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My weekend passed in a haze of various indulgences, which I was extremely greatly for. I spent my entire weekend drinking & eating & smoking. I didn't open a book, and I spent almost two days away from home which was nice. Not out of town or anything, just at a friend's house on the opposite end of town. In a cat-like state of laziness the entire time, not wanting to wander home in the cold dampness. The narrow street made me feel safe, wrapped up in the whiteness of everything. Sometimes I really need to forget everything in my life and just go off and do whatever I want, and forget about obligations and responsibilities. My entire life is an extremely happy one, but sometimes I need to forget I'm a student, that I have a boyfriend, that I have a house to clean and books to read and friends to stress about and everything else. All of these things make me happy but sometimes I get this weird desire that none of its what I want; but by the time I'm ready to slip back into my day-to-day life I feel so full of want for it it almost pains me. I don't know if that makes sense to anyone, or sounds childish, or trashy. I swear its not.

This morning I had to do a reading for my English class. I was stressing about it for ages. We pretty much just had to pick a passage from any book or short story or whatever and read it in front of our class, as part of our participation mark. I chose the beginning of “White Oleander” by Janet Fitch. It wasn't my first choice, but the other books I was considering are on loan to various companions currently (“The Virgin Suicides” by Jeffrey Eugenides & “Lolita” by Vladimir Nabokov.) Or were too sexually depraved to read to a second-level university English class, I feel (“Beautiful Losers” by Leonard Cohen”). I was so nervous my legs were shaking and my voice sort of just rattled around in my throat hoarsely, so I did pretty terribly. I wanted to read it as beautifully as it was written, maybe even make somebody want to read it, but I probably just made people want to pat me on the head sympathetically. At least its done with.

What else is new and exciting in my life? Not much, really. My darling friend Lenore left awhile ago and left a sort of hole in my life that I can only fill with hours of playing the copy of “The Windwaker” she left me on the Gamecube she also left me, and reading good books and admiring her art on my walls.

I haven't been doing much of anything of late, really. I am cold all the time and sad and furious and impatient but I think a lot of that has to do with winter, it usually happens to me every winter. I try to overlook it but I feel like it takes up so much of me that all thats left when I push it aside is cogs and gears. I don't really know what I'm getting at, ever.

This blog still lacks direction, but so do I, so maybe thats fitting. Its just a jumble of words, like I am a jumble of cells. I hope someday it has a more decisive direction, for your sake, whoever you are.

I hope you have a splendid day.

XO