baby with it daily for a month so that they can have a "normal sex life" later on down the road. The best way to handle an intersex baby is to not surgically assign any sex, and choose for the child whichever gender(socially speaking) you wish for the time being. When they find themselves and decide which they are, then have reassignment surgery. We leave the workshop, Andy and I spit up for different things. I'm the volunteer assigned to go and see, "Enough Man," a film they're showing in one of the campus theaters. This film is about transgender relationships, both post-op and pre-op. I'm totally fine until the presenter from the last show stands up with his boyfriend and tells the audience that they're both in this. He continues to say that there's some pretty kinky sex in the film. He then sits down two seats away from me, with no one in between. In the movie, I see him and his partner doing something that isn't clear. It's violent at first, and then his FTM boyfriend is naked on the grass, and oh god, where's his arm. He tells his BF to let him go, and then pulls his ARM out of him. Yeah. Halfway to the elbow. Aaaaand he's still sitting next to me. I was okay until other couples in the movie were giving eachother golden showers. Then piercing each other. I needed a couple hundred cigarettes after this film. Not to mention there was a Q and A, and I was in the front row, as his lover stared me in the eyes. Dude, I just saw you naked with an arm in your vag. DON'T look me in the eye.
Afterward I found Andy and explained my shock in detail. We went home, both glad to be gender-secure and not into kinky ass shit such as that. He did however have a good laugh about me seeing the presenter naked. Oh, the presenter was this chubby guy with long hair and a beard who wore a full length white coat with fur trim and native-american beading. Yeah, laugh it up that I saw his...I don't want to discuss it. |
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| 06:54pm 26/02/2006 |
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1. I miss you all the time, and I'm afraid that you don't miss me.
2. I'll always wish we were still close.
3. We could be close again if you stopped the drama.
4. All my life I've been afraid to let you down.
5. I wish you were secure.
6. You were the person who never let me go, never gave up.
7. You need to get your shit together so that we can have the relationship we're supposed to.
8. You make me say stupid things out of anxiety.
9. Don't kill youself.
10. I hate your baby talk. |
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| 12:19am 09/02/2006 |
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Andy didn't take his ADHD meds today. Kind of driving me nuts, but what can I say, I like him. I'm meeting his parents next weekend. NEXT weekend. We won't even have been dating for a month. asjgsdfgsdgdghg@##!!##$#%$%$^. We're going to their house in Vermont to go Skiing at Sugarbush. Sooooo I can't smoke for 2-3 days, get to sleep in a room with his sister, and meet his family. Oh, it will be a weekend. Am I f'ing crazy?
I just spilled coffee all over the carpet, and now my right sock is soaked in day-old coffee. I'm procrastinating doing some reading.
I had to write a piece for my writing class about a personal experience that's affected my life since, and that relates to some larger social issue. I wrote about my parents' fights and their divorce. An eight page paper. It brought up a lot of shit, pretty hard to write, but it was good. Afterward I wrote a letter to my father and sent it. I actually sent it. I am fucking crazy. I'm just waiting for some guy with a gray ponytail in ragged jeans smoking a cig to show up on my doorstep. I can't decide if that'd be a good or a bad thing.
I should go read, "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." Or I could go have a cigarette and -think- about maybe perhaps getting on that.
I love all you who're reading this incogerant jibber-jabber. Yeah, I just made that word up. God-damn. Gotta go. |
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| 01:14am 08/02/2006 |
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You’re sleeping with your face pressed against a cold car window of a moving car, just entering REM cycle in a weird way when you hit a bump, or your head jerks with dreams when you get that instant and terrifying feeling that you’re falling. Falling into an infinite abyss; no end in sight. Sometimes that feeling comes when I’m walking down the street, or sitting on my bed planning out my agenda of work to do. Sometimes that fleeting feeling of panic overwhelms me into a dizzying spell. My heart clenches in the way cliché romance novelists describe that of one in a lover’s spat. It’s hard to breathe or function, and the only thought that conquers that of panic is sleep. Thinking of sleeping fixates my mind and becomes the only graspable concept. Sleeping through the alarm, forgetting about the snooze button and simply turning it off in such a way that insinuates turning off reality. If that buzzer never goes off I won’t have to wake into life.
Shades of gray absorb into whatever colors may have been left, dichotomous thinking no longer exists and nothing is truth. Nothing is beyond my thoughts and the pounding in my head that hinders motion. The question of why is constant and nothing gets done.
Sometimes this lasts for days, weeks, and at a time months. When I emerge from these filmy thoughts that coat my eyes and emotions life seems vibrant and ripe for the picking. Life contains meaning and meaning contains life. The sun warms my skin as if I’ve never before felt that soaking feeling of a bright touch. Conversation and physical contact and sound fill the air and smells are everywhere, tickling my senses with chills of wonderful reality. The world sings and all is whole.
These two spectrum ends are all that are there. When one is dramatic and intense as I am, this is all there is. Death of feeling and the abundant joys are all that exist, this in itself is dichotomous. I see day and night as equally stimulating and wonderful, so perhaps the proper comparison is that of summer and winter.
Maybe it’s better to only know these two, the darker one is more mundane, yet not, but nothing of the two is truly mediocre. Mediocrity is something that I perceive our nation to be attempting to demolish; at least those with the basic needs attempt to destroy. Buy this and make your looks less boring, buy that and make your life more interesting. Get away from that cubicle to the Caribbean! Escape. Escape. Escape. They never show us how to live with what we’ve got, simply how to dream of what we haven’t. |
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| 01:58pm 03/02/2006 |
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Hey fools. I haven't updated in a while, for all those who care a little too much about my frequency of updating.
Things are going well here, dispite all of this week's massive amounts of work and the recent tragedy. One of Ryan's really good friends from home was killed in a car accident the other night. Someone ran a red light at 115 miles per hour and demolished the car. Ryan's devestation was heatbreaking and gut-wrenching. Something I'd never wanted to see any of my close friends go through. He left Wednesday afternoon, and Jen followed him home on Thursday night. They'll both be gone until Sunday.
I've been swamped with work, a little too much for my taste. I picked up a class two weeks in and had to read 120 text-book pages in one night just for that class to catch up. Oi.
On a much brighter and lighter note, I'm seeing someoen now. He's sitting in front of me staring at the wall as I type. Blue eyes, Mohawk, Anarchist bum holding his tarot cards that are folded up into a bandana. We're going to a benefit show tonight, his roommate's playing in the band and it's to raise funds for the "Translating Identity Conference." Tomorrow night is a movie, tea-place, and party. He's cute. Will post pictures later if he lets me take any.
Other stuff? I'm, uh, getting a haircut today. I like easy-mac. I'm working on 4 hours sleep every night for a week. w00t.
I'm a-gonna go downtown now and stuff and what not. When I have something worth saying, I promise to post it.
Jam out with our... |
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| 02:07am 30/01/2006 |
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we fit like two open-minded vegetarian puzzle pieces. |
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| a list we made in the wee hours... |
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| 02:45am 22/01/2006 |
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music: yawns and rubbed eyes
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orange, the color of:
traffic lights when you close your eyes
the end of a burning cigarette
the inside of my brain
traffic cones and construction worker apparel
chewed carrots
self tanner on pale skin
poorly bleached hair
hunting glasses
flinstone push-up pops
spit after consuming an orange popsicle
nickeloden
acidic vomit
fire
white, the color of:
limbo
in light, the presence of all colors
American oppression
KKK members skin
sea foam and the tip of a wave as it breaks on the shore
florida sand
the color of outer eye portions
the color of vomit on percaset
the color of seizure
the color of sex
curdled milk
stars from light years away
dry erase boards
recipts
what our toilet seats should look like
what bleach produces
hospital walls
empty thoughts
the color of meditation
a dove
the color of peace
the pope's robes
a sneeze
smoke
smoke detectors
Brown, the color of:
coca-cola that they use to wash the blood off of streets
the color of the top of freshly dug graves
benches in paris
old iron ships
rust
leather
my natural hair-color
the color of "ick"
skid marks
dirty snow
naked mud fights
plaid when you blur your eyes
free-range chickeneggs
a bald eagle's wings
the skin tone we consider black
Red, the color of:
oxidized blood
passion
ripe tomatoes
cherries
the color of freshly lost virginity
snow white's lips
embarassment
the color of rage
the color of muscles without a skin covering
a primary color
the color that takes the most coats to paint
the color that dries the slowest with oil paint
paint throw in protest on furs
that enrages bulls
the british coats in the revolutionary war
the color that stops
the rarest hair color
a woodpecker's head
the "k" on the special k box
exist signs
fire alarms
overthrown thrones
the color, that in death, turns brown
lust
the color of want
Pink, the color of:
Peachfish (Read Tom Robbin's "Still Life with Woodpecker)
love (because red is the color of passion and lust, and love isn't simply that)
healthy lungs
clean lips
the color of warm cheeks
bubble gum stuck to the bottom of shoes
sunset clouds
compassion
the color of newly born babies
victoria secret's latest slogan
the color of my laces that, as Ryan puts is, took the bad-ass mentality our of my boots
little girls
"princess" is always written in
awkward boys
the color of the boy who plays with barbies when nobody's looking
pepto-bismol |
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| 01:01am 20/01/2006 |
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His clothes are all personalized, hand sewn and plastered with anarchy symbols. It's ten degrees and we're standing in the darkness. With hoods up to keep the wind from completely permeating our bodies as it usually does anyway, even with an infinite number of "warm" layers, and pulling fiercly on our cigarettes. My once sacred Marlboro Reds now weaker but sufficient Camel Lights and his Djarm special blacks. Our fingers ache with the sensation of closing blood veins and constriction. We lift our tiresome and academically nauseus heads to the moon, a beacon in the blackness with a thick, milky circle around it. We are creatures of the moon, knowledgable (not by choice) of its great powers. We are pulled by it, we wax and wane with it, giving in to its wordless commands. We breath the irridescense of the moon and bathe in its beauty. Ambulence sirens sound through the streets, the gentle hum of passing cars. We turn to face the floor to ceiling window behind us, and are reminded of warmth as we watch the people a glow with conversation and laughter, the meaningful light of a non-florescent lamp. Exhale. |
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| 12:50am 17/01/2006 |
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mood:  restless music: Roseanne in the background
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It's nearly one in the morning and I'm starved for sleep. I barely slept last night, spent it tossing and turning and only slept for about an hour. I tried going to sleep around 11 tonight, because I felt so exhausted, but once I got into bed, read a bit of "Cash" and then tossed and turned for an hour. I got up, had a cigarette on the balcony, and crawled back into bed. Nothing. God damnit, I believe was the first thing I recall thinking. My thoughts swam. Perhaps swam isn't the correct word. They raced, they beat against my brain. I couldn't stop thinking about my future, and money, and what the fuck I'm going to do with the rest of my life. My mom expressed concern about money, and every since my anxiety's been acting up. She added five hundred dollars to my five hundred that remained from my summer funds. I asked her not to, telling her that I needed to take care of things myself, whle this little person deep in my chest was screaming, "Are you fucking kidding me? How're -you- going to survive on five hundred dollars for five months?!" So I took the money, mostly be force of my mom. Which was great, because my books cost me three hundred today. I have to return some because I switched my schedule up a bit. Irrelevent, yet mindfully relevent. That money pushes that anxiety deep. My head is spinning with uncommon grounds. I became too comfortable at home, too used to the ease of nothingness. And coming here, where I'm on my own once again, the cold wind ripping through my body upon arrival. I can't help but worry about tomorrow, the rest of the week, and continously, the rest of my life. My anxiety pulses and grows as these things get bigger in my mind. I start to feel physical pain to accompany the mental. Fuck.
I wish that my mom had herself together, that she was happy. I can't seem to rest knowing that she's not. I know that everyone hates my mom, but they don't understand, and no one ever will. They don't understand what she's been through, and her constant fears the way I do. The fact that her life completely sucks and is in basic ruins. I know it's not right for her to take her shit out on me, but fuck, come on. No one's giving her a hand. I feel like I've abandoned her.
This place feels foreign again. I spent time with Jen, Ryan, David, and Lydia. Not that they're not great, but there's still this longing for home. Longing for warmth and security, knowing my place. It's driving me crazy, when I'm home I miss here, and when I'm here I miss home. But I'll figure things out and I'll push forward, it's what I do. The pollard push, from my great grandmother down, survival of the strongest even in the worst of situations.
I have class from 11 to 12 and then from 4 to 8 tomorrow. Distraction from my own mind will help. I just wish that I could put my thoughts on hibernate. I'm going to watch some tv and try to numb my brain. |
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| Why my New Years sucked... |
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| 01:19am 03/01/2006 |
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So, it's New Year's Eve, at like 3 in the afternoon. I hadn't gotten a call about that job, so I figured I was off the hook. Everyone's gonna come over and hang out here tonight. 3:15ish, call from Eddy. Can I work? Hesitant, but yes. He says only till about 9 0r 10. I get showered and dressed, it starts freezing rain and snow. fuck. I make my calls. pick up a sandwich at quiznos, my usual veggie and cheese of course. I get there, and start work a little before 5. At like 7, I start getting a pain in my stomach, nausea. feels like heartburn. whatever. It's fucking cold, and I'm in this small room, hanging up keys, writing down car types and positions in the lot. it gets colder, and some bitch keeps opening this little window to the coat room behind my head and yelling shit at me, "Tell the guys we need a loaf of white bread", "Keep putting salt and sand down, someone just slipped, I don't want to deal with this tonight." she yells it at me like I don't speak english. She yells at Edwardo too, he stands stiff and tall and quickly gives her the military salute as she bitches him out. She speaks in the condescending voice as if he was mentally retarded. The man speaks 6 fucking languages. The pain gets worse. Sexual inuendos from the three guys all night. Matt gets pissed off when Eddy and I speak french and covers his ears. Every time they bring me keys it's, "hey baby", "hey sweetie", "babe." et cetera. et cetera. At least they're nice. I'm watching the steam rise from the wet bottoms of my jeans as the water evaoprates from the space heater heat. At like 9:40, it gets really bad. I go inside of the restaurant to use the bathroom, I hadn't peed all night. It smells like rich people and money. They look at me, in my ripped jeans and valet winter coat over my pea coat with damp hair from the falling snow like, "what the fuck are you doing in here?" I go to the bathroom, come out and sit down next to matt. Pain gets much worse. "I think I'm going to throw up." I say as I run outside, past a few cars and spew about four times in front of the restaurant, which is as far as I could make it. I covered it up and went back to work. I told the guys I'd gotten sick, but offered to stay past up to the last busy rush, which is at 10. I left at about 10:15. I called everyone, no my house, I'm going to bed. I stopped at Eckerd on the way home and got some cranberry juice. Spent till 5am in pain, trying to sleep. A little better on Sunday. Slept all day. Watched TV all day monday, still nauseus. feeling better. |
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| 02:27am 29/12/2005 |
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We're the rebels of the sacred heart. |
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| 01:57am 27/12/2005 |
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Things have fallen back into place, and are just as they should be once again. I was out of commision for about six days. I thought I had a stomach virus, ignoring the pain in my abdomen. After four days of not holding anything down I had become severely dehydrated and went to the ER around midnight on the 23rd. After a little bit of morphine, some warmed blankets, and ant-nausea medication all was well. They did a Cat scan and found that I have an ovarian cyst(pretty common) and a kidney infection, anti-biotics prescribed. So, now I've gone out for my first full night, and I feel very much myself again which I hadn't for a while. It's just difficult, living two lives. While I love my friends here like no other, I have a close-knit group in vermont as well. It takes some time adjusting to the differences, which with the continuation of doing so I'll become accustom to it. w00t.
I got the best christmas present on earth. Tanya gave me a Johnny Cash tee-shirt(and pink and black stiped socks :p). I'm in love. I put it on immediately and rolled around on the floor like a cat all hopped up on cat-nip. Tomorrow I believe we're going to Barnes and Noble and seeing "Brokeback Mountain" much goodness. My attempts to find a job didn't fair well. I applied to Barnes and Noble and Tower Records, looking for seasonal work, but neither called me. I suppose that's good because I wouldn't have been able to work being sick anyway. I've got enough money saved up to last me till the end of this semester. Then I'll be working all summer to make the moneys. I'll get a job that really pays this time, I made half of what I should have made this summer. $4 and change an hour. BULLSHIT.
Anywho, I'm gonna go read and catch some ZzZZzz's. tata. |
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| I can't believe this is goodbye.... |
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| 03:43pm 16/12/2005 |
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I cried when David left. I cried and I said goodbye to Jen and Ryan. And I'm gonna cry when I leave this place. My bus to the airport is in half an hour. I'll miss the heaps of snow, waterballoons off the balcony. Ann and I being on the same smoking level. Trying to study and watching TV with Lydia. This living room, my bedroom. Who would've known that I'd grow so attached to this place, once bare and now covered in memories. Posters David and I made for Ryan's birthday, paper ring chains that Jen and I industriously created. Paper snow flakes that Jen and Lydia and I made in the living room while we discussed spooning with eachother when we thought David was asleep. Snow ball fights on the way to everything. Singing "hold me closer tony danza" at the tops of our lungs. Discussing bodily functions. Dutch-ovening Jen until she couldn't breathe. Ryan's, "I know we've gotten close, and we're at that point in our friendship where I can fart in front of you. So I did. SMELL!" |
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| 10:11am 13/12/2005 |
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I'm done with my exams for the semester!!!! I have three days just to hang out here in good ol' Vermont! Tonight's Ryan's birthday party/ our x-mas party at my suite. Food, friends, et cetera et cetera. God, it feels so good to be fucking done! My last exam was Psychology today at 8am. The girl next to me stalled me for quite some time. She had the ultimate figeting problem, I mummbled things under my breath that I don't quite recall. Everyone around me was coughing and sneezing. I thought all of the germs around me would give me a panic attack. I came home right away and took extra vitamens. There's a 24h stomach virus going around in the dorm next to mine, and Jen and Ryan were both spewing for a couple of days.
Jen and Ryan are coming to Long Island for a long weekend to visit the weekend after New Years. And concidently, my family'll be there for a day, then they're all leaving for the weekend to go upstate. So, the three of us will have the house to ourselves. Hopefully David can come too, but that's a pretty murky situation. Anywho. I'm going to start cleaning the apartment and getting food and what not for tonight's par-tay. Need to do some laundry too. Will write later. I'll be home on Friday!!! |
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