|
| I bought new deodorant.
I hope it works. | | |
| Today was no different from any other Sunday I've had in recent memory--I woke up late from staying out late the previous night. I lay in bed for awhile, lethargically, before I decide it's time to start my day. I ran away my insecurities and my animosities toward toward people I use to associate with. Then, I read and read and read. My most cherished past-time has become reading (a past-time I once thought I never would have). All-in-all, I'm semi-content with the happenings in my life, as I have been for years. My trips to Brooklyn, Philly, Manhattan, and Montreal all reaffirm a sense of uneasiness and insufficient joy toward how I regularly lead my life. I believe I'll be much happier once I finish school, move out, and start my adult life. I truly hope college isn't the most wonderful time of my life, because it has been filled with disappointments and close-calls with happiness.
But this is just me being melodramatic. There's plenty to be thankful for about college. I've met some people who will definitely continue to have an impact on my life outside of these 4 (or 5) years. I just tend to dwell too much on a certain situation that always leaves me in a self-pitying mood. My one wish for the approaching semester is to tie up all loose ends and continue my life without any more interruptions.
I'm also very happy for completing my first entry in months. | | |
| I saw her for two hours at our typical meeting place, a coffee shop off of route 9. We order the same drinks, sit in the same seats and fondly stare into each other's eyes. The conversation serves to catch up during the time we didn't speak. We talk of school, ambitions, and our future. Her smile, her fire, her total attention and interest in my life reminds me of why I enjoyed her company so much in the past. She shows me her new car. Red, convertible, two-seater, fast and dangerous. I recognize that it perfectly reflects why I love her as I sit within its close, tight interior. She takes me for a drive. She doesn't head for any particular location, she just drives. I sit and wait to fall back in love with her. The conversation shifts to her boyfriend and reality resurfaces.
| | |
| Time to blow off the dust off of this old boy. Shine 'er up, give 'er some elbow grease.
The semester is nearly over. I did some things. There were some things I didn't do.
I didn't update Xanga, not once.
It's my roommate's birthday. Let's hear it for the birthday boy.
Blah blah blah. Xanga is the same.
| | |
| A recent dream:
There's a room filled from wall to wall with young gentlemen and their dates for the night. Everyone appears to be well-dressed in formal entire; dresses, tuxedos, and whatnot. Must be someone's prom. The faces of these young celebraters all appear to be familiar. I seem to know all of them from one point in my life.
There's a couch in the corner of this room. It's old, ugly, and appears to be completely out of place in this setting. Ironically, I'm sitting in this very couch. I'm holding a contrived and rather banal conversation with someone I don't have much interest in talking to. I turn my head from him and pan across the room. I see an ex-girlfriend, dressed poorly and casually, across the room. She appears to be weaving through the crowd and trying to reach me.
I turn my head to the furtherst corner of the room. There I see a very familiar young woman. The very one who I'm trying to engage in an intimate relationship outside of this fantasy world. Her dress is form-fitting, olive green with black embroidery. Clearly unlike any other dress in this social gathering. She's in the same room as I, but somehow impossible to reach. I'm certain she has seen me, but she continues conversing with someone else. She doesn't acknowledge my presence in the room and I prepare to exit the party. | | |
|
